#and then you take all your clothes off and wade across the shoulder deep pool while holding all your clothing above your head

[kaerran]

Ok, but there’s definitely something to be said for being able to get so far away from everything that there’s literally tons of rock between you and the outside world and no one can bother you anymore.

Anyway my favourite cave is a tourist cave with a half hour walk to it with permanently installed ropes AND footholds carved into the entrance section and I could probably still find my way to the Laundry Chute and back without any input. ...but not to the Grotto and that part is way nicer, no one actually likes squeezes. Flowstone glows if you charge it up (albeit not for long), and one time when I didn’t feel like going fast, dad left me to sit and I turned off my light and sat in the complete and utter dark for 15 minutes.

caving as an extreme sport is sooo unfathomable to me why are u as a creature of the daylight doing that. were u born without the dread in ur bones or something

[drcrushers]

prompt: they go swimming in the styx

out of all the rivers that loop through the underworld, the styx is her favorite. it’s the longest, and there are entire sections of it untouched - the souls only go so far downriver and beyond that, the water flows clear and true. it takes a bit of a walk from the house but it’s worth it, persephone finds. over the course of several years she’s managed to wear a decent path so it’s easier to follow. it’s not quite a secret of hers; hades knows of it, and sometimes he’ll join her but it’s rare more often than not (she’s learned her man is not exactly a swimmer, or one who likes to take breaks).

at the moment he’s bemoaning because she’s dragging him away from work upon threat of a number of things, least of all bodily harm.

"i didn't marry you for you to keep yourself slavin' away all day." she says over her shoulder as he trails along behind, probably still crunching those numbers in his head. numbers for a town he says he's gonna build to house the shades, to put them to work, to give them something to do other than wander around. give them purpose again. persephone ain't against it, but she reckons if he don't start taking more breaks then that gray that's started to show at his temples and in his stubble is gonna spread a whole lot faster.

"it won't be forever. just - for now. i want to give you the best, wife." he murmurs lowly and persephone shoots him another look that she knows he doesn't catch.

"all i want is you, darlin'. your company. that's the best." she's already kicking off her boots, sending them sailing into the dark grasses along the bank as she hops in her struggle to get the other off. she's breezily dressed today, so removing her clothes is a matter of unclipping the pomegranate inlay at her shoulder before the fabric pools at her feet and she can step out of it. ever one for comfort, she wears nothing else beneath.

the low rumble of noise that sounds like thunder behind her is a sure sign she has finally caught her husband's attention proper. all bemoaning is gone and when she turns he's standing there like a statue except those eyes, which are suddenly much darker and roam over her like a mortal man would any olympian feast. she grins, full of wild abandon, before she steps into the cool waters and wades into the river. the styx ain't too deep near the edges, but as she wades further into the wide river the ground slopes and she's forced to start treading water. by the time she turns again, hades is finally loosening his tie and she knows she's won.

he's meticulous in the way he undresses, folding things neatly whereas her garments lay in an unkempt pile. persephone's curls have already started to slump from the dampness by the time he even steps a toe into the river. they're safe from any prying eyes here, no shades to interrupt so there's no need to worry about their lack of clothing in order to enjoy the water across their skin. she watches in silent triumph when she sees him relax a fraction of an inch when the water hits his back, even more so when he finally reaches where she's swam out to. large hands envelop her from beneath the water and she smiles a bit too broadly.

"better?" she cocks a brow, sliding her arms around his neck as he holds her and treads water and suddenly the rest of the world melts away. she rakes a wet hand through his hair, thumb brushing against the gray at his temples fondly - it suits him, even if she hates seeing the signs of age on him every winter when she returns. another patch of gray, another set of lines around his eyes or mouth. it's hard, the suddenness of it - and it becomes more every year. she's luck to have a few more freckles or a few more light streaks in her hair from the sun - time wears on him far faster.

"gettin' there." he says lowly, as if it might kill him to relent to her being right, that this would serve as a de-stressing aid and more time spent with her. it's easier for him to forget work when they can spend time together outside of the house and away from his office.

her legs wrap around his waist and he easily holds her weightless frame against him. persephone brushes her nose against his.

"and now?"

hades hums and it nearly vibrates every inch of her body for how closely they're pressed to each other, how tightly wrapped around him she is.

"you're a real distraction, you know."

"i'll take that as a compliment." she kisses the corner of his mouth and draws away before he can protest. "c'mon. bet i can reach the other side before you."

"and what's my prize if i win?"

"you're a smart man, darlin' - i'm sure you can figure it out."

[author-morgan]

Your work is so good, you should do this for a living! Your Ivarr stories are treasurers! Because quality Ivarr content that matches up exactly with my fantasies are rare, and I'm shit poet...

Could you please do one where the clan's dainty sweetheart secretly has the hots for Ivarr but avoids him because she doesn't know how to act around him.

He's also into her but thinks she hates him.

She gets terribly drunk for first time ever, throws herself at Ivarr...

Confused but also turned on, he internally struggles because doesn't want to take advantage of her.

He puts her to bed/or gets someone else to do it? Ubba? Because he doesn't trust himself to be alone with her?

Finds her when she's sober and not hungover, confronts her because drunken words are sober thoughts. She's embarrassed but they end up having really great sex!!!

i do write for a living, just not creative writing oh the joys of academia. apologies for the long wait, but here's more Ivarr! hope you enjoy! ♥ i kind of went overboard (like 3.3k words overboard) but it's Ivarr and i'm thirsty as hell for this bastard. Ivarr the Boneless x fem!Reader

EIVOR SHAKES HIS head. His arms crossed with a frown playing on his lips. He doesn’t see what you do —why of all the people in Midgard, you only have eyes for Ivarr the Boneless. Even Ubba would be a better choice, he thinks. It’s in Eivor’s nature to worry over and protect the ones he loves after all he’s lost. You are another example of Styrbjorn’s charity to those he considered friends, just as he is Sigurd’s brother in all but blood, you are their sister and have been for many years —becoming a temper for the two rowdy boys, favoring the healing arts over swordplay and battle.

Since Eivor’s initial meeting with Ivarr in Repton, there’s been something about his methods and outlook that sets Eivor at unease, even more so now that he’s caught Ivarr’s gaze lingering on you —like now during the autumn feast. Some jest, saying opposites attract, and while that seldom seems to be the truth, it is for you and Ivarr. He is cold iron, warm blood, a harsh winter —and you’re soft silks, a cool breeze, fresh spring blooms.

He’s seen the looks you share with Ivarr. Fleeting and flirtatious, but that is nigh all you share besides few rushed words in passing. Ivarr cuts an intimidating presence, and you’ve never been quite sure how to converse with warriors beyond your brothers. It’s nigh as difficult for Ivarr —all he knows is bloodlust and his fellow drengrs— finding the right words to say is not a battle he thinks he can win. There’s fondness between you, almost everyone can see it, but there are times when Ivarr is left to wonder if you truly like him or if your soft smiles and kind words are only a product of his reputation.

Ivarr’s feelings are clear to himself, though, especially as he watches you among the people of Ravensthorpe, partaking in the autumn festivities. Seeing you wear a crown of gold and amber leaves, dancing with Ceolbert to the drunken tune of Bragi and his tagelharpa with a tankard of Tekla’s mead in hand makes his heart beat faster, and his mouth go dry. He keeps to the benches, reminding himself that a drengr does not dance —at least not this type of dance.

The evening fades, but the festivities don’t. Soma claims her clan throws the best feasts, though you’re tempted to challenge the jarlskona for the title since Ravensthorpe has grown. You look around, searching for your brothers, but Sigurd has retired for the evening, and Eivor is slumped over on one of the tables, asleep —his hand still curled around the handle of his mead cup. Sighing, you find Ivarr’s gaze in the hazy air of the longhouse, half-shocked by the intensity and darkness, half-eager to return the lust-laden stare with your own.

Emboldened by the mead, you gather another horn and move across the longhouse where Ivarr sits. With a smile, you offer him the horn of mead before taking the empty spot on the bench next to him. He eyes you, curious, as he turns up the horn —downing the mead in a few gulps— and turns his attention to you. Spurred on by the moment, you lean closer, twisting to drape your legs across his thighs, squirming more than needed. “What game are you playing at, little dove?” Ivarr asks, his gaze dark and tone dangerous. You only smile, flitting your eyes up to meet his as you tip up your cup.

The soft plucking lyre strings and the low thrum of the tagelharpa are nigh enough to lull you to sleep coupled with the stillness. When you start to sway, both from the trance of the music and the heaviness of your eyes, Ivarr brings you closer to his side before deciding it best to see you off for the night —lest he is on the receiving end of Sigurd or Eivor’s anger. Ivarr pushes the bench back from the table, slipping his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees, rising with you cradled in his arms —head resting on the leather of his shoulder pauldron.

When Ivarr places you on the straw and rag stuffed mattress of your cottage at the eastern edge of the settlement, you are not eager to part with him —the bulge tenting his britches tell you he’s not eager to leave you either. “Don’t” —you hiccup, lips turning into a pout as you lift the hem of your skirt to show the bare skin of your calves and beyond— “don’t you want me?”

Gods, Ivarr wants you. Just the thought of lying with you sets his blood hot and racing —like a giddy boy before his first battle. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted a woman more. But he can smell the mead on your breath and see the weariness hiding in your eyes. Ivarr knows it is the drink speaking for you, and he will not be the one to dishonor such a woman as you. “You’ve too much drink, little dove,” he chides in a rough chuckle, uncurling your fingers from their hold on his tunic. “Sleep,” Ivarr says, sitting back on his haunches —drinking in your appearance for a final time, “I doubt you’ll say the same thing come the morning.”

MORNING BREAKS AND so does your uneasy rest. The scent of smoke and mead clings to your skin and clothes, as does a dried sheen of sweat. Rising, you strip out of the soiled clothes and into a linen shift. With the hour still early and some only just retiring for bed from the feast, you gather up a cake of soap and boar-bristle brush, heading toward the small waterfall and pool at the northern edge of the settlement. Sparing a quick look around and now certain you’re alone, you strip, stepping into the clear, cool water with a sharp inhale.

Humming a soft song, you wring the suds from your hair and cross toward the bank where your clothes lay, but the snap of a branch underfoot stops you. Gaze darting around, you see him emerge from behind the trunk of a large tree near the stables. “Ivarr,” you greet, not shying away from his wandering gaze. His silence and the look in his eyes make you smile as you wade in his direction, stopping when the water brushes the underside of your breasts. “Are you watching me?” It’s a redundant question that needs no answer besides the hungry look in Ivarr the Boneless’s eyes.

“What you said last night–” he starts, voice surprisingly cautious, but you cut him off with a wave of a hand and scolding grin. “I was not that drunk, Ivarr.” Tekla’s mead had not dulled your senses, only gave you the courage to act on buried feelings. He lifts his brow and rakes his hand through his parted hair. “And yes. I meant it,” you tell him, wearing the same look now as you had last night nigh begging Ivarr to have his way with you. If Ivarr is surprised by the truth of your feelings, he hides it well. You motion to the pristine pool of water and bite down on your bottom lip before finding his gaze again. “Join me?”

Ties and buckles rustle as he hastily kicks away his boots, drops the fittings of his armor, and does away with his britches and tunic. Ivarr circles you like a wolf eyeing his wounded prey, and then he pounces, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest. He leans forward, trailing his nose along your shoulder and neck —rough hands trailing up your sides and around to your breasts, squeezing them and teasing your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

When you gasp, he bites down on your shoulder and rocks his hips into your ass with a low chuckle. “You know who I am?” He means it as a warning —a warning of his bloodthirsty and unkind nature, that he is not a man to sing sweet songs or offer tender caresses. You already know that, having been privileged to witness Ivarr the Boneless in battle and know him outside of his craft.

“I do,” you answer, unwilling to shy away. He sucks in a sharp breath when you turn to face him, stepping closer and look up at him under lidded eyes with a wicked smile that sends blood rushing to his already half-hard cock. Careening toward Ivarr, you brush your lips across his jaw, settling one hand over the dark tattoo of Yggdrasil on his breast. “And if I wanted gentle,” you breathe at his ear, nipping at his neck, “I would fuck one of the Saxon monks.”

Ivarr laughs, grinning, but it falters when you reach below the water and squeeze his cock and balls, giving no doubt to your intentions or your wants. “Careful, little dove,” he hisses, tilting your chin up. He hunches, ashen hair half-falling before his face as he leans down and kisses you, warm, open-lipped, and intoxicating.

You pull back with a groan, and Ivarr chasing your lips, stopped only by your hands cupping his face —thumb tracing the deep scar on his cheek. “While giving the gods a show sounds delightful” —Ivarr’s lusty eyes take on a twinkle at the thought. Suddenly he’s picturing you splayed out on a Christian altar, spent from his love with his seed dripping from your cunt. His cock twitches, pressed tight against your belly— “Sigurd or Eivor finding us like this is less enticing.” Had it been anyone other than Ivarr, your brothers would have turned a blind eye, but neither have particularly liked the interest you and Ivarr show in one another.

Stepping back, you grip onto his wrist, staying his hands from their wandering assault, and pull him toward the waterfall and the small cave beyond. Before Ivarr has a chance to move again, you smile for him in the dim light, sliding an open hand to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. With your lips pressed against his, Ivarr can only reciprocate —he parts your lips with his tongue, hands curling into your hips in a vice grip. But when the kiss breaks, you shimmy from his grasp and trail your lips to the dip in his neck —licking and laving.

“Having your lips on my skin is torture,” he inhales, hand fisting in your hair as you move down to the tattoo of Sleipnir at the center of his chest. You laugh softly and lean back, his eyes piercing through you. The smile on your lips is roguish, but you do not let up, making your way to his abdomen where a few small scars are clustered. Ivarr moans above you, and you haven’t even touched his aching, dripping cock yet. His hand reaches for your breasts, but you knock it away, having yearned for this moment for too long to let it slip away.

He titters at your enthusiasm and rolls his hips forward. Not dissuaded, you press your lips to the scar next to his navel, right below one of the dark runes tattooed on his abdomen. The hand still twined in your hair tightens, pushing you down to your knees. Ivarr’s legs are powerfully built, the muscles of his calves and thighs flex as you run your hand over them appreciatively, still finding small scars to trace and kisses, purposefully ignoring the hard cock pressed against his stomach. His hands clench as you kiss the skin of his thighs, your hair tickling the underside of his cock.

You smile at his surprised gasp when you drag the flat of your tongue along his cock, tracing along a vein running up the length of his shaft. Ivarr’s unable to hold back his groan when your fingers wrap around his girth, giving a few heavy strokes. And then, without warning, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. He tastes of salt and iron and something forbidden and dangerous. Taking his cock as far as you can, you press your tongue against the underside, silently humming.

Above you, Ivarr chokes your name like a ragged prayer —it fills you with pride to know the son of Ragnar Lodbrok is coming apart at your hands and mouth, unable to say anything but your name. The lords of England may fear the whisper of his name, but right now, he is at your mercy.

Slowly, he begins to thrust himself into your mouth, but he makes no move to command your movements. Instead, his impatience wins over. He pulls you away from pleasuring him with your mouth. “Enough,” Ivarr says, his voice ragged as he crouches down, hand sliding from your hair and down to tweak one of your pebbled nipples, then lower still until he comes to the warmth between your thighs, slick with arousal. You whimper, gripping onto Ivarr’s shoulder when he pushes two fingers into your cunt, curling and thrusting. “On your knees, little dove,” he rasps. He warned you, and now he means to make good on his silent promise.

You struggle to gain your balance on the uneven ground of the small cave, but soon did, only to nigh lose it again when Ivarr slides the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds —thrice over before gripping onto your shoulder with one hand and guiding himself into your warmth with the other. Ivarr’s moan when he sinks inside you is breathless and airy, a misplaced sound from the likes of him. He grips you tight —one hand on your shoulder still, the other on your hip— holding your squirming body still as he eases his way into you. Your shoulders curl forward at the sudden wide spread of his cockhead into your body, fingers digging into the soft earth beneath you.

Ivarr pants against your shoulders —you can feel the open brush of his mouth along the sensitive skin of your spine and neck— as he draws his hips back and slams his cock back into you. You buck your hips back in time with his thrust, and Ivarr growls. You move with him as he fucks into you, squeezing with your inner muscles and whimpering in loud gasps. “Ivarr,” you chant, over-and-over.

He’s pounding hard immediately, giving in to the hunger that’s been consuming the both of you for far too long to be decent. His fingers are strong, streaking against your skin as his grip slides, something to discolor and bruise you by evening. But it feels so fucking good. You toss your head back, finding a glimpse of his face in this aching position with back arched, teeth shining in the low light, and eyes burning on you. He’s feral and ruined, and his fingers bend on your skin.

The building tension fades when he draws back, leaving you aching and empty. Ivarr spins you to face him as he reclines. “Ride me,” he commands, kissing you quickly, with an open mouth and teeth scraping your bottom lip. You pull away from the kiss, moving so you could sit atop him, straddling his hips, his back against a smoothed boulder. Breathless, Ivarr cannot be bothered with the loss of control —reckless abandon shines in your eyes, and he cannot help but grin as you slide down on his cock. He grunts enthralled at the feel of your warm cunt around him, walls clenching to feel every ridge and vein.

Moments pass, and you begin to move on top of Ivarr, rolling your hips into his. He groans, rough hands torn between holding onto your hips or pawing at your breasts. Instead, he decides to push himself up and let his lips attack your jaw and throat —biting and suckling— and annoyed at the slow in pace, Ivarr thrusts his hips up into yours, a sign to move faster. You don’t hesitate —lost to the exquisite bliss, clawing, desperate and eager. Holding Ivarr’s face in your hands, you try finding his lips with your own, but all you can do is moan and pant with him into his mouth, lost in the craven pleasure.

Ivarr bites hard in the crook of your shoulder and neck as he repeatedly drives his hips upward, chasing his and your releases. One of his hands slips between your bodies —his calloused thumb teasing your clit in a way that makes your hips stutter and body trembles, nails clawing into Ivarr’s shoulders. He grits his teeth, wondering if his little dove had broken skin. The burst of pain fades quickly as he watches your body bounce in time with his thrusts and listens to the moans and pants echoing off the cave walls and water.

