#anyway! moving swiftly onwards

[california-112]

I get to put my arms around you. Both of 'em.

[beomiracles]

𝓞𝐅 𝓢𝐍𝓞𝐖 𝓐𝐍𝐃 𝓢𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝓔𝐑𝓔𝐃 𝓦𝓘𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Foolish girl. You should know better than to wander up the snowy and cold mountains all by yourself. Yet you march onward, not caring for the biting frost as you draw your coat tighter around yourself. The tales told by your old grandfather had been enough to fuel your curiosity, to push the bounds of danger as you sought to see the dragons for yourself. — Perhaps you got more than you bargained for when you suddenly stumble across the one everyone thought to be extinct; the ice dragon. ⸝⸝

𝓹airing dragon!taehyun x human!reader (f) 𝔀arnings descriptions of injuries/blood, supernatural au, kissing, character death (not main), shitty and poor writing, lowkey rushed toward the end, kills myself.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 14.1k ་༘࿐

#serene adds ✎.. my contribution to The Veils Of Aethera which is kind of very shit and probably the worst piece I have ever written (I'm exaggerating, maybe..) no but theres a lot of plot holes, which I did not have time to fill out but could definitely explain if someone wants me to, because in my head I have all the answers and um yes. I haven't proofread this once and I'm not going to because im nic sick off my ass and also on the verge of just falling asleep hm, anyway I love u guys heh please don't be mad at me for posting something so below my usual level >-<

ONCE UPON A TIME… In a land far far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky, and the water sparkled under the glowing sun. Where mountains rose high and in which long, deep caves ran. Where the sea met shore in a collision of tall waves. Where the undead walked among the living. Where the winged flew above the finned. In a land where things beyond any reason and rhyme existed. And amongst those very beings, within the veils of Aethera, there was… 

FIRE, burning hotter than the sun. Orange and yellow flames dancing before your very eyes, their warmth caressing your face, shunning the cold around and embracing you. Fire warm enough to kill, if they wanted to. — Turning forests into ash, melting even the firmest of steel armor, incinerating entire kingdoms with one mere breath. 

The dragon’s powerful roar echoes over the mountain tops, loud enough for trees to shake. Even the wind gave way as they soared through the sky. Large wings slapping against the cool air as they danced through the clouds. Untamed beasts, that’s how most described them. Wild and fueled only by their desire and rage to destroy everything around them. 

Few humans were fortunate enough to face one of these creatures and live to tell the tale. But the ones that did were graced with luck for many generations to come. These humans, those who sought not to fight but to learn about these beasts, were a different kind of people. Reckless in the eyes of other humans but courageous in the eyes of the dragon. 

Together they conquered the skies, not as two but as one. Their souls connected with one another as they played a game of perfect synchronization. Moving swiftly in the dark, silently communicating with nothing but the twitch of a muscle. It was a different kind of understanding, a mutual one, a bond that ran far deeper than any other. 

A raspy cough slices through the image of the dark fiery dragon gliding through the sky and your attention immediately shifts to the old man in front of you. — “Grandpa! Are you alright?” Quickly rising to your feet, you scurry toward the old man as you kneel before him. He gives a weak nod, dismissing you with the wave of his wrinkly hand. 

“I’m fine, dearest..” He mutters, though the strain of his voice betrays his words. Still, you nod as your thumbs caress the back of his hand. “Now, where was I? — Ah yes, the dragons..” He shifts in his chair, the blanket slipping from his legs, and you rush to shove it back in place. Your old grandpa clears his throat as he prepares to continue. 

“You see there were these formations they would do in the air and–” — “Alfred, that’s quite enough.” The brisk voice of your aunt, Fiona, pierces through the air. She sways by the doorway, her arms folded neatly across her chest as her dark gaze narrowed on your grandpa. With a small grumble he adjusts himself in his seat, muttering something about Fiona being “a persistent know-it-all.” 

Your aunt doesn’t seem to care for his bitterness, for she did not enjoy hearing him talk about those “creatures” as she referred to them as. Instead she brushes past you, her arms wrapping around the old man as she helps him to his feet. “Enough about those lizards, come to bed.” — With a small glance over her shoulder, she addresses you in a most derogatory tone. “Make use of yourself out in the garden will you? Your grandpa needs to rest.” 

The sun is warm against your face as you squint toward it. Your aunt had a lovely garden, situated just on the edge of the forest, by the very far end of the kingdom. Humming along to the soft tune of a slow melody, your hands busy themselves with hanging the damp garments on the clothesline that was tied between two posts. 

A gentle breeze makes the wet fabric sway in the wind and you skip out of its way as you reach for one of the dresses. — “Thought I told you to let those things go.” The voice of your aunt slices through the relaxing atmosphere. She bends down to pick a pair of smaller pants from the basket, belonging to your younger cousin. 

Even if her words remained vague and dismissing, there was no doubt that she was referring to the stories she’d walked in on your grandpa sharing, yet again. When your silence has gone on for a good minute she continues, “You know how he gets, going on and on about that nonsense..” Fiona huffs as she gives the pants a harsh shake before folding them across the string. 

“But I should like to hear him out- His stories are beyond interesting, and he’s delighted to share them!” You chime in, a small, hopeful smile stretching across your lips. It was true, to reminisce about the tales of his youth seemed to be the only thing that brought your grandfather any sort of joy these days. It made the wrinkles around his eyes deepen when he smiled, a low breathy laugh rumbling within his chest. 

Your aunt Fiona shoots you a pointed look, her attention then drifting back to the damp clothes. “That is all that they are, stories. But your old grandpa does not seem to know the difference between tales and truth anymore.” She heaves a sigh as she turns to you, “Lest us not make matters worse by encouraging these…fantasies.” Her tone was final, like a large wooden door being slammed shut in your face. You held your tongue, returning to your chores as the day continued on. 

Dinner was chaotic, as it always was. With plates clattering against the small wooden table and glasses being tipped over. Your younger cousins bickered, their loud and whiny voices filling the cramped room. “Boys! Enough.” Fiona looks tired when placing the large pot of soup on the middle of the table, in the center of the whirlwind. The twins however, immediately quiet down though they continue to glower at one another. 

“He started it!” William shouts as he points to his brother, Theodore, who merely shakes his head. “Did not!” — “Did too!” For each time their whining voices grew all the louder, soon overpowering any coherent thought you might have. A small tap to your side diverts your attention from the arguing taking place. Mira, your youngest cousin, points to the jug of water, silently requesting you give her some. 

She was quiet, awfully so, in fact you don’t think you’d heard hear utter more than three words during meal time. You oblige by pouring her a glass, setting the jug back just in time for your aunt to give the twins a harsh tug to their ears, making them protest loudly. — “Give your mother a break will ya?” Her voice is harsh, leaving a thick silence behind as she lets go of her sons and takes a seat by the high end of the table. 

Opposite your aunt Fiona, sits your grandfather. He seems lost in thought as his wrinkly fingers play with the spoon on his hand. Everyone is now turning his way, waiting patiently for him to begin eating. It was customary to let the oldest man of the house eat before anyone else, and usually your grandpa was not late to indulge… Today, he seems distracted. 

“Father, are you not hungry?” Your aunt tries as she leans forward, gripping her own spoon tightly. You watch as his brows raise on his aged forehead, and your grandfather hums as his gaze drops to the bowl before him, as if he’d just realized its presence. — “Huh..” He huffs, readjusting his grip on the silverware as he stirs the warm soup. “Oh yes..” He murmurs, bringing a spoonful to his lips as he begins to eat. 

Everyone sighs in relief, all following as they, too, begin to feast. For some reason you find yourself unable to. Your gaze lingers by your old grandpa, noting the slight tremble to his hand and the effort it took for him to swallow. Often did you worry for his health, for how long you had left with him. Regardless of his condition, there was little you could do for him. It pained you greatly. 

Just like everynight, you tucked your grandpa in before bed. He’d gotten quite disoriented during later months and needed help getting from one place to another. With your arm around his weak frame, another one waiting to assist, you move him from his rocking chair and over to the soft mattress. — “There you go, pops. — Careful with your knees.” 

Your grandfather scoffs as he waves a dismissing hand your way. “Enough dear, these legs used to conquer battlefields, they shan’t submit to a short walk..” Still, there was an undeniable tremble to him as he slowly lowered himself onto the bed. — Only once you’d drawn the thick blanket over him, did he finally seem at ease once more. 

He hums to a foreign melody as you fiddle with the oil lamp on his bedside table. — “Ah, did I tell you about that one time… The one where I met a sundragon head on?” Your grandpa stifles a cough against his palm before shaking his head lightly. Though his train of thought was cut short when you place a gentle hand on his chest. 

“It’s getting late pops, you need to rest.” The smile you send him is far from convincing and you quickly avoid his piercing gaze as you adjust the lamp one final time. You never turned down one of his stories, even if you’d heard it a hundred times before. He was bound to catch onto it, and he did. The sounds of sheets rustling rings in your ears as he props himself up on a weak elbow. 

“Did my daughter tell you to stop encouraging me?” 

It wasn’t a question but a statement. Despite your reluctance, you slowly admit to it as you give a meek nod. Your gaze trains to your hands as they rest in your lap, seated on the edge of his bed. Your grandpa makes a small noise of disbelief as he thumps back against the mattress. “Just as stubborn as her mother..” He mutters as he gazes up at the ceiling. 

For a moment, a still silence fills the small bedroom, nothing but the wind tearing through the trees outside to be heard. Then your old grandfather suddenly speaks again. “Your aunt has every reason to resent those creatures, given what happened to my father..” — Your ears perk up at the mention of your great grandfather. He was, according to your grandpa, a man like no else. One who not only faced the dragons but even soared through the sky alongside them. 

Well, at least until… Your grandpa’s hoarse voice interrupts your scattered thoughts. “I do not blame her”, he murmurs, sounding almost melancholic. Yet you’re able to catch the undeniable glint in his eyes, the one that would shine whenever he spoke of his past. “Still…”, he coughs, a low and weasel sound, “I would like to see them one last time.” 

“To see the dragons once more, that is my final wish.” 

𓍼ོ

The very next morning is cold, a lot colder than a typical summer one in Aethera. You tug your coat tighter around yourself, even your gloved hands slowly succumbing to the biting frost. It’s early, much so that the sun itself has yet to rise over the horizon. — Quietly, you slip out of your aunt's small cottage, sealing the door shut behind you as you give a final glance over your shoulder. 

Your footsteps crunch against the leaves and twigs as you make your way through the thick and dense forest. Nature around you was still asleep, at least, most of it. You did not dare stop to think about what kind of creatures roamed these woods, what kind of entities lingered in its shadows.. A shiver runs down your spine and you shudder before pushing those thoughts aside, marching forward with hasty steps. 

And soon enough, the trees part, making way for the large mountains ahead. With newfound eagerness, you rush forward, more than ready to leave the dark forest behind as you emerge from the treeline. — You pause, finding yourself in complete awe as you stare up at large stones, crafted by nature itself, their tops covered in a bright blanket of white snow. 

Here you were bound to find what you were looking for. Dragons. Determined to fulfill your grandfather’s dying wish, the least you could do was set out to bring back the one thing he sought to see the most. You knew a lot about dragons, well, as much as he’d let on to in his stories. Still, the thought of seeing one up close.. It made your stomach tingle. 

But the mountain is a lot crueler than you’d anticipated. The hike to the top is unforgiving, tearing your limbs apart as your body aches. You’re panting, knee deep in thick snow as you battle against the harsh winds. In spite of it being late July, the harsh conditions of the Frosty Peaks seemed to know no bounds as it served you whiplash after whiplash. 

Frantically your gaze searches for an entrance, for any way to access the mountain. Your grandpa had long ago told you about the dark caves dragons resided in. “They’re quite tricky to find, not something you would just stumble upon. — A dragon’s nest is its most treasured place.” That’s what he’d said. 

You knew to look for small, almost unnoticeable anomalies. Something that any other bypasser would mistake for nature's misfortune. A twisted branch, a cracked stone.. The cold wind hurls against you, making an almost ear piercing screeching noise. You can no longer feel your face as you keep your gaze trained to the ground, intently looking for something, anything that would give way to an opening. 

But you come up short. There was nothing here. It felt like you’d been climbing this mountain for forever. It was never ending, everywhere you turned there was just snow upon snow upon snow. Every rock and every tree looked the same, perhaps you’d been walking in circles. What if you couldn’t find your way home, what if you were to freeze to death upon this quiet mountain, all alone and shivering as you take your last breaths.  

The lantern you had brought along had burned out, yet you clutched it tightly as you stumbled forward. With your head bowed and your desperate eyes seeking what you thought to be the impossible, you’re unable to foresee the snare that protrudes through the white snow, not until it’s too late. It catches around your wrist, causing you to yelp as you fall forward. 

It’s cold, it’s so cold that it burns. The hard ground caresses your tired body, the soil beneath welcoming you. With shaky hands you brace yourself against the mountain, daring to lift your head only an inch, wincing at the pain that throbbed within. “Ow..” You whine, clutching your temple as you screw your eyes shut. 

When you open them again is when you see it. At first you didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh. In disbelief your gaze flickers between the lily that was currently in full bloom, thriving in deep snow, and over to the opening presented before you. — Unbelievable. 

Excitement coursed through your veins as you scramble to your feet, eager to escape the menacing wind. It’s without thinking twice that you dart for the cave’s opening, throwing yourself inside with a relieved sigh. Your soft pants leave small clouds of cold in their wake, and you lean against the wet stone walls as you catch your breath. 

With wary eyes you survey your surroundings, taking in the endless pit of darkness that awaits you. The cave curved in a C-like shape, and the sounds of water quietly dropping from its ceiling fills the otherwise eerie silence. — It takes you a moment to re-light your lantern, but once you have, its warm glow manages to bring you at least some sense of comfort. 

Your hesitant footsteps bounce off the wet cavern walls as you delve deeper into the mountain. With your lantern held high, it guides you through the passages, an unexplainable tug at your chest urging you forward. Perhaps you should turn back, perhaps this had been a bad idea. After all, you did not know anything about dragons apart from what your grandfather had told you.— Was this really such a good idea? 

A turn to your left leads you onto an even darker path, and you feel a shiver crawl down your spine, sending a shockwave of nervosity through you. With a small gulp, you readjust your grip on the lantern, its light casting your face in yellow-ish hues. — So far there was not a single sign of any other living being, and you had been listening to nothing but your own shaky exhales for the past twenty minutes. 

Just when you had begun to consider retreat, did the tip of your shoe crash against something hard. Not being able to catch yourself in time, you stumble forward a second time that day. But this time, there’s no snow to catch you, and you hit the hard and cold cave floor with a loud crash. 

“Ow..” Your groan pierces the thick silence, and you wince as you grab ahold of your already pounding head. Not again you sigh. Everything hurt, your body felt sore and bruised, you could only imagine how you looked beneath all your layered clothes. 

Upon turning around, you find that what you had tripped over had been not a stone, not an overly large branch or any other of nature’s call. No, this was something entirely different… With squinting eyes you peer down at what appeared to be scales covering something the size of a smaller tree trunk. Confused you glance around in search of your lantern, it had slipped from your grasp during your fall. 

You find it a few feet away, gingerly shuffling over as you retrieve it. Thankfully the flames within were still alive and you cradled it close as you turned back to the strange scaled thing you had tripped over, only to find it gone. — Your heart catches in your throat, making your eyes widen and the lantern threatening to crash against the ground once more. 

A cold and harsh puff of air hits your back, hard. You gulp, slowly and carefully turning around as you clutch the lamp in trembling hands. Immediately your gaze falls on the exact same scales you’d seen just moments prior. White and smooth, perfectly covering four large legs, your attention fixates on the long and sharp claws on its feet. Then over to the almost translucent and magnificent looking wings, neatly tucked against its sides. 

Dread fills you when you realize that what you had tripped over had been its at least 10 ft long tail. With a gawking expression you watch as said tail curls around its body. In almost cinematic slow motion does your gaze shift toward its head, where sharp canines rested in its mouth. There was no doubt that this was exactly what you had come here looking for. 

“A dragon..” 

The words leave your lips before you can stop them. Your soft whisper of disbelief carrying out into the cold air. It looked stoic, yet far from the dragon's your grandfather had described. This was not the dark and fire-spitting beasts he’d told you about, this was… A wet droplet splashes against your cheek and you glance up to find icicles peering down at you from the ceiling, their pointy ends looking ready to pounce. 

A low huff brings your attention back to the creature before you, just in time to watch as it cracks an eye open. Its ice blue irises a stark contrast to the narrow slits of its pupils. This dragon did not hold the gaze of warmth and fire. — It held one of ice cold death. 

You stumble backward on trembling legs. The wet and hard cave wall feels like daggers against your back when you crash against it. Your breath comes out in jagged pants, your heart beating through your chest as you realize the dangers of your situation. The plan had been to watch them from afar, to silently slip away as if nothing had happened when you had gotten what you’d come here for. The plan did however, not include coming face to face with one of them. To become trapped within the cold and eerie darkness of these caves with the very beings that ruled them. 

With fear in your eyes, you watch as the dragon rises to its feet. Cold blue eyes locked on your small figure as you stay pressed against the wall, cowering before it. The sounds of its heavy steps echo between the icicles hanging from the ceiling, it makes the floor shake and rocks move as it slowly makes its way closer. 

You can feel its chilly breath all over you, freezing your already damp and shivering body tenfold. You screw your eyes shut as you turn your head away, preparing yourself for the fate inevitably to come. — Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. You should’ve listened to your aunt. You had been a fool to believe your old grandpa. You should have never come here and you should have never woken this beast. 

But the sharp and soaring pain of its large canines never came. And when what feels like an eternity has passed, you finally dare crack an eye open. Your vision is clouded by blues and whites, its nose hovering inches from your face. You couldn’t understand why it hadn’t made another move to attack you, to snap your frail body in half and rid itself of your invading presence. 

The dragon only watches you, the slow waves of cold air washing over you when it exhales. You swallow, gaze drifting down its long and majestic body as you wait for death to come. It is then you realize that something was wrong. There, tarnishing the translucent hue of its large wing is a large and ugly crack. Dark crimson spills from it in dramatic fashion as it taints the dragon’s shattered wing. 

It was hurt. 

A pang of sympathy washes over you at the sight. The frantic beating of your heart faltering for a short moment as you exhale the sigh you’d been holding in. The dragon seems to notice where your attention lays and immediately covers itself up by tucking its wing to its side. — A low, predatory sound builds in its chest, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise as you will down a gulp. 

It pulls back, and for a second you think it might retreat. But instead it opens its terrifyingly large jaw, presenting you with rows upon rows of teeth sharp as swords. You want to scream, but the dragon beats you to it as it lets out an ear piercing roar. — It makes the icicles above you shatter, their splinters flying everywhere. Even the walls tremble under the powerful sound and you find yourself darting for the exit without a second thought. 

The sound continues to plague you as you run through the murky and long cavern walls, fighting your way through the maze you had once entered with curiosity and hope. Now you claw onto the desperate feeling of life, with tears streaming down your cheeks and your heart in your throat. 

It’s not until light presents itself and you catch the sun on your face that you breathe out. Your lungs burn, your legs ache and your head pounds. The snow feels warm and inviting, and your knees sink to the ground as you plummet toward it. — One glance behind your shoulder shows the entrance gone once more, and you sigh, whether it was in relief or not, you can’t tell. 

But as you make your way home that day, you can’t help but think of the dragon up in the mountain, and the large wound on its side. 

𓍼ོ 

Your grandpa accompanies you as you prepare dinner that night. Your aunt Fiona was out gathering wild berries and fruits along with your younger cousins, and so the kitchen had become a peacefully quiet and inviting space. The air is warm, the steam coming from the hot stew cooking over the small fire, caressing your face. 

Perched on his stool by the high end of the table, your grandfather watches as you prepare plates and spoons for the family. His expression is calm, serene even. He doesn’t look as exhausted today, and you’re glad. These quiet and tender moments with him were ones that you cherished, for you didn’t know how many you had left. 

Yet you can’t help your mind from wandering toward the mountain on the other side of the forest. Your thoughts are plagued by the lonesome creature hidden within the stone. “Grandpa…” Your fingers drum against the rim of the glass you were wiping down, a small frown tugging across your brows. 

The old man hums as he shifts his gaze over to where you’re standing, obviously waiting for you to continue. It’s just… You don’t know how to. With a small, almost inaudible sigh you set the glass down. “Did you ever.. I mean was there ever such a thing as… ice dragons?” — The question catches him off guard, sure your old man was used to your inquiries about both the dragons and his past life. But something like this had never been brought up. 

“Ice dragons?” He echoes, and you think you catch a flicker of intrigue behind his otherwise pale eyes. “Where have you heard about those?” He then murmurs as he attempts to sit a little straighter. You immediately rush to his side as you place an arm around him, “Careful.” But your grandfather only swats your helping hands away as he stifles a cough. 

You purse your lips, but keep a steady grip on his shoulder as you hand him a glass of water. “I’ve just… Been doing a bit of research, and I stumbled across the topic.” You bite the inside of your cheek before adding, “There was hardly anything documented, so I was hoping you knew more..” 

Your grandpa hums, the sound long and drawn out as he takes a sip of his water. “Well of course there’s nothing documented, ice dragons have been extinct for centuries.” He says it so calmly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. But it wasn’t. You had just seen one, you were sure you had seen one. 

Images of the dragon up in the mountains flash before you. The blue and white scales, its frosty breath, its icy and penetrating gaze. But that would be impossible then.. It shouldn’t exist if they were extinct. — “Are you sure?” 

With a small scoff, your grandfather sets his glass down. “What kind of question is that?” He quirks a bushy brow, his expression gauging as he studies you closely. “If there was as much as a single ice dragon left, I would be sure to know of it”, he states with a huff. You did not want to argue over the matter any further, and thus kept your silence as you continued setting the table. 

Perhaps it had been a flicker of your imagination. The cave had, after all, been dark. It was possible that what you thought was real could have been all but an illusion. — But the ice cold shiver that ran down your spine as you recall its cold breath on your skin was most real. You think of the blood, of the large wound slashed across its side. How defensive it had gotten when it caught your gaze lingering. 

You pitied the being. What awful it must be to feel pain like that. 

“Why do you want to know about ice dragons?” The hoarse voice of your grandfather pierces the warm air and you turn to him with a small almost helpless smile. “I don’t know… Curiosity I suppose. ” You mumble, choosing to not bring up the day’s events in front of your old man. Your grandpa nods, his face looks sunken as his eyes drop to his empty plate. 

Outside, you can hear the faint noise of your aunt and younger cousins as they approach the small cottage. “Curiosity will get you far”, your grandpa agrees, though his voice sounds almost solemn now. — “But we should not let our thoughts linger in the past.” 

𓍼ོ

You find yourself setting out early in the morning that follows as well. But this time, you’ve brought more than a small lantern. The bag you carry is heavy on your back, making each step up the steep and snowy mountain twice the labour. Yet you persist, stubbornly trudging through the thick snow that reaches all the way to your knees. 

The cold and harsh winds make for a narrow view as you squint against them. Your nose has lost all its feeling, and you’re certain that you’re developing frostbite on parts of your body. Frantically you search for the tiny lily. You had tried your best to retrace yesterday’s steps, wantonly stumbling back and forth as you scour the ocean of bright white. 

“Where is it… Where is it..” Your lips are numb, your tongue feels way too big for your mouth and your words come out slurred. Never in your life had you been this cold before, and only God knows how much longer you’ll be able to carry on forward. 

But then you see it, its bright pink hues lighting up your world like fireworks in the night sky. And just a few feet away, the familiar entrance presents itself. — Despite your better judgement you had returned. Pity, that’s what you told yourself. Pity and empathy, that’s what you felt for the lonely dragon. It was why you had come here, with the intention of helping, as best as you could. It would’ve been what your grandfather would have wanted. 

Guilt weighs you down. It weighs heavier than the large bag on your shoulders. This secret you kept, it was bound to kill you. But such a thought seems small in comparison to the large cave that awaits you. — One final harsh thrust of the wind wins you over as you hurry inside, desperate to get out of its claws, even if it means finding yourself in the grasp of another. 

The maze-like system that was the dark and wet cave is strangely familiar, even though it shouldn’t be. Your feet move on their own, carrying you through the long and narrow labyrinth. For each step you take, your heart beats a little faster. Fear and anticipation courses through you. — Scared as you may be, but this time you had come prepared. This time you knew what waited around the corner, and as you made a final turn to the left, you exhaled. 

It’s dark, but now you know to watch where you place your feet. You’re silent, moving carefully through the cold air. Your lantern casts the cave in a warm and yellow glow, a stark contrast to the murky greys surrounding you. The icicles are sending gentle droplets of water down your way, one by one they splash against your cheek, the soft noise filling the open space. 

You had expected it to be there, you had tried to imagine it over and over for the past day. But the large dragon still catches you by surprise when your gaze falls upon it. Hurled up by one of the rocky and uneven walls, its large wings folded over what you presumed to be its wounded side. Its chest rises and falls with each slow breath it takes, the dragon appears to be in a calm slumber. Cold puffs of air shoots through its flared nostrils, the condensation vanishing in the darkness. 

It takes but one misstep on your part, the sound of rocks being crushed beneath the sole of your shoe echoing out into the silence. The disturbance wakes the sleeping dragon, and you find your gaze glued to its icy eyes as they snap open. Naturally, you expect for it to come lunging at you, just like it had the day before.  

But the dragon remains oddly still, slowly exhaling yet another wind off freezing air as it watches you with an almost expectant glint. It was impossible to read the creature, no matter how hard you tried. Your grandfather’s stories only did so much, and it was admittedly far different to come face to face with one on your own. 

“Hi.”

The greeting comes without you even thinking twice, it’s quiet, soft and timid. You’re surprised by your own rush of calmness at its semblance of indifference. For some reason, you did not feel threatened by the dragon today.

With slow and gentle movements, you let the bag slip from your shoulders, placing it down on the hard stone surface beneath you as you begin rummaging through it. You had not known what to bring along, for anything involving medicine was far from your expertise. The moss you’d brought from just within the forest line was thick and wet, but you vividly remember your aunt dressing your scraped knees in such. 