He knows he’s close, his pants ragged and thrusts sloppy and desperate. The hitch in your breathing when he presses his thumb against your clit tells him you’re close to. It’s the boiling heat between you that takes hold, curling your toes and parting your lips in a silent throe, hands digging into Ivarr’s biceps as he chases his pleasure —teeth bared and bright eyes burning. Several thrusts later, his body tenses, and a dull warmth spreads between your connected bodies, and still, he is not done with the thrill of how you tremble and whine above him, but the rhythm soon slows, and you fall forward, resting your head on Ivarr’s chest.

You sit there, savoring the last twinges of carnal gratification, with your bodies rising and falling as you breathe in unison. And when the haze clears, you trace the small scars near his shoulders and follow the blue-black runes tattooed on his middle.

After what feels like an eternity, you feel him shift underneath you, sitting up on his hands. Ivarr glances over you —the small purple marks at the base of your neck from his lips and teeth, how your nipples are still hard, begging to have his mouth on them, and how your bodies are still connected. His cock is soft now, his seed seeping from your cunt and drying on your thighs —Ivarr thinks it a glorious sight. He hisses as he pulls himself out of your warmth, slowly, relishing in the gasps and whimpers you make at the resultant empty feeling it leaves between your thighs.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you tell him you must go —this escapade would have already made you late for your daily duties, and the last thing you wish is for one of your brothers or Valka to find you in this state. He follows you from the cave behind the waterfall, back to the bank where his and your clothes are strewn. Gentler than you’d imagine, Ivarr kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before cupping your face with strong, rough fingers and moving your lips back to his. You let him move you, kissing you back, smiling against his mouth. “Come to me at nightfall,” you breathe against his lips, parting to gather up your clothes and shoes.

Ivarr grins, swatting your ass before pulling you against his chest, keeping you from reaching for your linen shift —his chin resting on your shoulder as his hand slides between your legs and two fingers sinking into your cunt, still slick with your essence and his seed. “That eager for my cock again, little dove?” He laughs.

He’s silenced when you grind back into his hips with a glint of mischief shining in your eyes. Ivarr lets you go, though reluctant, and watches you dress from the corner of his eye. It’s impulse driving you when you decide duties can wait. Smiling, you grip onto Ivarr’s wrist —he’s only half-dressed in his britches and boots, tunic in hand— and drag him away from the waterfall and toward your home in the settlement. Consequences be damned. It feels as though the gods made you and Ivarr for one another, and you aren’t willing to let another moment be wasted.

[taglist: @elizabethroestone @kitkitvm @elluvians @fullmoonwolfer1 @ghostieisalone @boodaga @southsideslutt @dynamite-with-a-lazerbeam @lizlovecraft @heathensith @alexisp787 @nobodyydobon @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. if you want to be added to my taglist for Ivarr, just let me know in the replies or a DM!

[bloodandrunes]

A drabble for the last poly combination I’m considering, this one for Aariz/Dalia. I’ll admit, it got a little away from me 😅

.

.

When Dalia goes looking for Aariz, she finds him in the bath house. He’s sitting chest-deep in the water, reclining against the wall of the pool, brown curls loosened from the steam. He doesn’t react as she walks towards him, doesn’t move as she taps at his shoulder.

She frowns. “Are you that tired?” she asks, feels a flash of something that is not quite regret but somewhere close to it for sending him on his mission.

Aariz’s eyes crack open. The slant of his mouth curls upwards. “I knew it was you,” he says, addressing the unspoken part of her question.

Dalia raises an eyebrow. "Did you, now?"

He nods, turning around lazily to face her. "I would recognize the gate of your footsteps anywhere." She freezes at that, stunned. He peers at her, concerned. “Dalia? Are you well?”

She nods a little stiffly, fingers fluttering. “Yes,” she says. Then, noticing the bloodied clothes at the edge of the pool, she adds: “Are you?”

Aariz almost looks offended that she’s asked. Then he grins. “Dearest,” he purrs, “are you, dare I say it, concerned for me?”

Dalia’s cheeks heat. “Be silent,” she scoffs, but it’s too late. He sees it in her eyes, in the twitching of her fingers. His grin widens, toothy and shameless.

With a swift movement, he half-rises out of the pool. Water beads down his body, collecting at the dips of his collarbones and sliding across the lean, hard lines that make up his frame. He takes her hand in his, pulls it to his chest, where she can feel his heartbeat. He leans in, nose bumping against hers.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me,” he whispers, “to hear about how much you care.”

Regret strikes Dalia, then. Once more, she feels shame rise within her as memories of cruel exchanges between the two of them, and her and yourself, flash across her mind.

“Aariz,” she begins.

He shakes his head gently but firmly. “Not now,” he adds, because they both know that if there is one thing she hates more than anything it is being interrupted.

She purses her lips, displeased, but obeys his wishes for now. If it best if the the three of you discuss this, after all; to exclude you from the conversation while you are off on a mission she gave you does not sit well with her.

Aariz sinks back into the pool again, tugging at her arm in a silent request. Dalia glances at him, feeling the warmth of the steam against her skin, and sighs, peeling out of her clothes. She joins him, wading into the water, and relaxes. The constant tension in her muscles eases away a little. Wiry arms coil around her waist, a chin settling against her shoulder as her lover’s breath tickles her neck.

She hums as he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I love you,” Aariz tells her, “most fearsome woman in all of the world.”

She feels her breath catch in her throat, feels her head tip back as his lips to descend to her shoulder, sensual and intimate in a way that would have once sent her running.

She is not good with words, never has been, but she forces past that. Licking her lips, she says, “And I you.” The words come out quiet and vulnerable, almost a whisper.

Aariz pulls Dalia closer to him, spins her around so that their foreheads are pressing together. “Now and forever,” he promises, eyes shining with an earnestness that renders her almost dizzy.

“Now and forever,” she repeats.

And as they stand there, just gripping at each other, content in their silence, she thinks that the only thing that could make this better is if you were here with them.

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

Can you make a sick akaashi at school or something ? TYSM ✨

You’re in Charge: a BokuAka sick fic

Pairing: sick Akaashi, caretaker Bokuto

Word Count: 3,295

Warnings: panic attack, brief mentions of vomit, swearing

————————————————————

Hello ‘tis me I am back and I’ve completely given up on writing shorter fics.

I could’ve cut this off and finished it in multiple places, but I didn’t bc my brain said “okay but what if you added this...” and I am nothing but a mere peasant subject to my brain’s demands.

Anyway, pls enjoy!

————————————————————

“Thank you for the game!”

The room spun when Akaashi straightened from his bow. He blinked away the black dots in his vision and moved to shake hands with the other team.

The club room called to him tauntingly, promising a cold shower and a change of clothes. He wanted nothing more than to cool off and get out of his sticky, sweaty practice clothes.

The Fukurodani boys’ volleyball team was visiting Shinzen Academy for a friendly practice match. Their games were always intense and Akaashi had to work harder to take in the entire court and his teammates’ conditions. Today was no different all in all, but Akaashi felt more drained than usual.

Even during the game, Akaashi’s body protested his movements if they expended too much energy. On top of that, his brain felt like it was melting. For some reason, his focus was all over the place and he had to set aside more of that energy in order to observe the game in its entirety and make the right sets more than in other games.

Fukurodani won, so he tried to convince himself that the excessive work to maintain control that he put in was worth it, but with how utterly exhausted and uncomfortable and achy he felt, he wasn’t sure he believed it.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto yelled when they entered the locker room. It bounced off the walls and pounded in Akaashi’s skull. He must be dehydrated. He sat heavily on the bench, wiping the sweat off his face and catching his breath. When he reached down to get his water from his bag, his chest constricted and he coughed quietly. Sitting back up, his chest loosed, but he realized suddenly that he was on a quickly descending slope to pure and unadulterated exhaustion. What was going on?

“Great game everyone! Your awesome captain-slash-superstar-ace is very impressed with everyone!” Bokuto exclaimed proudly, his hands on his hips. He walked over to Akaashi and plopped down beside him, throwing an arm around his tense shoulders.

Akaashi loved Bokuto and didn’t want to dampen his mood at all, but his body told him to push the ace away. He resisted the urge, but the touch sent needles across his skin and made his chest tighten more.

“‘Specially ‘Kaashi here!” he said, his volume still set at level 10, “you were on FIRE today!”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi muttered. The words felt heavy in his mouth, his jaw moving like it was wading through a pool of honey.

“Bokuto, you barely did anything! You went emo mode in the first half of the first set,” Konoha jeered. Sarukui sniggered beside him and Bokuto pouted. He removed his arm so quickly from Akaashi’s shoulders that the setter’s poor brain couldn’t keep up and black dots danced in his vision again.

“Hey! But I had that amazing cut shot!” Bokuto argued back loudly and the dull pounding in Akaashi’s head increased to resemble something like a jackhammer. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. It was his body. His mind. He was in charge of it. So why did he feel like he wasn’t even physically present?

“Yeah, thanks to Akaashi. You wouldn’t be anywhere without that guy. Tell him, Akaashi,” Sarukui teased back.

Akaashi wanted to respond. Really, he did. But it was suddenly very very hot, and his chest was very very tight. It was all he could do to breathe.

“Akaashi?” someone asked. His mouth wouldn’t open to reply. Open dammit. Respond.

“Hey, man. You okay?” No. No, he wasn’t, but he didn’t know why. Breathe.

“Akaashi? What’s going on?” He didn’t know. He didn’t know. What was going on? Why was this happening? Despite his eyes being closed, he still felt like he was sitting in a tilt-a-whirl. A haze clouded his head and he didn’t know what was happening anymore.

Every part of his being was exhausted and achy. More than what was normal for after a game, even one of their harder ones. Something was not right at all, but he couldn’t get his brain to sort through all the things he was feeling to figure out why. All sense of control he had over himself was gone and it sent him spiraling further into whatever pit he was falling in to. He needed help. Someone please turn off the heat. Make it stop spinning. Was he floating? Where did the bench go?

“B-Bokuto…” he choked and a hand was on his back. He winced away from the touch and then it was gone again.

“Hey, yeah. Deep breaths, buddy. I’m here Akaashi. What’s up? What do you need?” Was that Bokuto? It sounded like him, but it was almost too gentle, too soft. Akaashi tilted forward against his will, but his forehead was caught by something hard.

“Bo-boku-,” he got cut off by harsh cough, “h-help.” He couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah. It’s me, Akaashi. I got ya. You’re okay, alright? Everything is fine,” Soft-Bokuto said and an arm was wrapped around his back. He whined and tried to pull away.

“Okay, got it. No touching. That’s fine. You’re in charge. You know best as usual, Akaashi! What do you think we should do?”

That’s right. Akaashi always knew what to do, so he should be able to figure this out, right? But if that was true, why was everything moving faster than he could possibly keep up? What should he do?

“Stick-sticky,” he wheezed. Everything around him felt sticky. That needed to go away.

“Okay. Yeah. You got it. Someone get me a wet rag and go find a coach or a manager,” Bokuto commanded.

“What’s happening, Bo?”

“Akaashi, hey. I’m going to wipe off your face, okay? It’ll make you feel better.” No, he did not want to do that. He tried to shake his head.

“N-no—“ he gasped.

“Work with me here, buddy. Okay? I promise I’ll be quick,” Bokuto said. Akaashi really didn’t want that. No one should touch him right now. But it was so hot. And he was so clammy.

“K-Kay,” he said.

“Okay, great! Thank you, Akaashi. You’re doing good, okay? I’m gonna help you. I’m going to touch your face, alright?” Bokuto said, calmly, gently, grounding Akaashi somewhat.

Then Bokuto’s calloused hand was gripping Akaashi’s chin, moving him backwards.

“This might be kinda cold and icky feeling,” Bokuto warned quickly before something that was exactly cold and exactly icky was moving across his face. He whined and tugged his face away, but Bokuto’s grip on his chin pulled him back.

“Hey, just give it a second and it’ll feel better, okay?”

True to his word, Akaashi felt minutely cooler. He sighed and leaned into Bokuto’s hand.

“Yeah, there ya go. Look at that, you can breathe again, huh?” Akaashi nodded. The weight on his chest was gone. There was still too much happening around him, but things were starting to de-fog just a little.

“Nice, okay. What’s next?”

What next? What was bothering him?

Akaashi tugged at his shirt, whimpering. It was stuck to him and keeping him stuck in the pool of honey.

“Oh, yeah. Duh! That shirt’s all sticky too! How gross. You’re so smart, ‘Kaashi. I’m going to need some help, though. Can I ask someone?”

Akaashi whimpered. No. He didn’t want that. Why couldn’t it just be Bokuto? He didn’t want anyone else touching him.

“What about Konoha? He’s a good senpai, right? He’s nice and helpful!” Bokuto asked. That’s right. Konoha is nice. Akaashi nodded.

“Konoha, can you help me out here?”

A hand on his arm, he winced, and then he was moving, tilting the opposite direction.

“Bo, he’s burning up,” Konoha said. Something about his tone set the smallest inklings of panic off in Akaashi’s head.

“Yeah, I said he was on fire just a little bit ago, remember?” Bokuto chuckled. The panic subsided.

“No, I mean I think he’s go—“ Konoha started.

“Okay, Akaashi, shirt’s coming off!”

A rush of cold air hit him and he shivered. It was refreshing and more of the haze cleared away. He felt his feet on the ground, his butt on the bench, Bokuto’s warmth around him. Good things.

Bad things too though. The pounding in his skull. The sweat clinging to his skin. The uncomfortable warmth encasing him. Something heavy in his gut. The quiet in the locker room. The exhaustion.

“Do you want to go wash the sticky off?”

As enticing as that sounded, he didn’t want to move. He was too afraid that his legs wouldn’t listen to him. He shook his head.

“How bout a clean sweatshirt?” Bokuto asked. Clean sweatshirt? Akaashi nodded. Then he was covered again.

“Can I offer another idea, Kaashi?” Bokuto asked.

“Sleep,” Akaashi responded, his jaw still weighed down. That’s what he wanted to do now.

“Not yet, okay? In a bit, I promise. After you hear my next idea, okay?,” Bokuto reassured.

“Y-yeah,” Akaashi breathed.

“How about some water?”

Water? That would probably be a good idea in theory. Something told Akaashi that he didn’t want that, though.

“Just a sip, okay? If you hate it, I won’t make you drink anymore, alright?”

“Bokuto, what’s goin o—“ a female voice, maybe Yukie started but was cut off.

“Akaashi?”

“Then I...c’n sleep?,” he muttered. He leaned forward again, falling, but he was caught and pulled up right again. He was so tired. Would Bokuto let him sleep after this?

“Sure, Akaashi,” Bokuto agreed, rubbing his back. That felt nice.

“Kay,” he sighed.

“Great! You’re doing so good, Akaashi. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here! You always know exactly what to do,” Bokuto said, cheerily. It set some of Akaashi’s nerves at ease.

Something was placed on his lips and then his mouth was flooded with something cold and his eyes snapped open.

Everything slammed back into place all at once and he spit the water out aggressively. His poor brain observed the room around him and was immediately overwhelmed.

The colors swirling in the locker room, the burning on his skin, all the people around him, everyone’s eyes on him, the aching in his limbs. It was all too much. He jolted away from Bokuto, nearly falling off the bench.

Before he knew what was happening, something warm moved up his chest and he heaved painfully, vomiting on the floor.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yelled, moving towards him.

“Oh my god, Akaashi!”

“What the hell?”

“Oh no!”

Voices flooded his already overloaded senses and he scrambled weakly away, his back hitting the wall. He slapped his hands over his ears and pulled his knees into his chest.

“Everyone get out!” Bokuto commanded loudly, his presence filling the room and everyone froze.

“Now!” He yelled and everyone nodded and left.

That was good. Akaashi needed to be alone now. He needed to get a hold of himself. He needed to regain control.

Bokuto knelt in front of him.

“Go ‘way,” Akaashi whimpered, trying to scoot further away.

“No can do, Akaashi,” he shrugged, sitting down criss-cross in front of him. He held a hand out to him, but didn’t reach farther than his own knees.

“You’re alright, Akaashi. Take your time. You’re okay,” Bokuto said. It was quiet but the look on his face read ‘I’m here, you’re okay.’ It was so reassuring it made Akaashi want to cry. His lip trembled and he closed his eyes again.

“Don’t...please don’t leave,” he whispered.

“I won’t. I’m here. You’re okay. You’re in charge, alright? I’ll wait ‘til you tell me what to do again. You’re okay,” Bokuto said, firm and unwavering.

Akaashi took a deep, rattling breath in and collected his thoughts. He took an inventory of his limbs and scanned his body. After a few minutes, or seconds, or hours, the tension finally melted away and the fog in his head cleared completely.

Then the exhaustion was back. It consumed him. He slumped against the wall and removed his hands from his ears. His eyes lazily moved towards Bokuto and he saw that the ace still held his hand out. Akaashi reached for it and Bokuto smiled softly and moved towards him.

Bokuto sat against the wall beside Akaashi and wrapped an arm around him. The setter sank into Bokuto’s side, turning his face into his shoulder. Bokuto was warm, comfortable, and safe. He felt like home.

“You’ve got a fever, Akaashi,” he informed after a few minutes.

“I figured,” Akaashi muttered.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why’d you play?”

“I just found out,” Akaashi said bluntly, pulling his head back and resting his chin on Bokuto’s shoulder.

Bokuto was staring down at him, eyes blinking owlishly. If Akaashi was at all with it, he would have laughed. As it stood though, he was slowly losing his battle with consciousness.

A frown replaced the bewildered look on Bokuto’s face and he sighed, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“What the hell, Akaashi? You have to take better care of yourself,” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” Akaashi replied lamely.

“It’s okay. Not like anyone on the team noticed either.”

That was true. However, Akaashi didn’t hold that against anyone. It wasn’t their job to make sure Akaashi wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t have the energy for that conversation though.