Gauze was sacred, you had to venture all the way to the kingdom in order to acquire some. It was why you had taken as little as you could from your aunt’s medicine cabinet, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t be able to tell. — It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

You feel the dragon's intense gaze on you as your trembling hands undo the roll of gauze, you wondered if it’d be enough to even go around its large body once. It was worth the shot. — You stand up straight, clearing your throat as you draw in a short breath. “I uh, I’m here to help you..” You give the dragon an awkward smile. It was impossible to know if it could understand you or not, but judging by the way its gaze narrowed at your words, you would guess it did. 

It’s okay, you tell yourself, gripping the supplies in your hands tighter. You take a hesitant step forward, gauging its reaction as you keep your eyes on its head. But the dragon remains unmoving. Alright. Three more steps. Still good. — It’s not until you reach its side, your outstretched fingers reaching for the shattered wing, that the dragon flinches. 

A low, menacing growl builds in its chest. The sound makes you falter, your eyes widening as you swallow the shriek about to escape your lips. “I…” Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your heart hammers in your chest. Had you taken it too far? Your intentions were pure, sure, but could this beast see that? 

“I mean no harm…” You say as you let the moss and gauze drop to the ground, presenting your now empty hands before the dragon. The creature watches you with pupils that are narrowed into slits, clearly untrusting of your ways, but makes no move to snap you in half. — It meant something, at least so you thought. 

Your attention slowly returns to the pale wing pressing against its side. If only you could get a closer look. Your palm graces the smooth and cold scales, fascinated by the foreign texture. But the action is almost immediately met by a harsh snarl from the dragon as its large head jerks your way. 

Its breath is just as freezing as you’d remembered it, coming out in harsh puffs against your already shivering body. You’re so close that if you leaned forward as much as an inch, your foreheads would meet. — Your gulp is painfully audible inside the dark gave and you fumble for words. 

“Y-You’re hurt…” Your shaky finger points in the direction of its wing and the dragon follows your direction. You watch in slight bewilderment as it flexes the broken wing. The wound looked harsh and deep, you were sure it restricted most of its movements, not to mention causing it great pain. 

The dragon makes a small noise that sounds almost like a human grunt. The sound catches you off guard and you turn back just in time to catch its head shifting forward again, its attention seemingly fixed on something far away. It looked almost… defeated. You wondered for how long it’d been isolated up here, how many sleepless and painful nights it would’ve had to endure. 

When it doesn’t make a second attempt to snap you in half, you take it as your sign to move forward. A brief inspection of the long cut helps you determine that it would probably not need any stitches. Said discovery relieved you as you had little clue of how to work both needle and thread, especially on dragon scales. 

You pick at the moss you’d previously discarded, bunching the wet plant up in your hands as you sought a suitable approach. It would’ve been easier had this dragon been slightly smaller, or you slightly bigger. — Nonetheless you give it your best shot. The dragon hisses when you press the cold moss against the crimson cut, but you try your hardest to ignore the way it tenses beneath your touch, praying and hoping that it would remain as still as it had up until now. 

Once the thick layer of moss is in place, your foot blindly reaches for the gauze as you roll it over. With the help of your teeth, and a lot of effort as your arms fought to keep the earthy moss in place, you managed to throw the small roll over its wing, only to catch it as it came down on the other side.

The process was tedious, and due to the size of the wound, it required you to repeat your original move a multitude of times. You work quietly, biting your lip in concentration as sweat pooled on your forehead. To try and get your mind off of the situation and task at hand, you try to figure out just what could’ve caused an injury like this. 

Had the dragon taken a fall? Gotten in a fight with another of its species, or even worse, a completely different creature? You were no fool, and you knew that dragons were far from the only spirits that roamed this forsaken island. There were beings far more dangerous than a pair of claws and a large jaw. The thought alone made you shiver. 

A loud thud snaps your attention to your left, your heart leaping out of your chest. But the terror subsided just as it had surfaced when your gaze fell on the dragon's head, resting atop the cold and hard cave floor in an exhausted manner. It exhales, the condensated cold air blowing from its nostrils like smoke out of a chimney.  

It was impossible not to pity the lonely creature, and you feel your stomach twisting as you watch its defeated expression. There was much you wanted to ask, things you longed to know. For now, you were content with not getting torn in half as you tended to the crack on its wing. It was enough, you tell yourself. 

Once you're done, you take a step back to inspect your work. It looked… messy. The gauze was wrapped in uneven layers, with moss peeking through here and there. An amateur's job, that much was evident. But the dragon doesn’t seem to mind, for it spares no more than a quick glance toward the now dressed wound. Instead, its cold and harsh gaze lingers on your fidgety frame as you debate your next move.

Your eyes dart around the dark cave, lingering on its sharp and rough edges. You wondered how uncomfortable it must be to live like that. The lack of sunlight, the lack of warmth.. Not that this dragon seemed to need it. — But there was really nothing here. And as you fetch your lantern once more, throwing the now empty bag over your shoulder, you turn to meet the dragon’s icy gaze. 

“I’ll be back”, you say, and though it did not reply, you caught the faint shimmer of its once tired eyes. 

𓍼ོ

You return to that same dark and cold cave for many days to come. As time passed, you found yourself growing all the more comfortable in the dragon’s ever looming presence. You would bring fresh moss, making sure to check on the wound as best as you could. — And though your bag weighs half a ton, you still managed to bring some nutrients all the way up the mountain. 

“Here”, you had said as you threw the bag on the stone floor. The dragon had given you a small glance, its expression appearing almost judgemental before its gaze had flickered to the fish you’d brought along. — “Why come on, you must be hungry.” You motioned toward the fresh meat, feeling rather proud of the accomplishment. The dragon had let out a huff, blowing a cold puff of air your way before begrudgingly indulging in the food. 

Conversation was difficult to make. You often talked to yourself, thinking out loud as you rambled on about whatever topic came to mind. Sometimes you didn’t speak at all, instead choosing to let a comfortable silence envelop the two of you. You did not know if the dragon enjoyed your company, perhaps it only put up with you because it had too little strength to snap you in half. 

Yet the creature continued to occupy your thoughts. Its almost translucent wings, the pale scales covering its body, the sharp pair of icy eyes. One day you’d brought a small notebook along. Using a piece of charcoal, you sat perched against the opposite wall as you drew the dragon to the best of your abilities. You found it to be a great excuse to watch it for long periods of time rather than stealing subtle glances. 

Truth was that no matter how many times your eyes fell on the dragon, you still found it hard to believe just what you were seeing. Suddenly your grandfather’s stories all made sense. The suspense and thrill of the dragons. The dangers and the courage it took. You understood why he enjoyed talking about them so much, you could feel his passion as you sat in silence with something so sacred. 

But for each day that passed, the large gash on its side lessened in both size and severity. You wondered how much time you had left before it eventually spread its wings and took off. The thought plagued you more than you’d like to admit… 

The morning is crisp, the moist and warm summer air had yet to fall over the small cottage you resided in. Just like any other morning you’re up and about, quietly shuffling throughout the tiny space as you pack today’s essentials. You were thinking of bringing along a book, perhaps you would read out loud to the dragon, any form of entertainment would surely brighten its mood. 

Your eyes roam the crowded bookshelves, stuffed with literature of all kinds. From herbal tea recipes to novels and history books. The pad of your finger stops atop one of the shorter pieces, something you’d easily be able to finish within the day or the next. But before you can as much as pull it from its spot, squeezed between two thick history books, the sound of a floorboard creaking startles you. 

“It’s a little early to be up reading.” Your aunt Fiona sounds like she’s just caught a thief in the midst of its burglary. And when you turn to face her, you find a satisfied smirk stretched across her thin lips. — “I…” Your words fall short, your throat suddenly thick with a fear you couldn’t quite place. “Well I was just-” 

“You know I’ve noticed you sneaking around lately.” Fiona takes a step forward, and you start to wonder if she’d perhaps gotten up early solely with the intention of catching you. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction when they land on the book you had been reaching for just moments ago. — “Gone all day without as much as a word, you worry you old grandpa.” 

Your aunt would often use your grandfather as a pressure point, knowing that the mention of him would get you to crack. She takes another two steps forward, stopping a mere feet away. “Perhaps you’re trying to get out of your chores”, she nods toward the garden outside, even though it had been left unattended for a mere week. 

You shake your head, immediately trying to deny the accusations she was pinning on you. “It’s not-” — “Then what?” Fiona cuts you short, her voice snappy as her face twists into a small grimace. “What could be keeping you from your frail and old grandpa?” She had a point, and the fact that she did was a bitter thought indeed. You should be spending more time with your grandfather, you should be helping your aunt around the house, there are a lot of things you should be doing. 

The sound of your swallow is painstakingly loud, shattering through the brief silence. “I know…” You bow your head, shame trapping your will to go see the dragon up in the mountain. “I’m sorry.” 

Fiona seems satisfied with your answer. She purses her lips, humming to herself as she eyes the bag flung over your shoulder. “Leave it here”, she points to the sofa on your right, “You won’t be needing it for now.” — Reluctantly you do as she says, letting it drop to the soft cushion before turning to your aunt with disappointment surely written across your face. If she catches it, she doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. Part of you is relieved that she seems to have little interest in prying further. 

“The garden needs tending to”, she states before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs, likely with the intention of waking your cousins. But as she reaches the first step, she throws a glance over her shoulder, her sharp gaze landing on your still unmoving frame. Her eyes narrow, “And don’t even think about leaving the house until you’re finished.” 

You could understand your aunt’s reasoning. Raising three children and taking care of her sick dad would surely take its toll on anyone. Fiona was strong, a lot stronger than most people seemed to think. Usually you did not mind helping her, for it made you feel useful. — But today your heart yearns to be elsewhere. You find yourself glancing toward the mountain, your thoughts occupied by the pale dragon, the image of its icy gaze burned into your mind. 

Because of that you find yourself hurrying through your tasks. Your fingers pull carrots from the moist soil, they pick basil from the fresh plants and pluck ripe apples from the old apple tree that leans to the right. Sweat dribbles down your forehead, and you mindlessly wipe it with the back of your hand as you carry on forward. 

The work felt tedious today, and you stole peeks at the kitchen window, trying to catch a glimpse of your aunt as she moved about the house. When finally, after what felt like decades, your basket is filled to the brim with fresh nutrients, and the plants had all been watered and tended to, you return inside. 

Setting the heavy bag down on the kitchen table, you look for Fiona, but she’s nowhere to be found. Your eyes drift toward the living room, lingering on the book you’d reached for that morning. You had done your chores for the day, so there was technically no harm in sneaking away, if only for a few hours. 

𓍼ོ 

Your way up the steep mountain feels lighter that afternoon. Your steps have a slight skip to them as you bounce forward. Nothing seemed to weigh you down, not even the full on scolding that you might receive from your aunt upon your arrival back home. 

By now you find the lily with ease, its familiar and bright pink hue standing out perfectly among the clear and white snow. You’re excited, giddy even. The thought of spending time with the grumpy dragon brought you a kind of joy that should definitely concern you, and had you been any wiser, you probably wouldn’t have entered the cave that afternoon. 

It was even colder than last time, yet the air was still, not a single gush of air hurling your way. You creep forward, without getting lost, because you’d acquainted yourself with the layout of the maze-like mountain. Now every twist and turn felt like a familiar face, one you’d seen so many times before and would always remember with a nostalgic smile. 

You enter the opening that leads into what you had begun to call ‘the dragon’s nest’. The name was quite silly, but you didn’t mind since you were the only one to use it. But a frown quickly finds its way to your face as you regard the empty space. — The dragon was nowhere to be seen. Confused, you take another couple of steps forward, instinctively calling out for it, “Hello?” 

There was, of course, no answer. You didn’t know what you had expected to come out of the simple greeting anyway. Rocking back and forth on the sole of your shoes, your mind rakes with different possibilities of what could have happened. Had it taken off? Maybe someone had found it, even worse, killed it. 

No, that couldn’t be right. 

Then you spot it, light. That was new, for the cave had been nothing but a room of complete darkness, ever since you first stepped foot here. Eager, you approach the source, forgetting all about your lantern as you discard it on the floor. Due to your previous visits being spent in such dim light, you had never noticed that the cave curled in on itself, leading even deeper than you’d originally thought. 

The squeeze to get through however, was tight. There was no way a dragon would be able to fit through here. Rough and cold stone scrapes against your chest and back as you push yourself between the rocks, determined to find your way to the other side, to the light. — With a heavy sigh you finally stumble free, bracing your hands on your knees as you allow yourself to catch your breath. 

When you glance up you realize that what you had stepped into was an even bigger part of the cave. But this one was basked in the warm rays of the sun. You’re almost blinded by the bright light, and you shield your eyes with your arm. Half the cave opened up and out into the sky. From here, the snowy mountains looked absolutely breathtaking. 

And as you regard the snow coated treetops, the way the sun reflected off the white surfaces, it suddenly hit that you had never actually stopped to admire your surroundings. Each day had been a battle to the top, never once had you taken a break to glance around, to appreciate nature in its truest and rawest form. 

But your moment of serenity is quickly broken by the sound of what you assumed to be a rock rolling across the cavern floors, the noise ripping you from your trance. You spin around, eyes wide as you try to locate its source, all to no avail. This part of the cave seemed just as empty as the last and the frown on your face only grew. 

The dragon was really gone. 

Then, just as you’re about to turn back, all air was knocked out of your lungs. The first thing you feel is pain, sharp and flaring through your body when your back is slammed against the cave wall. Your scream never makes it past your lips. And suddenly, the light that had previously enveloped you whole, was gone, shielded by something – by someone. 

Your jaw hangs slack, the same terror you had felt on your first encounter with the dragon returning. It takes a moment for your flimmering eyes to adjust, but when they do you finally see the man before you. His face is dark, clouded by rage. The almost pitch black hair on his head falls in front of his eyes but you can hardly focus on his complexion, much too aware of the large hand he had wrapped around your throat. 

Your breath hitches, a faint and helpless gasp escaping your open mouth. Who was he? Why was he here… How did he know about this place? — But then your gaze falls on his naked chest, there, covered in gauze and moss, the very same gauze and moss you had so carefully wrapped around its once large wing.

Finally, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re dark and gloomy, but they’re familiar. As they narrow on you, there’s an undeniable hint of blue, shining within their irises depths – an icy and cold blue. 

You realize then that the man before you was the dragon himself. 

“I…” Desperately your fingers claw at his hand, trying to pry him off of you. The urge to speak is strong, but his vice-like grip overpowers it. His chest heaves, his breaths coming in ragged and rough, his hand around your throat tightening with deadly force. — “Why did you come back?” It’s the first time he utters as much as a word. It sounds strained, as though he’d gone years in silence. 

When he finally releases his hold on your neck you fall forward, clutching at your throat whilst gasping for air. He watches you soundlessly, his expression twisted into a scowl. “W-What..?” You finally manage to croak out, feeling as though your wobbly knees were about to give out any second now. 

The man scoffs, his fist connects with the cave wall next to you and the stones crack under his knuckles. “You should not have come here”, he barks, fury radiating off of him. “You do not belong here, human.” 

He says the term with such distaste, making it sound derogatory. Perhaps it was. Yet you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around it. This was the very same dragon you’d been tending to for almost a whole week now. The creature in which you’d poured your love and affection onto, carefully building what you thought to be a relationship based on trust. 

But as he stands before you in his human form, you hardly recognize him. 

The man takes a step back, leaving you to exhale in relief. He turns away from you, as if trying to disregard your presence completely. You watch as he approaches the edge of the cave, where the bright sky meets the dark mountain. — Even with his back turned, you could tell that he was beautiful, breathtaking. 

“I don’t understand…” Your quiet whisper seems to echo, a sound that you should be used to by now. Still, you can’t help but cower at the intensity of your words. The drag- man, does not turn to look behind him, does not spare you as much as a single glance. “It is not for you to understand”, he firmly states, his tone holding a bitter and resentful edge. 

You shake your head, “I helped you-” — “You humiliated me.” He’s looking at you now, his cold gaze reaching you from across the cave. Your stomach drops at the statement. Have you done something wrong? You thought you were helping… “You degraded me by putting your filthy human hands on me.” He spits the words out, his voice laced with a venom so poisonous that it sunk into your veins. 

“You were hurt-” 

“I would have been fine”, he snaps. You feel frozen under his stare, unable to move as you shrink against the cave wall. He glances toward the bandage around his chest, the traces of what you had thought to be a gesture of kindness and empathy was something he regarded with hatred. It hurt. His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists by his side. 

“You should leave.” 

Your blood ran cold at that and your lips part, an objection ready on your tongue. But he’s quick to realize that you won’t budge. With a small grunt he turns his back on you a second time, as he does, you catch a glimpse of the many scars slashed across his skin. They were a bright white, appearing healed though it seemed not even time could make them fade completely.

Before you can get another word out, before you can reach for him – he leaps off the edge. A terrified scream leaves your lips, and you slap a hand across your open mouth in shock. For a second you thought that he might have actually taken his own life, right before your very eyes. Everything is silent at that moment, and you do not dare move. 

The sound of wings, slapping against the cold air is what gives you new hope. You see him, the pale blues easily giving him away as he pierces through the clouds, riding out the hurling winds. Your heart aches at the sight, for reasons unbeknownst to you, reasons you don’t think you wanted to get to the bottom of. 

Suppose you would miss him, the lonely dragon. 

𓍼ོ

Days passed. Days that would soon turn into weeks. The reality of your otherwise mundane life slowly sunk in, like fog easing its way from the ground after a rainy day. Only there was no sun to greet you after such gloomy weather. Your life seemed bleak these days. You did not know if that had to do with the absence of the dragon, whose name you never got, or your grandfather, whose health was declining each day. 

Your days had shifted, and you no longer spent as much time in the garden. Hours upon hours were passed in the presence of your grandpa. His hand in yours as your thumbs caress his old and wrinkled skin. — He would cough a lot, and you could tell that it his condition was starting to wear him out. Regardless of that, he continued to drag on his long stories about the dragons, only with slightly less action. 

Because even his stoires had found new attention. 

“You know, they were actually quite crafty too.” Your grandpa’s voice is hoarse, and sometimes you need to strain your ears in order to hear him. Nevertheless, you sit by his rockingchair as he inistied on not spending his entire days bedridden. A blanket is placed over his lap, for he easily got cold these days, despite it being late summer still. 

“The dragons?” You ask, to which your grandfather nods. “Ineed, in their human form of course. - And they were quite talkative too”, he recalls with a smile on his lips. You wanted to disagree on the matter, for the ice dragon you met had been anything but friendly. You thought you could still remember the glare he’d sent you, one that had stung through flesh and bone.

Your grandpa is attacked by another fit of coughs, and you help as best as you can by gently patting his back. “They sound lovely”, you murmur when readjusting the blanket over his legs. He gives your hand a thankful squeeze, humming in agreement. — “They are. Oh how I wish you should have known the gentle ways of a dragon, I think you would like it.” 

He remains silent for a brief moment, his tired eyes lingering on the open window. The soft and warm summer breeze occasionally brushed past, sending a refreshing wave of air your way. Outside your younger cousins play, their screams of both joy and youth bounce off the trees. “Even my daughter might come to terms with it, had she just given them a chance.” 

Something in the warm summer air shifted then, a darker cloud pulling over the otherwise clear sky. For long you had avoided the subject, danced around it because you were afraid, not of asking, but for receiving an answer. Still, your curiosity could not be contained, and as you witness your grandfather in his final moments, you realize that there might not be another oppurtitny for you to ask. 

You clear your throat, shifting on your own chair as your hands remained clasped around your grandpa’s. “Say… What happened with my great grandfather?” You present the questions calmly, yet you avoid his eyes, your attention fixed on your intertwined fingers. — With a wheeze-like inhale, your grandpa sighs. 

“You have not asked about him before”, he states and you can feel the slight tremble to his hands as they rest in your own. “No”, you say, “I haven’t.” You knew that avoiding this could not go on for forever, he knew it too. Your grandfather nods, taking another deep breath that seemed to cost a lot of effort. 

“My father was a fearless man..” He begins telling it like he would any other story, but there’s a definite melancholic edge to his tone. “He was the closest our family ever got to the dragons”, he pauses, eyes flickering to met yours for a brief second, “Some even speculate that he fell in love with one of them.” 

Your jaw slacks at that, the surprise evident on your face. “In love?” You echo, to which your grandfather chuckles. “She was a most beautiful woman, a man would be stupid not to recognize such, and my father was far from stupid.” He leans back in his rocking hair, it makes a creaking noise beneath his weight as it shifts backward every so slightly. 

“They did spend a great deal of time together, much so that it worried the others.” — “Days could pass without my father returning from the mountains once. It’s quite confusing for a young boy such as myself to be left with his absence. - But I knew then, that my father’s love for the dragons was something I should aspire for myself.” 

He made it sound beautiful, a lot more than it should have been. This was no fairytale for its ending was most gruesome. You knew that without having to ask. And with a heavy sigh, one that made his chest puff out before it shrunk again, your grandpa seems to come to terms with how the story had ended. 

“Despite their love she still carried the deadly traits of the dragon. - But his death was never her fault.” Your grandpa turns to you with a solemn smile, “That’s what he would have wanted me to say.” 

He doesn’t continue, even though you thought that he might. No, for once, your grandpa seems content with a shorter story, one that spoke for itself. Strangely enough it made you think of the dragon up in the mountain, he was not the same yet he was everything a dragon represented. He confused you, you told yourself that it was the reason he lingered in your mind, even when he shouldn’t. 

𓍼ོ

Ingredients for your grandfather’s medicine were of best produce if you harvested them yourself. Your aunt Fiona had therefore urged you out the house that morning, making you embark on a rather long walk as you searched for the plant she desired. It was of magical properties supposedly, and therefore it grew only under magical conditions. 

Lunarspore, or something along those lines was what it was called. A small, purple mushroom that thrived best in the murky waters of warm lagoons. Such a place did indeed exist on the island of Aethera, and as all humans, you knew its dangers. — Mushrooms weren’t the only thing that fed off of the almost glowing water. Beneath the surface lurked creatures far beyond any will of good. 

Your feet come to a halt by the edge of the lake, your eyes narrowed as they peered across the thicker layer of fog that coated the misty surface. An uneasy feeling bubbles within your stomach, but you don’t turn back around despite your gut instinct screaming for you to do just that. Instead, you crouch down by the water, gaze searching for the round and plump mushroom. 

It takes a while, but soon enough you stumble across one. With a relieved exhale you reach for the small knife stashed in your belt, flicking it in your open palm before reaching out to snag tha plant. You’re disappointed by its size, you would have expected them to be bigger. “This thing would barely last us a week..” You mutter as you begin searching for another one straight away. 

To your surprise you find a second mushroom almost immediately. But to your dismay it was further out in the lagoon. You hesitate, gaze flickering between the safety of land and the need for the mushroom ahead. These waters scared you, and you did not want to wade out further than absolutely necessary. — In the end your desire to help your sick grandfather wins you over. With one tug, you pull your dress above your knees as you begin your descent into the lagoon. 

For each step you take forward the water seems to get warmer. A strange and almost calm feeling washes over you, it puts you at ease, even as your mind yells for you to turn back. You ignore the strange sensations and keep your eyes set on the target ahead. Finally, as you reach the mushroom, you reach for it, but before the blade of your knife can slice it from its roots, a quiet whisper pulls your attention to the left. 

Nothing but still and purple water fills your vision, yet you can’t shake the feeling that you weren’t alone. Something, someone, was there with you, lurking and stalking where your weak human eyes couldn’t see. The whisper is soft, it sounds almost like a melody, a sweet and enticing tune. You know you shouldn’t listen, you should scream for its silence and beg for your life. 

But you can’t help but fall under its trance. 

The water moves, gentle waves brushing against your naked legs. Your dress falls from the now loose grasp of your fingers, the cotton immediately being soaked up by the lagoon. The mushroom is long forgotten and the knife threatens to slip from your hands. 

You see it now, long and flowy hair reaching the surface, its arms outstretched as it approaches. But you do not feel fear, in fact your whole body is calm, frozen in place as you watch the siren approach. You knew what was coming yet you couldn’t find it in you to lift as much as a finger in order to stop it. 

Its wet and long fingers lock around your wrist, slowly tugging you toward the murky water. Its song rings clear in your ears now, but you cannot make out as much as a single word. You allow yourself to be pulled, the water is warm and inviting, enveloping you whole. For a moment you forget about everything, nothing exists and time is not real. 

But then, just as your head was about to submerge under the surface, something hard and sharp hits you across the stomach. You’re lunged backward, snatched from the siren’s gentle but firm grip and hurled into the sky. At first, you’re too dazed to even realize what had just happened, but when your vision finally clears, and you behold the ground so far beneath you, is when you scream. 

Everything was moving at an alarming speed, the wind whistling in your ears, the sound followed by that of winds slapping against the air. You glance up only to be met by the very same dragon you thought you had seen for the last time. He’s looking straight ahead, clearly unbothered by your terror as you squirm in the gras of his long claws. 

If he let go now, you would fall to your immediate death, reduced to nothing more but a pile of shattered limbs as you melt against the ground. The thought scared the living daylights out of you and you stop fighting and instead cling onto him with all your might. 

You’re… confused. Why was he here? After your last encounter you’d been certain that you were to never cross paths again. Yet here he was, not only that… He’d saved you. You dare another glance down, beneath you your surroundings are changing quickly. From up here they all seemed small and insignificant, even the lagoon which you had almost fallen victim to. 

Your eyes shift toward the dragon, watching as his now healed wings tore through the sky, carrying you to a destination still unknown. You swallow, feeling at loss for words. His hold on you was firm, but it didn’t hurt but you felt pathetically weak squeezed between his claws. — The questions of why and how continue to run through your jumble of thoughts, even when the snowy mountain comes into vision. 

Up here, the mountain seems a lot smaller, lesser. Fog covers the bottom half of it, making it impossible to even get a peek of the ground itself. He aims for an opening, one so familiar that your stomach dropped all the way to your toes. You knew exactly where he was taking you now. 

He slows down, large wings twisting in the air as he comes to an almost abrupt halt. You shriek when the claws around you loose, making you slip from their hold. But the wet and cold cave floor isn’t far, and you land on wobbly feet with a small thud. The dragon quickly joins you, but the sound of him landing is not the loud and powerful noise you’re expecting, and when you turn around, you find him in human form again. 

He runs his fingers through his dark hair with a small shake off his head, it looked almost as though he was dusting himself off. Your eyes trail across his muscular frame, something you had barely allowed yourself to look at last time. Briefly you wonder why he always seemed to appear without a shirt or any garment to cover his chest, but when your gaze flickers over his toned stomach, you find that you did not mind. 