“Can I sleep now, Bokuto-san?” He moved his head down to Bokuto’s pillowy-pecs and sighed. Regardless of Bokuto’s answer, Akaashi’s body demanded sleep, so he let go and was out in seconds.

Sometime later, Akaashi woke up to the gentle rocking of the bus and the hushed tones of his teammates. His head was pillowed on something soft and sturdy. He blinked a few times before he groaned, registering how utterly terrible he felt.

“Oh, hey,” Konoha said and Akaashi’s eyes found the wing spiker a seat in front of him, smiling down at him.

“Think you can sit up a sec? Bo said you need to take these meds and drink something,” he said, reaching down into his bag.

Akaashi begrudgingly sat up and exhaled slowly. Konoha handed him some pills and a sports drink and Akaashi took them gratefully. Konoha scanned him. Akaashi squirmed under his gaze.

“Those should help with the fever and headache. We couldn’t find anything for nausea though, so if you need to puke again, lemme know. I have a bag.”

Akaashi nodded. He definitely felt better, more in control, than before but he knew that he wasn’t out of the danger zone yet.

Squinting, he surveyed the bus. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the team. Several of his teammates were sleeping, while others were chatting quietly or listening to music. It was a lot calmer than usual and he wondered why. He also didn’t see Bokuto anywhere.

“Konoha-san, where is Bokuto-san?” Akaashi frowned. He hoped he didn’t get Bokuto sick. Konoha raised an eyebrow at him.

“Man, you must be really out of it,” he said, shaking his head. He gestured to the space next to Akaashi and the setter turned his head, shocked to find a snoozing Bokuto directly beside him. The implications of the situation brought a rush of heat to Akaashi’s cheeks. He was positive it wasn’t from the fever.

“So so I was asleep—“

“On Bokuto’s lap, yeah,” Konoha smirked. Akaashi’s frazzled brain couldn’t comprehend how he felt about that, but with the pounding in his chest, he could assume he wasn’t upset about it.

“You scared us, ya know?” Konoha mumbled suddenly, picking at his fingers. Akaashi let out a slow breath and opened his mouth to apologize, but Konoha shook his head.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. None of us knew you were sick and according to Bo, you didn’t either,” he chuckled before getting serious again.

“You got all quiet and spacey and you were hyperventilating. It was like you didn’t really see us and didn’t quite know where you were. Then you just freaked out and Bokuto made us leave.”

Akaashi frowned, trying to remember. There was definitely some recollection of a lack of control and intense heat, but he couldn’t recall explicit details.

“I’m sorry, Konoha-san. I don’t really remember,” he said. Konoha nodded.

“I figured as much. It’s a good thing Bokuto was there. Honestly we probably would have made things worse if he hadn’t stayed calm and taken charge.”

“Yeah. I have some memory of Bokuto being there, but I’m afraid I don’t know what to thank him for exactly.”

All he remembered was feelings of warmth and safety. Konoha cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He didn’t look at Akaashi and the setter felt guilty for burdening his upperclassmen.

“He wouldn’t let any of us near you. Gave us a terrifying look if we tried. I don’t know when he found out about your fever, but when I tried to say something he gave me such a death glare that I shut up pretty quick.” Konoha sighed, glancing at Bokuto.

“Why would he…” Akaashi questioned, staring at Bokuto’s sleeping face. It was serene and he appeared happy and relaxed, even after today’s events. The pounding in Akaashi’s chest made itself known again.

“Uh, well, after we got you on the bus, we asked him what happened,” Konoha explained. “He told us you were sick and apologized for being so stern with us. He said that if we tried to tell you what to do or gave you any distressing news that you’d just freak out more.”

Akaashi’s head swung around so fast, it made him dizzy.

“He said that?”

The fact that Bokuto knew what was running through Akaashi’s head was astonishing. Sure, his need for control was pretty obvious, but he never elaborated on it or talked about it. He never thought that anyone realized the scope of how they affected him.

Konoha laughed again, “yeah. Honestly we thought he was being his normal helpless self. He kept asking you what to do and Saru and I almost yelled at him for being insensitive. But when he was the only one you asked for, we let him do whatever.”

“Wow, uh, I’ll have to thank him,” Akaashi stared at Bokuto again, increasing admiration for the ace blossoming in his chest.

“Yeah, for sure. But hey, for now, just get some rest. We called your mom to meet us at the school. We should be back in like twenty minutes or so.” Konoha turned back around in his seat and settled himself in.

“Turning around on a bus is really dangerous,” Konoha said casually, “I wonder why Bokuto wanted to sit in the back where no one can talk to him.” With that, he put his headphones in and Akaashi knew the conversation was over.

Well...if no one was looking, would it be the end of the world if Akaashi indulged himself in taking a brief nap? On the only pillow he could find at the moment? He was sick after all.

With a deep breath, Akaashi laid back down on Bokuto’s lap. He moved the ace’s hand out from under his back and put it over his stomach. When he made to let go, Bokuto’s hand grabbed his wrist loosely. Akaashi took a moment to be shocked, but then pulled his wrist out of Bokuto’s grasp, only to replace it with his own.

Safe. Warm. Home.

(Later, Akaashi would find out that Konoha is a snake and a liar and turned around on the bus again despite its apparent “danger.” However, if it was only because of the picture the wing spiker sent him of Akaashi sleeping on his new favorite pillow, he decided not to chew him out for it.)

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️

Here you go!

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.

Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.

He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.

“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”

“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”

A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”

Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”

That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”

The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.

Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.

He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.

“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”

“Yes, Seer Cold.”

“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.

Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.

“This is amazing.”

“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”

“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”

“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.

Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.

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

For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.

On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.

“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”

“Uh….”

“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”

“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”

“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”

“I gotta wear anything special?”

“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”

The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.

“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”

“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”

Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”

The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”

Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.

Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.

He’s really quite stunning.

“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”

“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”

“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”

Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”

“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”

“Why did you feel differently?”

He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”

“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”

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

“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”

“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”

“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”

“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”

“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”

Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.

“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.

“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.

“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”

“You know it.”

Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.

“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”

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

They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.

He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.

Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.

“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.

“Kinda.”

“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”

“Wh-”

Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”

“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”

“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”

“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”

“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”

“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.

The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.

When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.

Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.

“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”

“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”

Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”

“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”

“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”

[gretavanfanfic]

Submerged

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 2000ish

Warnings: None, pure fluff!

Summary: You overhear Josh talking to his mom about you. 

Note: Based on this request I got from @noir-couture11​:  I was wondering if you could write a cute josh fic? Something along the lines of he thinks you’re asleep, but you over hear him on the phone talking to his mom about how he’s really falling in love with you.

Your relationship with Josh has been moving fast. Faster than any other relationship you’d had in the past. Usually, you exercise an extreme amount of caution when dating, never one to dive into something headfirst. You’re more of a dip your toe in the pool, then sit on the edge with your legs submerged, then slowly wade your way in up to your shoulders kind of girl. Never in the past had you even allowed your hair to get wet.

With Josh, everything is different. The day you met him, you dived right into the deep end and you still have yet to come up for air. You’ve been freely swimming in the pool of Josh for a little under three months now, and you’ve never been happier. 

You know without question that you’re in love with him. Josh is undoubtedly the brightest ray of sunshine you’ve ever met. He constantly radiates warmth and light, always bringing a smile to your face and making your belly swirl with emotions you’ve never felt before. You were smitten with him from day one, and your feelings have only grown every day since then.

Though you haven’t told Josh how strongly you feel about him yet, not wanting to move at a pace faster than he’s comfortable with, you can’t help but suspect that he feels just as strongly about you, if his actions are anything to go by.

For one, he spends every possible second he can with you. Being on a break from touring means that Josh has practically moved into your apartment over the past several weeks. Some of his clothes occupy a drawer in your dresser, he has a toothbrush in your bathroom, and he spends most nights sleeping next to you in your bed. He really only ever goes to his own place to check in and grab more stuff to bring to yours. And during the short periods of time that you’re apart, he’s texting you to tell you that he misses you, that he can’t wait until you’re back in each other’s presence.

Then there’s all the little things he does to show you how much you mean to him. Like when he has dinner on the table when you come home from work, and when he picks you up little gifts from the store that remind him of you, and the thoughtful dates that he plans that you always have a blast on. The way he cares for you is exactly the way you crave to be cared for, and you have no idea how you were lucky enough to find him.

Speaking of things Josh does for you to show you that he cares about you, one of your absolute favorites is when he plays with your hair when you’re laying together in your bed. You had briefly mentioned at one point that you find it soothing to have your hair played with, and so now he does it all the time. It feels so good that it usually lulls you to sleep, and on this Friday night after a long day of work, you’re unable to fight the slumber that threatens to overtake you as his fingers comb through your locks and gently scratch your scalp in the most comforting way. That in combination with the heat of his bare skin has you snoozing peacefully on his chest in no time.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep for, but you’re awakened by Josh wiggling his way out from under you, doing his best to not jostle you too much and disturb you. Unfortunately for him, you’re a light sleeper and even the smallest noises and movements wake you up. In an effort to not make him feel bad for rousing you though, you keep your eyes closed and curl into your sheets, feigning sleep. You faintly hear his phone buzzing on your nightstand before he finally scoots off the mattress and grabs it.

As he exits your bedroom and enters the living room, leaving your door slightly ajar, you hear him mutter a quiet, “Hey, mom,” into the phone. He begins having a conversation with his mother and you try to tune out his talking, not wanting to eavesdrop. But despite the fact that he’s practically whispering and in the next room, you can still hear everything he’s saying clearly. Your ears especially perk up when you catch him saying your name.

“Yeah, sorry. Y/N’s asleep and I don’t want to wake her up,” he says, and you conclude that Karen must have questioned why he’s speaking in a hushed voice.

He further explains to her why you’re asleep at -you check the clock- 8:30 on a Friday night. “She worked all day, so we just grabbed some dinner and hung out at home.” There’s a pause and then he clarifies, “No, no we’re at her place. I’m just here so often that it feels more like home than my apartment.” He chuckles a bit, but quickly cuts himself off, still trying to be conscious of not making too much noise.

Your heart swells in your chest hearing Josh refer to your home as his home. You would let him move in with you in a heartbeat if he told you that he wanted to live with you. There have been countless times in the past that you’ve wanted to tell him to just pack up all of his stuff and bring it to your place, but you had bitten your tongue each time, afraid he would think you were crazy. You figured it would probably be best to tell him that you love him before inviting him to move in.

In the living room, Josh is silent for a few moments, presumably listening to Karen. When he speaks again, you feel like you could die of happiness at his words. Euphoria fills you, and you can’t stop a smile from making its way to your lips.

“She’s amazing, mom. I know its only been, like, three months, but- God, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her. I can’t wait for you to meet her,” he confesses to Karen, sincerity evident in his tone.

Obviously you can’t hear Karen’s response, but you assume it’s good because Josh shyly thanks her and lets out a small giggle. They chat some more and you briefly hear them discussing plans for the two of you (!!!) to visit his parents in Frankenmuth, but you’re no longer paying attention. 

All you can do is lay in bed and grin wildly at the ceiling, heart too full and brain too wired to even consider falling back asleep. Even though you really already knew that he loved you, words cannot describe how amazing it is to hear him say it out loud. The sense of validation you feel knowing for a fact that your complete and utter adoration of him is returned has you on cloud nine.

Josh and Karen converse for ten more minutes about his brothers, what’s going on in Frankenmuth, and various other topics, and by the time he’s telling her goodnight and that he loves her, he’s speaking at a normal volume. Bless his heart, the boy can’t help that he’s a naturally loud and animated talker. Some people may be annoyed by it, but you find it incredibly endearing.

When Josh finally ends the call and returns to your bedroom, you’ve given up your ruse of being asleep and are sitting up in bed, looking at your phone. Upon noticing that you’re awake, Josh swears, “Shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you up.”

You smile at him as he crawls back into bed and reply, “That’s okay, it’s a little early to go to bed anyway.” You reach over to set your phone back on the nightstand and flick on the lamp. A soft glow illuminates the room and you watch him settle back against your headboard and get comfortable, pulling up the sheets so they’re covering his legs. 

Wanting to touch him, you cuddle up to his side and he instantly wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer. His hand finds its way back to your hair and you sigh contently before you comment, “You know, sometimes I hate being a light sleeper, but other times it’s not so bad…”

Josh looks down at you questioningly. “Oh yeah?” he implores. “Why is that?”

Debating how to word your response, you drag out, “Welllll…I guess it’s annoying because I can’t sleep anywhere even remotely noisy. Like forget me ever sleeping on a plane. But other times, I suppose it’s nice because I get to hear things that I would have missed if I was asleep.” 

You realize your answer is cryptic, so you’re not surprised when Josh scrunches up his face, looking mildly suspicious. This only lasts for a few seconds, however, because his expression quickly changes to one of recognition. His eyes shut for a moment and he tilts his head back, taking in a breath before looking back to you and asking, “So how much of that did you hear?” 

He doesn’t look angry that you were eavesdropping, quite the opposite of that actually. His eyes are alight and you can see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. His fingers are still mindlessly running through your tresses, but his other hand is nervously fiddling with the sheet on his lap.

You try to hide the giddiness in your voice, but your attempts are useless. “I may or may not have heard you tell your mom that you think you’re in love with me.” You smile at him bashfully, biting your lip to convey that you feel a little guilty for forcing the words out of him.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and you strive to communicate with your eyes how happy the revelation makes you, and how much you love him too.

Catching you off guard, Josh leans down and captures your lips with his, the hand in his lap reaching up to tenderly touch the side of your neck while the one in your hair moves to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your hands both slide up to his cheeks, and you rub your thumbs lazily across the soft skin there as you kiss him with everything you have. He sucks on your bottom lip and then his tongue plays with yours, and it makes your skin tingle and your toes curl in delight.

When your lips eventually part ways, Josh keeps his forehead against yours and shoots you the dazzling smile that you adore so much. Your face is starting to hurt from grinning for so long, but that doesn’t stop you from beaming back at him.

In a low but confident voice he simply says, “Yeah, I do.” Then, with a teasing glint in his eye, he jests, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

A loud giggle escapes your mouth, and, unable to resist the sight of his lips so close to yours, you give him another kiss, intending it to be brief. It lasts longer than you were expecting it to, however, neither of you wanting to put an end to the blatant display of the love you share for one another. 

Finally pulling away, you decide to play along with his joke and retort, “Well Joshua, I think I may just have to love you back.”

To punctuate your point, you swing your leg over his so you’re straddling his lap and wind your arms around his neck. Your eyes lock with Josh’s, and in that moment, everything is perfect. There is nothing else that you could want for when you’re this close to the man that you love. 

You hear him mumble a barely audible, “Good,” and then you’re kissing him for a third time and getting lost in his gentle touches and strokes. Diving into a relationship headfirst can be dangerous, you know, but with Josh, the risk was definitely more than worth it. You’re submerged, and the feeling is better than any other you’ve experienced. 

[bonktime]

Weather the Storm

Chapter One - Taken Aback

Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader (no y/n) 1861 Lighthouse au 

Written in the third person, so I guess you could say Ezra x OC? but she isn’t physically described or named at any point

Rated: E (just the whole story)

Prologue - Lay of the Land // Masterlist // Chapter Two: Hand Over Fist

Ezra travelled with the tides, let the sea carry him where it willed and never stayed long. The lighthouse keeper was the opposite. Where he moved she stood firm, defying the waves and the tide as if carved from the cliff herself. They’re drawn together, but opposing forces so strong are always destined to cause a storm.

Summary: In search of a place to stay Ezra meets the Lighthouse Keeper. Stuck together for the night by the tide she must quickly work out whether she can trust him enough to let him stay.