Dark yet cold and almost icy eyes flit over to you, and they narrow as he catches you staring. You blink, pulling your invading gaze from him as it jumps across the cave, one you had been in before, both of you. It’s then that reality slowly washes over you, you were here, with him, and he’d just saved you from a fate worse than death. There was only one thing to say. 

“Thank you.” 

You smile, hoping that the sincerity and your gratitude would show. But the man only frowns, his stoic features twisting into confusion as he watches you from the other side of the cave, a far and safe distance from you. “What for?” He grunts, the disbelief in his voice clear as day. 

With parted lips you find yourself mimicking his perplexed expression. “You saved me…” Because he did, right? But he only shakes his head, emitting a small scoff as his jaw clenches. “The siren, the lagoon, I was… I would be..” — “You would be dead”, he calmly states, the simplicity to his tone made you want to shiver. 

“I paid my end of the bargain”, he then says and for a moment you could not wrap your head around what he meant by that. Then it all came together. He was making amends for his broken wing, the one you had so carefully tended to, even without his compliance or permission.. Still he was willing to do the same for you, even if only to pay back the debt that seemed to weigh him down. 

“Now we no longer have any reason to see each other”, he states as a matter of factly. You can’t tell if he looks relieved or merely tired, or perhaps maybe just at peace. He turns from you, and you panic, worried that he was about to take off once more. You don’t think you could stand seeing him leave, not again. Truth was, you had grown quite attached to the dragon… Yet you knew so little about him. 

“You have yet to tell me your name.” It was the first question that came to mind. You bite your tongue, but when his eyes only narrow you quickly add, “You know mine.” It was true, you had told him your own name on your third or fourth encounter, for it had felt rude not to introduce yourself when tending to his wounds. 

He scoffs, averting his gaze as it roams the now pink sky, painted by the warm hues of the slowly setting sun. His cold skin looked raw under the orange rays, and you find yourself mesmerized by everything that is him. You had so many questions for him, so many answers you longed to hear. Was he really the last ice dragon? How did they all die, and why had he lived? 

Everything is silent for a minute, much so that you swore you heard the song of birds in the far distance. Then he exhales, a long and low breath. Without looking at you he says, “Taehyun.” 

“Taehyun is my name.” 

You instantly smile, practically beaming toward him. “That’s a beautiful name”, you hum. Taehyun snorts, giving a small roll of his eyes as he turns away from you to peer out over the sky. “There’s hardly anything beautiful about a dragon.” He says it so quietly, almost a whisper. It was probably never intended for your ears, but you hear it. 

Why did he loathe his own kind? How could he be ashamed of something so majestic as himself. It made no sense. — Your feet move on their own, slowly carrying you across the cave. You never stop to think, and Taehyun does not turn your way. Then, before you know it, you’re beside him. 

His skin is cold against your lips when you press a hesitant kiss to his cheek. His jaw twitches, and you feel his heavy gaze on you once you pull back. His dark brows are furrowed into a confused frown, but he doesn’t look angry. “It’s how we say thank you.” You smile in a way you hadn’t in ages. 

Taehyun watches you, his eyes studying your face intently, as if considering his next move carefully. “You humans are strange”, he mutters, but there’s an almost teasing edge to his tone, much different from his usual gloomy demeanor. “A good strange or a bad strange?” You ask as you nervously pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, turning to face your way and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize just how close you were standing. His expression is still hardened, as if stuck in a permanent frown. Within his dark irises swirl strings of cold blue, and they seemed to shimmer under the setting sun. 

You tense up when he suddenly moves even closer, his ice cold chest brushing against your flaring hot one. “Good”, he exhales, his cool breath slapping your across the face when he leans in to press his lips against yours. His kiss is not the same sweet and hesitant gesture you’d given, but it’s not rough either. It’s… him. 

A single shiver runs down your spine when his hand snakes to the back of your neck. It was so very different from when he’d had his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing with all his might. He touched you like you were made of porcelain, one push too far would make you shatter in his palm, and he would be unable to piece you back together. 

The kiss goes on for forever, time slows down until it ceases to exist. You want to watch him, drink in his almost serene expression. Yet your eyes flutter closed as you return the gesture. Never did you question why he did it, because that didn’t matter. He felt so perfect against you, as if he was made for you and you only. Perhaps in another universe he was, in a universe where you were just like him, and not a weak and frail human. 

He pulls back, lips parting only an inch from your own, his forehead resting against yours. He’s breathing softly, the tension washed from his face as he regards your flustered one. “That’s how we say thank you”, he murmurs. 

“Why are you thanking me?” You whisper, your wide eyes peering into his. Taehyun sighs, blinking slowly as he swallows. “I don’t know. Why are you thanking me?” — You smile, your shoulders slumping into a shrug. “I don’t know.” 

You saved him, and he saved you. A favor for a favor. You were no longer bound to the other yet it somehow felt like your heart was going to break into a million pieces if you let go now. Taehyun inhales slowly, his nostrils flaring when he does. “Can I kiss you again?” He wonders, and the question makes you almost delirious. 

“Yes.” You’re already pressing your lips against his, desperate to feel him on you once more. He smiles into the kiss, a gesture so warm and contrasting to the cold and freezing layer of ice covering him. — Your hands are on his naked chest, fingers splayed across the now healed scar. The soft groan he emits vibrates on your tongue, urging your bodies flush against one another. 

“You’re so warm”, he murmurs against your skin as his kisses move to your cheek and down your jaw. Your head falls back, the sunset basking the two of you in color, the world outside silently watching. — “You’re cold..” You whisper, your fingers intertwining in his dark hair regardless. 

Taehyun chuckles, a sound you’d never before heard him make, it made your heart flutter. “I am”, he hums, his own hands trailing down your sides, relishing in the way you shiver as you stubbornly cling to him. The cold could not deter you, it never had and it never would. For Taehyun’s heart held all the warmth you should ever need. 

The kiss ends for a split second in order for you to catch your breaths. Soft sounds of heavy panting fill the large cave, echoing off its dark and wet walls. You swallow, taking the moment to find your bearings as you gaze into his shimmering eyes. You knew then that he was someone you could trust, with your life if need be. It made your next move all the more obvious. 

As you brush a dark strand from his face, you exhale. “I… There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

𓍼ོ

“Careful”, you murmur as you lead your grandfather through the high grass. He coughs and tries to swat your hands away but you insist on keeping a firm hold around his shoulders. “There, there, don’t wear yourself out.” 

“Pfft-” Your grandpa scoffs, shaking his head as he trudges on forward. “I haven’t been out and about like this in weeks, I’ve saved plenty of energy for the occasion.” He assures you. But you could tell by his laboured breathing and trembling arms that he was tired. You would have felt bad bringing him out here, wasting his precious energy like that. — But today was different. 

“Why are we even out here anyways? You can hardly expect me to help harvest any herbs..” He mutters as his tired eyes flicker across the open meadow. It was calm, the late summer air basking the two of you in a warm glow. “No grandpa”, you smile as you pat his shoulder, “That’s not why we’re here.” 

Your old man hums, giving a small nod as you come to a stop in the middle of the opening. “I have seen grass before, dear.” He gives you a pointed look and you can’t help but giggle as you shake your head. “I know, you’ve seen what I’m about to show you before too… But I still think you’ll like it.” 

Your grandfather raises a brow your way, his lips parting as if to say something, but before he gets the chance to, the trees ahead rustle. The sound snaps both of your attention that way, and you manage to catch a glimpse of your grandpa’s curious eyes just as Taehyun emerges from the forestline. 

When you’d first asked him, the request felt pushy, perhaps a little too much, but to your greatest joy, he’d agreed. The white and blue scales on his skin shimmer in the sunlight, and his nearly translucent wings seem to sparkle when he moves closer. He looks magical, hauntingly beautiful. But you force your gaze away from him and over to your grandfather. 

He was watching Taehyun with a slack jaw, his eyes wide as sausages and you’re glad that you’re holding on to him when his legs buckle. “That..” He begins, his mouth dried up and his voice hoarse. He turns to you, as if in disbelief before quickly glancing back toward the dragon before him. “Is he real?” He quietly whispers and you bite back a giggle. 

“Of course”, you say as you take his hand in yours. “Do you want to get closer?” The question was hardly needed for your grandfather moves with both newfound strength and speed as he approaches Taehyun who’s standing a mere ten feet away. He stops only when the dragon’s cold breath caresses his old and wrinkly face, a smile unlike anything you’d seen before etching its way across his lips. 

“He’s real”, your grandpa states, and you swore you could see the happiness blooming in his heart. His gaze wanders across Taehyun’s blue scales, a small frown tugging on his brows. “He’s…” — “An ice dragon”, you nod, “They’re not extinct.” 

Taehyun makes a small sound that comes across as half a grunt, half a snort. Your grandfather doesn’t seem to mind, far too preoccupied with taking in the sight before him. “How?” He whispers as he reaches a trembling hand out to touch the very tip of Taehyun’s cold nose. The action is intimate, and it makes your heart swell.

You never give him an answer, you’re not sure what you could even say. All you knew was that you had made his final wish possible, nothing else could make you feel better. — He spends the entire day with Taehyun, and when he shifts into his human form the two converse for hours on end. You watch them, wordlessly admiring the two. From the way your grandpa’s face lit up whenever Taehyun spoke of his life, to the dragon himself when he listened to your grandfather’s stories. 

As the sun set you practically had to drag your old man home, promising that Taehyun would visit as soon as he had the chance. — Even though such a time never came. 

Your grandpa died that night, it was a peaceful death, one kind and gentle. You watched with tears in your eyes as he inhaled a last time, his chest rising as he did. And when he finally exhaled, everything stopped. Every story and every adventure of his were reduced to just that… tales. Something to remember and to cherish. 

You cried until the sun rose on the naked sky, your tears drying just in time for fresh ones to spill. You cried until your chest hurt and your lips were bitten bloody. You grieved your grandfather with every fiber of your being, until there was nothing left but large and hollow holes in your body, filled with an eternal sadness. 

Taehyun was there, he came when he heard your cries. Even though his embrace was cold and his arms freezing as they wrapped around you, there was never a moment where you felt yourself shiver. For there was warmth in his heart, enough for it to spread to your own. — Taehyun would help you live, just like you had helped him.

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[ofeliaxoxo]

running by after seeing the imola driver's parade to ask if you have any thoughts on charcarlando? (i dont know their trio name)

Anon you have really come to the right place. Do I have thoughts on charcarlando…..it seems I struggle to have thoughts on anything else.

Like Look At Them. Oh my god…….. they make me crazy. (Me: god this makes me insane. Also me: is reacting to a very neutral photo of three men standing)

Let’s do a quick real life foundation. I think charlando can get snarky but don’t legit have serious problems with each other we’ve seen them have casual and friendly interactions too. I don’t think they’re buddies or enemies. They do seemingly get a little mean girl with each other on occasion but I’m fairly sure it slides off both of them I don’t think either man is ever like How Could You. Carlando are obviously good friends that care a lot for each other. Ik there’s lore about how they’re both precious about the word friend but tbh words and categories don’t mean all that much like if you act this much like friends you literally are friends there’s no special secret line. Charlos and friendship is more complicated in my eyes BUT they have both said they are friends now and they have stuck to each other a fair bit during 2025 race weekends so for the sake of simplicity those men are friends (literally goes against my nature to say so because I actually do see it as slightly more complicated BUT I’m not up there in the tax haven idk what goes on for real). So you have Carlos as the centre of this little group and he’s the one they both like and are notably linked with. Not each other. I don’t think Charles and Lando have ever publicly admitted to friendship. How i see it (and this is just how I see it these men are unknown to me) is that the strongest and most straightforwardly positive relationship is carlando, the snippiest and least developed relationship is charlando, and the most emotionally intense relationship is charlos.

So that’s the rock on which I build my church. Let’s move swiftly onwards to rpf its much sexier.

Now there’s absolutely threesome potential there but that doesn’t really do it for me so my flavour of this trio always keeps any actual romantic or sexual feelings between charlos, while carlando are besties and charlando are Not.

Even in the photo above, the rpf potential is perfect. Both standing so close they’re almost touching to Carlos. Carlos leaning in to Lando more, they’re actually chatting. Charles silent and looking outwards. It seems he’s not interacting with them but he’s standing near to Carlos, so near that it suggests a level of closeness and familiarity. You could absolutely say that carlando are happily chatting while Charles sulks about it. Stood on the other side like well idgaf about the conversation anyway. Carlos as truly the focal point of the three.

My favourite scenario for charcarlando is Charles being jealous of their friendship, he feels like Carlos likes Lando more and he hates that, furthermore he doesn’t personally love Lando all that much, and these feelings meld until he’s like. GOD. Why do you have to hang out with LANDO again. This works for established relationship charlos but it also works for other situations. Carlos doesn’t realise that’s what’s happening. If they’re not together, he already knows he likes Charles but he doesn’t know it’s reciprocated so he doesn’t ever think Charles might be jealous. You know the clip where he’s like here I am with my TWO favourite teammates when it’s obviously a carlando moment. I feel like those things would happen and Charles is gritting is teeth like Yeah You Are Great Friends. No Problem. And let’s combine that with the way he’d always insist he and Carlos knew each other SO well. Charles insisting on the closeness and emotionality of their relationship while everyone else is like waow carlando. It feels terrible to him but he doesn’t have the framework for why so it just translates into God I can’t stand lando. Does anyone else think he just fucking sucks. Lando is just so the worst and I don’t think anyone should be friends with him and THATS why I’m getting this sharp pain watching the two of them hug and smile and go for dinner and golf and on holidays. I just think that Carlos would be better off without him!

A charlos moment happens theyre like alone or chatting and Charles is feeling inexplicably happy everything is so nice and he thinks it must be his general good mood that has him feeling this rush of affection for Carlos like wow he’s so great and he’s paying so much attention to Charles they’re such good friends and then suddenly here comes Lando to join and Charles is trying desperately to hold on to the good mood but Carlos is turning to greet his lil bestie and Charles can’t explain why he’s so annoyed that Lando has joined all he knows is that he HATES it. There he was thinking about how much he likes his friendship with Carlos and now Carlos is talking to this other guy who everyone knows he’s far better friends with and now Charles just feels stupid:(

Throughout all of this Carlos would of course be delighted to know Charles even felt that strongly. He truly is just friends with Lando and has all these feelings for Charles that he doesn’t think are mutual. He has strong emotions as well as attraction but he’s electing to ignore it and remain cordial but distant with Charles because he thinks that’s what is best. He doesn’t think Charles would even especially notice if they stopped talking so he gravitates more and more towards Lando instead. All this would have to come to a head somehow. Oh maybe Charles and Lando have a fight. Charles is like fuck you!! over something random and Lando, who has no context for any of it, is like well ykw girl fuck YOU.

And now, some images:

“Yay the sun is shining I feel confident everything is good this is gonna be a great Sunday -”

“Ugh”

Like literally alone with Carlos smile:) but with carlando no smile:(

And finally, the ultimate charcarlando image

Finally got him close to you all to yourself and yet Lando’s still there…no DONT look over my shoulder at your orange bestie come close and let me hold you

Truly I could go on forever but I will stop here. If anyone ever needs another charcarlando rant hit me up I will be there I LOVE them

[berrymoos]

♡.°୭̥ ୨୧ ٭ you'll change your name or change your mind (and leave this fucked up place behind).

feat: cg. spencer reid (brief) && rg. elle greenaway [criminal minds]

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS . elle remembers with her dollies. she doesn't like that she does

ꨄ. CW(S) . ALLUSIONS TO CSA (regressor remembers their trauma). hurt / no comfort. not a fluffy read at all. dead dove, do not eat. approach with caution or don't approach at all

ꨄ. A/N . (prompt 27). happy 2nd day of @regressuary you guys. as seen by the content warnings on this fic, this isn't meant to be a fluffy or a feel-good prompt fill; quite the opposite actually. regression is not always a smooth-sailing boat & oftentimes, there's underlying trauma that spurs regression onward. i did not fill this prompt for elle in such a way for shock value or to simply throw her through the ringer, but because i believe there's an underlying reason as to why her career in the fbi started with sexual assault cases—it isn't outlandish to believe that survivors of any type of abuse would want to prosecute abusers. once again, heed the content warnings, & approach with caution. [cross posted on ao3!]

momma's friend isn't very nice.

step.

step.

step.

step.

slow, bumbling, but calculated all the same, padding down the hallway, punctuated by the creaky wooden flooring. a little girl huddles into the farthest corner of her room, knees drawn protectively to her chest and brown hair framing her tear–stained cheeks. the door is her barrier. nothing can hurt her.

momma's friend is not “nothing”.

one.

two.

three.

fists beat at the door as rabid dogs do to their prey, violent, thirsty, unforgiving to the life at the mercy of their jagged claws. she doesn't move. the air is bitter with each shallow breath.

ONE. TWO. THREE.

momma's friend is not very quiet.

jiggle.

jiggle.

jiggle.

the doorknob is squeaky. really, really squeaky. "we should get that fixed soon," momma's said before. "sounds like some kinda mouse." soon is not today.

the knocking stops. the knob stills. the wooden floor settles. all is calm, all is still . . . and the little girl's belly curdles.

momma's friend is not calm.

things can change.

no they can't.

but maybe they can.

the girl dares to uncurl from the tightness of her ball, if only by a little. she wipes the mess of tears from her face. maybe things will be okay. maybe he doesn't want her, anymore.

the door swings open, slams against her wall, and there he towers above her unassuming body. one long stride carries his socked feet beyond the threshold of her room, a sickening smile having ripped his face in two with dirty nails. ill intent poisons the green in his eyes—and yet he was the friendliest when they first met. is it her fault?

momma's friend cannot change.

there isn't a point in escaping—where else can she go when his imposing frame becomes the new barrier?—but she makes a mad dash for the door, anyway. it's stupid.

she's stupid.

“woah–!" his arms strike swiftly, snake around her waist, and push her onto the plush of her bed—but his hands stay shoved atop the bones in her shoulder. it hurts. it hurts. his touch burns. get away. get away, Get Away, GET AWAY.

he laughs but nothing is funny. he leans closer to the shell of her ear but she can hear just fine. the warm whisper makes her shiver. "i found you, pretty thing. i get my prize now, right?"

momma's friend never leaves without his prize. he likes to question, but the answer is never changing.

his weight locks her underneath his hips. green eyes flit to her face; to her neck; to her chest; and to the rest farther below. roughly, he yanks at her curls when she flails against his snooping eyes, then shushes her when her cries fight their way out—his finger smells salty. the familiar smell makes her sick.

"s’not gonna hurt, princess, y’know that. s’alright, pretty thing, let it go."

momma's friend is a liar.

why does momma have to work?

why did daddy have to go?

why did he stop being so nice?

why?

why?

why?

why—

"elliebean?" dread crawls along spencer's spine, a black widow trapped underneath his shirt. a lump of unease clogs his throat, alters the strength of his tone despite his best effort to appear unperturbed. "what– what are you doing . . . ?"

elle's eyes are hollow but her hands tremble ceaselessly; the dolls in her pale–knuckled grip (brown–haired girl, curls pulled into clumps of unkempt fiber, hips trapped beneath the crushing weight of a black–haired man) repeat the janky movement.

up.

down.

up.

down.

elle doesn't look up. her brown hair shields her cheeks as a single tear falls onto the dollie's face. a ghost passes across her skin. "playin’."

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Peterson-class Naval Hub Station

ALCON-

Coming soon, to an Islington system near you...

COMGEN Hazen

Archival data begins:

One of the SLDF's larger orbital facilities, the Peterson class station is named after the only Naval Officer to serve as Commanding General of the SLDF, Admiral David Peterson.  Designed to act as a repair facility, command post and defensive installation, the Peterson was a city in space. With a crew of thousands and docking facilities, including a dry dock for ships up to battleship scale, the Peterson could service an entire squadron, whilst giving crew time to relax in its huge rotating section.

The designation of the Peterson class as a singular entity is technically incorrect: each complete station is in fact, three stations docked around a central hub, with each station taking up an axis. The primary station, Peterson Y, uses two reinforced unpressurized repair bays to lock the other two stations in place, even while puttering around the system on its station keeping drive.

One unique feature to this station complex is an internal tram station, using trams that move along the outside of the station to transfer cargo from one area to another swiftly, and even from one axis to another. With stations at each end of each axis, and also in the center of each axis, and lines on each side that travel in opposite directions, cargo and personnel can be moved around the complex swiftly. (This is what the superheavy vehicle bays are, 2 trains per station of 5 cars, with each train having 3 "stations" consisting of 5 bays, one per car.) There are rumors of some Peterson stations using these trains as additional point defense as well.

The Peterson has an extensive amount of command and control facilities along with facilities for R&R, as it is to a major military hub for commanding, preparing for, and recovering from military operations. It has an ATAC capable of controlling a massive amount of SDS robots, and it has an SDS Jammer in case the enemy brings them as well. It uses small craft bays in place of dedicated fighter bays, as they can house either small craft or fighters, and they come with a larger technical crew.

Officer and crew have standard quarters for their rankings. Bay personnel have additional facilities built up around their work areas. Combined with the facilities in the bays themselves these tech crews have enough room to be comfortable, or take on many more additional techs as needed. There is a massive 28 deck rotating grav ring around the top of the station, near the majority of the docking facilities. Able to house nearly three thousand passengers, from crew embarking or disembarking from and to missions, this station is able to act as a hub for armies. The housing facilities in these rings are somewhat modular, and can be replaced with more compact facilities, up to doubling their capacity.

The station's armament is taken from the success of the McKenna-class battleships, with bracketing bays of Heavy Naval PPCs for anti ship firepower, and bracketing Naval Lasers for anti-fighter duty. These are backed up by arrays of AR-10 launchers that can work well against any target. The heavy armor protecting the station is intended to allow it to take a pounding from even the most determined foe, without falling, and anything short of massed nuclear attack is survivable.

The Peterson X section has many similarities and redundancies, including a mobile HPG. At one end it houses internal facilities that can rebuild anything up to a McKenna-class battleship in a pressurized environment. It can also house up to 12 smaller dropships internally (dropshuttle bays are being used here, since the station can't jump anyway, the restriction on what can dock in them is irrelevant to their purpose). The Peterson X also includes four energy battery recharging stations, able to help ships quickly travel onward.

At the other end of Peterson X are facilities designed for the station complex's crew to enjoy. Since this is a long term assignment, it was determined that these facilities were important. They also serve to house massive hydroponics facilities.

Continuing the redundant systems for command and control, and further increasing the number of SDS robots capable of being controlled - bringing the total in the complex up to almost a thousand SDS units - the Peterson Z axis is geared more towards the technical aspects of this kind of hub station. It has 6 unpressurized bays, two of which can accommodate battleships, and the other four able to handle JumpShips and DropShips. It also has another six internal bays able to house smaller DropShips. A further 10 energy recharging stations round out the main differences in station Z.

Technical Readout(s):

Class/Model/Name:  Peterson Y Station

Tech: Star League

Vessel Type: Space Station

Mass: 2,500,000 tons

Armor Type: Lamellor Ferro-Carbide

Armament:        

48 HNPPCs

48 NL 55s

24 AR-10s

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

Class/Model/Name: Peterson Y

Mass: 2,500,000 tons

Equipment : Mass

Drive: 30,000.00

Control: 2,500.00

Structural Integrity: 25,000.00

Total Heat Sinks: Double 7,680 (15,360) 5,399.00

Fuel & Fuel Pumps: 2,040.00

Fire Control Computers: 0.00

Armor: (8,393 total armor pts) 8,393.00

                              Capital Scale Armor Pts

Location: L/R

Fore: 1319

Fore-Left/Right: 1440/1440  

Aft-Left/Right: 1440/1440  

Aft: 1316

Cargo:

Bay 1: Small Craft Bays (324) 64,800.00

18 Doors                                        

Bay 2: Cargo (1,366,371.5 tons) 1,366,371.50

16 Doors                                        

Bay 3: Tramway-Internal Rail System

Superheavy Vehicle Bays (30) 6,000.00

8 Doors                                        

Docking Hardpoints: 5050,000.00

Escape Pods:

500 Escape Pods 3,500.00

450 Life Boats 3,150.00

Grav Decks

28 1500-m 14,000.00

Crew and Passengers:

136 Officers - 1st Class Quarters 1,360.00

576 Crew - 2nd Class Quarters 4,032.00

100 Gunners - 2nd Class Quarters 700.00

2,294 Bay Personnel - Bay Quarters 11,470.00

2,800 1st Class Passengers 28,000.00

400 Marines - 4 man Battle Armor Bays & Steerage Quarters 2,800.00

400 Marine Support Staff - Steerage Quarters 2,000.00

28 Field Kitchens 84.00

MASH Unit (28 Theatres) 30.50

# Weapons Loc SRV MRV LRV ERV Heat Mass

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

4 HNPPC Nose 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 HNPPC Nose 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 NL 55 Nose 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 NL 55 Nose 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 AR-10 Nose ** ** ** ** max 80 1,000.00

3 AMS Nose 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 1.50

4 HNPPC FL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 HNPPC FL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 NL 55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 NL 55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 AR-10 FL/R ** ** ** ** max 80 2,000.00

3 AMS FL/R 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 3.00

4 HNPPC AL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 HNPPC AL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 NL 55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 NL 55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 AR-10 AL/R ** ** ** ** max 80 2,000.00

3 AMS AL/R 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 3.00

4 HNPPC Aft 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 HNPPC Aft 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 NL 55 Aft 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 NL 55 Aft 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 AR-10 Aft ** ** ** ** max 80 1,000.00

3 AMS Aft 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 1.50

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

Ammo

Barracuda Missiles (400 Rounds) 12,000.00

White Shark Missiles (300 Rounds) 12,000.00

Killer Whale Missiles (240 Rounds) 12,000.00

Anti Missile System Ammo (2,160 Rounds) 180.00

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

Equipment

Mobile HPG 50.00

Large NCSS 500.00

ATAC Computer (324 Robots) 98,600.00

Communication Equipment (15 tons) 15.00

SDS Jammer 30,000

Peterson X Lock (2,500,000 ton capacity Reinforced Unpressurized Bay) 250,000.00

Peterson Z Lock (2,500,000 ton capacity Reinforced Unpressurized Bay) 250,000.00

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

Class/Model/Name: Peterson X Station

Tech: Star League

Vessel Type: Space Station

Mass: 2,500,000 tons

Armor Type: Lamellor Ferro-Carbide

Armament:        

48 HNPPCs

48 NL 55s

24 AR-10s

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

Class/Model/Name: Peterson X

Mass: 2,500,000 tons

Equipment : Mass

Drive: 30,000.00

Control: 2,500.00

Structural Integrity: 25,000.00

Total Heat Sinks:Double 7,680 (15,360) 5,399.00

Fuel & Fuel Pumps: 2,040.00

Fire Control Computers: 0.00

Armor: (8,393 total armor pts) 8,393.00

                              Capital Scale Armor Pts

Location: L/R

Fore: 1319

Fore-Left/Right: 1440/1440  

Aft-Left/Right: 1440/1440  

Aft: 1316

Cargo:

Bay 1: Dropshuttle Bays (6) 66,000.00

Pressurized Repair Bay (2,000,000 ton Capacity) 150,000.00

Pressurized Repair Bay (2,000,000 ton Capacity) 150,000.00

18 Doors                                        

Bay 2: Cargo (1,244,221.5 tons) 1,244,221.50

16 Doors                                        

Bay 3: Tramway-Internal Rail System

Superheavy Vehicle Bays (30) 6,000.00

8 Doors                                        

Docking Hardpoints: 38 38,000.00

Escape Pods:

500 Escape Pods 3,500.00

Grav Decks

28 1500-m 14,000.00

Crew and Passengers:

136 Officers - 1st Class Quarters 1,360.00

576 Crew - 2nd Class Quarters 4,032.00

100 Gunners - 2nd Class Quarters 700.00

674 Bay Personnel - Steerage Quarters 3,370.00

500 Technicians - Steerage Quarters 2,500.00

400 Marines - 4 man Battle Armor Bays & Steerage Quarters 2,800.00

400 Marine Support Staff - Steerage Quarters 2,000.00

28 Field Kitchens 84.00

MASH Unit (28 Theatres) 30.50

# Weapons Loc SRV MRV LRV ERV Heat Mass

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

4 HNPPC Nose 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 HNPPC Nose 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 NL 55 Nose 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 NL 55 Nose 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 AR-10 Nose ** ** ** ** max 80 1,000.00

3 AMS Nose 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 1.50

4 HNPPC FL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 HNPPC FL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 NL 55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 NL 55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 AR-10 FL/R ** ** ** ** max 80 2,000.00

3 AMS FL/R 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 3.00

4 HNPPC AL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 HNPPC AL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 NL 55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 NL 55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 AR-10 AL/R ** ** ** ** max 80 2,000.00

3 AMS AL/R 9-PDS-- -- -- 3 3.00

4 HNPPC Aft 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 HNPPC Aft 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 NL 55 Aft 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 NL 55 Aft 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 AR-10 Aft ** ** ** ** max 80 1,000.00

3 AMS Aft 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 1.50

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

Ammo

Barracuda Missiles (400 Rounds) 12,000.00

White Shark Missiles (300 Rounds) 12,000.00

Killer Whale Missiles (240 Rounds) 12,000.00

Anti Missile System Ammo (2,160 Rounds) 180.00

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

Equipment

Mobile HPG 50.00

Large NCSS 500.00

ATAC Computer (324 Robots) 98,600.00

Communication Equipment (15 tons) 15.00

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

Class/Model/Name: Peterson Z Station

Tech: Star League

Vessel Type: Space Station

Mass: 2,500,000 tons

Armor Type: Lamellor Ferro-Carbide

Armament:        

48 HNPPCs

48 NL 55s

24 AR-10s

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

Class/Model/Name: Peterson Z

Mass: 2,500,000 tons

Equipment : Mass

Drive: 30,000.00

Control: 2,500.00

Structural Integrity: 25,000.00

Total Heat Sinks: Double 7,680 (15,360) 5,399.00

Fuel & Fuel Pumps: 2,040.00

Fire Control Computers: 0.00

Armor: (8,393 total armor pts) 8,393.00

                              Capital Scale Armor Pts

Location: L/R

Fore: 1319

Fore-Left/Right: 1440/1440  

Aft-Left/Right: 1440/1440  

Aft: 1316

Cargo:

Bay 1: Dropshuttle Bays (6) 66,000.00

Unpressurized Repair Bay (2,000,000 ton Capacity) 50,000.00

Unpressurized Repair Bay (2,000,000 ton Capacity) 50,000.00

Unpressurized Repair Bay (500,000 ton Capacity) 3,125.00

Unpressurized Repair Bay (500,000 ton Capacity) 3,125.00

Unpressurized Repair Bay (500,000 ton Capacity) 3,125.00

Unpressurized Repair Bay (500,000 ton Capacity) 3,125.00

12 Doors                                        

Bay 2: Cargo (846,872 tons)846,872.00

22 Doors                                        

Bay 3: Tramway-Internal Rail System

Superheavy Vehicle Bays (30) 6,000.00

8 Doors                                        

Docking Hardpoints: 38 38,000.00

Escape Pods:

500 Escape Pods 3,500.00

Grav Decks

28 1500-m 14,000.00

Crew and Passengers:

136 Officers - 1st Class Quarters 1,360.00

576 Crew - 2nd Class Quarters 4,032.00

100 Gunners - 2nd Class Quarters 700.00

450 Bay Personnel - Steerage Quarters 2,250.00

500 Repair Bay Technicians - Steerage Quarters 2,500.00

400 Marines - 4 man Battle Armor Bays & Steerage Quarters 2,800.00

400 Marine Support Staff - Steerage Quarters 2,000.00

# Weapons Loc SRV MRV LRV ERV Heat Mass

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

4 HNPPC Nose 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 HNPPC Nose 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 NL 55 Nose 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 NL 55 Nose 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 AR-10 Nose ** ** ** ** max 80 1,000.00

3 AMS Nose 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 1.50

4 HNPPC FL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 HNPPC FL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 NL 55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 NL 55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 AR-10 FL/R ** ** ** ** max 80 2,000.00

3 AMS FL/R 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 3.00

4 HNPPC AL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 HNPPC AL/R 60 60 60 60 900 24,000.00

4 NL 55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 NL 55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 340 8,400.00

4 AR-10 AL/R ** ** ** ** max 80 2,000.00

3 AMS AL/R 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 3.00

4 HNPPC Aft 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 HNPPC Aft 60 60 60 60 900 12,000.00

4 NL 55 Aft 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 NL 55 Aft 22 22 22 22 340 4,400.00

4 AR-10 Aft ** ** ** ** max 80 1,000.00

3 AMS Aft 9-PDS -- -- -- 3 1.50

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

Ammo

Barracuda Missiles (400 Rounds) 12,000.00

White Shark Missiles (300 Rounds) 12,000.00

Killer Whale Missiles (240 Rounds) 12,000.00

Anti Missile System Ammo (2,160 Rounds) 180.00

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

Equipment

Mobile HPG 50.00

Large NCSS 500.00

ATAC Computer (324 Robots) 98,600.00

Communication Equipment (15 tons) 15.00

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

(OOC: Art by MattPLOG on Deviantart, stats and fluff by CryHavok101 on the CGL BT forums)

[sugarswampsiren]

Raise Your Voise!

Hey is tumblr still gonna do the thing where it doesn't allow me to post fics onto here just as text instead of redirecting to another site? That would suuuck! Anyways! Did a writing for a origin story of Voise (yes the spelling changed but there is an explanation.) My partner helped me with coming up like how to really explain The Voise.

Voise, creating them was like basically I just wanted a fankid for two characters I like, and while they do serve that purpose basically, there's more to it. As will be revealed, they are Noisette's clone with DNA from Noise as well. Onwards!

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

It couldn't have been that long since the fall of the tower. Enough that everyone seemed to settle into their lives, or that someone still cared to check on the ruins, all the rubble and stone that had nothing left in it, all the magical portals just fading, no one to comment on the stench of cheese through the dirt. But maybe that was enough to wake up something that was buried beneath, a hand reaching out from inside the pile, before in a flash, a figure rushed out and disappeared, into the wide open desert, the closest civilization to the tower.

It was a seemingly uneventful couple days following that, things were continuing as normal. Noisette was wiping down the counter of her cafe after her most loyal customers (Peppino and Vigilante) had their morning coffee. Same old, same old. But she knew better than to really think of her circle of people having a routine, something was always bound to happen, she had to keep on her toes. Just as well, as her ears shot up as she could hear the rushing of feet towards the door.

"Gasp!" She spoke out loud as she saw that it was Mr Spaghetti himself. She giggled. "Back for more, Peppino? You have a job, silly! Unless… you're going to take my offer to try out some of my recipe ideas!"

"What? No-a! I… Wait. Noise isn't a-here?"

"Nope!"

"And you haven't moved from your spot?"

"I'm working!"

"…" He squinted. He wasn't about to trust a word from any of the couple, which conflicted with the fact that Noisette especially was a very upfront person.

"Did something break down and you thought you could blame Noisy?"

"No, no! I swore I saw-a something! I saw someone like you - or him - one of you, digging-a through my trash!"

"You sure it wasn't Fakey?"

"You do realize how vastly different he looks from you, right?"

"Hm. True, you got me there, but none of us would do that. If I wanted to do dumpster diving, I'd simply go in my own."

Sighing, Peppino dropped his shoulders. "Fine. I guess it just had to be something else. I'll ask Gustavo about it."

As he turned to leave, opening the door in front of him, Noisette's eyebrows raised as she saw clinging to the Italian's back was a short individual who looked extremely similar to her and her boyfriend. They wore a quirky brown costume, mask and all, with a bow on the top of the head. The strange look-alike turned their gaze towards her, giving a shushing motion. In return, she gestured that she was zipping her lips before waving to the completely oblivious Peppino.

Swiftly, they lept off of him and were out of her sights. She turned her head around for a bit, before resting her hands under her chin. "You don't have to hide from me. I know you're still around here, somewhere. Heh, I sounded so cool just now." She snorted. Hearing a shuffle, she faced the sound and just saw the stranger on one of the stools, staring at her.

"Did you eat Peppino's trash?" She asked, as they nodded in response. "That's awful, you shouldn't have to eat a bunch of garbage. Here, let me get you something." Noisette slid on her roller blades as she rushed to her cafe. She didn't even take a full minute before she returned to them, giving them a plate of hazelnut cream and tuna sandwich. "Don't worry, it's on the house. I'm happy to help anyone who just seems lost. Between you and me, I'm not hurting for money, my boyfriend's kinda loaded."

After getting the confirmation this was not going to cost money, the newcomer went straight away to devouring it. Noisette seemed to be in utter awe. "Someone who doesn't question my food? Someone who can eat the whole thing? Wow! Well, I got way more for you, you don't got anywhere to be do you?"

They didn't respond. She decided to press a little. "Where do you come from?"

"Tower." They said.

"Oh, me too, I come from a tower! Born and raised at the Pizza Tower, which if you walk a bit, you can find the remains of! What kind of tower do you come from?"

"Pizza Tower."

Tilting her head, she stared at their blank expression. "I don't think I saw you before. What's your name?"

"Voise."

Noisette was silent for a bit before she felt an excitement building within her. She still didn't know who they were, but there had to be something to look forward to if their name was similar to hers and the very obvious other one. "Ooh!! Are you a relative of Noisy? There's a couple of people who kinda look like him. It's pretty weird, especially that orange one who speaks in this really pronounced accent but don't tell him I said that."

They thought about what to really say to explain it, but she continued. "Wait! You look like me though too! Oh my gosh, are you like our kid from the future? I see that happen in shows."

"Nope. Well. Sorta."

"… How is that a sorta?"

Bringing out a sketchbook and placing it on the counter, they began to scribble a summary of who they were. There was a stickfigure with a pizza slice for a head, right next to him was a question mark, and following that was an arrow next to it coming from a doodle that was meant to be Noisette. A scribble was drawn next to the drawing of Pizzahead to show his displeasure and then there was a figure of Noise with an arrow coming from him pointing to the question mark. An equal sign was then drawn under that and there was a drawing of Voise.

The drawing continued as promptly they drew them getting crushed by a bunch of stone, and multiple dots around what she concluded were the ruins of the tower, with the dots moving away, representing everyone.

"I've got to say, it's a joy to see another artist besides Pepperman, that guy gives me the creeps." Noisette commented, albeit a bit delayed. It was odd, yet it still excited her. She was picking up the pieces of what they were trying to explain, but they had her DNA, as well as The Noise's. They had to be able to truly understand her, as well as all other benefits to having a duplicate that was also the both of them. "So, do you know why Pizzahead made you?"

"Back up."

"Ah. Have you just been under all that stone this whole time, what happened? If you showed yourself earlier, you could have belonged!"

"Stone hit me. Passed out."

"Oh no! Well. What are you going to do now? You don't have a place to stay."

"Don't know---"

"Can you stay with us, please!!!!! I want to keep you! Peppino has his artificial goopy counterpart and I love that guy, but having my own would be so good! Besides, you are like our family, technically, and we can't just abandon you. Well, I say 'we' but I don't know what Noisy would think about it. Maybe we should wait for him."

Silence. Three, two, one…

Someone bolted through the door again, and it happened to be Noise himself, a finger pointed upwards. "Hey babe, Peppino just called me accusing me of messin' with him, can you believe that? He must want my life to revolve around him if he's got the nerve to be contacting me during work hours." He'll notice the newcomer in a bit. "But then he's saying if it ain't me, then you have to be messing with him, which that's an insult if he thinks my partner would be going through his trash that smells like rotten marinara."

As he walked up to the counter, it was then he blinked and finally shifted his eye towards the brown spot in the corner of his vision. "Oh, hey, am I big enough to have copycats now?" He loudly asked.

"Clone, actually." Noisette corrected.

"Say what? Does someone have the tech to grow me in a lab or somethin'?"

She happy lifted Voise's sketchbook, which he read over. "They said their name is Voise, and they were made as 'back up'. I think that might have something to do with you not coming from the Tower, maybe Pizzahead thought you might leave. They've been stuck under the ruins this whole time, how awful is that?"

"…" He debated his thoughts, before backing away, making brief eye contact with his girlfriend before turning his eye on their clone. "So, you toyed with the Italian man's garbage?"

"Yeah. Scared him a little." They responded.

"Well, kiddo, here's the thing. Pranking him, startling him, doing everything to make his day worse is my job. You think you can out-Noise The Noise?"

"Not trying to."

"Ya should have considered that before you said you were created to be my back up! This is serious business here, you gotta fight me to prove you're worth staying here!"

"Okay."

"Theo," Noisette spoke up. "they probably never fought before, you can't just threaten them. I said they were allowed to stay."

"Trust the process, my love! Besides, they agreed." He stated. Readying his pogo-stick, he glared them down. They had the same blank expression as they looked towards him, getting off the stool and then just standing across from him.

He started off my jumping towards them with his pogo-stick, before they pulled out a hammer and batted him away. Grunting, he swiftly pulled out his revolver and shot some very non-lethal bullets, leaving them to get hit as they pulled out a giant can of whipped cream to launch them towards him and hit him yet again with their hammer.

"Got anything else?" He taunted, pulling out his skateboard and kicking it at them to push them some distance.

"You wish I didn't." They calmly responded, pulling out a rocket launcher. Noise flinced, not wanting anything that would come out of that and charging towards them and their punches devolved into a dust cloud of flying fists and kicks, occasional bits of their arsenal spilling out. They soon both emerged from it, covered in bruises.

He took a deep breath before laughing. Voise was confused by this, putting their fists up wondering if the brawl still wasn't over. He, however, soon confirmed, "it's fine, fight's over. You proved yourself you can keep up with me! You gave me enough time to make my decision."

"You were planning on losing?" Noisette asked.

"No, no, it wasn't a loss, I'm calling it off. See, I just needed some time. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you want to keep them, and I realize that this all works out perfectly."

"How so?"

"You see, being a superstar celebrity isn't easy, building a successful life means there's gotta be stuff for the crowd to feed on. I already have this image of a sweet significant other, being devoted to a humble cafe owner, but there can be more. I tell my audience that I adopted this loner off the streets and welcomed them into my family, and raise them as my apprentice, the heir to my craft."

Facing the clone, he pointed towards them. "Voise, I will teach you to refine your craft, to be a star that unsettles everyone! Pranking people is one thing, but your weird vibes adds some flavour to it. What do you say?"

"Sure." They spoke.

"… Gonna show some more enthusiasm?"

"Yeeeeeeeees, siiiiiiiir." They were sure to say this as dryly and emotionless as possible.

"That's the best I'm gonna get probably!" He walked up to them, patting them on the back. It was strange, the feeling he was getting from them. They were a clone of the two of them, but it did kind of feel like adopting a child. Maybe that's what Noisette would want, not that he wasn't thinking about the future or anything. He was serious about Noisette, but having a kid was different. It was all good now though, he had a protege to his work now, handed someone who would be raised under his wing.

"You're probably going to need a name besides Voise, but we'll work on that." Noisette chirped. "Oh I can't wait to do so much for you!!!" She ran up to the two and hugged them.

It was a peaceful scene until Peppino walked in. He took a deep breath to speak and then he proceeded to scream. "OH GODS THERE'S A-THREE OF YOU NOW?"

[gizmocreates]

collaborative creativity is a side effect of connection.

listen to me. I’m big into RPing. I love putting Thangs into Situations with other people. Before I mostly moved to discord RPing, I was in the forums. Before that, I was in Facebook game chatrooms. I was in amino. On discord. Flight Rising. I’ve been around the block with this shit, even if I’m a relatively younger person.

the one truth that I have learned throughout all of my creative experiences online, especially those of a collaborative nature, is that without the ability to communicate and connect outside of what would be ‘in character’, a roleplay will fail. It will Just Fail. It may be a slow death, or it may be quick. But the moment you can your fellow collaborators aren’t on the same page anymore, whether that connection is broken due to circumstance or never established to begin with, your project dies.

I’ve seen this his happen many times, but I think the best example of this in action is when I was on Pokefarm Q and we had a roleplay going. In our OOC we’d shoot the shit, prep for interactions and generally just talk about our lives- and the IC was reserved for in character roleplay.

now, Pokefarm Q is (or was at the time at least) horribly strict about their forum usage. You had to keep things ‘on topic’ or your forum thread would be locked and deleted, for example. In many cases, forum threads were deleted anyways if they went inactive for a while (I think it was a month?)

so, apparently, ooc chatter that doesn’t involve the roleplay and only the roleplay counts as “off topic”. We were swiftly punished for this- our OOC was locked indefinitely.

do you know how haunting it is to watch a thriving roleplay be turned into an empty shell before your eyes? Within days, the world of our dreams was hushed, perhaps with bated breath for the gods to speak again- only to die in the pathetic silence of self-strangulation.

perhaps it was partially due to discouragement because holy fuck having your roleplay essentially be neutered Sucks Ass. But personally, I think the main reason the RP died after that point is that we Couldn’t communicate out of character anymore. There were no vibes to catch, no way to more deeply understand our fellow roleplayers. We had no way to understand what they wanted, how they felt, or really what we needed to do at all. What were once known acquaintances became unpredictable strangers, only held together by the fraying fabric of dying creativity.

would the rp have died if the OOC had remained? Eventually, probably. But perhaps it would have died a more peaceful death, surrounded by newfound friends who will move forwards together to their next experience in confidence. Instead, with the euthanization of connection, creativity died with a squeal and a whimper.

While creative spaces do give you the avenue to connect with people, it’s that connection itself that will drive that creativity onwards. Sometimes, in fact many times, those relationships don’t last— this online world we tread is precarious, and filled with many painful goodbyes. But cherish them for the moments they do exist, because collaborative creativity is a side effect of connection.

there is so much intimacy in creating something together

[freezegirl]

“put your hands on the heater.” / [ from RONNIE, idk i just thought this was an amusing image for them specifically ]

askbox fun / @yearnstarved's ronnie raymond

briefly, khione wonders if ronnie knows that one meme. the one with the white lady losing her whole mind on one side of the table and a white cat just simply staring on the other side of the table.

because that's how khione feels right now.

she feels like the cat. staring at someone (who, thankfully, isn't losing his entire mind). granted, she's also unsure whether or not the cat and the lady in the aforementioned meme were ever in the same room, anyway.

it's probably photoshopped. either that, or it's two different pictures.

whatever, it doesn't matter. moving ever so swiftly onwards, the younger of the two clears her throat and---

"---do you mean the actual heater over there or do you mean you?" what? it's a super valid question, actually. "because i may be freezing a little bit as we speak but even i know that one of these is not like the other." which is also valid. "if only because if you mean the latter, i will fall asleep on you at some point, and then you're gonna have to deal with that. and, you know, considering you've got a date with caity later on, i wouldn't want to inconvenience you by catching some zzz's at an improper time."

[onefriendeveryday]

Legs - 4/1/2023 (though drawn on 5/1/2023 and uploaded on 6/1/2023)

The two hundred and forty first friend. A dragon. He is a long creature in many aspects. Their legs are long, their body is long, his whiskers, horns, and tail are long. His life is also long. They have been around since before the sun rose and will likely live to see its final setting. This means he has seen a lot of the world. They watched the greatest triumphs of the other creatures. However, he has also seen awful tragedies. Losing friends is common when you have such a long lifespan and this only added to the pain he experienced. There is a lot to life and it is a mixture of good and bad. They have seen it all and learned to focus on the positives. High points will always return to make things better again.

[sebastiansluts]

Babe, are still up with the lollipop play or popsicle play? If so i still stick with my idea where reader and Bucky or Seb spending a hot summer day by the pool lounging on the pool chair, reader decided to tease him by sucking the lollipop or the popsicle like she sucked his c*ck but He had enough and take the lollipop or popsicle out of your mouth and punish you with it until you're squirting multiple times

Sorry this took so long! But inspiration has finally struck I think, and anyways I hope you like it!

Bucky Barnes x Reader; object play- lollipop, object insertion- lollipop, object oral sex/deepthroating- lollipop, clit play, vaginal fingering, squirting

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

It was a hot summer day and while you and Bucky were both lounging by the pool in the backyard in your swimsuits, you also had a lollipop. It was one of those long unicorn horn ones but it was thick, meant to last longer.

It was your favorite flavor, and you couldn't stop licking at it, sucking the tip for a while with your eyes closed. A shifting next to you had your lip quirking but you didn't move other than to suck a little harder at the candy.

After a minute went by with no sound, you started to frown so you decided to have a little fun. You slowly pushed the lollipop into your mouth until it nudged the back of your throat.

You coughed lightly, tasting it, and pushed onwards, until you were carefully throating the treat. You held it for a moment then slowly pulled it back, until just the tip was in your mouth again and you grinned as you swallowed hard, delighting in the taste.

A sudden shadow loomed over you and your lollipop was ripped from your mouth and hand. You frowned, pouting as you looked up at Bucky. He was standing next to your lounge chair, blocking out the sun and glaring at you. He held your lollipop in his regular fist and you glanced at it, then back at Bucky, hoping he'd get the hint.

"You want this? This fuckin' near fake cock of a candy?" Bucky asked harshly, and you flinched as he gestured with it, relaxing as he moved to sit on the chair, shifting your legs. You eagerly reached for him, your legs spread and draped over his as he sat facing you, his cock clearly visible through his swim trunks.

Bucky pushed you back against the lounge with his vibranium hand, holding you down easily as you struggled just to feel the power from him.

"You're such a fuckin' slut, suckin' this like it's the best thing you've ever tasted when we both know that's not true." Bucky was nudging your bathing suit bottoms aside with the lollipop, running the tip up and down your folds.

You squirmed even more turned on and desperate already, but Bucky kept teasing you, edging just the tip between your lower lips, an inch inside you, before withdrawing and rubbing circles around your clit, never touching.

"Bucky! Please, I need- more," you gasped as Bucky swiftly inserted the lollipop, pressing steadily but slowing down the more he added. "S'not enough," you whimpered, as you felt his fist rest against your pussy.

"Like I said, a fuckin' slut!" Bucky punctuated each word with a thrust, making you cry out as something inside you was hit, and liquid came squirting out of you. You clenched hard as Bucky grinned, pulling the candy back and thrusting again, making you squirt again.

He pulled the lollipop out of your pussy, it sticky with your slick now, and removed his vibranium hand from your chest at the same time, moving it down between your legs and pressing two fingers into your pussy.

Your back arched, Bucky searching for that spot again, as he began tapping your clit with the lollipop with his other hand. You cried out as his fingers found it, pressing against your walls and making them clench as you squirted again, longer this time as the taps on your clit helped to stimulate.

You were sure there was a puddle forming beneath you by now from how much Bucky had pulled from you. Your body was limp by the time he was satisfied, pulling away as you twitched lightly. Your bathing suit bottoms were soaked through, and you just felt sticky.

"C'mon doll, have a final lick of your candy then let's swim," Bucky said as you tried to sit up, holding your lollipop out in front of you, not letting you off his lap.

You narrowed your eyes at him, then leaned in and sucked the tip of the candy into your mouth, swirling your tongue around and down until you were thoroughly tasting yourself mixed with the candy. You pulled off with a pop and Bucky glared at you, leaning and grabbing the back of your neck as he kissed you with bruising force, sharing the taste with you.

"Guess you need a second lesson," Bucky muttered into the kiss, and you grinned as he shifted the two of you to the side and stood up, keeping hold of you as he walked to the deep end of the pool.

You realized his plan and started struggling, but his hold was too strong. He just laughed and wrapped you around him tighter, before saying, "Hold your breath doll." He waited until you took a deep breath, then jumped into the pool, holding you securely, before immediately pushing you back up to the surface.

He came up moments after you, and pulled you back into his arms, laughing as you pouted, grumbling, "I liked the first lesson better."

[animehouse-moe]

Skip and Loafer Episode 10: Scrambling and Dripping

Well, with The Sound of Music as the background, we finally begin to explore Shima's character in proper. Flashbacks to childhood, repressed feelings and thoughts, and resolutions and progression that drives his current self forward. There's certainly a lot going on, and a lot to share!

We start the episode off with Chris himself laying into Shima for his issues, which I thought was a nice touch. Without his friend, Shima probably wouldn't have made the progress he did this episode, nor would he have opened up near as much to his friends.