Warnings: Language, a lil violence, an even liler bit of sexual tension, some victorian sexism (smut will come)

Wordcount: 3700

Note: Thanks to @danniburgh​ who I throw ideas at left right and centre to figure stuff out! Turns out I can’t write short things? Either way I’m glad I decided to chapter this so I didn’t go totally bananas. Next one should be up in a week! Prepare for yearning. 

~~~~~~~~~

Spring was doing what spring always did by the sea. Vehemently refusing to start. Sometimes a crack in the clouds let a beat of sun through warming the lighthouse keeper's skin and for just a second teased what could be. But as ever, it shyly retreated back behind the grey.

Unable to rest until dawn broke and tinted the sky pink, she had slept through most of the day. When she finally shook off the exhaustion from work the night before, there had been just enough blue in the sky to make a sailor a pair of trousers, enough to entice her into moving. So, she had thrown on her chemise for some illusion of modesty, not that anyone could see her, and gone for a swim. 

Bracing was one word for it, fucking baltic was more appropriate. There was nothing quite like it. The way it made her heart pound, made her gasp as she swam, circling the small island, it made her feel alive. There was always a risk of a current pulling her out, a risk she knew all too well. But she knew the water, knew every dip and whirlpool well enough to recognise when they should be avoided. Keeping an eye on the sun she let the incoming tide tug her gently back to the shoreline. In only a few hours she'd have to ascend the steps and light the light.

From her position in the water, she spotted a figure, wading across the causeway, getting pulled to and fro by the tug of the tides, but determinedly heading for the island. She'd let the captain of The Mistress know her room was available a couple days ago and he hadn't sent trouble her way so far. Even so a jolt of unease struck at the thought of being trapped with the stranger until the sea went out. The little rowing boat wouldn't be much good with the storm that was now threatening to roll in. Cursing quietly to herself and suddenly very grateful she’d thrown on even a thin layer, she struck out towards him.

Clambering inelegantly back into the rocks she stood to watch him. He hadn't seen her yet, too focused on keeping his possessions dry, giving her the opportunity to take him in. From this distance she couldn't see his features but his broad shoulders and lean body were a good sign he had experience with trying work, and she could make out a bright shock of white in the crown of his hair. That was more curious, she wondered if he'd been born with it or if he'd suffered such a fright, it'd left a mark. That seemed like a rude thing to ask on a first meeting so she brushed the question aside and headed towards him, carefully stepping over the rock pools and avoiding slipping on the seaweed.

⧫⧫⧫

The first thing Ezra noticed about the woman heading towards him was the fact she appeared to only be wearing her undergarments. The next was that she was soaking wet from stem to stern. Had he been a better man, he might have looked away. Instead, he blatantly stared, the liquid made the cloth cling to her body, damn near rendering it transparent. As she got close, he watched a droplet make its way down her throat, following it with his eyes, he swallowed thickly.

Up close she could see his coat was clearly well made and had probably been expensive but it was old and in desperate need of being rewaxed. Perhaps it had been a gift? Hopefully it had not been stolen. The thin scar curving across his cheek would probably give fair warning to most, but his eyes were soft and wide. He just spelt trouble for her.

"Shut your gob, the wind'll change and you'll get stuck like that."

At that Ezra closed his mouth quickly and pulled himself together, finally focusing on her face. She was waiting for him to speak, clearly sizing him up "Could you possibly direct me towards the lighthouse keeper?"

She noted his strange accent but couldn't stop rolling her eyes, no one ever expected her. "That depends on who's asking"

"Captain Williams suggested I could find respite here whilst I work his ship."

She frowned at him, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Ezra, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I humbly apologise if I interrupted your swim.” again Ezra felt himself be judged, but apparently, she deemed him enough for now and nodded. 

"Come on then or we'll both catch cold" she turned to climb the steps to the cottages with him following behind.

The small kitchen was warm, heated by a small arger, she moved a kettle onto its plate and tossed in a log. With a deep sigh she turned to him, biting the inside of her cheek to stop grinning at his bemused expression. "I'm going to dress; you should get out of your wet clothes too. Don't let the kettle boil dry, I'll make a cuppa, then we can talk." With that she left him dripping in the rough wooden floor.

Ezra decided then that whatever she was, she certainly wasn't grey. But she wasn't colour either, she was something else entirely. Something he couldn't recognise. It stirred something in him, an urge to uncover what lay beneath, like cracking a rock and discovering a beautiful gem. Naturally, it stirred something in his trousers too, but, he reckoned, seeing any woman wet and nearly naked would do that. Ignoring it, he tugged off his boots and trews and pulled on his spares before going to lean on the oven to warm up, feet still bare.

Just as the kettle boiled and he was closing the hot plate she reappeared, rolling her sleeves of her dark blue woolen dress up to the elbow and hanging her soaked chemise over the arger before stretching up to pull a teapot and cups out of a cupboard next to a little window. 

"This is quite a place you have here, and what a view.” He looked out the window, reaching up to the wind chime made from sea glass, worn matte from the sand that hung there. He touched the smoothed edges of the glass, it felt rough on his fingers. “I'll wager it’s quite something to awaken and be able to see water on all sides without feeling the rocking of a ship beneath you." As far as Ezra could tell, it was as if he wasn't there. The woman moved around him locating loose tea and milk as if completing a ritual, never one to be discouraged from talking he continued, "Course once you get used to it, I imagine you barely notice it. But for me, having been on the waves themselves for the past weeks, it will be quite an adjustment." He looked at the two cups. "Is your husband not joining us?"

She didn't turn around, "He will not."

"Your father then? Although I am surprised a lovely thing like yourself is not betrothed. Promised perhaps?"

"No." He wasn't sure which question she had answered at first, it dawned slowly that it had in fact been both. He nearly smacked himself in the forehead.

"You wouldn't happen to be the keeper, would you?"

She turned to him then, eyebrows raised "I think perhaps you worked it out the fastest, I once strung a poor young man along for a week before he realised, I lit the light."

Ezra wasn't really one to be shocked by much, and after her appearance on the rocks this wasn't too much of a revelation, so now with her full attention he continued to talk.

"I'd wonder it doesn't get lonely though, on this rock all by oneself would be mighty isolating. Almost no one around for company except the sea and the rocks. Perhaps that's why you rent the room? That or your expenses are far higher than I'd expect" he forced himself to stop as she placed the tea and a biscuit tin on the little table and turned back to glare at him 

"Why are you here?" That made him blink, halting his thread of thoughts

"I'm here to rent a room. Did I not make that explicit? I do apologise"

She waved him off "No. I know why you're here. Why are you in this place? Work sure, but work can be found anywhere, especially on the water. Work less dangerous, with better weather. Were you bored and thought it romantic?" She was stepping towards him "Are you desperate?” A step. “Do you like taking risks?" Another step "Are you running from something?" She was right in front of him then, looking up at his face "So, I'll ask again. Why are you here?" For a split-second Ezra felt frozen in her gaze but then she reached around him as grabbed his soggy trousers, turning away to hang them alongside her chemise on the airer.

He blinked and shook himself. "I wanted to see it, to work it. The dead sea. Conquer it in my own way.To continue my own adventure somewhere new." She hummed in response picking up her cup and watching him. "And what of you? All alone on this rock. Seems you're a risk taker yourself. Most people would frown upon a woman welcoming a single man into her home, it implies things. Not to mention anything could happen to you,” He couldn't help himself, his voice lowered, unable to back down from the challenge she'd given him. The implication of his crimes. “Anything at all and no one around to save you."

In a split second she'd moved, pulling a blade, he hadn't even thought to look for, out from a sheath under her apron and had it pressed against his jugular.

"A bit of risk? You needn't worry for me." her steady hand pressed firmly enough the knife nicked into his flesh "But you? You know no one here. If you die no one will notice, no one will care. No one will even think to look for your body, let alone find it." He couldn’t hold back the grin as she stepped back, inspecting the drop of blood on the blade, cup of tea still in hand. "5 shillings a week for the room and food, first payment up front, the rest when you're paid." 

Well, this was surprising. Such a spark, truly tough enough to stand against an ocean. "Sounds perfect."

Finally, she cracked the smallest smile and Ezra felt as if the sun had found a fissure in the clouds. "I'll make food, I'm working tonight so it'll be breakfast for me and dinner for you, then you can settle in. When do you start on The Mistress?"

"Two days' time, should be quite an experience." He thought of the heavy clouds.

"Well make sure you don't wake me in the morning tomorrow or your stay will be very short." She wiped the drop of blood off the knife and stowed it away again. Ezra wondered what else was hidden under that apron and why he hadn’t even thought she might have the sense to be armed. He chastised himself.

"Do you man the light alone? It seems prudent you don’t have to remain awake every night."

"5 days to three, I take an extra shift, the other keeper has a house in the mainland so he spends all the time he can there. I expect it won't be long until you're sick of the sight of me."

"Oh, I doubt that, not when you're so full of surprises. Why do you rent the room, with an extra shift surely you don't need the money?”

"I don't get paid that shift," Ezra waited for her to elaborate but she didn’t. "I" she let out a laugh "Mostly I rent the room so I can buy books, something to do whilst I work. Plus, I like the company. Get to meet new people from all over for a few months and I still get to have the whole winter to myself. It's lonely as you said, sure, but I like being alone. I'm good at it."

There was a wildness in Ezra that she couldn't seem to pinpoint. Something about the reckless grin when she's threatened him, the fearlessness. It was what compelled her to let him stay. It drew her in like the pull of the moon. To welcome in such a force of nature, made her doubt her own judgment.

"I'll expect you to help plant and harvest the vegetables when the time comes." As she spoke, she moved around the kitchen throwing together the meal as quickly as she could before the sun began to dip.

Supper was simple, just a stottie with a couple eggs and vegetables. She'll have to go into town soon and see if she could get some meat cuts. But he didn't complain. Just talked continuously, complimented her cooking whilst watching her every move not unlike one might watch an animal in a zoo. It was a little unsettling and it made her feel very glad she was going to be awake all night, not letting herself be vulnerable to him at least for a few more hours.

"Will I need to be expecting guests? Women? Men? Either way I'd rather be warned beforehand." Her upfront way of talking made Ezra chuckle.

"I cannot be sure yet but I'll endeavour to let you know should I be taken by someone. And what of you? Must I prepare for being kept awake in the night by men, women or otherwise?"

She just shrugged, "I doubt it, I'm not the most popular around here at the best of times"

"That wouldn't have anything to do with your working and welcoming in strangers, would it? Are the people here so closed minded?" He smirked at the notion of the scandal that probably followed her.

"Not all of them, just those with power. I am at odds with the vicar because I sleep most Sundays and keep defying the lord's will for me"

"How cruel of you." His tone was laced in so much sarcasm it made her relax a little. At least she wouldn't have to face his judgement and sly glares for a summer.

Still, it was very strange for a woman to hold this job. “I am compelled to ask if you have ever been married?”

A look crossed her face, of pain, and of something else he didn't know. Just there for a flash and then swept away, like writing in the sand. She ignored the question. “Pay up and I'll show you your room, you can get settled and sleep off your journey. I'll imagine you're tired.”

He handed her the coins and followed her through the door and up the rickety staircase. There were two doors, one slightly ajar. The glimpse inside revealed just the end of a bed and a bookshelf but all too quickly, she opened the other door and ushered him in. Inside was cosy, or possibly just small. The bed was heavily laden with blankets which appeared to be handmade, it sat opposite a chest of drawers and a chair. 

She crouched to light the fire, “Hopefully you won't need it all season but you definitely will tonight. I don't know how hardy you are against the cold.”

“Not as hardy as you I'd expect. I had the blessing of spending most of the winter months far south, so far south ice couldn't possibly be conceived”

The flame sparked in front of her, flickering around the room. "The sun is setting; I'll leave you to it. If there's an emergency I'll be in the tower. Try to stay quiet tomorrow. I'd like to actually get some sleep."

He opened his mouth to respond but she was already out the door, with a huff he sat down on the bed and opened his satchel to begin unpacking. When he was done, he stripped down, folded his clothes and placed them on the chair and curled underneath the blankets. The orange glow of the fire lit the room as the crash of the waves lulled him to sleep far quicker than usual.

⧫⧫⧫

It turned out the storm's threats had been for naught. The sky didn't break and the rain didn't come. Instead, after winding up the rotation system she enjoyed the peace and quiet, sitting back with a book only needing to move every hour to fill the sock over the paraffin with air. She was reading an old favourite, ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Mr Bennett reminded her of her father, all quick wit and dry humour. It made her laugh even as her heart ached for the loss. He used to say she was too much like Elizabeth for her own good. Hot headed and stubborn and determined, perhaps if he saw her now, he'd disagree. Be made sad by how the world had wearied her, wonder when her ability to find easy joy had gotten misplaced. But it had been dragged out to sea along with him, never to be found.

The night passed quietly and slowly. But every quiet night was a relief, to be bored, by this sea, was a blessing.

⧫⧫⧫

He awoke early, before the sun had even considered peeking over the horizon and stretched. Looking out of the window he saw the ocean was black, just the flash of the lighthouse illuminating it every few seconds. Tugging on his shirt he placed another log on the fire and picked up his leather-bound journal, an intimate document of his travels, reading the last page. Written on the boat in the cold it didn't give the most flattering depiction of the view of the village from the water. He chuckled to himself, light beginning to peek through the thin curtain as he continued to write his tale, it had its highlights. The appearance of the lighthouse keeper was one, approaching nearly naked and wet from the waves made quite the first impression. He wondered vaguely if even his ridiculous vocabulary could do it justice. The spark, the last stand against the sea, that damn near see-through chemise- he sighed to himself, that was going to haunt him.

The front door slammed shut and he heard a short curse, cut off by the sound of the keeper running up the stairs. Incurably curious, he put the journal aside and headed onto the small landing, dressed only in his long cream shirt. She had already disappeared into her room but as he stepped out, he stood directly onto a wet patch on the floor. Looking down he spotted the wet footprints. Clearly, she had striven to swim before he awoke for some discretion.

Unfortunately for her, Ezra's self-control had always run a little thin and there was no stopping him knocking on her door. It cracked open a little, her head poking out, body held to the side hidden behind the door. He grinned as her eyes widened for a second at his state of undress.

"What do you want? I'll make food in a minute"

Her statement was so concise he almost laughed. As if he had any real excuse to bother her. "It appears I have the day to myself, and with your need to rest I find myself in dire need of stimulation," an eyebrow rose at that, "Perchance could I borrow a novel? You implied ownership of quite the collection."

She pursed her lips at him and shut the door. He blinked, not expecting her just to brush him off and stood dumbstruck for a second. It was not often he was so rudely ignored. And then, even more to his surprise the door cracked open and a hand appeared. A hand clasping a book. He continued to blink at it.

"Do you want it or not? You're letting in a terrible draft." So, he took it and the door shut again. Totally baffled, he returned to his room looking at the cover. ‘Pride and Prejudice’, an old favourite.

A short while later a shout alerted Ezra to food and he chatted happily to the keeper who again appeared to be ignoring him as she hunted for bowels and pulled a dish out from the arger where it had been heating.

"I haven't had the pleasure of Jane Austen's writing for quite some time. Not since my book was cruelly stolen from me, along with several other possessions and my bag, just as I arrived in the beautiful port of Genova in northern Italy. Quite a place." He let himself trail off, expecting her to shut down his monologue or continue to ignore him.

Instead, she handed him his food, some fish pie, and sat down. "What's Genova like? I haven't been."

His face cracked into an easy grin as she watched, clearly thrilled to have her participation in the conversation even a little and he continued to talk until she yawned heavily and sloped away to sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

His day was quiet. He read, walked round the island, was delighted to see seals flopping around on the rocks, and wrote. Despite his best efforts, the lighthouse keeper seemed insistent on making herself a central character, even if she'd only been around for a few pages. Something about the woman watching the sea had captured his imagination. He wondered how she came to man the light, why she was alone, why she took him in. She had seemed far too clever to let him stay. Of all people, she should have had the sense to turn him away. Naturally, he was glad she hadn't but even so it was strange. He thought on all the trouble he'd found himself in, often of his own creation. She could very possibly become the worst of it.

⧫⧫⧫

Upstairs she tossed and turned. No idea why she'd let him stay. Maybe the loneliness had finally taken her sense. That evening, they ate together again. He talked seemingly endlessly but smoothly evaded her pointed questions about where he got his accent and why he really wanted to work the North Sea. It was amicable, but also impersonal, both still trying to gage the other well, before they could become totally comfortable. As she left to work, she told him to stay safe on the sea.

When day broke and she descended the stairs, he was gone. She hoped he'd survive.

~~~~~~

Glossary

Taken Aback: A boat facing the wind directly so no sails can catch the wind, basically just a bad pun

Enough blue in the sky to make a sailor a pair of trousers: A teeny tiny amount of blue

Baltic: Geordie phrase meaning freezing cold, I dunno where it comes from, baltic sea maybe?

From stem to stern: from top to bottom of a ship

Arger: Cast iron oven, in this age it would have had a fire in the bottom with two ovens, a hot one above and a cooler to the side along with a stove/hot plate on top. 