But before that I just wanted to muse over this layout. I thought it was really fun and cute at expressing the differences between Shima and Chris. It does so through stuff like the ice cream vs drink, but also the differences in their posture, the style of their uniform, and even their bags. I just thought it was interesting and a fun little piece to add that gives Chris his own personality.

Anyways, the line in question from Chris. I particularly like how he phrases it in terms of acting, almost to rub a bit more salt in the wound of Shima in regards to the issue.

Following up their diner conversation though is one that happens outdoors, which I find far more interesting. I really like how they show Chris to not be some perfect friend that has all the right words for Shima, but rather that he stumbles around and has thoughts that exist from his own point of view, like this one. It's not so much as he's confusing Shima's experience as a child actor, but that he sees it from a different perspective. Shima was also so happy and excited to be able to put that smile on his mother's face, and Chris picks up on that enjoyment from a different angle than the chains that Shima imposes on himself.

And then there's whatever this was. Absolutely caught me off guard and got a laugh out of me. The perfect ending to a chat between blossoming high school boys for sure.

We swiftly move from Shima and Chris' conversation to a montage of the prep for the festival, and while it's pretty well typical with what you'd expect, I liked this one little moment. All the other groups featured are chatting or saying something when they're on screen, but the pair that are in charge of the budget are totally silent. Really simple piece, but I got a good little laugh of it.

The montage wraps up just as quick as it comes in, and we get whisked away to the world of The Sound of Music for an explanation of the plot. Not really anything to write home about, but I really liked the art style they used for it. It's still in tune with the overall color and character designs and stuff, but provides just the right amount of artistic edge to separate it.

Anyways, they explain the story, they do a little musical piece as an example for viewers, and then they press onwards. I really like how they follow the camaraderie and excitement shared by the rehearsal with Mitsumi's isolation behind the scenes. The other students are smiling and working together, while Mitsumi stands idly in the background. She herself even wishes to be a part of what her class is doing this year, which creates a bittersweet yearning for her inclusion.

Now, I did say this was an episode about Shima, but here I am talking about Mitsumi? Well, that's because it's important in regards to how Shima reflects on a flashback that follows Mitsumi's scene here. I think it's a really important flashback in how things are shown, because through it all, we only ever see the smiles on Shima and his mother's faces. Every other emotion from anybody in that scene is otherwise hidden, and tells viewers a different story than what it is exactly that Shima experiences and feels when reliving that moment.

The flashback comes and goes, and so does Mitsumi in a whirlwind of outside of school work. She ends up missing her morning meeting, which the people involved assure her they're not worried about in the slightest.

But this is high school, and these kids don't know better.

I think it's a really great piece for both ends. The important message of course being, you never know how hard someone's trying. These two girls who are only in charge of the play, have no idea of the weight that Mitsumi carries around for their sake. And rather than hash out their concern or challenges (or just be more accepting) they choose to talk about her after the fact.

It's not bullying, but it's one of those pieces of high school life where people that haven't given anything up don't understand what others have done. Sympathy runs dry with those types of characters, and it's plain to see how here. It's not that they're being terrible towards Mitsumi because she missed their meeting, but they're talking poorly of her because of things that they don't understand. It's a very naïve thought to have, and drives home the selfishness of characters like that in a very straightforward way.

We don't dwell on this moment for long though, as Shima once more uses Mitsumi as his crutch for introspection. Seeing himself in her reflection, in his perceived fragility of Mitsumi, he begins to explore himself more and more. And through the flashback this time, we begin to piece things together more and more.

Shima doesn't particularly like acting, we know that as a "truth" from present Shima. But his mother doesn't see it like that. The pair form a positive feedback loop, where Shima's acting is meant to make his mother happy, and his mother's smile and love is what spurs Shima on to continue with acting. This time, we see that they're not wearing those smiles on their faces, but Shima's not currently acting. Once he does though, that light returns to the pair of them.

In contrast to this happy memory of acting bringing Shima and his mother joy, he moves onto placing himself in the shoes of his role in The Sound of Music, the gardener Johan. While not anything new or really exceptional from Shima at this point in the series, I think it's an important piece in how he views himself and the world he exists in. That his happiness is not his own, and that the only pieces of himself that are truly him are the negative aspects.

Even though he buys Mitsumi a drink and chats with her to lighten her mood. Even if he dances with her to get a laugh out of her. Even if he chooses to be in the play because his friends ask him to. Shima is incredibly adept at ignoring those positive aspects of himself, and instead places them on Mitsumi, atop a pedestal that remains far away from his reach.

But I'll explain that in a bit, look at this incredibly cute clip.

Alright, cute song and dance finished, back to what I was saying. What a hugely important even to follow up this little sequence. Once more, we find ourselves in that pathway/outdoor hallway from an earlier episode, but with the roles reversed. This time, it's not Shima leaving Mitsumi behind, but it's Mitsumi leading the way for Shima. Such an important piece of symbolism and progression for him. He's not hiding a "secret" or being a shallow friend to Mitsumi. He's bearing his heart to this girl, and in turn Mitsumi is guiding Shima towards his happiness and the acceptance of himself and his past. That pedestal still exists, but even if it's only ever so slightly, Shima feels like he's gotten closer to reaching Mitsumi.

And then there's this piece as well, if that visual wasn't enough.

And this is where the episode leaves us, as the students work tirelessly to bring their ambitions towards reality. It's a really great piece that doesn't neglect the great world around Shima, but also doesn't try too hard to represent it. This is his episode, and they want us to know that. They want us to focus on the childhood memories and trauma that chains him within, of the guilt and repression and justification he uses to exist how he does currently.

But they also want to show us how far he's come. How much he cares for another person, how much he wants to be happy and have the life that he wants. That he wants to work towards standing alongside Mitsumi, rather than leaving her behind or forcing her to guide him. It's just really really well done, and delivers on the storyline we've had since day 1. It's not finished yet, not by a mile, but we're getting progress and getting to see Shima start to want to grow.

[scribbling-dragon]

Adaptive Nature

Chapter 12

Summary:

“It’s ridiculous.” He doesn't care about the way his voice rises, nor about the way his chair screeches as he pushes it back. He ignores the eyes that turn towards them, glaring at him with the accusation of disturbing the peace within the library.

(AO3 Link)

(Masterpost)

(3,125 words)

(hey! hi! can you guess what i’m gonna say? yes? well i’m gonna say it anyway: reblogs help a bunch more than likes and these chapters are gonna start taking longer so it’s super appreciated!)

“No.”

“I- what?” Pixl looks genuinely confused, as though he hasn't just told him something that sounds entirely nonsensical. And he’s listened to his brother devising plans for pranks, so that’s saying something.

“It’s ridiculous.” He doesn't care about the way his voice rises, nor about the way his chair screeches as he pushes it back. He ignores the eyes that turn towards them, glaring at him with the accusation of disturbing the peace within the library. He ignores it easily to watch Pixl, then Tango, then Pixl again as they both struggle to come up with something that might make him listen to their nonsense. He takes a half-step back from the table, before turning his back to it entirely, eyes set on the door out of there.

“Sheriff, wait,” Tango stands too, though his chair doesn't scrape nearly half as loudly, his voice pleading but soft, mindful of the listening ears and watchful eyes around them as the researchers observing them begin to become more invested. “Please, just listen to us.”

“I have listened to you!” He whirls on Tango again, stopping the other in his tracks, hand half-raised and poised to rest on his arm. He shakes the minimal contact off, even as heat flares along his skin at the simplest of touches. “I've listened to you and you've taken me for an idiot!” He snarls at Tango, watching as the other’s eyes darken, glimmering far more dangerously than they had before.

For a moment, he can almost believe that Tango is meant to be a predator of some kind, stalking the overgrown forests of the nether and skulking through the deep valleys of soul sand. For a moment, he can almost see it, but he watches as the burning in Tango’s eyes subsides again, and he just looks sad.

He turns on his heel again, swiftly marching out the door, ignoring the muttering of those he passes and the eyes that linger on him long after he’s moved away from them. He ignores it rather successfully, even as the voices rise to an excited chatter, people whispering back and forth to their neighbour about Tango and how they always knew it would come to this and that he could never keep ahold of them for very long.

It only serves to further stoke the fire of his anger, causing it to roar upwards until all he can what is the rushing of blood in his ears. However, he still manages to hear Tango’s last, rather desperate, call of “Sheriff!”

He ignores it anyway, not even sparing a last glance backwards, slamming the great door behind him and listening to the way it thunders through the empty hallways. One person stops to stare at him, clutching several files to their chest, but they squeak and hurry away the moment he even looks in their direction.

He grits his teeth and marches onwards, trying not to think too hard and only succeeding in making the words swirl around in his head more violently, clashing into each other like it’s a particularly violent storm.

Arrow is happy to see him, at least, as is Bullseye, and he’s rather well-practised in leading a horse while he rides another, meaning he doesn't run into any issues on his journey home. It just leaves him to stew in his anger and grit his teeth so hard that his jaw pops when he releases a bit of the tension.

They took him for an idiot, telling him lies that had them exchanging uneasy looks and shifty glances, as though that isn't evidence enough. Leading him on one long, wild goose chase, only to pull the rug from beneath him at the last moment. He thought he liked Tango, he had been nice to him.

Yet he was taking him for an idiot the entire time. He really should know better by now.

--- --- ---

"Well," Pixl’s voice echoes from behind him. "That could have gone better."

“Could have gone better?” He hears his own voice rise, pitching higher than he normally speaks and tugging at his throat. He continues, uncaring. “Could have gone better? I don't see any way that could have gone worse!”

People are watching him now, their interest in the Sheriff dimmed now that he’s no longer right in front of them, the air no longer shivering with the impact of it slamming shut behind him. He can hear them muttering, something about calling the Head down. He resists the urge to snarl in the direction of whoever muttered “should a netherborn really be in among so many books? It’d be so easy for him to set it all ablaze, especially when he’s in a state like…that.”

He would, but he’s too preoccupied with glaring at Pixl, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, claws cutting deeper with each repeat. Pixl looks far too calm, his face far too neutral and wiped clean for anything to make sense.

“So?” He snarls, voice quieter now, but still no doubt putting on a show for everyone around them, “Do you have anything to say? No defence? Anything?”

“I don't know what you want me to say.” Pixl says, his voice still irritatingly calm, completely unbothered by the fact that the Sheriff just stormed out, fuming and likely set on never seeing them again. Which simply cannot happen if they want to survive whatever the hell’s going on with the sculk.

“Maybe that I was right?” He steps closer, gritting his teeth and swallowing the smoke back down even as it scrapes and scours at his throat, “That we shouldn't have been keeping it from him?” He takes another step. “That he has the right to know?” Another. “That he could have been the one deciding for himself rather than being treated like a child that didn't know any better?” His voice rises again, and a few trails of smoke manage to escape his mouth, spilling out.

He hears several chairs scrape backwards at that, either escaping their imminent doom at his hands, or rushing off to retrieve the Head in the hopes that they might prevent whatever disaster has lodged itself into their brains. Either way, he’s not sorry to see them go, breaking his stare from Pix’s to watch their hasty retreat.

He grins at the one that glances back at him, something preening internally at the way their eyes widen, the whites shining fearfully beneath the lights. Something inside him purrs at that, and he finds himself tracking their movements hungrily, hands curling into claws, watching as the door swings shut behind them.

“Tango.” Pixl says his name with the frustration of someone having said it several times already, and he turns back to him words already bubbling in his chest, anger hot in his lungs as he breathes, smoke threatening to clog his throat as he glares at Pixl.

Pixl wilts a little beneath his gaze, and he wouldn't blame him, but it just makes him more angry, and that small part of himself that he’s never managed to squash continues to preen. He stalks up to him, until they're almost chest to chest, resenting Pixl for his greater height as he has to tilt his head backwards to continue staring at him.

To his credit, Pixl doesn't take a step back, only continues to watch him with wide eyes that betray his fear, feet remaining firmly rooted in place. “I told you,” he whispers, though a hush has fallen over the library, not even the sound of turning pages fills the silence now, “I told you that this would turn out badly. Didn't I?”

Pixl doesn't say anything, and he watches his chest rise and fall, listens to his breathing and his heartbeat. He can hear the way it thunders, quick and erratic in its fear. It thumps like the feet of a rabbit escaping, the overwhelming sense of fear from the other only helping to remind him of the small creature.

Pixl positively shivers with fear, and he drinks it in, leaning closer.

“I knew what I was talking about,” he says, voice dropping, “And yet you didn't take my advice?” He stalks around Pixl, back towards the table they had been sitting at. Pixl tenses as he moves, and he hears him suck in a deep breath, hears it rattling deep in his chest.

He moves on, tail flicking behind him, leaning over the open book. His scribblings in the margins don't fill him with that same excitement, that same passion, as he stares at the image in front of him.

It’s slightly out of his area of expertise, drifting a little closer to the Age of Titans than he had really wanted it to, but he had adapted, he had made do. Adapting was what he did. “Look.” He snarls, gesturing at the book, sweeping a hand over the desk to indicate his other notes, his other evenings spent researching and collecting the information only for Pixl to tell him “not yet” and “he’s not ready”. Evenings gone to waste on a project that wasn't even worth it.

“I did it for you!” He laughs, and even he can hear the crackling beneath it, the way it veers a little too close to a wailing sound for comfort. He sees the way Pixl winces, eyes crinkling with sympathy that he immediately discards. “I did all of this! For you!”

“I know, Tango, please,” Pixl takes a step towards him, “I appreciate it, I really-”

“Then why couldn't I say something?” He yells, tearing his eyes away from the dragon, away from Her purple eyes and gaping maw, Her teeth and Her wings, the way She curls so elegantly around the pillar as though it was made for Her claws to rest in such a way. “Why couldn't I be useful? That’s my point, isn't it?” He grits his teeth until his jaw aches, glaring at Pixl. “That’s my point, isn't it?” Pixl doesn't say anything. “I would have been a researcher if I wasn't more useful elsewhere! I helped you with this because I was useful, because I know the Age of Corruption, because I'm useful.” His chest hitches, but he shoves it down firmly, allowing anger to flood where it had been, boiling hot and threatening to burn the carpet beneath his feet. “Because that’s my point.”

“Tango, please.” Pixl looks close to crying, jaw set in that way he always does when he’s still trying to make a point, when he’s facing off against someone he doesn't want to cry in front of. He feels like he should stop, that the anger has burned long enough. Instead, he wills it to burn a little longer, words he hasn't yet said making his mouth feel sour. Filled with a disgusting bitterness he can't seem to get rid of, no matter what words he hurls at Pixl.

“I don't care!” He yells, glad of the empty library, though he’s not sure when everyone else escaped. He feels like the Head should have been here by now, unless all the other researchers abandoned Pixl to his whims. Cowards, the lot of them, maybe it’s a good thing he didn't join their ranks.

“I don't care.” He repeats, “I was doing this, meeting your Sheriff, because you wanted me to help, because that’s what I'm here to do, yeah? And I didn't mind it, he was nice, he was funny, and he didn't flinch away from me as soon as he saw my fire. Which, let me tell you,” he breaks off into a laugh, “It has been a long time since that has happened. And, yeah, maybe that endeared me to him a little. But that doesn't mean my opinion should be completely ignored- disregarded when I say we should tell him. How would you feel about being lied to?”

“He still thinks we’re lying to him.”

“And? He hates us now, sure, maybe I've just thrown away whatever friendship I had with someone that doesn't look at me with barely concealed apprehension, that doesn't think I'm just a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode in their faces!”

“You're not helping that assumption right now.”

“I don't care!” He screams, wheeling around to face Pixl again, tail lashing behind him. “I don't care! Because the Sheriff thinks we’re liars, and the corruption is so obviously back. And it’s going to kill him, it’s going to kill him and if I hadn't told him, and-” he laughs again, “-don't even tell me you were going to tell him after that, because I know you, and I know you weren't going to. You were content to keep him in the dark for a moment longer, just for your own peace of mind, and now look at what you've done!”

He faintly registers the sound of the door swinging open behind him, even as the person entering has obviously tried to muffle the sound.

“It’s going to kill him,” he says, “Because we weren't there to tell him, because he doesn't believe us. And you know what?” There’s footsteps behind Pixl, and he watches as a hand appears on his shoulder, trying to pull him away, “When it happens,” he lowers his voice to a snarl, keeping his eyes firmly on Pixl’s face, watching for when the blow lands, “It’s going to be your fault.”

Pixl’s face crumples, and that disgusting part of him roars in approval.

--- --- ---

He’s sure everyone noticed his less than great mood when he returned, even if none of them commented on it. He knows that Alyssa kicked several people as they sat around the fire, but he appreciates her efforts nonetheless and carefully averted his eyes whenever she did it.

Lotus was a little more subtle in her approach, standing to his side or sitting beside him and aiming glares at those around the fire when they've had a few too many drinks and their words begin to slip a little more loosely. He notices it out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't comment on it either.

Neither of them comment on it when he enters the half-built office the next morning, with far too little sleep for him to even consider functioning for the full day, very obviously still in the clothes from yesterday. Neither of them comment on it, though they do pull their heads apart from whatever discussion they had been having before he entered.

They do, however, comment on it when he asks for writing implements to pen the response letters to the other empires. He waves their concern off, ignoring their pointed comments about food, and sleep and just generally resting.

He simply takes the pens and paper they hand him, give a short thanks, and walks back out, back to his house. He shuts the door firmly behind him, not locking it, both because the door doesn't have a lock and also because there’s no reason for him to do so.

This means, when Alyssa suddenly appears over his shoulder, watching him write out his latest draft to Chromia, it’s not at all surprising. He pauses, ink blotting the paper and ruining his fifth attempt at a letter, the victims of his last failures strewn across his desk.

“Havin’ trouble?” She asks, and he sighs, pushing back from the desk, even as the chair squeaks dangerously, turning to face her. He has a feeling she won't be leaving until she gets what she wants.

“Something like that.” He responds.

“You had a fallin’ out.” She says, straight to the point and not even bothering to ask it like a question. He stares at her for a moment, wondering whether he should actually respond to her, or simply stare until she gets the hint and leaves. He has a feeling they'd be here all night if he did that.

“Yeah,” he hangs his head, “How could you tell?”

“You've been so…happy, since that archaeologist came around. You've been happy, and it’s been obvious to everyone else.”

“I wasn't sad before then.”

“Yes you were.” He looks up, meeting Alyssa’s eyes. He finds them sadder than normal, dark and as though he could keep looking into them forever and never find a bottom. Falling eternally. “You were happy, sure, but you weren't happy. It’s obvious you've been running from something, Sheriff, and I'm sorry if this breaches your comfort zone, but it’s been obvious that you never stopped fearin’ whatever you were runnin’ from, that you'd fallen so far into the habit of looking over your should you never stopped to think that you should look ahead instead.”

“I- Alyssa.” He sighs, feeling more exhausted than he has in months.

“Sheriff.” She looks at him sadly, but not with pity, simply with sympathy. Perhaps understanding, too.

“I-” he’s embarrassed to find that his voice fails him, cracking on the first syllable and leaving him grasping at nothing, tears welling in his eyes as he simply stares at Alyssa, unable and uncertain on how to respond.

“Oh,” her face crumples into even more of a sympathetic look, and she moves closer, ducking a little to wrap him in a hug. He stiffens, shock overtaking him at the simple closeness of her to him, before slowly leaning into him, pressing his forehead into her shoulder. He’s careful not to catch her face on his horns, bringing hands up to rest awkwardly on her back as she squeezes him tighter.

He only pulls back when his ribs feel as though they're about to crack beneath the pressure, wiping guiltily at his eyes.

“Oh,” she brushes at his shoulder, “You had somethin’ on you.” She pulls her hand back, a small piece of plant cupped in the centre of her palm, shifting as she moves it around, inspecting it. “It’s a weird lookin’ plant, I’ll give you that much.”

He watches, in mute horror, as she pokes at the small piece of sculk, watching as it almost seems to pulse, the air around it rippling oddly. Like heat rising off the ground. She doesn't seem to notice it, though she goes incredibly still a moment later, eyes remaining trained on the piece of sculk.

But it’s dead, or at least not writhing like the other vines had been. And it’s also rather tiny, quite pathetic in comparison to the ones that had tried to strangle Pixl.

“Huh,” she says, “Weird lookin’ plant.” She curls her fist around it again, bidding him a quick farewell and shutting the door behind her as she leaves. He turns back to his letters, beginning his sixth draft and allowing the shred of sculk to drift from his mind.

Not that it matters, anyway.

[prose-for-hire]

The vampire of the opera

(Part One Here)

Pairing: Spike x vamp!reader

Request: Second part to phantom of the opera au.

Requested by: @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard & @everlastingartist​

Warning: Character deaths. Blood, reader drinks blood, killing.

A/N: So sorry about the wait! I had to use a lot of artistic licence for this lol considering how the last part ended !! I really hope it’s okay, it’s a very loose interpretation 💜🖤

You were lying bed, the one that you had began to share together. Your body cold to the touch and still. So still. It had been a week since you had died and he was waiting for you to return to him. He wouldn’t allow your body to be committed to the Earth, he couldn’t bear to part from your form even for a moment.

He had done much to prepare for when you woke up. He did not mourn, instead, he wrote feverishly of your return. Of his devotion. He had covered every mirror in the lair. He had never had a use for them anyway but he knew that adjusting could be harder with them.

 Most of the time, he had been watching you in a state sweeter than slumber. He pressed his lips against yours almost chastely. As if he feared you may crumble to dust should he make a sudden move. He would stroke your cheek and whisper his promise of his commitment to you as he waited patiently. He would hum sometimes as he waited for your return. Songs that he had heard as he watched you on stage.

In that brief period between life and death, where you were turning to your vampiric form, you heard his voice. It spurred your onwards, towards him. All you could see other than the darkness, was him. His voice, his touch. Even a sweet song that appeared to call you to him. He was awaiting your duet and you were desperate to be with him. Where you belonged.

Your transformation was an awakening. He had sired you so intimately, claiming you. Claiming your love, your life force as his own. You awoke to his eyes on you, where they had been transfixed for what felt like an age. Although, an eternity would never be too long to watch over you. He raised from his seat to kneel before you as soon as your eyes fluttered open.

He took your hand almost forcefully, the opposite from the expression on his face which was decidedly softer than you had ever seen. It meant too much, his need for you to not regret your decision reflected in his actions. He near demanded your love to be as great as his own for you. His grip on your hand so tight that if you had still been human he would have crushed every bone in his grasp.

“This is your chance, pet… to turn your face away from the day, the dark’s ours...” He moved your chin swiftly to face him, “Surrender to your darkest dreams, we can make them reality” He insisted.

He held his breath, although there was no need, waiting for your response. You smile, nodding. This was all you had ever wanted. Him. His eyes glistened as you nodded vigorously at his offer. It was a promise more intimate than marriage. You had agreed to be his forever.

And you would keep agreeing long after death, you were sure of it.

Your vampiric form was so beautiful to him, as if it was the form you were meant to take. You looked ethereal as ever to him. Even as you ate, blood dripping from your chin in a way that would horrify those that you had once known, he adored you so.

Your face hadn’t changed the way that his had. You had no need for a mask but as you often insisted: he had no need for one either. You had a lot to learn about this new un-life of yours, but he was more than willing to assist. He would do anything to keep you. With him.

In the coming months, he provided for you, did all in his power to keep you safe. You eat rats mostly to begin with or he allows you to feed from him. Partly because he was concerned should you have a taste of the light, of your past life, you may wish to turn from him. Another because he wished to protect you from cruel eyes and harsh tongues.

When he told you the stories of his past, your heart broke several times over. You couldn’t imagine such hatred for such a caring person. His darkness was unavoidable, you could not deny his rage or his anguish but you knew his heart. Intimately.

His love was deep. Achingly deep and unending. The poems he shared with you made your undead heart almost begin beating again. Such sweet prose. You as his eternal muse. You often spoke of your own affection although admitting it paled to the expression of his own love for you.

You had proved your devotion. Your commitment to him and this new life. This life of supposed darkness, though you had never felt so light. You felt truly cherished. When you were his, you were on the very top of the world. When you told this to him he couldn’t believe it. Only you. Only you could possibly be the flickering candle in his darkness. The warmth on the coldest day.

When the opera was busy one evening, he brought you to his usual watching spot. The box he had reserved, usually for him alone. He now shared it. It became yours and his. You leaned against him, he blinked slowly as he savoured this contact.

He slipped away towards the end to find you a proper meal. An unsuspecting man suited up that was late returning from the intermission. You followed, counting to the number he told you to before getting out of your seat. When you turned the corner the blood had already started to run.

The rage he had harboured inside, the contempt for these people. That thought he was so much better than him. He showed it in the way that he killed. Allowing enough blood for your hunger to be sated. For you to feed without being in danger if the hunt went wrong. You, of course, the priority even over his own rage.

You drank deep, his hand snaking around the back of your neck and keeping a firm grip on the base of your skull as you indulged. He enjoyed watching you this way. He could never find this action monstrous if someone so heavenly to him could join.

He could be himself with you, knowing you would never turn from him in horror or disgust. Most importantly, he could be truly vulnerable with you. In a way he could never be before. It had been hard for him, he had been so angry. Nobody had ever been kind. He had been laughed at, humiliated in front of large numbers. For his looks, his writings.

But you had built him back up again. With you he had been shown what true love was. Unconditional love. You had completely submitted to him, laid all of your own vulnerabilities for him to learn. To know you intimately. Just as you learned about him.

He showed you all of his favourite haunts, places that he had frequented alone. A tone of sorrow permeated in those particularly solitary places where he had kept his distance from the crowds. Hidden in shame from those that may shun him or worse.

Your favourite time, however, was when it was just the two of you. Stealing away in the depths of the opera house. Bodies wrapped around each other; his mask removed. When it was the two of you, he didn’t need to hide anymore.

You explored his form day and night. A love neither of you had experienced before. You enjoyed tender moments, often wrapping your legs around him, pressing yourself flush to him. Your hands cupping his face, adoration for both sides of his face in equal measure. His skin was twisted on one side and rough to the touch but it felt so divine to you. You pressed your lips to his forehead, trailing the sweetest kisses against the ridged skin down the side of his face. He exhaled at your sensitive touch, your lips grazing him with such tender affection.

Your bliss was interrupted, however. A crash announcing an outsider’s presence that you hadn’t noticed – you had been so entranced by each other. You both stood, his anger that always stayed so close to the surface began to rage. How dare he come here? How dare he wish to take you from him?