Stottie: Geordie bread bun

~~~~~

Ezra Taglist

@fandom-blackhole​

[zeninw]

drabble abt working w jean as a lifeguard bc i'm one and i feel super socially awkward with my staff sometimes.

cw: sfw, not proofread, mentions of social anxiety, friends to lovers kinda, cliches, a hint of suggestiveness

wc: 1.7k

The wings you had ordered were no where near as good as you hoped they would be— and neither was the night out.

You wanted to have fun with your coworkers, even though most of the time you preferred to be along, but the night had dragged out far beyond your means.

The bar had gotten too loud, and your social battery had died an hour ago. You checked out from the group, pretending to be absorbed in your phone at the end of the table.

You couldn't leave, you had gotten a ride from a freind here, but all you wanted was to go home. The check was taking forever, people were screaming at some soccer game on the TV overhead, or in some conversation that didn't include you.

You felt so out of place, a feeling you dreaded and generally tried to avoid. Years of trying to make yourself more palatable to others, anxious about going out in social settings aside from your few best friends.

Out of excuses as to why you were 'so quiet' you ducked out to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and sitting on the counter.

It was a good half hour of you scrolling through instagram or whatever you could do to distract yourself before someone knocked on the door.

You sighed, realizing someone would have to use the bathroom eventually.

"One second," you called, hopping up and tucking your phone in your pocket.

You opened your door to find one of your male coworkers, and had to remind yourself that the singular bathroom was co-ed.

"Hey," Jean said, looking down at you. You expected him to step back so you could leave and he could enter, but he stayed stagnant, standing in your way. "You've been gone for a while, eat some bad food or something?" he asked.

You shook your head no. "I'm just tired. Waiting for my ride to be ready."

"I'm about to head out, if you wanna ride with me," he suggested, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

"Oh, I don't want you to have to go out of your way..." you trailed off, not wanting to be a hassle.

"It's no problem, really. I'm pretty sure we both live in Ocean Pines," he said, referring to your apartment complex.

"Okay," you agreed. "Thank you."

"No problem," he nodded, then turned on his heels. "I'm gonna tell Sash we're leaving, i'll meet you by the door."

You nodded, following him out of the narrow hallway that lead to the bathroom back out into the crowded resteraunt.

He nodded at you after talking to Sasha, then you followed him out. The air was a little cool, wet with humidity and a few clouds rolling in as you stepped outside.

He made you feel comfortable on the ride home, and waving goodbye as he took the elevator up one floor above yours.

He became someone you found it easy to gravitate towards, and calmed some of your nerves whenever you went out.

Jean was a gentle giant, and despite his size, he was never intimidating or overwhelming.

He sat with you the next friday night, like he had for the last three, at the bar. You tugged on the strap of your tank top, it was a summer job you were working  together, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

"Are you old enough to be drinking that?" you said, referring to the alcohol in his hand.

"Nope, but when you're pretty and hang out with the managers, you don't get carded." You rolled your eyes. He wasn't wrong, but still. "I heard you had a save today," Jean said, taking a sip of his drink. The beer made his breath smell bready, leaving a bit of fizz on the top of his lip.

"Yeah," you said, reaching a hand out to his face. You wiped the residue off his cupid's bow with your thumb before leaning back. "A kid came off the slide and didn't really know how to swim."

"Your first one?" Jean asked.

"No, third," you answered, stealing a few fries from his basket. "One spinal from someone who decided to go off headfirst, one in the wave pool," you explained.

"You're lacking," Jean shook his head.

"Yeah, well, you've been working at the park a year longer than I have," you answered, taking more. He slid the basket over to you, leaning on the bar.

"Have you ever gone after hours?"

"Like... night swimming?"

"Yeah. I have a key, if you wanna go."

"Are you auditing me or something?"

"No— I'm serious. We won't get in any trouble." You looked around. "Look," he said, placing his hand on your shoulder. "All the other managers are here, drunk off their ass, and there are no cameras at the park."

You looked over to them, they were all sitting around a table red-faced and laughing, even levi and miche.

"Okay," you shrugged. "Why not."

The drive was about 5 minutes, and it was odd seeing the empty water park. No lights, no people, and Jean had to step into the office to turn all the slides on.

He climbed into the stand as you eased into the water, jumping off of it and in. He ran his hand through his hair as he came up, watching you tiptoe through the water.

"You're not gonna go under?" Jean asked, wading in the deep end of the pool.

"It's cold!" you yelled across the water, ducking under a rope barrier.

The two of you met in the middle where he could stand and you couldn't. You held onto his shoulders to keep yourself afloat, and it put you two closer than you would've expected.

His hands wrapped around your waist, and before you could protest, he dunked you underwater, getting your head wet.

"There," he said, picking you back up. You laughed, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Fuck you," you smiled.

"Wouldn't you like that," he teased, making you hit him again. The two of you stayed there for a moment, holding each other, before you pulled away.

"Let's ride something," you suggested. "Malibu pipeline is a two seater."

Jean agreed, following you to the stairs. The park was pretty big, and the black slide was nearly on the other side.

"This is why I hate working here sometimes," Jean sighed.

"What, the walking?"

"The stairs, specifically," he said, jogging up the wooden ones with you.

"I think it's worth it," you shrugged. "I've seen kids ride this over and over and they never seem to get tired from the climb."

"When I was twelve, maybe I could've," he said, reaching the top of the platform. The water was already running, and you put the tube down, sitting in the front. Jean got in behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. "Ready?"

"Yep," you responded, and he pushed the two of you down.

It was a shorter ride than you remembered as a kid. "That was kinda underwhelming," you frowned, hopping out of the tube. "Also this swimsuit is so uncomfortable. I wish they would invest in better uniforms."

"Take it up with Erwin," Jean said,  making his way to the stairs with you. "But I think it looks great on you."

"Thank you," you replied. "You too."

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walked to the lazy river, grabbing a few tubes and getting in.

"This is nice," you sighed, leaning back as the water carried the two of you around. "It's quiet," you said, holding onto Jeans tube so the two of you could float together.

"It's my favorite place to come after close," he sighed. "Silence, besides the sound of the water," he nodded. You closed your eyes, listening to it.

You had no idea how many laps you had taken around by the time you opened your eyes, but it was at least 3.

"Are you—" you looked over to see that Jean wasn't there. "Jean?" you called looking around. You sat up on the tube from your laying position, looking around.  "Jean?" you called again.

It was silent for a few moments, before he jumped in the water, splashing you. It knocked you off your tube, and you could hear him laughing before you even came up from the water.

"Jesus, you scared me," you said, kicking him under the water. He just kept laughing and you swung at him, hitting his chest. "Ow," you said, shaking your hand out. Jean caught your wrist as you retracted it, pulling you closer to him.

"That hurt?" he smiled, tilting his head to the side.

"No," you lied, trying to pull your arm away from him, but he only tugged you closer. You tried with your left, but he caught that one too, holding both of your wrists in one hand.

"Aw, that's cute." You were at a loss for words, lips parting but nothing coming out.

"Is it?" you managed.

"Yeah," Jean said, using his other hand to pick you up by the back of your thighs.

You let him wrap your legs around his waist, exhaling as he did it. He leaned down towards you, eyes searching your face. He kissed you, just for a second, before pulling away.

“Jean—“

"Sorry," he said, pulling back but not letting go of you.

"Don't be," you said, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"I should be," he said. "Liking your coworker is— never a good idea."

"And you know this how"

"I don't know," he sighed, looking away from you. There was a crack of thunder. "Uh, we should get out," he said, putting you down on your feet.

"Yeah," you agreed, pushing yourself up on the wall.

There was silence on your walk back to the front of the park and Jeans car, and by the time you had pulled all your clothes back on, it had started to rain heavily.

"Jean," you said as you got in the car, escaping the rain."

"Yeah?" he responded. 

"For the record, I think it's worth it," you said, eyes flitting over his face before you pulled his to yours. Your lips met gently, and you could feel him smile against you as you pulled away.

"Me too."

[dex-xe]

if you’re still taking requests i’d love to see “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” with alison and thomas cause u know that lil bitch gets panic attacks/meltdowns and i feel like alison’d be hella good at talking him thru em

Thomas, Alison, Pat & the Captain General #23: “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”

(So this is a fic for these three, I couldn’t decide who to write so here’s all three of them trying to deal with an upset Thomas. Also,, for some reason these are getting no interaction on ao3, yes they’re on there as well, so if anyone wants to go check out some of my stuff on there pls do @/littlemouseinapartyhat :))) Also I know all the fics so far have focussed on a select few characters but the next one will be the Button House women on a sleepover,, spoiler alert Fanny joins in and has fun :P)

Prompt list

Inbox

Far too many times, Pat and the Captain had discovered Thomas buried to his eyes in the murky green water of the lake. It was hardly a surprise to either when Thomas had bolted from the house and dove into the water with the arrival of a new Lord Byron with film crew in tow. As soon as his overwhelming emotional meltdown had begun, Pat and the Captain had shared one single glance across the film set, a knowing glance of full understanding of what they must do later. Their usual nightly patrol was punctuated by a detour to the lake where they, like usual, would sit on the grassy bank beside the water for two hours persuading Thomas to come inside. They’d eventually peacefully appease him and watch as Thomas took the long and silent walk back to the house where he’d dramatically flop into his bed - and remain there for days on end. Pat waited until the Captain had finished gawking after Adam to catch his arm and drag him swiftly towards the lake. They stood on the shoreline watching Thomas huff and puff in the dark water, running his fingers repeatedly through his soft curly hair. “So what do we do exactly?” Someone asked. Unaware they had been followed, both men spun around to find Alison behind them, hands on hips gazing out at Thomas. Pat turned back to face the lake, stepping up the algae ridden waterline. “Thomas!” He called. “Thomas! Are you alright?” Thomas didn’t respond. Instead ducking further below the surface to drop his nose under the water too. “Listen, Thorne!” The Captain shouted out to him. “It’s getting dark, you must come inside at once.” “Does he listen?” Alison asked. “Eventually,” the Captain sighed. “You might care to take a seat, Alison. He can take a little while, whiny child.” Alison perched on the edge of the bank, picking at the grass as she rested her chin on her knees, ready to watch whatever Pat and the Captain had planned for the poet. “Thomas, do you want to talk about it?” Pat shouted. “I get you’re upset, mate. But come out and we can have a chat, yeah? What’s wrong?” Thomas stayed silent, staring blankly back as if not a single thought was running through his mind. “I know you don’t feel well, and I won’t pretend to know what’s happening in that little brain of yours but talking it out will make you feel a thousand times better, I promise,” Pat told him. “Now listen here, Thomas. I demand you listen to Patrick and vacate the water with haste,” the Captain yelled towards him. “The film crew’s left, Tom, nothing left here to worry about,” Pat said. “You can come inside and calm down a touch, yeah? Letting it all out will do you the world of good.” “The sun is setting, Thorne. Whatever this silliness is, you had better push it down deep and come inside!” “Captain, that’s not exactly the best advice at the moment,” Pat told the Captain covering his frustration with a small chuckle. “We’re here to fetch him from the water, not provide a therapy session.” Pat turned fully towards the Captain and held his hands out to try and placate him, hoping he wouldn’t resort to his idea of talking never helping - as he had insisted with Fanny only weeks earlier. “If we find out what is troubling him, we can get him out.” “But-“ Alison stood up abruptly and stepped between the two of them. “Okay, well you guys aren’t helping him in the slightest,” she said. “What? I’m helping?” They said simultaneously, snapping to face each other and shoot incredulous looks. “You’re not doing anything!” “Okay, my turn,” Alison returned to watching Thomas’ morose face above the water. She took her phone from her back pocket and dropped it onto the bank before pulling off her heavy green jumper. She stepped into the lake, muddy water splashing about her ankles and coating the cuffs of her jeans. She sighed at the thought of slaving over laundry the next morning to recover her best jeans. “What the bally hell are you doing?” The Captain questioned. “You can’t seriously be going out there?” Pat said. “Fetch Mike if I start to drown, hey?” She said before wading deeper into the water. She was pleasantly surprised that she could keep her feet planted firmly on the silty bottom of the lake as the freezing winter water pooled around her legs, then hips, all the way up to her shoulders, and to the point where she had to push up onto her tiptoes to keep her head above the surface. Reaching Thomas within a matter of moments, Alison stopped in front of him and dropped ever so slightly so she was eye to eye with him. “Thomas,” she said quietly. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?” She reached a dripping hand from out of the water and reached as if to cup his cheek, hovering millimetres away. “Can you hear me, Thomas?” Thomas nodded jerkily, trying not to break his eye contact with Alison. “Good, you don’t need people shouting advice at you from the shoreline. You need someone to bring you back down, don’t you?” He nodded again. “You’re floating, aren’t you? Well above the lake and you feel like you can’t come down because everything that’s happening in that head is keeping you up. I’m right, aren’t I?” “Yes,” his voice cracked. “I’ve been there, Thomas,” Alison confessed quietly. “I’ve felt that: where you desperately need someone to catch hold of your leg and just pull you back down. It’s a panic attack, Thomas, or something similar; I’m not sure but it’s nothing to be afraid of. I just need you to focus on me, yeah? And the water. The water? The water! It makes you feel sick, doesn’t it? Can you feel it, can you feel that nauseous feeling like when you touch someone living? It’s there, isn’t it?” A thought overtook Alison, a simple but risky idea. It could bring Thomas straight back to reality, or it could make him feel a thousand times worse. Her hand stayed in position close to Thomas’ face, as she flicked her attention to it slightly. Leaning forward, her hand pressed into his cold form fading through his skin momentarily. Thomas took a deep breath, he had no need to but the overwhelming emotion had stopped his breaths for so very long. “Can you feel it? Does it make you feel, Thomas?” She whispered, trying hard to keep her balance on the lake bed and not fall straight through Thomas. “Fair Alison,” Thomas whispered. “I- I feel sick.” “Good, it’s called ‘grounding’. Using the things around you to bring you back to reality. I’m right here with you, so use my touch, my voice,” Alison said calmly. She couldn’t help but think about the first anxiety attack she’d ever experienced. Year eleven, minutes before a presentation on igneous rocks - Mike had been the one to sit on the corridor floor with her and coach her through it, using the very same techniques she was employing for Thomas. “When there are people in the house, people who work to mock me, it is as if every noise, every colour, every person is simply too vibrant,” he whispered, barely audible to Alison. “It is as if every bone in my body is being accosted by the senses, too many senses.” “I know, I know,” Alison muttered. “I know, Thomas. But you mustn’t drown yourself in the lake! This doesn’t feel particularly pleasant for me, let alone the undead. So, don’t drown yourself, please. One of the best things about my near-death and questionable spiritual abilities is that I can help you.” “None of the others understand this horrific feeling,” Thomas said. “Patrick and the Captain, they do their best. But Captain is rather harsh and Pat insists on talking nonsense and then trying to hug me. I do not feel I need that.” “Then come to me, Thomas,” Alison urged. “Don’t drown yourself, what kind of a solution is that? Find me and we’ll talk.” “I do not wish to disturb when you are-,” Thomas started. “No, you’re not a disturbance. If you need me, I’ll be there.” Thomas nodded gently, trying not to put pressure on the cold spot where Alison was touching his face. “Now, I’m freezing to death out here, and I’m fairly sure there’s a fish in my jeans. Let’s go inside, you can choose a film, yeah?” “Yes please.” The light had dropped quickly, the orangey grey light of the evening had been replaced by darkness. They began the trudge back to the shore where Pat and the Captain were sat side by side on the bank, trying slightly too hard to seem nonchalant a hide their eavesdropping. Pat jumped up as he realised they were coming back, and the Captain uncrossed his legs to stand beside him. “Fantastic work, Alison!” Pat said, reaching out to take Thomas by the arm. He cowered away slightly, only to be guided slowly forward by Alison; more herding him than actually touching his waistcoat. Pat retreated holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s probably a record!” “Whatever did you say to get him away so quickly?” The Captain asked. “Stop being so nosy,” Alison chuckled, ringing the water out of her dark hair. “Thank you for your help, Pat, Cap. But just leave him be for a little while, okay? Come on, back in with you,” she said turning to Thomas. “I could do with a hot shower and some clothes that don’t contain ten gallons of pond water and an aquarium of creatures. Will you be okay sitting with the others for a bit while I get changed, Thomas?” Thomas contemplated and then nodded once at her beginning the long walk to the safety of the house. He was still away with the fairies, still flying high above the lake waiting for his feet to return to solid ground. But concentrating very hard, focusing on Alison in front of him - her voice and her touch, he could almost feel the very tips of his toes skimming the waterline. 

[frostsinth]

Li’un Ma Shkio Pt. 1

Filthy from the road, a young woman decides to bathe in a cool fresh spring. But quickly finds the woods are a dangerous place to be alone...

A small story, unrelated to anything I’ve been working on. Plot exists only to move along mush and romance. Thought I should share it somewhere. Like for an update.

Update: Part Two HERE

The sun was bright as I slipped into the fresh pool, and found the slightly cooler water much more appealing than the humid afternoon air. Despite the goosebumps it sent rippling up and down my skin.

I couldn’t help but sigh in relief as I sunk down past my chest. I felt the ends of my hair lift from my shoulders, floating in the water around me as I waded deeper. I appreciated how clear the waters were; I could see all the way to the bottom where smooth pebbles shifted as I stepped over them, small swirls of sand rising up between my toes. There were tiny little silver fish as well, who moved in small, glimmering schools and darted away each time I drew closer. Soon I had the center of the pool to myself, and leaned my head back, looking up at the puffy white clouds drifting overhead.

Now the hot sun felt quite pleasant, licking warmth at my cheekbones and the balls of my shoulders. I closed my eyes and sank a little deeper, rubbing my hands over my body. Loosening the dirt and grime from weeks on the road. Slowly, I felt my muscles relaxing.

I ducked my head under the water, letting myself sink to the bottom with my knees bent. I waited there for a moment, counting the beats of my heart that thumped rhythmically in my ears. A small bubble of air tickled as it slipped out of my nose and drifted to the surface.

When my lungs were beginning to tingle and burn, I slowly stood once more, letting out my breath in a gust that splattered water over the freshly broken surface of the water. I rubbed at my skin more, then at my hands, digging out the dirt from under my nails. I pushed my hair back out of my face and ran my fingers through it to loosen the tangles. When I could run my hand from my scalp to the tips uninterrupted, I tipped my head back again to soak the strands once more. Then I wandered closer to the far edge of the pool, which was framed by large, dark round stones. I couldn’t see over the top of the side opposite from where I had entered, and the other edges were high enough that it would be a struggle to exit anywhere but the tiny bank I had discarded my clothes beside.

The sudden snap of a twig made me spin, startled, a small gasp caught halfway between my throat and my mouth. The sight behind me made me freeze, and a deep sinking feeling rippled down my spine from a cold spot that formed at the base of my skull.

Three men stood there, staring at me. Males, at least, if not men. Their sheer alone bulk was at least twice my own, and the shortest of them was a good head taller than myself. But it was the startlingly green skin that showed between the gaps of their worn fur armor and the gleaming tusks protruding from their mouths that made me think “men” was not the right analogy.

All three were staring, eyes wide, mouths slightly ajar. Though I wondered if their lips could even close fully around the massive pair of incisors each possessed. Slowly, my arms wrapped about myself, I took a step back.

The sound of rippling water seemed to reawaken the men, and the foremost, who was the largest of the three, half turned to his companions.

“Gutn’k plu bok, vek na.” He ordered them, his eyes never leaving me even as he spoke.

The other two nodded, then turned and made their way back between the trees. The remaining male faced me again, and one hand brushed over the top of his head. The sides were shaved, leaving only a thick line down the center of long black hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. Slowly, he made his way over to the bank, one hand resting on the head of the large ax strapped to his waist. Another large, flat blade nearly as long as he was tall was tied to his back, the strap coming tight across his broad, chiseled bare chest. He wore heavy boots made of thick tan and black fur stitched together which came halfway up his calves, and another set of furs wrapped around his waist in layers. Neither hid his massive thighs, and I was certain his upper arms were thicker than my torso. He was covered in scars; some small and visible only when the light caught them when he moved. Others were large and knotted, breaking up his muscles and dark green skin in long lines or scratches.

I unconsciously took another step back, careful to turn my body away from him to hide as much of myself as I could. My shoulders hunched and my knees shook as he paused beside the small pile of clothes I had left on the boulder in the sun. He glanced at them, even reaching out one hand and pushing the top layer aside almost thoughtfully. When his eyes turned back to me, my heart sank even deeper into the pit of my stomach.

Quietly, he reached up and undid the buckle at his breast, and eased the greatsword off his back. He propped it up against the boulder, then undid the tether to the ax at his hip and leaned that next to the sword. Then he paused, crouching down beside the water and resting his elbows on his knees, considering me. One hand dipped down lazily, and he dragged his fingertips lightly through the surface of the water.

“What is your name?”

I jumped at his voice, and had to resist the urge to look around. I could hardly believe that my own language had come from his mouth. I squeezed my arms tighter together, trying to make myself even smaller.

“...Karianna,” I replied after a few tense moments of silence.

He nodded, as if confirming something he already knew. He placed one palm on his broad chest. “Unvar.”

I stared at him, then glanced quickly at my clothes. He considered me for another moment, then slowly straightened.

“You are alone?” He asked, using the toe of one boot to pull off the other by the heel, then his bare foot to remove the remaining boot. His voice was deep, seeming to rumble from his chest, and each consonant was hard formed in his throat.

I felt my hands shaking and took another step back, looking about for another method of exit. But the rocks were far too high to climb easily. It would take as much time to climb up as it would take him to reach any escape point. I could easily reach the bottom of the pool with my feet. He would certainly consider it a leisurely wade, as he was at least two feet taller than me, and could therefore cover the pool’s length much quicker than I could hope to.

“N-no,” I lied, “My family is… is hunting nearby…”

He nodded again, though I wasn’t sure if he was accepting my words or just acknowledging that I had spoken. I wasn’t sure if he had understood me at all. He was undoing some tie at his hip, and the furs around his waist began to slip down.

I stifled a little “eep!” and turned quickly so that my back was to him. I heard the water slosh as he slowly waded into the pool. I glanced over my shoulder, and my eyes widened at the sheer bulk of the muscled green man moving slowly towards me. My ears felt hot as I fought the urge to look further down. Instead, I looked around again, and took a few steps towards the wall, then looked back over at him.

His eyes were a deep copper color, I could make them out clearly now. He was hardly more than an arm’s length away. I wasn’t sure whether to turn my back to him or face him, and so ended up awkwardly angled with my arms still wrapped tightly about myself, my shoulder and hip the closest part of my body to his.

“My men patrol. You will be safe.”

I must have looked surprised at his words, for the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. It made his face seem almost welcoming. He took another slow step forward, reaching out one hand. I quickly side stepped further away from him, shaking my head.

“I-I’m sorry, you seem to be under some… some impression of me…” I stammered, taking another step back.

His head cocked to the side, giving him an almost comical look as his thick brow furrowed slightly.

“Some impression?”

“Y-yes. That-that perhaps my… uh… presence was an… an invitation…”

Realization seemed to dawn on his face, and the slight smile returned. “Ah, you mean your naked-ness.”

I felt my cheeks burn hot at his words, and nodded slightly. I looked away from him briefly, at the stones, at the bank, at the forest edge beyond. Trying to look anywhere but his own naked form before me. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but felt a dryness forming in my mouth instead.

“But I am naked too. So you are not only one.”

“Yes… Yes I see how you might get the wrong idea… I’m not interested in, um...I-I was just… I was just washing up...”

The green behemoth simply watched me quietly despite my stammering. Perhaps it was my imagination, but his eyes never seemed to stray from my face. At least, not that I noticed. He seemed to be chewing something over, and remained silent for a time.

“I see you,” he said finally, and his face seemed to soften slightly, “I see you… and I feel like I am seeing sun for first time. I see you and… I feel I must touch you…”

His hand slowly reached out as he spoke. I backed away again, and he took a step forward to match, then another.

“I … cannot explain,” He admitted, reaching out towards my face. I scrambled away, but then my hip hit the stone sides. “I feel… I must have you… I will die if I do not.”

He closed the gap between us, so that with each breath he drew his bare chest almost touched my arms criss-crossed over my upper torso. I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, and my hands clenched into fists to try to keep them from shaking. My mouth opened and closed uselessly a few times. My eyes darted about, looking for some small chance of escape. He reached up his hand again, but seemed to hesitate briefly. I looked at his large fingers, then up to his eyes. He began to move again, and I flinched, turning my head away and squeezing my eyes shut.

“Do not have fear,” He half-whispered, and sounded a little pained, “I.. I will not hurt you…”

I jumped as his fingertips grazed my cheek, then ran down the edge of my jaw. I heard him draw in a sharp breath, felt the water ripple and drip off his other hand. It ran lightly over my arm, tracing down to my hands then up to my opposite shoulder. The hand tracing my face smoothed to cup my jaw, his palm surprisingly warm, as his other hand gripped my shoulder. Gently turning me fully towards him.

I began to shake all over then, uncontrollably, and I felt tears welling up in the corners of my eyes as my throat burned. He squeezed my shoulder and rubbed his thumb against my skin.

“... You have fear,” He murmured, and I could feel his hot breath on the top of my head. Could feel the heat from his skin on the hairs of mine. “Please, no. No fear. I will not hurt you… I can not hurt you.”

“Le-let me go,” I managed to squeak out between my quivering lips, “P-please. I-I just want to g-go…”

The grip on my shoulder tightened even more, borderlining painful. I winced slightly, and the pressure eased. I opened my eyes, at first not having the willpower to look anywhere but at the chest that filled my view. His bulk blocked out the sun and everything else around us. Finally, I managed to gather my strength and look up at his face.

His eyes seemed full of concern, but his brow was full of indecision. He looked into my eyes when I looked up, and studied them carefully for a long quiet moment. He traced his thumb along my cheek tenderly.

Then, he slowly shook his head. “No,” He said finally, “I can not let you go.”

My legs nearly gave out beneath me, but I managed a shuddering breath instead that was just a little too loud. I tried to chase out the wild thoughts roaming through my head, the intense pain in my gut and burning in my throat. I resisted the urge to turn away and close my eyes again, instead meeting his deep copper eyes. But I was still shaking beneath his touch and smoldering gaze. The water around us was filled with ripples.

He watched me quietly, then his hand cupping my cheek reached up and pushed the wet hair off my brow. I flinched at the movement, and he paused before dropping his hand. His other remained on my shoulder, then he stepped closer, until our torso’s brushed together, and skimmed his hand along my collarbone to the base of my neck. A shiver ran down my spine, and I finally turned my face away. His hand could so easily enclose my entire neck, and I wondered if he could feel my racing pulse beneath his fingertips. I tried to ignore the firm muscles of his chest that touched my skin, tried to block out the sensation of heat passing from his body to mine.

“Come. I will show. I will keep you safe.” He told me suddenly, dropping his hand and backing away. Then he turned, wading back towards the bank.

Again, I nearly collapsed, and leaned back against the rock. The water splashed loudly as he stomped up onto the bank with heavy feet. He shook his hair out, then brushed it back with his hands. His bare ass faced me, and the intense triangular shape of his form had me tracing his muscled shoulders with my eyes. The size of him was overwhelming. This man could crush my skull with his big toe. If he accidentally sat on my hand his thigh muscles would shatter the bones. If he fell on me…

I shuddered to think about the raw strength of the beast before me, huddling against the rock as far away from him as I could be.

He shook out his furs, then wrapped it back around his waist, covering his thick abs and tying it again at the hip. He turned, looking over his shoulder at me, and raised one black eyebrow. Then he picked up one boot, upturning it and smacking it against the side of the boulder before pulling it back on.

“Sun will set soon. Come.”

[dibberdipper]

Cheap frat party beer

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Drinking, suggestive themes, language

Word count: About 1,500

Summary: Pining was never Poppy’s style. No matter how much she’s going against her gut feeling, she just might not regret going to this boring party.

Author’s note: I tried to fix as many grammar mistakes as I could, I am so sorry if you found a few. Thank you so much for the comments of support on my last post, this is my first official fic on here so I really hope everyone enjoys! 

Her name was Poppy Min-Sinclair. She needed no introduction, she knew it was pure luck and privilege that led her to the top of the Belvoir food chain. She had everything, from the perfect grades, the perfect ranking, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect boyfriend, she could go on.

But for some reason ever since that new girl stepped foot in her life, she was left wanting something more. Bea Hughes came along and took over her entire life in an instant. It frustrated Poppy to no end. How could a girl rise the ranks so quickly in mere days? How did she already gain the attention of the whole school?

More importantly, the question she was the most startled by was why she was so infatuated. She had never felt this helpless over someone since private school. It felt like every encounter was a ticking time bomb until she finally gave in and forgot about who she was. She could be absolutely anybody she wanted, yet she wanted nothing more than to be the Belvoire’s newest fascinations girlfriend.

Instead of paying attention in class, or actually paying attention to the daily mindless gossip, she found herself reliving memories made days prior. The intrigue when she first met her, the pure rage and what almost felt like fun when Bea pretty much threw her in the jello pool, and the embarrassment that was her take down.

“What, are you obsessed with me?”

Just thinking about that moment sent her butterflies in her stomach fluttering, she’s never felt that familiar warm sensation on her cheeks at least since elementary school.

Before she could finish her daydreams, to her disappointment they just had to be interrupted.

“Poppy? Poppy!!”

She rolled her eyes.

“What am I, a dog your trying to train? Stop yelling in my damn ear.” She sneered at her friend.

Chloe huffed. “Poppy, you need to go to this weekend’s party. The last one was like, so embarrassing for you-“

Poppy sent her a warning glare, she gulped in response.

“My point is you need to show up and try to embarrass her back.”

Though deep down, she felt a rush of excitement for what could possibly go down, silently regretting her relationship status, but she could never let her thoughts be known.

She gave her right hand woman a sly smile. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll give them a show.”

Over the weekend

“Oh, um, babe I didn’t expect to see you here after the last one.” He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for her response.

Poppy’s attention wasn’t on her boyfriend, but on the girl at the other side of the room. Bea took a moment to notice her, and gave her a sly smirk when she did. Poppy gave her a cold look over her shoulder to keep her facade of disgust up. After a tense moment, Carter nudged her shoulder.

“Babe?”

Poppy finally came up with a response after not paying attention to him, her eyes still glued on Bea’s.

“Well, I had to show somebody I’m not willing to give up my spot so easily. I have to show everyone at this party that I’m Poppy Min-Sinclair and not just ‘Bitch that was yeeted into jello’-“ Before she finished her rant, she tore her eyes away from Bea for a moment to glance at Carter. It was evident Bea hadn’t caught only her attention.

Time seemed to freeze as she felt a plan spin in her head. She was no stranger to orchestrating these evil ideas, otherwise she wouldn’t be ranked number one. She took in her surroundings; Carter’s wandering eyes, the cooler behind them that was filled to the brim with cheap canned beer, and the inviting stare from the girl across the room. She took a deep breath, no matter how many times she’s concocted these ideas, they didn’t make her feel anymore secure.

“Fuck it.” She reached behind her, opened the cooler, and chugged the bitter taste as fast as she could.

Thinking she was only trying to prove herself ‘cool’ Carter chuckled.

“Baby, I don’t mind leaving for a bit to get you something you’ll actually like from-“

“No, you listen here!” She jabbed a finger to his chest.

“I’m not going to be humiliated and stand around while you’re eye-fucking another girl. You’re as disposable as anybody else in this damn school, and I’m not!”

She knew she was no lightweight but nobody else knew that, not even Chloe. She caught Veronica live-streaming her whole ‘meltdown’. If everything backfired, she knew she could easily hide behind the classic too much beer excuse.

She played off most of the eyes watching her, as she swayed her hips over to the only pair of eyes she cared were watching. Perhaps to everyone else it looked like a cat fight about to go down, or a thinly veiled threat. But only Bea Hughes and her partner in crime Zoey Wade knew what she really whispered.

“Go upstairs, turn left, and walk ahead until you see the last dorm on the right. Leave five minutes after me.”

Before she walked away, she was sure to send a glare to Zoey.

“Alone.”

Poppy impatiently tapped her fingers on her lap wondering if it was all a mistake. She bit her lip, questioning herself and whether everything backfire until the door slammed open.

“Poppy I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but-“

“Kiss me.” The words blurred out of her mouth without her even realizing it.

Bea’s mouth hung wide open in shock. “I… I’m sorry, excuse me, but what the fuck?”

“Do you want me to say please or what?”

Bea closed the door behind her, and took a few steps over. The room was almost completely dark, with the exception of the moonlight crawling in with the party lights. She felt Bea’s hands, that she noticed were bigger than hers, cup her face. She took in her deep dark eyes, the beautiful brown tone of her skin, and her inviting lips adorned in red lipstick. Bea drew back.

“Look your breath smells like alcohol, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

She was turned her away, but Poppy grabbed her hands in protest.

“I may not look like it, but I swear I can handle plenty of drinks. Don’t walk away when I’m not even drunk.”

Bea met her eyes, and gave the woman in front of her with pure desperation in her eyes her signature sly smirk.

“Is Poppy Min-Sinclair, ranked number one in Belvoire, begging the small town girl to kiss her?”

Poppy swallowed any cocky remarks back, along with her pride. “She is. If you keep her waiting, she might just walk out.”

Poppy felt Bea’s warm hands on her face again, and her sultry whisper in her ear. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we…”

Bea nibbled her ear, making Poppy let out a soft moan. A sound neither of them knew she could make until that moment.

Their lips met after only a week of glaring, pettiness mixed met with almost immediate pining, and just all around sexual tension. Neither of them knew a sensation could be so intense with somebody they had only just known. They skipped the friends milestone, straight to enemies, to whatever they were now.

Bea’s hands wondered into her hair, Poppy’s hands roaming over Bea’s back. Her fingers trailing downwards, her heart beat’s pace quickened. She anticipated every moment next. Poppy felt Bea’s hands linger at the hem of her skirt, when they heard the knob turn. They pushed each other away, straightening her clothes. Poppy immediately dropped down and hid under the bed as the door opened.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while and I wanted to be sure you didn’t need any backup.”

Bea sent a playful glance to Poppy, Poppy’s heart freezing. The rush of excitement overwhelming her, she didn’t know whether Bea would expose her right now or keep their secret act in the night a secret.

“Little miss Poppy Min-Sinclair never showed up. A shame really.”

Zoey laughed. “You really scared that girl into chickening out of talking to you.” Poppy glared at Bea, and Bea stifled a giggle.

“Anyways the guys downstairs want to play beer pong, you can go up a few ranks since Veronica’s live-streaming. You can’t miss it!”

Bea shot a sneaky look at Poppy, and looked back at Zoey.

“Ten minutes tops, ever since Poppy essentially ditched me here I’ve gotten a bit sleepy. When I’m done I’m going to sleep in here, I’m sure whoever this room belongs to won’t mind too much.”

“Sounds like a plan, ready to kick some ass Bea?”

They walked out of the eye sight for Poppy, and she heard them leave the room with one last piece of dialogue slipping out. Poppy’s heart sunk.

“Please don’t try to wake me up or anything, I have a feeling I’ll be in there for a few hours.”

Poppy slowly tiptoed to the door, closing it. She sighed and sat back on the bed. There was nothing for her to do for the next ten minutes but sit there and smell like cheap frat party beer.

Thank you for reading! Tagging: @lolimugly @origmansello @grapecaseschoices @mvalentine @greatestflirt-hero​ @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @coldbatfriendroad@that-one-choices-person @ariel-0318 @drethanramslay @queensayeed @kawaiibanditmoneytaco @rotten-teddy-bear @aguywiththreepairsofglasses @elijahmessenger @axiel90 @ritafarrr @erza-elcy-crimson @poshbiscuit @sarasansone98 @ghalind @that-one-choices-person @dervaux @generaldameronss @adrianadmirer @anonymous--anteater @everythingchoices

[nightowlfandom]

Prompto Argentum- Under The Waterfalls

These times may seem dark, but this too shall pass. I hope that I can work extra hard to brighten someone’s day throughout these next few weeks.

Masterlist here

Let’s Begin.

...

"You know what I just noticed?" you asked aimlessly to no one. It was probably one of the hottest days of the year and you and your friends had decided to just load up the car and take a drive somewhere. You didn't know if camping, hunting, chilling at the beach or whatever would come from this trip, but whatever happened was gonna be an adventure.

"What would that be?" Ignis chuckled from from front seat, already knowing what you were gonna say. It was a routine thing that you always did. You always found something about one of the guys you liked on a particular day. "What ever could it be this time?"

"Hold on, I'm thinking." you tapped your chin. "Gladio finally finished that 30 book series he was working on!" you suddenly said, looking over at the taller muscular guy who was nose deep in yet another book you probably didn't know the name of. "Ignis learned five new recipes this week! Noctis caught three rare fish in a row in the same place!" you continued.

"What about me?"

Prompto turned his head to look at you as he had been sitting in the front seat. He narrowed his eyes at you as if assuming you wouldn't have mentioned him in the first place. Call it paranoia, but you weren't too sure Prompto necessarily liked you. Sure he was nice and everything, but there was something about when you would try to talk to him. You didn't know if he just hadn't warmed up to you or secretly wanted you to get run over by a train.

"….Your hair is super floofy today!" you said. You resisted to urge to reach out your hand to touch it. "…and you have a Chocobo feather stuck too." you put a hand over your mouth to resist laughing too loudly.

"Huh?!?" he instantly turned away from you, looking in the side view mirror to see a large neon yellow feather stuck to the top of his hairstyle. "Awh man!" he groaned. "I'll ruin my hair if I try to take it out!"

"Then keep it in! I think it makes you look cool!" you commented!

"Really?" His tone had changed from partially annoyed to curious. "Like it works for me?"

"One hundred percent!" you replied.

"And that concludes thing 576 Y/N noticed today." Noctis joked, nudging your shoulder. "What will it be next week?"