You stared, appalled at this man from your past. That had made such an impression on you that you had forgotten his existence until now. Couldn’t they see you were his? That you were so drunk on his love and only wishing to stay by his side for always. You needed him like you had once needed air to breathe.

He immediately pulled you out of harm’s way, fingers digging into your hips as he did. Trying to protect you. Trying to keep you where you belonged. In the darkness, by his side.

He couldn’t exist without you. It would hurt too much. Some may say it was obsession and perhaps it was, or perhaps they had just never experienced love before. Love that made you ache with desire and feel more than anyone had surely ever felt before. You were his everything. You were the reason the Earth kept spinning, the reason that happiness was in his vocabulary.

His hand stayed gripping your waist. Planting you in place as if he feared you may suddenly decide to run. He shouted, warning the so-called saviour away. Threatening him within an inch of his life. He gave him every chance to turn away and allow you to be happy. But the intruder would not listen, apparently intent on tearing you away from the only time you had ever felt truly alive.

Rather than turning away, he stepped towards you both and your vampire had no choice but to step between you. He was brutal. Merciless. Until the body was limp and lifeless.

You gasped and he winced as he stood over the body of the nameless do-gooder that had tried to tear his love from him. Tried to damn him back into the shadows. He hadn’t seen your expression and despite you now also being a vampire, you hadn’t killed alone or taken much interest in hunting. His stomach flipped as he turned to gauge your expression.

He had killed for you. That had to be the truest form of love, to adore you enough to kill to keep you by his side. He had saved you. Your love for him blossomed further, if that was even possible as you realised this. Your expression was one of true adoration and he instantly closed the space between you, his hands resting on either side of you upper arms as you gushed. Laying your love upon him so easily.

“Thank you!” You collapsed into his arms, leaning against him and inhaling his scent. The familiar smell, now tinged with fresh blood, always brought you such happiness.

“Couldn’t let you go, pet… You saved me from my solitude. From the darkness” He murmured as he pulled back slightly. He dropped his gaze to the floor in his admittance.

“I want to be here, by your side. All I want is one eternity, for both of us to share.” You insisted, which made his undead heart swell. You removed the mask from his face and although he winced, he let you. You wiped the stray blood spatter before setting it down, running your thumb over the

“Anywhere you go, I’ll be there” He said firmly, the softness of this near made you swoon.

“Always” You nodded in agreement that you felt this just as intimately. His darkness would never make you turn from him, in fact it made you fall further for him.

“Always” He breathed, repeating your words and closing his eyes in contentment.

As he took your wrist and led you to your shared resting place, resuming your position so that you could dote on him further. All you needed was each other.

However, word spread when the man that went to ‘rescue’ you never returned. He had made it very clear where he was going and what his intentions were. You weren’t to know, but there was a plot against you. A war waged against true love.

It was an evening like any other, the last show of the season at the opera house. You slipped into the back row, to watch the performance. The shadows were no longer lonely with you by his side. You waited for the show. It hadn’t yet started. The curtain call was uncharacteristically late. The audience shrouded in the same darkness.

He slid an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss against your cheek. He recalled how much he had thought about you. Created a model of you that could never quite do your defining features justice. It was no comparison to the real thing. To the euphoria he had now that your feelings were so deeply reciprocated.

Here, he had watched you on the stage. Possessed by his love, needing you to be his in every way possible. He looked to his side as you reached to where his hand rested against your shoulder and laced your fingers with his.

You had given up life itself to be with him. The passion you felt with him was unmatched. The soft moments of love that you had thought only true in movies now an everyday occurrence. You smiled at him, that smile that he adored. Lived for. If he closed his eyes in this moment and never woke up, he could go happily.

As he thought this, the stage lit up and a small group crowded onto the stage. Instead of the usual musical number that began something different started. Your faced dropped and your stomach flipped as you heard the opening lines of a poem you knew.

They were his words. His beautiful words written about you.

But rather than reading them seriously, with feeling they way they had been intended, they spoke them as if it were a punchline. They couldn’t understand this feeling. This love.

They began laughing. Their jeers echoed around the room the way applause usually would. You stood, shouting your anger. Threatening them in the way you had learnt from him. He shook his head, tensing his jaw as he put his hand out to stop you.

You try in your way to protect him as they continued to laugh. You shielded him with your arms as if you could deflect your words with your embarce. He took his strength form you, knew that you really were meant together. That his long-held need for you was filled. You were his, you would never stop. You had turned from them, truly embracing the darkness as you embraced him.

The exits were closed off as you clung onto each other desperately. Why couldn’t they let you stay together? Under the opera house where you belonged. By his side.

He moved from your shielding arms to fight those that jeered. Trying to keep your place together as he wished. The fight was brutal and you tried to join in but there was too many of them. You had fought your way to the stage where he was.

In the fight, the chandelier dropped with a crash that ricocheted around the theatre. A fire started and flames licked around you, beginning to engulf the entire area and forging a path straight towards you. He ran to you, cursing himself that he had not stayed by your side. He wouldn’t move from you now. Just like that, the rest of the audience fled, managing to escape the flames and bolting the doors behind them.

Leaving only you and him. Together. The way it was always meant to be.

Everything was burning down around you. But you were together. Never to part. You knew that you were tied together. In body and spirit. You knew in this moment that all of you, mind, body and soul was his. Just as somehow you felt that his was yours.

You stood on the centre of the stage. Just you and him. The point of no return. He removed his mask now that it was just the both of you. He met your lips with his, unbridled passion never faltering. The desperation of a kiss that beckoned the end. You clutched his leather duster urgently pulling him closer. You near melded into the other. Not sure where one started or the other ended.

The flames reached you both, but you never moved from your embrace. You enveloped him in your arms as the flames licked your adjoined forms, accompanying your embrace. Neither of you moved, standing the pain for these last few seconds together. Your gaze never moving, lost deep in his eyes. The promise of his love, his devotion would never die.

You knew that this was the end but you could think of no better place to be. To die by his side was truly divine. Your souls would always take you where you longed to be. With the other. There would be no more interruptions. Whatever happened next, you would be together, never to leave the other’s side.

[keewriting]

Cove x MC - One Shot #5 (request)

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

You blinked your eyes open and adjusted to the blearly blue scenery. Your eyes stung, but weeks of practice made the pain bearable. A fish the size of your head swam past you swiftly. You recognized it as Gerald, the parrotfish that you became well acquainted with these past few weeks. Your coworkers helped you come up with the name after realizing how attached he was to the divers. He had a rough scar across his forehead that helped distinguish him from the other fish.

Gerald was one of many fish that lived in the mermaid performance tank. A dimly lit room with space for 60 audience members held the massive circular tank. Cove Holden would stand among those 60 people during the show this afternoon. His presence in the audience induced a mixture of nerves and excitement within you. Three years ago you admitted your feelings to each other but there was still an air of uncertain awkwardness between you two. Despite that, you invited Cove to watch your first live performance today.

You looked at the waterproof stopwatch on your wrist. One minutes and 37 seconds. Your breath-holding record was almost five minutes. Growing up by the ocean gave you years of experience underwater, but the divers at the aquarium taught you techniques to extend your lung capacity. It was enough time to last through the entire four-minute performance.

You swam around the tank, propelled by your finned feet. The tank decorations made it feel like you were exploring the ocean floor. Schools of bright tropical fish populated the coral structures. A variety of colorful aquatic plants shot up from the sand. The previous part-time job you had couldn’t compare to this one. You felt at peace in the water, and more connected to Cove, who you still suspected was a real mermaid.

The pressure in your head increased and you knew it was time to surface for a breath. You checked the stopwatch as you ascended. Four minutes and 49 seconds. A new record. The air filled your lungs desperately when you broke the surface. You had plenty of time to continue practicing before the performance in four hours.

Four hours later

The chatter of a crowd filling the room triggered your nerves. The secret entrance to the mermaid tank hovered above the auditorium out of the audience’s sight. You stood between your two fellow mermaids, gripping the railing to maintain balance on finned feet. You took a deep breath and focused on the ethereal notes of the ocean lullaby.

The show’s director held up a hand to count down from three. Two. One. You followed the lead mermaid into the tank with a graceful dive. The splash of the third diver behind you was your cue to open your eyes. Once again, your sight adjusted underwater. You thrust downward with your fin and pulled up into a full loop. The guidelines for your performance were lax— as long as you executed the main tricks the show would be a success.

Finding Cove in the audience became your first goal. The visibility was low in the tank, but you couldn’t miss his seafoam green locks. He was also the tallest figure standing among a sea of small children. You swam towards his side of the tank, flapping your tail teasingly. As you drew nearer, the features on his face became discernable. The refracting light from the tank reflected beautifully on his ocean eyes. He stared at you adoringly, his mouth hung open.

You winked at him and swam swiftly to the center of the tank to avoid lingering in one spot. One of your mermaid companions held out her hands to you. In unison you held each other’s hands and pressed forward. Your faces met inches apart. She smiled at you sweetly as her long mane drifted around you. The intimacy made you blush, but your mind still drifted to Cove. You both pushed apart from each other into a smooth underwater backflip.

You swam a lap around the tank, waving to everyone in the crowd. The glowing amazement on the children’s faces filled you with warmth. Your pace slowed as you approached Cove. He stepped forward and pressed his hands against the glass. His red cheeks were unmistakable and he looked as captivated as the children on either side of him.

You thrust yourself backwards with your arms pointed above your head. Your core tightened as you performed the drill spin. The spiralling motion made you dizzy, but you recovered and stabilized. You couldn’t resist stealing another glance at Cove. His smile was wide, the childlike wonder apparent in his expression.

The final act on your list was the beloved mermaid kiss. You steadied yourself in front of Cove with your arms outstretched. His eyes widened and he moved his face closer, nose nearly touching the glass. You placed your palms on either side of your mouth and moved them into the shape of a heart while blowing air outward. The burst of bubbles formed into a heart that traveled to the glass in front of Cove. You could hear the faint sound of children squealing, but your eyes focused on Cove’s reaction. His blush deepened and he beamed at you.

Cove's expression sent butterflies to your stomach. His admiration was addicting, but the pressure felt unbearable. Your lungs needed air. You gave one final wave to the crowd and swam upwards to the dock. Your mermaid companions followed suit. The diving assistants helped the mermaids out of the water and into the locker rooms. Too focused on breathing, you all remained silent.

Your mind was racing with thoughts on how you performed and Cove’s perception of you as a mermaid. Earlier this morning you asked him to meet you outside the employee locker rooms after the show. You couldn't wait to hear his thoughts.

After the assistants helped you out of the tail you toweled off and changed into casual clothes. Your hair was still damp, but meeting with Cove was more important than looking presentable.

You bounded out of the locker room offering a quick farewell to your coworkers. The hallway stretched onward with no sign of Cove. You walked forward, hoping that he didn’t forget your plan to meet. As you turned the corner, an out of breath Cove halted in front of you.

Cove: Y/N!

You jumped backward, startled by his enthusiasm.

Cove: Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.

Y/N: It’s okay! I thought you forgot…

Your eyes lowered from Cove’s face to his hands. He was holding a colorful faux coral figurine and a dolphin balloon. You met his gaze again, one eyebrow raised quizzically. He sighed and offered the treasures to you.

Cove: People usually give bouquets of flowers after a performance, but the gift shop didn’t have any.

You didn’t speak, stunned by his thoughtfulness, but accepted the gifts. Your heart was pounding. Cove continued nervously.

Cove: I know coral isn’t a flower, or even a plant, but it’s pretty, and your performance was pretty. It made sense in my head. I hope it’s not stupid.

You wanted Cove to continue rambling, but he stopped and waited for your reaction. He clenched his fists at his sides. You couldn’t hold back a smile any longer. Relief washed over Cove’s reddened face.

Y/N: You’re seriously cute. Thank you for this.

Cove: It’s nothing, really.

His eyes darted away from you. With the coral in one hand and balloon in the other, you wrapped your arms around Cove. He gasped, but wiggled his arms out from your embrace and returned the hug. You nuzzled your face into his comforting chest. Your damp hair soaked into his t-shirt. When you pulled away you grimaced apologetically at the wet spot.

Y/N: Sorry about that.

Cove: No worries, a hug from a mermaid is always welcome.

He spoke with a hint of flirtation in his voice. You appreciated that Cove was trying.

Y/N: Soooo, what did you think? Spare no details.

Cove: Uh— I think I’ll spare some details.

He looked surprised by his own words, but continued speaking.

Cove: Anyway, I enjoyed it. The tank looked awesome, and the music was nice.

You stared intently at Cove, waiting for him to mention you specifically.

Cove: I thought Gerald did a great job. He almost stole the show.

That got a booming laugh from you. You told many stories to Cove about Gerald the fish and how he lingered near you during practice.

Y/N: I’m impressed you recognized him. Almost stole the show, you say?

You raised your eyebrows at Cove, who appeared like a deer in headlights.

Cove: It was hard to keep my eyes off you.

Cove paused, forming his next sentence carefully.

Cove: Your movement was fluid and mesmerizing, like a real mermaid.

You chuckled abruptly.

Y/N: A real mermaid? You mean like you?

Cove rolled his eyes and crossed his arms conclusively, not willing to speak anymore. You weren’t letting him off the hook this easily.

Y/N: I’d like to hear more of your thoughts. What was your favorite part?

Cove: Oh, hm.

He tapped his finger on his chin, pretending to think hard about the question. His words were a soft mumble.

Cove: The bubble kiss…

Y/N: Speak louder, Cove.

Cove huffed and hugged his arms around his body tighter.

Cove: I know you heard me, Y/N.

He groaned and hung his head. You stepped closer to him, the tips of your feet touching his. You whispered.

Y/N: Did you like seeing me as a mermaid?

Cove’s radiant eyes snapped upward. You stared into them intensely. Cove powered through your scrutiny.

Cove: Of course I did!

You burst out laughing.

Y/N: I tease you too much, don't I?

Cove: Uh-huh…

You squinted at him and stuck out your tongue.

Y/N: Or maybe not enough.

Cove: Is the interrogation finished?

You feigned indignation with an exaggerated scoff.

Y/N: Well if that’s how you see it!

You grinned mischievously and bopped his nose with your finger before stepping backward.

Y/N: If you’re lucky you might get another mermaid kiss someday.

Cove bit his lip, unable to hide that he wasn't unphased by your words.

Cove: I am proud of you. I know how hard you’ve been working.

Your expression softened.

Y/N: I appreciate that, Cove.

A wave of bashfulness consumed you for a moment. Cove’s sincerity wasn’t unusual, but it felt different this time.

Y/N: I’m glad you came to watch. Even though you were kind of a distraction.

Cove looked appalled.

Cove: What?

Y/N: To be honest, it was also hard for me to look away from you.

Cove: I wasn’t doing anything, Y/N.

Y/N: You don’t have to do anything to be a distraction.

Cove was silently pensive. You decided to be explicit for the sake of his brain.

Y/N: I like you, Cove.

His mouth fell open. You refused to believe that this was a shock to him

Y/N: But you already knew that.

Cove: You— agh. Can I take you somewhere for dinner?

The subject change caught you off guard, but you didn’t want to push Cove.

Y/N: Yes.

You hooked your arm into his.

Y/N: Lead the way, landlubber!

Cove chuckled and walked with you out of the aquarium. You felt proud of your performance, and thrilled about Cove's reaction. It was fitting that the way to his heart was through a mythical sea creature. You hoped Cove would be willing to continue the conversation about your feelings during dinner.

[theomnicode]

Pet ownership

(tw: implied pet death, blood) -*-

It’s been a while since Saitama has felt so awful emotionally, completely wrung out after weeping for so long, but the numbness that he thought was gone since he started his hero work and Genos moved to his apartment threatens to overtake him. He looks at the blood on the floor and Saitama has never been squeamish about blood, but the thought that it might be his pet’s blood makes the smell suddenly very nauseating and vomit-inducing. 

The entire place is a complete wreck too, nothing that can't be fixed but he has no heart to care about their apartment right now. He needs to get out and find Genos. Or someone. But he needs to tell Genos too about…about—

He has to stop and breathe hard, because his throat is clogging up and constricting and there's still snot in his nostrils because he didn't remember where he put the tissues and probably couldn't find them anyway. He needs air. 

He swiftly walks out and slams the door on its hinges and jumps to the ground floor.

Saitama wanders numbly on the streets and realizes he has no way to call Genos; he had forgotten his cell phone in his house. He's not sure if it’s still intact. The small leash on his hands drags along the pavement and he idly tugs the rope back up, walking past monster guts and demolished apartment housing and an uncharacteristically cold and murderous feeling of vindication rises to the forefront. But that same feeling is gone as soon as he gazes at the destruction left behind by his rage. He marches onward, willing himself to not care about the repercussions.

If this is how it feels like to lose a pet that he owned for mere months, he cannot begin to fathom how it feels like to lose your entire family, your entire town. He suddenly feels like he can understand Genos a lot better now, his motivation and perseverance and everything. Tears prick his eyes again. All these feelings are so much to deal with and he still has to tell Genos.

Speak of the devil or more appropriately, the demon cyborg... Saitama squints and sure enough, Genos is walking leisurely towards him on the sidewalk and carrying a—

He lurches and is upon Genos in an instant, startling him with sudden movement in an exclamation of “Sensei, what-?” and reaches for the pet carrier and the tabby kitten held inside. The tiny cat meows in greeting and paws at the crate flap impatiently.

“How-where-”

Genos looks at him oddly and in mild worry. “We were at the veterinarian for her vaccination appointment I reserved two weeks ago, sensei. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong anymore…” Saitama can't stop the tears from falling anymore, making Genos gawk in distress. He probably looks like a mess. “I’ll tell you about it, let's go home.”

-*- I'm not quite as cruel to kill a pet in writing, but man...the thought would kill me too. I'm cruel enough to implicate it though. Though this is an old writing of mine. Basically Sai got a kitten and monster got into his apartment when he and Genos were away and ate some bloody meat that was taken out to be defrosted or something and wrecked the place.

[hunflowers]

Golden

Word Count: 15.3k

Requested? I don’t remember, but you always can here :)

Mood Board

A/N: Lord, have mercy SHE’S FINALLY HERE!!!!! My baby Golden is finally out to the public and can I just say how fucking relieved I am to post it. I love her, I hope you do too <3 little warning: there are mentions of panic attacks in here, and a heart condition (that i did my best to research on) so if you’re uncomfortable, pls don’t read. 

special thanks to my soul baby @stylesloveclub​ for being my biggest support system with this, she’s dedicated to you <3

for anyone reading this, please reblog! it really helps us writers out. okay onward friends!!! lemme know how i did and if you like it *nose boops*

Water. The ocean. Waves. The tide.

Symbolic of life, birth. Can be used to wash away even the most troubling of sins.

O’ahu, Hawaii, home to some of the best surfing destinations in the state, in the country, in the world. Also home to one of the best surfers in the state, in the country, in the world. 

Y/N didn’t coin herself that. Not that she’s complaining about it, but she doesn’t surf for the title. She surfs for the freedom. She feels the most alive when her toes dig into the sand as she runs towards the warm, salt oblivion, her novelty yellow and blue surfboard tucked under her arm.

Her whole life she had been surrounded by water. When she was a baby, she always wanted a bath. When she was a toddler, she always wanted to stay in the kiddie pool. And then she got into surfing, and well, the rest is history so-to-speak. Her parents never got themselves involved in the sport professionally but more as a recreational activity. And it was even how they met, so really there was no stopping surfing from flowing through Y/N’s blood.

Her backyard was the ocean, so growing up, it was really the only thing for her to do. It’s what all the kids were doing, and Y/N was no different. She met her best friends on the beach when they were five years old, practicing the basics of surfing, like getting up on the board and finding their balance with the Earth.

Kalani and AJ, two of the best surfers Y/N will ever meet, and two of the purest souls to ever grace her life. They’re madly in love with one another. Have been for as long as they’ve been friends -- so coming up on sixteen years. Y/N is in awe of their relationship, she really is, but being a third-wheel isn’t exactly something she signed up for. Though, she kind of expected it when growing up.

They tried countless times to set her up with someone, but time and time again their matchmaking skills have failed, and Y/N is tired of them pitying her. No, she may not be in a long term relationship, but she hardly has time for a relationship anyway. Especially with competitions coming up, she needs to keep herself focused on surfing rather than some boy who will probably end up breaking her heart.

Well, that was her intention anyway.

October 27th, the first day of the best months out of the year.

And it started just the same as every other year. Y/N woke up at the crack of dawn and threw on her lucky white bathing suit before throwing an apple down her throat. Her surfboard was perched up against the back patio railing, and she swiftly tucked it under her arm as she made her way down the shore, being greeted by the luminescent sun that was swarming the sea in a shade of tangerine and lemon.

Jogging knee deep into water, Y/N sunk her hand just below the surface, swaying it back and forth, taking a deep breath as she felt the cool texture swarm her body. Exhaling slowly, she threw herself down onto her board, paddling onward into the great unknown. The familiar sound of the crashing waves causing her to flinch for a brief moment before comforting her ears as she watches the restless ocean ahead of her, a smile washing over her face as she could basically see her future ahead of her.

Today marks qualifying day, and obviously if she marks as qualified, she moves forward to the Vans Triple Crown. She’s been training all year, her body practically a prune with how much she’s been in the water. But, a minute can’t go to waste, so up until the very last second where she has to head to the north shore, she’s gonna remain in the water and build her intuition with how the day is going to go.

Last year, Y/N had to cut her time short when she was hospitalized the night before the first competition. So, she was all more determined to win the championship that is rightfully hers. Well, in the women’s division at least. Last year was ripped from her right when it was under her nose and she refuses to have a repeat of it. 

After her hospitalization, everyone was convinced she’d never return to the water. Despite the ocean being her second home, everyone figured she would turn away -- avoid the embarrassment last year brought upon her. But, it only made her stronger and more determined to prove everyone wrong. No matter how frightening it really was.

Her first wave of the day had her coasting along smoothly, starting her out easy as waves progressively got bigger with the tide. When she got out into the water, the sun had just broken past the horizon line, yet by the time she left, the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky. Her skin felt raw, yet her body was running on adrenaline as she scoffed down the lunch her mom had made her before they banded into the family van and headed to Sunset Beach on the north shore.

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, her leg bouncing subconsciously but furiously as she watched the landscape pass her by through the window. Her typically calming music wasn’t even working as she ran through multiple scenarios in her mind of what could go wrong today and how her day, her week, month, even year could be ruined.

Once outside of the van and on the beach, her parents pulled her close into a tight, warm hug, whispering words of encouragement in her ears, knowing just how important this was for her. Surfing and competitions had always been important to Y/N, but following last year’s downfall, this day was going to make or break whatever is left of her both physically and emotionally.

“Y/N!” she heard her name being called from the distance, the three of them immediately letting go of one another as they exchanged sheepish smiles.

“Y/N!” Was called out again, causing her to turn around and see Kalani running straight for the three of them, waving her arms in a drastic manner to gain her best friend’s attention. “Oh my -- I ran so fast, wow, I need to calm down,” Kalani breathed out, closing Y/N into a firm embrace.

“Save your energy for the waves, babe,” Y/N laughed, wrapping her own arms around Kalani’s frame. The two of them were never inseparable, it was kind of like they were actually glued to the hip together ever since they were children. And a lot of people were surprised they remained best friends through the years, what with both of them always competing in the same surfing competitions battling for the first place spot. And they knew this could be a strain on their relationship, but they decided ever since they were seven years old that they weren’t going to let surfing get between them. No matter what, they were always proud of each other for everything they’ve accomplished and are each other’s number one fans.

Thing is, Y/N tends to snag that first place spot a lot of the time, and Kalani always just misses her, earning her the second spot, right beneath her. But, Kalani has grown to accept that Y/N is better at the sport, and that’s nothing for her to be ashamed of. She’s managed to get a few of her own first place wins, and in her eyes, that’s good enough. She can’t live her life being jealous of her best friend because that’s not healthy, and anyway, surfing is much more Y/N’s livelihood than it is her own, so she’s fine with being second best -- despite what others may think.

Tugging her board off the top of the car, Y/N tucked it beneath her arm as she walked hand-in-hand with Kalani to wherever her family had set up camp on the beach. “Where’s AJ?” Y/N wondered, as she looked out into the water and saw no one out in it.

“The boys are starting soon, so he’s with Nav,” Kalani said, finally stopping in front of her parents and younger brother, and AJ’s older brother.

“Y/N!” They greeted, getting up from their chairs to kiss the girl on the cheek before greeting her parents. “It’s so great to see you back here,” Kalani’s mom smiled, pinching Y/N’s cheek before plopping herself back down under the sun.

They all began to catch up with one another since it’s been awhile they’ve all gotten together, all of them falling into old habits as if it hadn’t been months since they were last together. Y/N tried to engage in as much conversation as possible, but her mind tended to wander off as the guys started lining up in the water and making their way out. Her throat dried up and her palms were sweating -- and not from the heat -- as her nerves kicked in. Her memory began to cloud her vision as she stood abruptly and quickly walked away from the group, her heart picking up again.

Her breaths shortened as her mind blurred, and all she wanted was to curl up on her bed and calm her mind. She felt someone’s hand on her back, and immediately she could tell it was her father by the smell of his cologne. Once she was far enough from people, Y/N could feel tears well in her eyes as short images flashed across her eyes, cutting each inhale of breath in half -- which caused her to panic even more as she couldn’t breathe properly.

Last year ruined her, and she absolutely despises that this is considered her normal day-to-day routine now, her body shaking with fear as she feels herself collapsing from the inside, out. “Y/N, honey, can you hear me?” She thinks she hears her father say, but is undetermined with the intense white noise that’s swarming her ear drums.

“Count with me, c’mon, backwards from ten.”

But, all her mind could focus on was her body sinking lower and lower beneath the surface of water.

“Ten… Gotta count, c’mon you can do it, nine.”

“Eight,” she murmured, reaching out to grasp her dad’s shirt tight in her fist, just to make sure that he was really in front of her. She needs to be reminded that last year is her past, and that no matter how forward it is in her mind, it’s not her present anymore and she’s not drowning. “Seven.”

He took her hands and held them to his chest, “Six, keep going.”

“Fi-” she gulps, swallowing the lump in her throat, “..five.”

She makes it all the way down to zero, her body visibly relaxing and mentally as she hesitantly looks around to see no one watching the little event. “Do you want to go home?”

Y/N looks up to her father, shaking her head in response as she sniffles her nose and brushes away the one stray tear that has cascaded down her cheek. “No… I can do this.”

He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips, slowly nodding his head. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turns them back in the direction, walking with her slowly as she continues to gather herself. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Y/N. Everyone knows you’re an amazing surfer.”

“I think I just need to prove it to myself,” she stated, dragging her feet through the sand like a child so it slowed their arrival time back with the group. She can only imagine that her mom had informed everyone already of what was happening, and the last thing she wants is their sorry eyes and pathetic spouts of pity that she knows she’ll wish they just kept to themselves.

Y/N knows she’s broken. She’s not the same girl everyone knew this time last year, but she doesn’t need to be reminded of it every time she steps into a room. What happened last year was serious and she understands that people are worried; But all she wants is for everyone to forget about it. Including herself. She thinks the thing that’s causing her the most trepidation now -- rather than in the morning or all year long -- is the fact she’s now back in front of a crowd again, eyes trained on her like hawks watching prey, waiting for something awful to happen again.

The only thing missing is the popcorn as they watch this free entertainment.

When they finally came back to everyone, Y/N noticed the guys had started paddling out. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, dismissing her presence as she sat herself down back in the sand, and a breath of relief escaped her lips. The tension was there, but everyone ignored it for her sake, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.

“Go, AJ!” Kalani cheered, pumping her fist and shouting a few hoots and hollers afterward. Dom, AJ’s brother, let out a few ear screeching whistles, the kind with the fingers in the mouth, joining in on rooting for his brother. 

Watching the guys out there solidified to Y/N how real this really is, and soon her veins were pumping with excitement again instead of dread as she cheered on her best friend. He was going to qualify, they all were and they knew that, but it's always fun to get excited about the possibility of moving forward and winning the titles and earning the trophies.

All the other faces that surfed alongside AJ were mostly familiar, their names ringing bells as the announcers spoke of them, but there was one that Y/N hadn’t ever heard before. It’s the same cycle of people every year, yet this guy was fresh. And the only reason she’s curious as to who he is, is because he’s good. Like, really good.

Kalani can’t exactly remember if she’s heard of him either, shrugging to Y/N’s wonderment, “I don’t know. Maybe AJ knows.” His pink surfboard and pink wet shirt stuck out as he was a sight for sore eyes, and Y/N grew a little resentment towards him as he pulled out a few advanced maneuvers, gaining everyone’s undivided attention that used to be on AJ.

“Who is that?” Y/N’s mother questioned, looking around to see that no one knew the answer. 

He was a mystery yet he radiated this vibrant energy as the guys finished their rounds, walking off with grace in his step as he laughed at something Nav -- one of the three’s friends -- had said. The girls bid their goodbyes to their families as they headed over to where the guys were before their rounds. AJ immediately came running over to them, hugging Y/N and Kalani simultaneously before giving his girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. “You did great,” Kalani smiled, keeping her arms wrapped around his center.

“Alright, not in front of me,” Y/N grimaced, looking away from them. Immediately her eyes landed on the new surfer, still talking to Nav, and she was quick to turn back to AJ to ask who he is. “Hey, who’s the new guy?”

Looking over his shoulder, AJ saw who she was talking about before realization dawned on him. “Oh, that’s Harry. He’s from England. A really nice guy, I bet you’d like him,” he winked, causing Y/N to look at him with squinted eyes and pursed lips.

Kalani nudged his side, giving him a weird look. “What? I’m just saying.”

Then, speak of the Devil, Nav and this Harry guy came walking over, joining the three as they stood around waiting for the announcement that the girls could head out. Y/N wasn’t exactly paying attention to her surroundings as she continued to calm herself down for the impending near future. It wasn’t until Harry had stood in front of her, that she was knocked out of her own thoughts.

She looked up at him, making eye contact and briefly getting her breath caught in her throat. When he was far away, it was hard to make out his facial features or what he exactly looked like. But being right in front of him, she was merely astonished at his beauty, but more so his green eyes that reflected the perfect amount of sunlight. His wet, brunette hair rested against his forehead and seemed to be drying a bit curly.

His head tilted slightly, an amused smirk inching up his face as he watched her reaction. Something tells her he’s used to this kind of reaction. “M’Harry.”

His hand came between the two of them, waiting for her to grasp it in a firm grip. Y/N was hesitant at first but finally took his hand and shook it gently while greeting herself before dropping her hand back down to her side. “Y/N.”

This is insanely awkward. Especially because her friends are just watching the exchange silently, as if they weren’t allowed to speak while the two introduced themselves.

Harry has heard of Y/N. It’s hard for anyone involved in the surfing business to not have heard of her. Aside from the jarring news from last year, she’s an excellent surfer and her name is always spreading around like wildfire. She’s part of the reason Harry decided to delve more into the professional surfing world, because he’s been itching to meet her.

Y/N is attractive, anyone with eyes knows that, but Harry wanted to meet her only because of her expansive skills in the water. Standing in front of her, he can’t deny her undying beauty -- and if he weren’t such a gentleman he’d probably be trying to woo her this very instant. But, her looks aren’t what draws him to her, and he decides to not think with his dick for once.

Before he gets the chance to say something else to her, they get notified that the girls should start heading out for their rounds. Y/N and Kalani grab their boards and tuck them under their arms before bidding their goodbyes to the boys and scurrying off to join the rest of the girls.

“Whipped already?” Nav jokes, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and leading them to the sand where they’ll watch.

Y/N steps her toes into the water, basking in the cool feeling wrapping around her toes and surging up her body. She rolls her neck feeling it crack softly before rolling her shoulders back and taking in her umpteenth deep breath of the day. Her and Kalani looked at each other, nodding with smiles on their faces before they walked deeper in the shallow water until it reached the middle of their thighs before dropping their boards down and paddling out.

At the sight of a small wave heading toward her, Y/N dipped herself beneath the water just to wet her hair. It felt refreshing again to feel the salt coax her skin for the second time that day, as if it never left. When she greeted the air again, she could immediately feel the rays of the sun bouncing off of her skin, illuminating her in a heavenly glow, like the star she is. The spotlight is on her as she aims herself for the peak of the impending wave, nabbing the first ride of the girls’ round.

Back on the beach, her mom’s fingers were crossed, her dad’s breath was caught in his lungs, and Harry’s eyes were fixated on her figure as she jumped up on the belly of her board. Her legs kept her balance against the rough matter below her. Due to the steep wall of the wave, Y/N had to act quick and rational in order to keep control, and started off with an off-the-lip, which kept her parallel with the wave before she moved herself down and carved herself back into the energy zone. 

Because it was a smaller wave, she could only go on for so long before she tipped herself off the board and fell down into the water. Everyone waited with bated breaths and kept their eyes on the area she sunk beneath the blue, before sighing in relief to see her head pop back up. Harry could see the joy wipe over everyone’s faces, replacing the worry that was once there as they hugged one another. He could tell Y/N has such a good support system, and it only urges him more to want to be a part of her life.

Of this life.

❊ ❊

“You guys did so good! We’re so proud,” Y/N’s mom gushed as she pulled her into a warm embrace -- a hug that holds more meaning than just being proud. Her mom was relieved. Grateful. Happy. She’s able to hold her daughter one more time, and that’s all she could ask for. “It’s going to be a good year for all you kids.”

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was elated, overjoyed, ecstatic, riding such a good high. Her comeback couldn’t have gone any better and she’s just so, so happy. Arriving at the beach she was nervous and anxious and was two seconds away from caving to her fears and running away. Now, as she walks arm-in-arm with her best friend away from the water for the night, she’s laughing a genuine laugh and her veins are currently pumping excitement rather than nerves. 

AJ locked his arm over her shoulders, the three of them linked just like they always are as they head towards Y/N’s family van. But, instead of like other times, this time they have a tag-a-long trailing behind them. It’s sort of like a tradition where after every competition, all of the families join together and head to dinner at their usual restaurant. Nav couldn’t come because he had his own family matters to attend to but Harry was more than willing to accept the offer. He says he came to Hawaii alone and that he had nothing better to do, but his intense stare on Y/N when he accepted the offer says that’s not the only reason he was so quick to join.

It was also part of the tradition that they ride together in the van, 1) because it was the most spacious vehicle where they were able to ride together and 2) because Y/N’s parents are pretty fun to be around. They blasted the best music and made the best jokes, causing not one dull car ride. When they filed in, AJ and Kalani pushed themselves to the back seat, leaving Y/N and Harry to sit in the separate middle row chairs.

“Oh! Harry, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Does your family want to join us? They’re more than welcome to,” Y/N’s mom looked over her shoulder in the passenger seat.

He cleared his throat, looking up from his phone and sitting up a bit in his seat, an uncomfortable look on his face. “M’here alone, actually.”

Before anyone could ask any questions, AJ clapped Harry’s shoulder, saying, “We’re your temporary family now, man.” Despite being competitors, it seems the two of them really hit it off and AJ genuinely meant what he said about being Harry’s family. Though, everyone knows the main reason he said it was to diminish the rising tension.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry returned, fist bumping AJ. And during the little exchange, Harry caught eyes with Y/N, catching her eyes wandering around his profile and facial features, causing her to look away quickly and look out the window as if the view was something spectacular. She could hear him snicker quietly, and just when she thinks the coast is clear, she slyly looks back at him just to find out he’s already staring at her.

They really love staring at one another apparently.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N and Harry were pushed to the back of the group -- not really by choice but somehow it ended up that way -- and neither of them really made any moves to break the silence between them. Y/N because she was nervous, and Harry because he wanted her to be the first to speak. And it just so happened that when they were sat at a table, they were left with the last two remaining chairs that also happened to be right next to each other. Y/N couldn’t figure out if they were doing this on purpose or it was by coincidence, but she can tell Harry doesn’t mind.

She’s not one to be nervous around guys, but there’s something about Harry and how he is so blatantly interested in her that makes her wary of talking to him. Kalani sat across the table from her, and when they made eye contact, they had a silent conversation about how Y/N should grow the balls and actually talk to him. Of course Y/N refused, which earned her a kick to the shin in retaliation, which then caused her to let out a yelp of pain and made everyone look at her confused and worried. 

“Sorry, hit my knee on the table,” she brushed it off, glaring at her best friend the moment everyone turned away and continued with their own conversations. 

Being as slick as possible, Kalani directed her eyes to Harry when he wasn’t looking so Y/N could see her, before turning to AJ and talking to him about something completely irrelevant. Again, Y/N and Harry were stuck in this silence. She’s not exactly sure why she can’t just start a conversation, but he’s kind of intimidating and she’s afraid of embarrassing herself, especially in front of her family. 

Pursing her lips and looking down to her lap, Y/N finally turned to give Harry her attention, noticing how he was staring into space, looking completely lost in this foreign setting. “So, uh, where exactly are you from?”

Harry was quick to turn his head to Y/N, waiting and waiting and waiting for the moment she would say something. “A small town in Cheshire. Northwest of London, if that helps.”

“That’s a pretty far trip to take alone,” she nods, licking her bottom lip before gently biting down on it. As much as she thinks of herself as an independent person, she’s also an extreme homebody and could never imagine going anywhere without anyone by her side, whether it be family or friends.

He merely shrugs in response, “M’better off alone.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side while looking at him, letting his words sizzle inside her mind as she tries to overanalyze him in the mere hours she’s known him. She turned her gaze down to her hands that were intertwined in her lap, mulling over her next words to say. She doesn’t know him, but she knows the feeling of being alone. And being alone, no matter how appealing it could sound, never works out in the end. People aren’t meant to live alone. It goes against the natural order of life, and just hearing him say he prefers being alone breaks her heart just the tiniest bit. “No one’s better off alone. Everyone needs someone eventually.”

Little does she know, is that she is his someone. Or, at least that’s what Harry’s hoping. He thinks he’s crazy for being so enthralled by someone so suddenly and so strongly, but Harry’s always been one to trust his gut. His plushie but toned gut was screaming at him that this girl is just meant to be in his life. Maybe meant to be his, but he won’t push his luck. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”

They both smiled softly at one another, a small blush creeping up Y/N’s cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. “I guess we will.”

❊ ❊

It had been a little over two weeks since qualification day. Her days hadn’t changed much in regards to her schedule; Waking up at the ass crack of dawn and heading straight into the water and staying in practically until the sun was set. But, there was one slight shift in her day, and that was the now familiar face of Harry popping in everyday, either physically or in her mind.

It was safe to say Harry was quickly adapting to the three friends, merging with them seamlessly; As if he had been part of this little group since he was a child. It’s not like any of them minded, especially AJ because he was happy to get another guy around. Their friend Nav wasn’t exactly a permanent part of their little group because he belonged to everyone and no one, but Harry stuck around them like glue and AJ was so grateful. 

Y/N’s grateful because now she isn’t a third-wheel.

Harry and her aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but it definitely helps having someone else around for movie night so Y/N isn’t stuck watching her best friend’s all cuddled up together and hearing the occasional kiss they would share.

Though, Harry has made it known time and time again that he really wants to be buddy-buddy with her. And Y/N’s not exactly sure why she won’t give him what he wants, but for some reason she loses all comprehensive skills and becomes a blubbering, nervous mess around Harry whenever he brings up his interest in her. So, she’s successfully avoided all buddy-buddy conversations with him by bringing up mundane things instead. Like, why she decided to paint her nails blue, or why she absolutely despises white socks.

She thought she was doing a pretty skillful job too. But, after the first two times she avoided giving a yes or no answer to going on a date with him, Harry purposely would ask her just to hear what other obscure distractions she could come up with. He loved hearing Y/N talk, and without her knowing, he was getting to know her piece by piece, inch by inch, and he was loving it.

Though, a guy’s ego can only take so many rejections before he gives up completely. And just when he was ready to call it quits and accept that she wasn’t interested in him like he was her, the unexpected happened.

Y/N agreed to a date.

Well, kind of.

It was time for the Hawaiian Pro. The official first event of the Vans Triple Crown. It was taking place at Ali’i Beach Park in Hale’iwa, one of the most intense surfing spots filled with waves of  many different faces. Of course, this is when Y/N’s nerves really started to kick in. Qualification day isn’t anywhere near as filled with people as the actual events are, and her nerves have seemed to kick it into high gear. It doesn’t help that the Hawaiian Pro is when her life changed a year ago. She could hear people whispering about her, wondering if she’s going to wipe out again or if this time she’ll stay under the water. Her mind was already frenzied enough, but nothing completes the cycle like a panic attack and the embarrassment of many on-goers witnessing said panic attack.

She almost backed out. How is she meant to be the best when her body is afraid of taking its final breath? The tide was high and the waves showed no mercy. How is she meant to challenge that? How is she meant to control the water beneath her when she can’t even control her own thoughts?

It was getting to be too much for her. This entire time leading up to the Triple Crown she’s denied her fear and her anxiety, telling herself she’ll get over it. She’s been doing good all year, so what makes now any different? But it is very different. The calm atmosphere of her backyard is no match for the rambunctious setting of the Triple Crown. And she’s a fool for thinking differently.

So, she was panicking.

Y/N couldn’t even get up from her seat in her parent’s van because she was so shaky. Her father held her close, easing her back to reality and away from her tortuous mind. Of course, he offered to drive them back home and away from the competition, telling her again that she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. But, she declined again. Because she needed to prove it to herself. She’s stronger than her mind lets on, and she needs to make sure she knows that.

When she slid off her board and sank her toes back into the warm sand after a very successful first round, landing her in the lead spot, she was finally able to breathe again.

People congratulated her on her comeback, astonished to see her doing better than ever before. Her parents embraced her with love and elation, so beyond happy to see her laughing and smiling and enjoying herself now that she’s progressing forward. Kalani of course is her number one supporter, practically jumping on her and screaming in her ear about how happy she is for her best friend.

Everyone was making their rounds hugging Y/N, and then it was Harry’s turn. They didn’t exactly embrace like the rest of them had, but he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side, squeezing her to him softly before looking down at her and saying, “Absolutely wicked, love. Gotta teach me some of y’fancy moves.”

“You sure? They’re really only meant for the pros,” she teased, biting at her bottom lip to conceal her laughter as he scoffed.

“”Ey, no one likes a narcissist,” he shoved her shoulder softly, rolling his eyes as her laughter rang through his ears. “But, whaddya say? M’gonna need a good teacher if I wanna make it to the big leagues.”

Y/N simply shrugs without really thinking much into it, “Sure.” Her mind didn’t exactly process what she had agreed to until later that night, before she dozed off into her temporary slumber. Her eyes shot open and her body sat upright as an over dramatic gasp was inhaled into her lungs. Her mind had been all over the place with the competition that she didn’t realize that she had agreed to being alone with Harry for the first time since they'd met. Immediately she texted and called Kalani, to which she got laughed at in return.

“Kalani, this isn’t a laughing matter!”

A few miles away, Harry was snuggled into his bedsheets, a bright smile stretched across his face as he reveled in the idea that he finally was going to be alone with Y/N since the first time they’d met. His heart was jumping and his stomach was fluttering as he envisioned her pretty face behind his eyelids before he drifted off into his dream with her. 

“It so is! C’mon, Y/N, what have you got to lose? You have the same interests, he’s funny, he’s hot, and he clearly is into you. Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.”

Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.

That’s the thought that stuck in her mind, lingering around as she finally fell asleep, and then when she woke up, and when she was eating breakfast; And doing her chores; And hanging out with Kalani; And eating dinner; And then falling asleep again. Y/N didn’t even realize she had spent so much of her past year focusing on her career and health that she hasn’t done much of anything else.

She’s so grateful to be alive, but she’s hardly given herself the chance to live again.

Before her accident, she was always up for adventure and was always the life of any party. After her accident, she hasn’t even been to a party. She hasn’t been in a relationship in years, she hasn’t gone on a date in a long time, and she can’t even remember the last time she’s had sex or kissed a guy. She’s been so focused on her redemption, that she can’t remember the last time she was genuinely happy.

Going on this date, but also not a date -- but also clearly a date -- with Harry just may provide her with that. And she owes it to herself, to her past self, that her accident isn’t going to shape her life anymore.

Plus, she really enjoys Harry’s company. And even if she doesn’t show it so bluntly like him, she really likes him too.

The next day, Y/N and Kalani had gone out shopping, enjoying a nice girls day out. They had bought a few new varieties of swimsuits (as if they didn’t have enough) and a few other types of clothes, got some lunch, and even found time to watch a movie. And they did all of this right up until the moment Y/N decided it was time to text Harry. 

She wasn’t sure how to go about this, because she’s never really asked anyone on a date before, or followed up with plans (?) about a date. Kalani kept urging her to just rip the bandaid off and to get it over with, saying something along the lines of, “You’re not getting any younger. Plus, I think he’d slip right off his board at the sight of you in that new yellow suit you got.” It was just a simple bikini, but it showcased the majority of her skin that essentially left little to the imagination.

But, the thing is, whenever Y/N gets into the water around people, she can’t help but cover her torso with a wet-shirt, insecure of the imperfections that lined her skin. It’s rare she can bear to look at her skin, so she only assumes no one else would want to either. So, she’s not so sure he’ll fall off his board at the sight of her, but the thought is nice.

Y/N pulled out her phone and hovered over his contact for a good amount of time before Kalani grew impatient and snatched the phone from her friend’s hand. They wrestled around with each other to try and gain custody of the phone, but finally in the end Y/N was able to hold her phone tight in her hands before declaring, “Okay! Okay! I’m texting, I’m going.”

Kalani peaked over Y/N’s shoulder as she watched her type the allusive message to Harry, a proud smile carving over her lips as she watched her break down a barrier she had subconsciously put up. It isn’t by any means important to be in a relationship or to have a boyfriend, but Kalani knows deep down that Y/N was wishing to have that special connection only a relationship could provide -- a connection outside of the realm of friendships.

“There,” Y/N huffed, shoving the screen of her phone in her best friend’s face.

hii, if you’re still up to learn from a true professional, I’m available tonight :)

It wasn’t even ten seconds later that she got a reply.

Shit, I’ll be your best student, babe. I know a perfect spot, I’ll be at yours in an hour.

It was kind of amusing to Y/N that he said he knows a perfect spot, as if she hadn’t been living on this island all her life and practically knows it like that back of her hand. But, that miniscule thought was pushed to the very depths of her mind as panic coursed through her as she realized what she was getting herself into. She’s going on a date, not a date, but also a date with Harry, and a small hour wasn’t enough time to gain her composure. 

Fuck.

❊ ❊

It’s no surprise to Y/N when Harry shows up to her house a minute early. She’s half convinced that he had been waiting outside of her house for the past fifteen minutes until he finally stepped up on to the porch of her house, knocking rapidly on the door. It wasn’t an emergent knock that caused some sort of panic, but it was a frantic knock that screamed ‘let’s get the show on the road.’

When she opened the door, both of their breaths were robbed from their lungs. Y/N essentially looked like she always did but something about her glowed differently to Harry; maybe it was because she’s his for the night. For his eyes only. Just him and her. He was awestruck. 

Harry essentially looked like he always did but something about him radiated differently to Y/N. The same little smirk was nestled in its usual spot, but this one held a different meaning. It looked the same, but maybe it was different because it was just her and him tonight. He’s hers for the night. For her eyes only. Y/N was nervous.

Y/N left her board out on her porch so she wouldn’t have to walk around back when he got here, but she was silently wishing she didn’t so she’d get just a couple more seconds to get herself together. She just kept chanting, “It’s not a date!” in her head, in hopes it would make her feel better.

It didn’t.

Harry saw her board and tucked it under his left arm as he threw his right one over her shoulders guiding her his mode of transportation. It also wasn’t a surprise to Y/N to see Harry rolling up in a light yellow Jeep; the top down and the doors off, typical of any surfer dude, no matter where they originate.

“Her name’s Betty,” he smiled, walking around the back and giving her a quick tap on her rear end before stepping up to straddle Y/N’s board safely and securely.

Sliding through the empty passenger door to take her seat, Y/N was greeted by a familiar smell, a smell she could only associate with Harry. And even if she could never admit it, she loved it a lot. It was mouth-watering and intoxicating, and simply put, it was Harry. Even with the open atmosphere of the car, it was still drenched in this specific smell, and Y/N can’t help but giggle at the image of Harry spritzing whatever cologne into the car before arriving at her house.

A few moments later, Harry slid into the driver side, placing the sunglasses that were sitting on the dash over his eyes, shoving the key into the ignition and starting them on their journey to whatever beach he had envisioned. On the ride there, over the course of a few right turns and lefts and different exits on the highway, Y/N surprisingly had no idea where they were going. Did she think maybe he was gonna murder her? A bit. But, she felt comfortable around Harry. So, she felt it in her gut that she was going to come out alive from this… event.

When they got to the beach, it was about thirty minutes from Y/N’s house, and she had no idea where they were. They had to walk a short path to meet sand and ocean, but once they made it past the clearing, Y/N was in awe of the site ahead of her. People could think that seeing the ocean every day ruins the peaceful and magical aura surrounding it. But, Y/N never gets sick of greeting it. The sun was beginning to set, and the water was glowing with a yellow-pink hue by the horizon that blended into a bright blue by the shore. The cliff sides around them guarded the little alcove, feeding into the tranquil atmosphere.

“How did you find this place?” Y/N wondered as she kicked off her sandals, and shimmied her shorts down her legs before kicking them over her sandals. The yellow bottom of her bikini was visible, and she turned her head just as Harry took a large gulp at the sight of her in front of him; Just for him. Her blue wet-shirt stayed on though.

It piqued Harry’s interest as to why she never took off her shirt. He understood for the competitions, but even when it was just a casual outing, just him and her, or them and their friends, she always kept it on. It wasn’t his place to ask, but he wished she would’ve broken this barrier down just this once. Just for him. “Tha’s a secret for me to know and you to maybe find out.”

Y/N let out a giggle - why? she didn’t know - and turned her attention back to the boy that brought her here, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she caught Harry taking off his white t-shirt, now only clad in his little pink shorts next to his little pink board. His skin looked extra dewy, and his tattoos seemed to glint under the setting sun. Before she could devour him with her eyes, she picked up her board and took it with her, running down to the water and shouting, “C’mon slow-poke, gotta get in the water before the sun sets!”

It wasn’t a surprise to Y/N that this didn’t keep on track of a teaching lesson. Harry doesn’t need to be taught, he’s amazing on his own. He pulled off his own tricks that Y/N didn’t even know the name of, and she was asking him to let her in on his little secrets. He locked his lips in return, throwing the imaginary key somewhere over his shoulder, “Y’think I’m g’na tell you? I’m far too narcissistic to let you beat me at my own game.”

“Who said I’m gonna beat you?”

“Have you met you?”

There’s a reason Y/N’s name circulates throughout people’s brains, why her name is common in any Hawaiian household, why Harry was itching to meet her. She’s good at what she does. Insanely good that it’s kind of concerning. Not everyone can come back from a life-altering experience, but Y/N took those stereotypes and crushed them beneath the tail of her infamous yellow surfboard. She reveled in the doubts and came back stronger than ever. Of course she would beat him at his own game. She’s the only one who could.

There wasn’t any telling how long they had been riding wave after wave, in the water with no one else but just each other. But, the sun almost halfway past the horizon line was a good giveaway. They were probably nearing the two hour mark, and they knew they couldn’t stay out here all night, but Jesus, how they wished they could. Y/N wasn’t expecting to be so content, thinking this would be some strange, awkward, uncomfortable time they would want to forget about the moment they left each other’s sides.

It’s the opposite.

Just for him. Just for her.

They both laid on their boards, limbs sprawled out and dangling into the water as their bodies shut down in exhaustion. Y/N can’t remember the last time she went so long without taking at least a ten minute break. Her body was most definitely not used to it as she felt her back mold into her little yellow board, accepting the relaxation. When she finally opened her eyes back up, she turned her head to the side, admiring Harry’s profile as his arms were pulled over his head, the skin of his torso being stretched, which also stretched the ink that adorned him.

Y/N got lost in the mirage that is Harry, that she didn’t even realize he had turned his head and caught her ogling. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that her eyes snapped to his, heat traveling up through her body and rushing to her cheeks. “M’eyes are up here, love.”

“Uh- right. Yeah, I know.”

“Cool. Hey d’y’wanna play twenty questions?” He asked, sitting up to straddle his board and paddling himself around so he was facing her. 

Y/N squinted her eyes, “Are we children?”