"Now why would I reveal my secrets! That's something between me and well-….me!" you warned.

"Ah I see! A magician never reveals her secrets." Ignis laughed as he pulled the car to a stop.

"Camping…why am I not surprised." you grumbled lowly. There was a waterfall nearby the campsite. The water rushing through the river was crystal-like, clear as the cloudless sky. "At least it's not that disgusting swamp from last time."

"Yeah, I wonder whose idea that was." Gladio glared over at Noctis.

"It was the perfect fishing spot!" he protested.

You could only shake your head as you walked around to the trunk. You were about to grab one of the bags when a pale hand grabbed the hand before you could.

"I got this."

"Oh, Prompto! It's okay, I can carry it-" you tried to say.

" When a man offers you help, take it." was his reply. Without another word, he grabbed the other bag you had reached for then turned away, walking off to set up the tents. "Remember what happened last time." you could hear him mumbling. Of course he was referring to the time you grabbed something really heavy and took an entire ten minutes just to drag it along to the car.

"Right." you tried to laugh it off. You were left to your own devices after a while, the boys never asked you to help with anything. Them and their traditional ways. You tried to carry a cooler by yourself once, the next thing you know Ignis is scolding Noctis for letting you carry it alone. "Thanks for the tip." you mumbled sadly.

Okay, you may or may not have had a thing for Prompto since…well since you met him. You were really good at hiding it … from him. Only him in particular, he just didn't seem to like you much. Not even as an acquaintance. It felt like he only tolerated you because you were part of the team, but other than that. Did he even see you as a friend? Not in your eyes.

 (Meanwhile)

"You did it again, idiot." Noctis flicked his best friend in the back of the head. Prompto threw down the bags, turning to face the raven-haired male.

"What are you talking about?"

He motioned towards you who was currently having a chat with Ignis who was setting up the cooking station. It took Prompto a second to register what he was referring too. When he realized it, he wound up kicking something.

"AAH FUCK!" he snapped, realizing he rammed his foot onto a boulder in the process. "Damn it!"

"For someone who threatens us on the daily to stay away from Y/N, you're doing a terrible job of marking your 'territory'." He used finger quotes. You didn't belong to Prompto, not even a little. However, the way he talked about you to the others had them thinking he was living in a fantasy land when he said you were off limits.

He didn't intend to come off and rude and mean but for some reason, he always did when it came to you. He didn't know how to explain it, other than the way he knew best. Stay away from you and there wouldn't be any problems. Ignis however must have decided to ignore such a demand.

He could only watch in fury as you laughed at something Ignis said. It must have been real funny because you were holding your sides.

"That little….four eyed miscreant!

"…Do you even know what miscreant means?"

"Shut up!"

...

By the time night fell, you were far from sleepy. You snuck off from the campsite with a towel and a change of clothes. Alone time! Sweet! That sweet waterfall was just begging to be dived into. You tip toed around the tents and as soon as you were far enough, began jogging towards the lake.

You tilted your head to look up at the waterfall. You could see the moon peeking out from the mist of water that followed the falls down to the clear pool. You set down your stuff at the edge of the lake.

Off came your shoes, then your pants, then the shirt. You turned your head towards the campsite. You could barely make out the tents from afar. "It'll be fine." you unclasped your bra. "Not like they're gonna wake up any time soon." you mumbled, letting it fall to the grass. "Off you go demons." you let your undergarments fall to the ground. Without a second thought, you jumped into the water, making a huge splash. You just prayed none of your stuff got wet.

As you surfaced, you allowed yourself to just float for a moment. You stared up at the night sky, it was clear and cloudless. The stars scattered across the sky and the moon was so close you felt like you could touch it with your fingers. The moonlight shone down on the waters, casting a glow over you and everything around you. You waded over to the waterfall, moving behind it to peek out of the distorted lens. You reached out your hand to touch the falling droplets. You sat yourself on a rock, kicking your legs in the slightly warm water. Nothing could possibly ruin this peaceful moment-

"You should be sleeping."

You turned your head to the left, only to see a half dressed Prompto. Apparently he had found the back entrance to the lake. Both of you were hidden from the open space behind the falls, so it didn't worry you too much, but that didn't explain why he was here.

"HOLY SH-!" you instantly crossed your arms over your chest, covering your breasts. " What are you doing!?"

"Hey! It's only me!" You watched his and he unbuckled his belt. "And keep your voice down! You'll wake everyone up."

"D-don't take off your clothes!" you began freaking out. "I was trying to relax here!." you whined.

"Am I not allowed to relax too?" he pulled down his pants and threw them over a rock.

"Not when I'm practically naked!" you snapped. "Did you follow me?"

"I saw you leaving, I just wanted to make sure you were alright!"

"Why would you do that? " you scoffed, turning your head away from him. "You barely even like me." That also didn't explained why he was currently stripping down to his birthday suit!

"You don't know what I like."

"Well I know how you act towards me. It's enough."

Prompto peeled off what was left of his clothes and got into the water. His ducked his head under the waterfall, drenching his hair. He ran his hands through those blonde locks, washing all his stress away. He seemed to not be phased by the situation at all.  "You gonna stare at me all day or what?"

"Please. I wasn't looking at you." you lied through your teeth. Yeah, that was believable. You both were literally two feet away from each other, which was really close now that you really thought about it. You turned your head the other way. Whatever, no way in hell were you leaving.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said after a while.

"Very."

There was an awkward silence between you two. You had never been left alone with Prompto before, and especially not in the nude.

"Been a while since I got to just enjoy a night like this."

"Tell me about it." you replied with a laugh. "Seems like we're always busy with something. Wouldn't be surprised if we had something to do in the morning." you turned your head towards him to find him running his hands through his dripping wet hair.

"Don't jinx it, because it actually might happen." He cracked a smile for the first time since he got there.

"Just stating facts." you slowly turned your head so you were looking straight at him. Your arms were still crossed, forbidding him from seeing anything. "You know how Ignis is with his missions."

"Where the lie in that?" He joked, making you laugh as well. Prompto tried to not let his eyes wander. "Why did you run off anyways?"

"Like I said, this is probably the only time I'll have to myself for a while. I'm taking advantage of it." you shrugged. "Speaking of Ignis, he was talking about you today."

"About what?" He narrowed his eyes into a glare. "What did specs say about me this time?"

"It wasn't anything bad. He was just talking about you liking me or something." you giggled at the thought. "I was laughing because of how unrealistic that thought was. You'd think for such a smart guy, Ignis would make his observations more clear. No way in hell would the be possible, right?"

Prompto stared blankly at you. He went from staring to slowly taking a step, then another then another. It was almost predatory with how he was moving in the water.

"Uh….right?" you nervously laughed again. "P-prompto?" you tightened your arms across your chest to the point where it was starting to ache. You were slowly but surely growing more and more nervous.

"Wrong." were his last words before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to his warm body. He abruptly pressed his lips against yours. It felt kind of weird since he was anchoring his body over your arm, so you lowered them. Your felt your breasts push up against his broad chest as he comfortably tightened his arms around your waist. He was surprised how easily you melted into his touch but happy nonetheless. It took all your strength to not collapse against the rocks. You ran your fingers against his wet hair, gently pulling at each strand. You heart at this point was racing a million miles a minute

When Prompto pulled away, his entire face has flushed a deep pink color. Whether from embarrassment or lust, you couldn't tell. He stared down at you with hooded eyes and an unreadable expression. "You look so-…so damn hot right now."

The way your chest rose and fell so heavily, your innocent expression, those water droplets traveling down your neck, drip down your chest. "W-wait. Don't you have a thing for Cindy?"

"Used to." he corrected. "That changed a long, long time ago. Now all I can think of is you. All I fucking want is you." He began trailing prolonged sloppy kisses on your shoulder.  You tilted your head to the side to give him more access to your shivering skin. You absentmindedly wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him permission to go further with his actions. "I can see you feel the same way." he laughed. Only this wasn't his usual happy-go-lucky laugh. His voice was deep, vibrating almost. He almost sounded like he was growling with every word. "My question is…how far are you going to let me take this."

(….Yeah I couldn't finish this or else this would have been longer than a Game Of Thrones book. So what happens next is left to your discretion. See you next post.)

[capricornus-rex]

Hiya! Still taking any requests? If so, can you write something about Cal and JediReader finally settle down and have a kid or something. I literally binged your materialist in one night until I realized the sun was coming out. I love your writing so much btw! It’s BEAUTIFUL!!!! 💕 (I’m saving your inquisitorCal fic until I finish my classes for this semester. I can’t wait for the pure heartbreak😖)

Hi Anon! Sorry you’ve waited so long ;;A;; I had to finish the prompts that came before yours. Anyway, your prompt has helped me fix up the fic idea I had in the middle of writing another fic so thank you for that! And also thanks for liking what I post! ^w^ Hope you enjoy this fic! 💕

“A Legacy Begun” | Chapter 1: What Comes Next | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Additional prompt: My fic idea

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Also posted in AO3

Next: Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of ?

“Where to now?” the young man asked to everyone.

The crew exchanged glances. Cere stepped in.

“It’s up to you to decide, Cal,”

“I think we should just take a breather,”

Cal charted a course back to Bogano. All this action has taken a great toll on everyone. During the jump to hyperspace, the crew dispersed—back to their own activities—while you plopped down on the couch, Cal sat next to you, barely allowing an inch of space between you, and your little adopted Bogling peeks under the lounge’s center table. It chittered but you quickly put a finger against your lips, hoping that the animal would understand your gesture. You and Cal shared a secretive chuckle, glancing at the cockpit to see if Greez had heard.

“I don’t think he heard,” Cal whispered.

“Good,”

You link arms with Cal and rested your head against his shoulder, he planted a kiss on your forehead as he nestled himself by your side. Your free hand extended to the Holocron—now reduced to shards—and a single crystalline nugget gravitated to your fingers; raising it up so it aligns with the overhead light, the prism glowed yellow as you turned it in different angles, the specks of impurity within the crystal appeared like glitters.

While you gaze at the remains of the relic, mesmerized, Cal started to shift in his seat. He rested his head on your lap and buried his face against your abdomen. You chuckle at his gesture, but you were totally endeared, your eyes wandered to the cauterized part of his jumpsuit’s armor while running his fingers through his hair.

“How’s your rib?” you purred.

“The sting’s still there, but bearable,”

“I think I have something for that back in the abode,”

“I leave it to you, doc,” he cooed.

His hand reached for your cheek, ever so lovingly he caressed the curve of your skin while his eyes trace every inch of your face; you spot the involuntary upward curls of his lips as you nuzzled your nose against his palm, your tired Jedi drifted off to sleep in the middle of the journey.

An hour later, Cal awakes by the rumble of the Mantis landing on Bogano’s soil.

“We’re here,” you announce softly.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned, tossing to his right so he can wrap his arms around you and buried his face into your abdomen again.

“Honey, we’re home,” you tussled his hair, trying to get him up. “You can take a nap when we get to the abode.”

Cal was childishly uncooperative, continuously coaxing him to get up because your legs are starting to go numb from his weight.

“Alright, alright, I’m up!” he exerted, sitting up from his comfortable headrest that is your lap and finding the strength to plant the balls of his feet back on the floor.

It was midday when you arrived in Bogano, the shorter way back to the abode was hopping from one mesa to the other where the roofs of the huts dotted the land. Upon entering, you’ve already reached the second floor of the abode and turned to the archway tunnel that connects the abode itself to the second level of the bedroom.

The living quarters was dim but BD-1 scampered off of Cal’s shoulder to switch on the power. White lights glowed to life and illuminated the entire bedroom, the redhead staggered to the bed, plopped himself and proceeded to lie flat on his back against the mattress. His hands lazily searched for the straps of his armor, unfastening the buckles, undoing the buttons of the shirt underneath the leather chestplate, and finally unzipping the top of his jacket.

When all of his upper clothing was shed, Cal felt liberated. A sight of relief escaped his lungs while you gathered a Bacta gauze and tape. You brushed aside the left flap of his jacket, revealing the stab wound—blood had dried and curdled into a maroon crust around the flesh and the body water had pooled on top of the damaged skin.

“Just a few more inches up and he’d pierced your heart,”

He takes your hand and places it above his heart.

“Still here, but I could’ve sworn you’ve taken it already,”

You rolled your eyes, scoffed laughingly, “Smooth.”

A crisp, pastel green square covered the circular wound, secured with medical tape. You briskly caressed Cal’s jaw and kissed his forehead.

“Go get some rest,” you cooed. “You’ve earned it, my love.”

He nodded obediently, continuing his nap from the Mantis as his eyelids drooped and his features softened. You watched him drift off again.

Evening fell upon Bogano. Cal had the longest yet nicest slumber he’s ever had in years. He wakes up and finds you absent in the bedchamber, he stepped out of the abode, climbing back up to the mesa’s surface. He spotted you lying down on the grass, wobbling your leg leisurely as you stared at the deep blue blanket of sky.

Cal joined you on the cool bed of grass, putting a flower he had plucked before lying flat on his back next to you.

“Something on your mind?” Cal began.

“Not really. I just missed the night sky here, it’s all so peaceful,” you sighed. “Just a few weeks ago, we were hopping between planets—so much has happened in every one we’ve been to—and all of that to save the next generation of Jedi. It’s kinda poetic.”

Cal had no response to that, although he almost had the exact same thing in mind. Another thing entered his head, though he wasn’t ready to say it yet. He decided it was a talk for another time, allowing himself to enjoy the present with you.

“What do you think happens now, Cal?” you curiously inquired.

“I don’t know, honestly,”

The pair of young Jedi exchanged glances, trading short, awkward smiles, both speaking an expression that painted an uncertainty of what the future holds for them. Fingers interlocked with one another as their eyes glanced at the sky, as if hoping the stars had the answer for them.

—–

A year and a half has passed since Cal Kestis destroyed Eno Cordova’s holocron.

The Mantis crew eventually found another refuge: the remote planet of Cerinda, located in the Mid Rim where the hand of the Empire almost stretches thin. The rich countryside of the planet attracted everyone—including Greez to some extent, given that he was after the seeds and sources of food that can help step up his culinary game.

You and Cal have made a hobby of strolling across the spaciousness of the land every now and then to get some fresh air. Like today, the two of you sat in the sea of grass—the meadows filled your eyes with the brightest green, sweet and cool water sourced from the waterfalls and rivers irrigated the soil, and the weather was simply divine.

“Your stubble’s growing out” you pointed.

Cal massaged his jaw, the hairs pricked his fingertips as he ran them across his face.

“Should I get rid of it?”

You shake your head, you couldn’t repress the grin forming in your lips, “No, I’d rather you keep it.”

In the corner of your eye, the waterfall’s mist became a prism against the sunlight, spreading the rays of light to where you and Cal sat. The two of you approached the basin, your fingers glided across the water, forming ripples that expanded and then panned towards the waterfall itself. You and Cal waded on its shore, stepping closer until the water has reached the middle of your boots.

You started a water war when you playfully splashed Cal, nearly wetting his hair, he retaliated when he used both hands to scoop water and throw it to you.

“You’ll never get me!” you laughed, running away from the pond before Cal could have a chance to pour a handful of water on your head.

“Not if I can help it!” he cheered back, chasing you with the water running out drop by drop.

When he got close enough, water rained over you—wetting your clothes especially on your back and shoulders—and he gleefully snatched you up; wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you inches above the ground, and you spinning you around as both of you filled the air with laughter.

He lost balance when he has spun enough times to stumble back on the ground. You’re still laughing out whatever’s left of you as the grass tickled your skin. Cal crawled and stood on fours over you, he cupped your jaw and closed in to kiss you—it was tender and luscious, when he pulled away, you found his sweet smile greeting you back.

The fresh breeze has picked up, the two of you continued to lounge in the fragrant grass whose length reached your breasts when sitting up; every once in a while, Cal would find himself staring at you and thinking about the question that popped into his mind a year ago in Bogano. Back then, he didn’t think that that exact moment was the best time to say it; now at the present, he still wasn’t so sure, but he figured that it’d be best to test the waters—now that things seemed to have toned down.

You turned to see Cal looking at you, but his eyes appeared to be in deep thought.

“What is it, Cal?”

Your soft-toned question somehow jolted him back into reality, realizing too late that he has zoned out too much just thinking about the entire topic. He began stammering, trying to string together the right words that he has been mentally practicing a few times now.

“Listen, I’ve meaning to ask you something—ever since Bogano, actually, but I just didn’t think it was the right time for it, and I really didn’t think that I would find myself asking it,”

The tinge of seriousness in his tone suddenly made your stomach sink, but you waited for him to finish. He knelt on one knee, level to your sitting height, and you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat and a shiver run down your spine under a sunny afternoon.

“[y/n] [l/n], will you give me the biggest honor to marry me?”

At the very moment, your heart gave out what ought to be the biggest beat in your entire lifetime. Little did you know that at the top of the hill, Cere was standing there, surveying the land in search of the pair of you—she had secretly witnessed Cal proposing to you and you giving him the best answer you could have ever given him. The woman smiled to herself, somewhat getting secondhand joy from what she had witnessed.

“Yes,” you gasped. Overjoyed, you repeated your answer in a medley of crying and laughing. “YES, CAL KESTIS, YES!!”

Cal huffed out the tension that he has been choking himself with, he was unable to control the upward curls that were growing along his lips. He threw himself towards you, pulling you in abruptly, thanking you in the form of kisses and bursting in laughter.

“Really?”

“Yes, to the ends of the galaxy, yes!”

The joy in his heart was so great that he’s simply acting out of impulse. He snatched you up once more, his hold tighter than the last, and buried his face on the crook of your neck as he slightly spun you again. You latched onto him so tight that for a moment, time seemed to have stopped ticking, and the next moment felt like cloud nine.

The two of you returned to the ship, hand in hand, the first one to greet you was Cere. A smirk on her face suggested that she may or may not know what had just transpired.

“Well, you two seem awfully happy,”

“Come inside with us, we want everyone to know,” Cal beckoned.

Cere chuckled but only within her earshot, she followed the two of you into the ship.

Out of excitement, BD-1 scampered off of Cal’s shoulder to the center of the table in the lounge and started chirping a string of notes at everyone.

“Don’t spoil the surprise, BD!” Cal cooed.

“What did BD say?” Merrin asked, on behalf of everybody in the ship.

There was brief pause, Cal turned to you, wordlessly giving you the honors to bear the news. You took a deep breath.

“I’m engaged!” you declared.

The ship was filled with gasps and hushed exclamations. Merrin’s jaw dropped, she put away the extra plants that she had harvested from the terrarium, rushing to both of you in a hug. Cere laughed in a celebratory joy and Greez swooned, witnessing him being genuinely affectionate and supportive—which he rarely does.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Greez beamed.

“In three days, we’d like to keep it simple,” Cal replied.

The Nightsister braced you on the shoulders, “We definitely have to find you a dress!”

[straight-outta-kaer-morhen]

Silver & Scars <Chapter 3>

This is the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written. I guess I was in some type of mood this week? Anyways, maybe Eskel is too playful in this? Might be a bit out of character? Idk let me know what you guys think!

Chapter 3: The Drowner Contract

"Let's talk about my reward." Her lips were pulled into a coy smile. 

Eskel attempted to keep his grin at bay. It was clear she knew how Witchers worked, and found amusement in teasing him. He stepped closer to her, leaning down, his voice husky against her ear, "and what kind of reward do you seek?" 

Amber eyes watched her body involuntarily shudder. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, "a book." She breathed. "I can't seem to find a copy in Vizima." She explained. "If you ever find a copy during your travels, all I ask is that you bring it to me when you get the chance."

Eskel pulled away, surprised at the simple request, "and if I can't find it?" 

She just shrugged as she grabbed the kettle from the fire, "every year that you come back without it you'll have to spend the day with me, doing whatever I want." 

The (petite/lean/curvy) sorceress was cunning. Pulling him back to her doorstep with an innocent promise. Eskel couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for the woman, and a possible friendship with her warmed his heart. He could only imagine what kind of hoops the woman would have him jump through, but he found himself eager to please her. “Deal.”

She stuck out her small hand for him to shake, an amused smile pulled at his lips. All of his contracts refused to touch him on the account they believed him to be a monster, but here was a woman who appeared as a delicate flower standing before him eagerly waiting for the transaction to be sealed. He took her hand, and was surprised to find a firm grip. 

“Negotiating is quite the thrill.” She commented. “I think I would make a wonderful Witcher.” She teased as she turned to pour two cups of tea. 

A laugh bubbled inside Eskel’s chest, “Perhaps Vesemir will take on another trainee.” 

“Is Vesemir the head of your school?” (Y/N) inquired, leading him to two chairs in front of the fire. 

“Yes, he trained Geralt and I.” Eskel said, taking a seat across from the sorceress. 

“Geralt?”

“We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.” Eskel explained. 

“I had brothers,” the (h/c) mused. “A long time ago.” She added.

They spent the better part of the evening in each other’s company. Neither one wanted to admit they were tired. The comfortable conversation the two had conjured was magical. Both feared that if  either stepped away it would break the chemistry the two shared. 

It was Eskel who suggested sleep when he noticed the sorceress’s drooping eyes. She had stubbornly refused, and Eskel found himself carrying the (petite/lean/curvy) woman to bed after she fell asleep in her chair. 

*

**

*

The pair had made their way to the docks early the next morning. Eskel shouldn’t have been surprised when the sorceress suggested teleporting to the swamp. The thought of teleportation made him uneasy inside. “The ferryman isn’t too expensive.” 

She thought of teasing the man, but hesitated seeing the genuine unease in his feline eyes. “I trust you to help me ashore if the boat sinks.”

“You can’t swim?” Eskel raised his brows in surprise.

“Oh I can swim...just not very good.” She admitted gazing into the dark water. 

The sun was just cresting  the hill when the two climbed into the boat. Y/N was seated across from the Witcher as the ferryman guided the rickety vessel through the water. The trip was silent, except the gentle waves that lapped the side of the boat.  

When they finally stepped onto the spongy earth of the swamps, Eskel paid the ferryman. The sorceress had occupied herself with collecting some fools parsley. Eskel was silent to approach her. He took the opportunity to bask in candid moments of the sorceress’s life. The small facial expressions she made, or the ease in which she did most things brought a warmth to the Witcher he couldn’t quite comprehend. The simple, silver embroidered tunic she wore was practical, as were the worn black boots and cloth pants. 

He’d expected an extravagant outfit when she’d met him at the foot of the stairs this morning. Yennefer and Triss always seemed to be adorning the latest fashion whenever they had wintered at Kaer Morhen, so he’d assumed she would do the same. Perhaps his knowledge of sorceresses was lacking. 

(Y/N) glanced up at him, with a soft smile. “Are you ready?” She stood up before he could reply, tucking the herbs into a pouch that hung from her belt. 

They picked their way through the swamp. The sorceress took care to avoid the many bogs that were disguised as shallow puddles. Having learned the hard way the sorceress now knew better. 

The trip through the swamp was a little slower then Eskel was used to, but in no way unpleasant. The sorceress’s legs were much shorter than his, so he understood. She managed to fill the time speaking about various books she’d recently read. Occasionally when the conversation died down, Eskel could hear her singing under her breath. 

It was around noon when the sorceress came to a stop. “It’s just over that hill.” She said, gesturing to a steeply sloping mound. A few trees were scattered along the hill, and a few patches of long stemmed grass. The mud that coated the mound would make it difficult to climb.

“Do you have a plan, or are we just going for it?” The (petite/curvy/lean) woman inquired. 

Eskel looked surprised, “you want to help?” 

A huff escaped her pout, “I didn’t trek miles into these swamps to not get my hands dirty.” She said tossing her (h/c) hair behind her shoulder. “Besides, someone has to watch your back Witcher.”

The stubborn, feisty streak that came out occasionally in the sorceress had Eskel feeling things he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. He thought he became immune to crushes long ago, but this (e/c) eyed beauty was determined to prove him wrong. “Kill as many as you can.” Was Eskel’s only comment as he began wading through the swamp to scale the slippery hill.

The sorceress was quick to follow. They crested the hill both covered in mud. There was little either could have done to avoid the muck. Eskel was about to pour some oil on his blade when a yelp escaped the sorceress. His eyes snapped up in time to see the ground give way beneath her feet. 

She was helplessly sliding down the muddy slope towards the drowners nest. There was no purchase for her to grab onto. Electricity crackled at her fingertips, she’d decided her best option would be to prepare for a fight. The drowners had come running for her as soon as they heard the sound of earth moving. She threw a bolt of lightning at the closest drowner. The air grew hot and heavy from the electric currents in the air. Thunder rumbled in the sky as she pulled a bolt down from the sky.

Eskel was surprised to see the sorceress managing so well. He felt a raindrop on his forearm. As soon as a crack of lightning came down on a drowner, the skies opened up and sheets of rain came falling down. Eskel slid down the hill on the soles of his boots. His left hand behind him kept him balanced. He threw out igni at the first drowner he came across. Quickly lopping its head off. 

He soon found himself fighting next to the sorceress. Her sopping clothes clung to her skin, and something behind her eyes crackled with life. “You look magnificent.” Eskel commented signing Igni at a group of drowners.

A chuckle escaped her as she brought down another strike of lightning, “you’re rather impressive yourself.” 

With a final stroke of his sword the drowners were dispatched. The two made their way over to the nest. Eskel lit a grape shot tossing it into the middle of the nest. “Back up.” Eskel said instinctively, grabbing her hand pulling her away from the nest straight into his arms. 

He could feel the energy still crackling under her skin, and her eyes had turned smoldering as he tilted her chin up to him. He leaned down, hesitating a moment, but she stood on her tiptoes to guide him to her lips. 

Her lips were cold from the rain, but he was pleasantly surprised at how passionately she kissed. Any doubts or insecurities he may have had were put to rest. There wasn’t a thing she’d rather be doing, as she took her time exploring his mouth. 

The snap of a twig was all he heard. Eskel quickly shoved the sorceress behind him, his silver blade already in his hand. A bloedzuiger has emerged from the murky pool. The sound of the grapeshot going off had drawn the monster to them. 

“Run.” Eskel said flatly, backing up from the monster keeping the sorceress behind him. By the Witcher’s tone she did not hesitate to obey. She scrambled up the hill, out of the Witcher’s way. She’d never come across this type of monster in the swamp and had no knowledge of what the monster was capable of.

It looked terrifying; sharp teeth ringed its mouth, and long needle claws swiped at Eskel. The dark haired Witcher was quick on his feet. Using igni and his silver blade in unison. The way he dodged, and striked looked like a dance to the (short/moderate/tall) woman. 

Eskel’s silver blade sank deep into the monster��s flesh. It appeared that the fight was over. In the blink of an eye the monster exploded into a mist of lizard green acid. “Eskel!” The sorceress cried, slipping down the muddy slope, running as fast as her legs could carry her. 

She found him laying face down in the mud. She fell to her knees to check for any signs of life when two strong arms shot out wrapping around her waist, pulling her down into the mud with him. She let out a startled squeak, as he rolled on top of her planting a kiss right on her lips. He broke the kiss as chuckles rumbled through his body. Dark hair tickled her cheeks as she peered up at his feline eyes. 

“I cannot believe you!” She cried. “Making me think you were dead, and then basting me in mud.” She propped herself up on her elbows, “don’t think your boyish charm is going to get you out of this on-“ he cut her off with his lips. 

Her mind went blank at the feel of his full lips. The unabashed kisses came as a bit of a shock to the sorceress. He’d been so guarded the first time they met, and one kiss was all it took for the man to open up. The kiss was over too quickly, “please let me teleport us to a bathtub.” The sorceress muttered inspecting her mud soaked clothes. 

Eskel chuckled, pulling her to her feet, “you’ll get used to it.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I take that as a no to the teleportation to a bath.” 

“No to the teleportation.” He said, leaning closer to murmur in her ear, “I never said no to the bath.” 

The sorceress turned red as she watched the departing Witcher. She knew he had a smug look on his face. He knew exactly how to push her buttons. “You coming?” He asked turning, walking backwards a few steps waiting for her to catch up. 

“You’re helping me up this hill.” She stated, as he graciously held out his hand to pull her up the steep slope. 

The trek back through the swamp was slower than before. The sorceress was miserable in her wet boots, and she could tell the Witcher was fairing the same. 

Twilight had hit when the two finally reached Y/N’s home. “I’ll heat up the water.” Y/N said walking up the stairs. Eskel followed a bit slower taking in the various artwork that hung on the wall. Y/N had already stripped herself of her boots when Eskel leaned against the wooden bathing screen. “Rose hip, or lemon verbena?” She inquired, studying two glass bottles. “Lemon.” She muttered to herself pouring a generous amount in the empty tub. 

“Would you fill the tub?” She inquired, as she grabbed some more soap. The cauldron was awkward, as Eskel poured the water in the tub. He placed the empty cauldron over the fire where it hung. Y/N had started to undress when Eskel brushed her hair aside, his voice husky in her ear, “allow me.”

Tag List:

@mishafaye @nvmnd @rebellicorne

[olliegreenblog]

Cryptozoology Club (Judd Birch A.U.)

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Posey and Judd grew up next door to each other, bonded by the life-long rivalry they share. When college comes, neither are ready for it.Posey needs an apartment to crash in, and Judd has an extra room.Judd needs community service hours to graduate, and Posey is the president of the cryptozoology club. Can they put aside their rivalry long enough to come out of the situation alive?

Chapter One

The night of Posey’s eighteenth birthday is lazy and warm.

The poolside cobblestone beneath her was still sun-kissed from the recently faded day, and the pool water that waded up her legs to her thighs was heated.

Posey’s parents were out tonight, as they usually were, and she was enjoying the peaceful ascent into adulthood by herself.

To taste the new succulent fruit of maturity, she pulled on the straps of her bathing suit, purchased specifically for tonight.

The elastic fabric snapped into her delightfully, and she hissed at the harsh molding of her skin. She wondered if the slight pain was something she would be into. She knew that she liked the way she looked in this new swimsuit, and she let her mind wander as she thought about how someone else might like her in it.

Would they stare at her cleavage? Fantasize about the way the soft flesh of her thighs would feel? Would they think she was so beautiful they would be afraid to touch her?

She was lost in thought when there was a disturbance in the warm water. She felt rogue splashes decorating her stomach and breasts, and turned towards the culprit, even though she already knew who it was.

Judd was kneeling next to her, drying his hand on his pants after using it to splash her.

“Was that necessary, Judd?” Posey asked, though she wasn’t really bothered by the intrusion.

Judd had been intruding in her life since she could walk; it was almost expected by now. In fact, there was a part of her that waited for him to show up.

“I am an agent of chaos,” He reminded her with a self-satisfied smirk.

The two had been neighbors for years, and they have been enemies since day one. The rest of the Birch family had practically adopted her as their own, since her own parents were absent so often, but Judd didn’t treat her like a member of the family.

He acted like she was both something more meaningful to him than family, and less meaningful.

He treated her like the bane of his existence, and spent entire years focusing on nothing more than instigating her when she least expected it.

She looked up at him, twisted her body towards him. She would wait silently until he told her why he had come over.

He never comes over without a reason.

The new angle allowed the pool light to illuminate the wet curves of her body, showing how the string bikini hugs her. He couldn’t help but remember when she was nothing but skin and bones at 14, and how her sports bra across her scrawny chest looked like a harness that had no real point.

Coming back to the present, he couldn’t stop himself from drinking in the changes of her new body, which he had never seen so much of.  

He averted his eyes quickly.

“My parents set up a surprise party for you. They wanted me to lure you over,” Judd told her. He looked back at his house to help control himself.

She looked shocked. “You guys remembered my birthday?”

She had a pleased smile on her face. Then her expression quickly shifted; she furrowed her brows and crossed her legs, the sound of swishing water drawing his attention back.

He watched the water glide down her soft skin, unable to look away again.

“And you ruined the surprise for me.” She accused, in the same tone he was so used to.

He smiled with mischief, delighted at hearing it.

“Why?” She insisted.

He just shrugged at her, then turned to walk away. The truth is, he just liked to tease her.

Liked the way her nose stuck up in the air and she defended herself.

Liked the self-righteous tone of her voice.

As he was leaving the perimeter of her café-string lighted patio, she called him back.

“Do you think I’m going to follow you?” Posey asked, her nose high in the air just like he hoped.

He fought back a smile.

“Aren’t you?” He asked turning back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She thought about it for a minute. Of course she wanted to celebrate her eighteenth birthday with good people, and was comforted by the fact that they remembered.

But submitting to Judd was beyond her, and unless he evened the score for splashing her, she wouldn’t appease him.

“Not that easy, no,” She started as she lowered herself into the water.

She submerged fully, allowing the veins of light to ripple her body as she floated through the water. Once she reached the middle, she slowly floated to the top, her wet hair parting to reveal devious eyes. Her smirk was hidden beneath the water, but he knew her well enough to know it was there.

She ascended higher. “You’re going to have to lure me, just like they wanted,” She finished.

He blinked slowly at her words and smirked down at her, watching her keep herself afloat.

The night was so quiet and so peaceful that they could have easily been the only two people in the world. He wondered if he should take advantage of that.

Without much thought, he took a step into the pool, not even taking the time to unfasten his boots. She stared at him, confused by his intention but eager to find out what it was.

Even though she was the same age as his younger sister Leah, it was always Posey and Judd who had the most chemistry.

The life-long need to instigate each other bonded them.

She watched the water force his clothes to conform to his muscular body, but would never admit she liked the burning it started within her. As he took steps towards her, she slowly swam backwards, keeping the conflict alive.

He ate up the ground, so tall that he never once had to swim, he just kept pushing forward. Eventually, she backed into a wall, and when this happened, she made no effort to move. She let the distance close between them.

She liked the way the water turned the blue highlights of his hair into the ebony curls she remembered from when they were younger.

She liked the way his shirt clung to his collarbones.

And as he got ever closer, she liked the way his dangerous eyes glowed when they were locked on her.

He placed his arms on either side of her to pin her against the wall, making swimming difficult. She had to put her feet down and use her tip toes to remain above the water. Their legs brushed, his denim seams against the inside of her thighs causing her to fight for control of her breathing.

“I don’t need to lure you, Posey. I’m stronger than you,” Judd said humorlessly.

But he made no effort to move.

Posey watched Judd watching her, wondering when he started looking at her like he never wanted to look away. She could see him breathing heavily, and could see his arms flexing on either side of her. She hoped he was fighting the temptation to touch her.

“What, are you going to throw me over your shoulder and carry me there?” She teased him, her cheeks flushing at just the suggestion.

She watched his pupils dilate at her words.

“If you won’t go silently, yeah.”

He was too close to need to speak loud, and his quiet tone made his voice seem even lower. Posey risked a quick glance down at his full raspberry lips, then regretted the choice immediately.

Now she wondered when she started getting so affected by him.

She smiled to herself more than anything, wondering if this slight sensual sample of a night was what it was like to be an adult. She hoped this tension would last forever. She wanted to push it more; wanted to see the agitation on Judd’s face as she instigated him to his core.

“Oh yeah?” Posey mewed, “You want to drag me over there in this little bathing suit and have everyone look at me like this? All wet and naked.”

Her intensity shocked even herself, so she calmed it down by adding a deep laugh at the end, and then she pushed herself away from him, letting her cheeks hit the water to cool them down.

“Why would I care how the others saw you?” He asked, knowing exactly what she was trying to do. He would play along if she wanted to tease him this way.

The truth is that he probably would care, but it made it more fun to not give her what she wanted.

He propped himself against the pool wall while she continued floating, giving her the space to cool down that she needed.

She kept her face hidden. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

He paused, listening to the lapping of the water against the poolside and looking at Posey as she floated away from him.

Yeah, he hated to admit it, but he would care.

He tugged his shirt over his head, struggling with the wet material, then he closed the distance between them. He tossed the sopping shirt at Posey.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, most of her face still underwater.

“You have five seconds to put it on, then I’m throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you to my house.”

He wasn’t smiling. There was no indication that he was joking, but Posey still looked as confused as she was a moment ago. Since she hadn’t moved, he started a verbal countdown.

“One.”

Startled into action, she fought the water for the material and did her best to shove limbs into the correct holes. She wasn’t sure if everything was where it was supposed to be, but by the time he had gotten to four, she thought she would try to escape the threat and began swimming away from him.

He easily caught her by the ankle and dragged her back to him.

“Judd!” She shouted through a mouthful of water.

He chuckled as he manhandled her over his shoulder. She squirmed the whole time, and for a moment she almost made her way off his shoulder back into the water, but his impossible grip kept her stuck. Once he began climbing the cement steps, she stopped struggling and went limp in his arms.

He didn’t need to look at her to know she was pouting. He chuckled at her.

“You could have just lured me,” She muttered. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.

He scoffed. “You know, you’re lucky it was me you were talking to. If it was anyone else, your luring words might have actually worked.”

She continued pouting, knowing that she wouldn’t have said those words to anyone else.

The walk was quick, and soon Judd was carrying her through the threshold of the Birch’ home. As they walked in, all the lights flicked on and the family shouted surprise, commencing the party.

Judd then dropped a sopping wet Posey on the living room carpet and made his way upstairs to change.