“I mean, I guess not. Doesn’t stop my five year old humor though,” he smiled, kicking his foot up to splash her with an inkling of water as his childlike, petty comeback. “You ask first.”

Y/N pushed her hand through the water to spray him in an ounce of sea salt before turning her head back to the sky, contemplating her first question. “Mm… favorite color?” She already knew the answer.

“And you asked me if we’re children? C’mon, darling, know you wanna know more than tha’. Pink. What was your first impression of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, even though she couldn’t see his face. This has been one of those things that’s been nagging at the back of his mind ever since they first met. Their first encounter wasn’t awkward per-se, but the fleeting moment of introduction wasn’t exactly one worth remembering either. But, Harry was always going to remember it. And depending on Y/N’s answer, he hopes she will too.

At this, she turned her head back to Harry, hand covering her eyes as the sun glared at them over the reflective water. It was a sight to behold, seeing Harry glow in the golden hour light. “Intimidating. But, also unique,” she began, moving to sit herself up and paddle her board around so she was now facing him. “You remind me of a singular cloud in an otherwise clear sky. You’re not meant to be there, yet you’re not out of place.”

Harry sat for a moment, staring. Completely in awe. Head over heels. Never would’ve guessed those words to be the ones tumbling from her lips. It was the way she didn’t hesitate in her sentence, as if those words had been formulated a while ago and just now was she able to spew it from her wordbank. Just for him. “Fuck, that was beautiful. Your turn.”

“Do you really think you’re better off alone?”

Harry pursed his lips, looking off into the distance for a brief moment before shrugging, “I do. But, I don’t. If it comes down to going back to my family and friends from home or being alone, I’ll choose being alone.” And he wanted to sprinkle in the little bonus that he doesn’t feel alone when he’s around her, but something tells him that’ll just turn her away. “What’re you so afraid of?”

It’s a brash question Y/N wasn’t expecting to be thrown at her so suddenly. She has a mix of answers, and there’s a specific one flashing in her mind like a bright, neon yellow sign, but she’s not certain how comfortable she is with telling him yet. Though, she notices that whatever question she could throw his way, he’d answer it truthfully, not scared of opening himself up, just for her. She wants to be brave like that, and maybe she can be, but she’s not sure how.

It comes as a surprise to her when she does say, “I’m scared of going through everything that happened last year all over again. Everyone’s afraid of dying, or at least most people are, but experiencing death… there’s really no coming back from that. ”

“Experiencing it?” He looks at her wide-eyed.

“What, you haven’t heard of what happened last year?” She looks at him, eyebrows scrunched. 

“Only know you had some accident. No offense, but I didn’t really bother myself with reading the fine print,” he shrugs, running his pruney fingers through his salted hair. He didn’t know if he wanted to read it, especially not with the sudden news that apparently this very alive, lively girl in front of him… died? He doesn’t think he could stomach reading about that.

Y/N hasn’t met a single person who hasn’t heard about what happened to her. Or at least the details of it. In reality she doubts anyone outside of Hawaii knows of her existence, but in her world it was the biggest news to affect the state in a while -- aside from, like, actual serious matters, her accident was up there on the news.

She evades his second question though, not wanting to cough up the traumatic details of her past; not yet at least. “Well, it’s my turn anyway. Why surfing?”

“I could just look it up, but I get it; you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he gave her a playful look, pursing his lips while giving her a pointed stare. “It’s different. England isn’t known for surfing. It’s known for rain and football. But, with every possible detail of m’life, I wanted to make sure I was different. My dad wanted me to become a professional footy player, so I said no. M’mum wanted me to go and get a degree and a real job. I didn’t want that. So, I turned to surfing,” he swung his arms around, gesturing to the vast sea and the board below him.

“Plus, it’s given me an excuse to leave home and come here. And y’know, so I could meet you.”

Y/N felt a small blush creep up her skin again, her eyes shooting down to her lap and her feet that were distorted under the water. Harry’s infatuation with the girl isn’t a secret, but anytime he purposely makes it known, it’s like a little secret that she’s unsure if she’s supposed to know or not. “Meet me?”

Harry kicked his foot up again so water would splash at her. “Uh-uh, my turn,” he laughed, shaking his head. He knew she thought she was slick at the way she bit her lip, containing her laughter. If she wants to play by the rules of the nonsensical game, then so will he. “Sunrise or sunset?”

“Sunset. Favorite song?” She wanted to reel back from the serious talk for a moment.

“Too many to choose from. Favorite movie?” He wanted to know every nitty-gritty detail about her.

She pondered for a moment, “Mamma Mia.”

“No shit! Me too!” His mouth dropped in shock, his hand flying up to his chest. 

“Really?”

“No,” he shook his head, immediately blocking the massive splash he sensed coming. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, huffing at him whilst crossing her arms over her torso, “Are you always so insufferable?”

“S’my middle name, babe. You hungry?” He laid himself down on his board on his belly, paddling himself to face the beach, ready to make a head start for the beach. Y/N hummed a response, following in suit and settling her stomach against the belly of the board and pushing herself to land. “Cool, let’s go get something to eat then I’ll take you home.”

Y/N’s legs felt weak, yet appreciative back on the sand. It felt like she was walking on Jell-O as she went to pick up her towel and clothes. Looking down to her shirt, she knew it was out of the question to let him see her take it off. And she could turn her back so he wouldn’t see her front -- whether or not it’s clad in a bikini top -- but even then her heart raced at the thought. She held her t-shirt in her hands and thought it over for a moment before blurting, “Could you turn around please?”

Harry looked up from checking his phone quickly, tilting his head in confusion before looking down to the shirt in her hands. The dots are connected and the bright neon pink sign in his head is telling him to listen to her, and not to question it. So, he doesn’t. Just for her. It’s still unbeknownst to Harry why she never takes her shirt off, but he knows better than to think with his dick, and accepts her wishes, turning his back to her. 

Y/N lets out a small breath of relief, grateful he didn’t question her on it. She’s quick to rip off her shirt and pat dry her wet skin before hastily throwing on her dry one, giving Harry the OK to turn back around. 

“Sorry, I just… I’m not comfortable with anyone seeing my, uh, my scar,” she mumbles, nervously moving her hair from one shoulder over to the other. Harry shrugs in response, picking his board up from the ground and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they began their walk back to his car.

“You don’ have to explain yourself to me, babe,” he smiled down at her, squeezing her to his side softly.

Y/N looked up at him, and she’s sure that if she could see herself right now, her eyes would be twinkling in delight, with adoration. Just for him. “Thank you.”

They didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, walking the distance to his lonesome Jeep in peace. The silence gave Y/N time to think and to mull over all of the gushy feelings she was feeling inside about the guy beside her. She had no reason not to like him, realizing it was only fear that was pushing her away. But, this night displayed a soft side to Harry that she fell head over heels for. His smooth, easy-going approach to life, mixed in with respect for her, and a hint of witty humor was enough to tell her how she truly feels about him. And she’s scared, not because she’s afraid, but because she’s not.

Y/N can find herself easily opening up to Harry quicker than she has anyone else because she trusts him. She can just tell he’s got nothing to hide, so in-turn she wants to be the same. She doesn’t want to cower away, but revel in happiness. Because she deserves it.

Harry quickly secured the boards back into their previous spots before sliding into the driver side and whisking them away from their little getaway. The wind swept through their hair and chilled their still slightly wet skin, causing goosebumps to trail up Y/N’s arm as chills raked through her body. This time around in the car they both were more laid back, not singing along to the songs playing on the radio but rather just listening and taking in the blissful atmosphere they’ve created.

There’s been one question dancing across her mind though ever since he brought up the little game of twenty questions. It was the first one to pop up in her mind when she was thinking of something juicy to ask. She didn’t want to ask it though, in fear of what his answer would be. But, now she’s not afraid. She’s curious though.

“Is this a date?” She queried, turning the volume of the radio down a bit so he could hear her and vice versa. 

Harry glanced at her through his peripheral, one eyebrow cocking up on his forehead, “Is the sky blue?”

“I mean, right now it’s like orange-blue,” she retorted, looking at the newly sun-ridden sky that blended shades of orange into the usual night blue. 

“Brainiac. There’s your answer. It’s however you want to look at it,” he digressed, reaching over to pat her thigh - in more of a friendly manner rather than sensual.

She appreciated his answer, absolutely adoring the fact that he wasn’t putting pressure on her about anything. It was hard to comprehend just how nice he truly is, and how someone could be so perfect. She couldn’t see a flaw in his looks or his personality or his morals, and all she could wonder was how someone like him could possibly like someone like her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Harry.”

He side glanced at her again, this time raising both of his eyebrows in puzzlement, “I’ll take tha’ as a good thing?”

“It’s good. It’s… it’s a good thing.”

❊ ❊

The two of them had discussed where they wanted to go, neither of them wanting to decide and going back and forth with one another, saying, “No, you decide,” “No you.”

Y/N was never good at decisions, especially mundane ones like where to eat. She always lets Kalani decide because she could eat anything, and it’s her friend that’s the picky one. But, Harry is the same way. Whatever is put in front of him, he could probably eat (except for pickles, he absolutely hates pickles).

They settled for pizza. And it was going to be Harry’s first time trying a slice of Hawaiian.

Y/N hates Hawaiian slices, finding the sweetness of the pineapple and the savor of the ham unsettling atop her pizza. It sends her taste buds into shock and her mind into a meltdown. But, she insisted he try it, because how could someone be in Hawaii and not try its state-named slice?

They sat at their little table in the corner of the restaurant that was alongside a window, giggling to themselves as they played a little game of eye-spy, waiting for their food. For some odd reason, Harry was really good at this game, always picking the hardest of objects to point out, always stumping a frustrated Y/N.

“You’re cheating.”

“How the fuck am I cheating?”

“Dunno, you just are.”

And in retaliation to her accusation, Harry pointed to her shirt, stating she got a little soda on it, causing her to look down to her chest and see nothing but finger as he flicked her nose. “Too easy. Sore loser.”

Y/N huffed, sticking her tongue out at him. The playful banter between them was the best part of their days lately. Before Y/N even realized her feelings for Harry, she always looked forward to what they would bicker about -- in a friendly matter of course. Now, she constitutes that to just wanting to see him because she really enjoys his company, and him. 

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about anyone, and she’s sort of glad she gets to feel this way about Harry. He’s an enigma, but a good one. She’s totally transfixed by him and she never wants this euphoria to end. He radiates this bright and bubbly energy that lifts her mood whenever she’s around him, and she’s afraid of losing that. But, she chooses not to dwell on the what-if, instead completely basking in the present and his gooey aura of happiness. 

When the food finally came out, they both were quick to stuff their faces, their stomachs practically turning inside-out from how hungry they were. It came to no surprise to Harry that he was absolutely in love with this Hawaiian slice, already looking forward to ordering two more. 

Y/N looked at him a tad worried. He was scoffing down three slices as if there were no tomorrow, all within a matter of two minutes. She was slightly worried he was going to reach over and take her dinner, because that’s how hungry he seemed to be. But, he should know better than to get between Y/N and her food. Like the one time he tried to take some of her fries, to which she punched him in the shoulder and then took them back.

“Hey, y’gonna eat that?” He points to her not yet touched slice of pizza, earning a glare that could kill in response. “Cool, you are, just making sure. Can’t let precious food go t’waste. It’s my turn for a question right?”

Y/N thinks back for a second to determine if he’s right or not, remembering she did ask a question last. She nodded her head before biting into her little piece of heaven. 

“Was it hard getting back in the water?”

She brought her napkin up to her mouth to wipe away the drop of sauce she felt on her cheek, mulling over her answer. “Kinda. I knew I had to eventually because it’s all I know, it was just a matter of when. My parents were terrified, and I mean I was too but I can’t let that dictate my future. I love surfing and nothing is going to take that away from me.”

Not even something as horrifying as death could take her away from her true love. Not until she’s truly six-feet under, riding silver waves in the silver palace. 

“Do you think you’re going to stay here? In Hawaii?” Y/N wondered, taking a sip of her Coke.

“Got nowhere else to be,” he shrugged, mindlessly tapping his fingers on the table in an arrhythmic pattern. “Home is where the heart is, right? Well, think mine’s here right now.” Across from her. Just for her.

Home is where the heart is.

“Does it count if my heart isn’t mine?”

Last year, Y/N was going about her day like she always did. She was fine, in tip-top shape just like she had been for the past twenty years of her life. The bright sun was out and shining over all of the surfers and onlookers, and it seemed just like every other regular day. She was paddling out into the water, and the perfect, golden first wave was approaching her. She pushed herself up onto her feet, balancing her body, in tune with the wave, executing a nearly perfect opener. Then, she felt her chest tighten and her body suddenly felt weak. Breathing rapidly grew difficult, causing her to instantly panic. She fell off her board, plummeting into the water, trying to gasp for air but choking on the sea that swimmed down her throat. 

Feeling herself sink as her chest was on fire was the last she remembered. The baby blue sky blended into black and that was it. Her life was over. 

Kalani was the one who went in after her, screaming for help as her best friend was blue in the face and not moving. 

Y/N suffered a heart attack. Apparently, she had a condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, that went unnoticed all her life. On this day, her heart had thickened extensively, making it difficult to pump blood to the rest of her body. The strain on her heart caused it to give out, right when she was feeling the high of riding a solid wave. She was pronounced dead for a total of forty-five seconds before EMT could revive her. Supposedly she’s lucky to be alive, because if not treated basically instantly, there’s a slim chance of survival. But, she was able to stick it out until the hospital.

Her heart was in brutal shape, so she was sent to the top of a donor waiting list. Y/N and her family are forever grateful for the team of doctors and nurses that stuck by her side, knowing she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. Or her sheer luck.

Y/N felt a little crazy for feeling so comfortable spilling all of this information so suddenly to Harry, but at the same time she didn’t. And the best part about it is that none of it seems to freak Harry out. Nothing about who she is or how she is scares him. And that’s what makes her feel so comfortable. “My scar, it’s from a heart transplant. I had a heart condition all my life apparently. Then suddenly one day, it couldn’t handle it anymore, so it gave out. A girl named Shauna’s heart is keeping me alive right now.”

Harry didn’t blink for a whole minute.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something, anything to say to the girl across from him. But, he had nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

His silence was a little concerning to Y/N, making her wish she could just be swallowed whole by the ground below her. Was it too soon to drop the HT bomb? He was bound to find out eventually, and she figured it was best to rip the bandaid off on her own time rather than someone else telling him or him looking it up on Google. 

She’s kicking herself over it. 

Harry cleared his throat, taking a sip of his water before licking his lips and leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N merely shrugged, “Don’t be. Shit happens. Who knows, if it never happened we may not be here now.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, his signature small smirk back on his face in its usual spot. He raised his glass, leaning it forward a bit toward her, stating, “Cheers to that, babe.” She raised her own glass and clinked it against his, a smile on her lips as she sucked up the remaining bit of her soda through her straw. She’s happy he didn’t turn and run away.

Cheers to that, babe.

By the time they both filled their guts to the point of feeling overstuffed, mindlessly chatting and spending time together, it was already past ten o’clock. The time had passed them by like it was nothing, but they weren’t necessarily complaining. The older couple next to them were though. Y/N had to pull Harry out of the restaurant before he bit the woman’s head off for how rude she was. That’s when they knew it was time to skedaddle.

Then they just drove around for another hour before Harry figured it was time to bring her home, much to his dismay. But, when her head lolled against the passenger seat headrest and her eyes would softly shut in exhaustion. He wanted desperately to reach over and tuck the loose strand of hair that fell out of her ponytail, behind her ear. He wanted to reach over and place his hand on her thigh as they drove down the highway, softly squeezing her skin before teasingly inching up towards her hidden gem.

Is it too soon to be in love?

It was like a slap in the face when Harry parked in front of her house. Reality stuck its nose into their little wonderland bubble, and unfortunately, they couldn’t push it back out.

Harry hopped out of his seat, unfastening her board from the trunk and tucking it under his arm as they walked side-by-side to her front door. He gently placed it down where he had initially found it earlier on, tucking his lips into his mouth as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I uh… I guess this is it. I had a really ni-”

“I’ve got one more question before you leave me,” he interrupted her little speech, stepping impossibly closer to her, barricading her between him and the banister on her porch. It wasn’t hard to notice the long stares at her shiny lips that glinted in the dull yellow glow of the light by the door. He purposely took extra time to rake over the features of her face before finally meeting her eyes. 

Y/N swallowed nothing but air as she softly bit at her bottom lip, “Yeah?”

She already knew his question.

“Can I kiss you?”

He already knew her answer.

Y/N slyly looked at him, bringing her hands up, a bit hesitant to rest on his shoulders. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Sky’s blue.” Y/N looks up at the sky and notices it’s dark blue hue, twinkling stars layers on top, surrounding the fullest, brightest moon. It was a beautiful sky, perfect to share a first kiss under.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as his hands came up to her hips. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the climactic moment to overcome them, the air of the night chilling up her spine.

But, then she felt fiery, red hot as their lips locked together in a soft kiss. It was as soft as they felt towards one another. This giddy, slow paced, admiring kiss that had their insides melting but their hearts pounding. This kiss is exactly how Y/N images Harry. A pale yellow that’s not harsh on the eyes, that resonates happiness. Harry imagines it as a hot pink, one that takes his breath away and captures his mind.

It wasn’t long before it turned heated, Harry’s tongue sweeping into her mouth, and one of his hands travelling further south to grab hold of the flesh of her behind. Y/N let out a soft moan into his mouth as her hands tangled into his mound of curls, tugging softly on his roots.

Then the disturbing image of either one of her parents opening the front door at any moment flashed across her eyes, causing her to pull back, kissing his bottom lip softly before trailing her thumb over the swollen skin and opening her eyes to look into his gaudy, green ones.

The sounds of their breaths mingled together as tired smiles adorned their faces, little giggles leaving each of their mouths as they basked in what just happened. All Harry could think was, ‘It’s about damn time.’ All Y/N could think was, ‘Why did I ever push him away?’

“My turn,” she spoke after a few moments, standing up straighter and fixing her shirt around her body. “Pick me up tomorrow?”

A wide, shit-eating grin spread out across Harry’s face as he ran his hand through his mangled curls. “Sunrise. If y’not in this exact spot in the morning, m’knocking the door down and dragging you out by y’hair.” He hopped down off the porch, completely skipping the steps as the adrenaline of their first kiss kicked into his system.

“Sunrise,” she agreed.

He hopped back into the driver’s side of his Jeep, throwing his hand up in a goodbye wave as he sped away, already counting down the seconds until he would see his golden ray of bright and bubbly sunshine again. He’s not so sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep.

Y/N didn’t have that same problem. The moment she landed on her bed, her eyes shut faster than the speed of light, her last conscious thought being of Harry. Her smile never leaving her face. 

❊ ❊

Meeting at sunrise had become part of their routine. Not always to surf, but just to be together. Sometimes they surfed at their little alcove, other times they would watch the sun from her backyard, snuggled up in blankets on the beach. Or, they would surf, get breakfast, then fall back asleep in his bed until a more decent hour of morning.

But, their day always began at sunrise. It would be the equivalent to say that it also ended at sunset, but sunset was always too soon to part ways. 

This wasn’t an everyday occurrence, mostly at random. Except for Sundays. Sundays are specifically their day, as per request of Harry. How could he be in love with a girl that coined yellow as her color, that had a smile as bright as the huge burning star, that claimed golden hour was prime sun time, and not deem Sunday as their day? He didn’t put any second thought into it.

Despite their sort of fast paced first date, they’ve been taking things slow, truly getting used to the feel of one another over the course of the next couple of months. It wasn’t until a month later that Harry popped the question, officially making Y/N his forever buddy-buddy. Well, not necessarily forever, but they both know it’s basically forever.

Harry never wants to be alone again.

It wasn’t until the night after they became official that Y/N finally took her shirt off in front of him. She was going through one of her episodes, and Harry was the only one around who could help her. He managed to calm her down and bring her inside her house - that was empty because her parents had gone out for the night - and get her to the bathroom so she could take a shower.

Initially, he was going to let her get in by herself, knowing her boundaries in regards to her body and not seeing it. But, when he saw how worn down she looked, he whispered words of reassurance in her ear, asking her permission to help get her in the shower. He wasn’t thinking with his dick, he just wanted to help the girl that didn’t know how to help herself.

Y/N looked him in the eyes, nibbling softly on her bottom lip before averting her attention to her chest for a few moments. She trusts him, and if they’re bound to work out, she needs him to be comfortable with seeing all aspects of her both mentally and physically. Which includes her scar. 

So, she nods her head in agreement.

She lifted her arms and allowed him to remove her shirt, immediately feeling self-conscious. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she stepped out of her shorts and underwear, going into the shower to avoid any lingering stares. Harry was quick to follow behind her, shutting the curtain after him. That’s when Y/N turned around and completely broke down, the tears that have been building behind her eyes finally pouring out. Harry wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry her eyes out for however long she needed.

When she stopped, Harry washed her hair, washed her body, washed away her bad thoughts, then washed himself as fast as he could so he could get her into her bed for the night. She snuggled up to his side, enjoying the warmness of his body that contrasted her cool ones. 

That night when her parents came home, they spotted Harry’s Jeep in front of their house. Though when the house was eerily quiet, and found the door to her bedroom slightly ajar, they peeked inside and saw the two of them fast asleep. Parents usually would get angry at the sight of their child in bed with someone of a different gender, but not Y/N’s parents.

Over the last two months, they saw their daughter break back out of her shell, slowly returning to her former self, and all because of Harry. They saw how happy she became whenever he was around, or they’d overheard happy she was when just talking about him to Kalani. How could they ever get angry at the fact that Y/N was happy?

With the blossoming of their relationship taking place at the same time as the Vans Triple Crown, word got around fast and soon enough they were the star couple leading the ranks in their respective divisions. The world -- or really the surfing world, because no one really pays attention to professional surfers, was in awe of them. They were the hype of the news, of the town, of the state. Rightfully so, because they’re awfully cute. 

It came as no surprise to everyone when the two were crowned the champions. The press went wild with this one, stating there was some scam happening behind the scenes, because what were the odds that this new star couple could both win? Or, how could Harry, a newbie, shoot his way up to the top in just one year? Or, how could Y/N dominate with her physical ailments? 

There wasn’t a hoax and there wasn’t any cheating. They both were just that good.

The day of the final competition, they may have worked just a little harder to land the championship title. Harry had picked Y/N up and they traveled to their secret hideaway bright and early in the morning. After being out at a party the night before, the two were in no shape to get in the water already, opting to snooze under the shade of a cliff on the beach for a little while. 

They didn’t sleep for very long before they got wrapped up in one another, indulging in a morning session of intimate love. They slept for maybe an hour before Y/N was ready to get her swim on, but Harry was the biggest sack of lazy mush that morning. He didn’t want to get up for nothing. He was laying down on his surfboard, completely comfortable under the shade. Y/N tried tugging on his arms to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge, a half-sleepy and dazed smile on his lips.

At one point he tugged her back, causing her to land on his lap, legs straddling his hips as her face crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped around her back, securing him to her as he said, “See? Isn’t this so much better than physical activity?”

“C’mon tubby, we got shit to do,” Y/N giggled, but Harry just held onto her tighter and nuzzled his cheek to the top of her head.

He hummed, “S’comfortable here.”

Y/N didn’t know what else to do, so the only maneuver left was bribery. Harry’s no different than any guy in the sense that once sex is brought into the mix, his ears perk up and his dick stiffens. So, Y/N was going to use that to her advantage. “If you get up, you can fuck me all night tonight.”

Harry was quick to sit up, her still in his lap, eyes squinted in suspicion. Y/N bit her lip to refrain from laughing, but she was mentally patting herself on the back. His hands shifted down her back to grab onto the flash of her behind, pulling her center closer to his and building up a bit of friction. “How about right now and tonight?”

“I can’t be exhausted for today, H,” Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to get herself off his lap, but he kept her grounded.

“You don’t ‘ave to get in the water now. You’ve practiced, you’re prepared, you got this. The championship is practically in your hands already,” he disclosed, peppering kisses up the side of her neck, a few across her jawline, and then landing on her lips.

Even if that may be true, she doesn’t want that to stop her from putting effort and time into winning. “Harry…” she started, getting lost in the feel of his lips suckling a lovebite right in the crook of her neck, her most sweet spot. He lifted his hips up slightly, pushing against her heat, eliciting the smallest moan from her mouth.

“Bet y’soaking your suit. Can I see?”

They only have a limited amount of time before they need to get to the Northshore at Ehukai Beach Park for the competition. It was about a forty-five minute drive alone. But, Harry’s lips and fingers were way too persuasive, so Y/N nodded her head.

“Good girl.”

He lifted her up so her back was now against the belly of his pink board, her legs immediately wrapped around his broad shoulders as he placed a chaste kiss to her clothed core. She whined as he hooked his fingers into her bikini bottoms, dragging them tortuously slow down her legs. His eyes immediately attracted themselves to her glistening slit, her wetness practically inviting him in. “So fucking pretty, baby.”

Harry’s hands pushed her legs as far apart as they would go, licking a fat stripe up from her little hole to her sensitive clit. Y/N threw her head back as he focused his attention on her clit, swirling his tongue around the little bud before sucking it into his mouth. She was a whimpering mess, but that earned her a smack on the ass and a first warning from Harry.

“No one’s around. Let me hear you loud and clear,” he gave her a pointed look, keeping their eye contact as he went a little further south, pushing the tip of his tongue into her cunt. Y/N tried closing her legs around his head but Harry just pushed them open further, keeping a firm grip on her thighs that were bound to leave bruises. Bruises just for her. 

Her jaw fell slack, moans tumbling past her pink lips louder and louder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, most likely leaving scratches he’ll find later when they’re stinging in the shower. Just for him.

Y/N was growing restless as he inserted his middle and ring finger inside of her, pushing and pulling them at an intense pace that caused her toes to curl in the sand by his hips. When he managed to push his index finger in alongside the other two, Y/N began to see stars at the stretch of her walls.

“So tight f’me. Imagine it was my cock instead. Would feel so good and full, but you’d be too exhausted for later, hm?” He cooed, letting her adjust to the extra digit inside of her before fucking her harder and faster than before. He kissed up her tummy that was visible from under her shirt before landing his forehead against hers.

His free hand grabbed a hold of her jaw, making her face him which caused her eyes to open up quickly, locking eye contact with one another. “S’a shame. M’so hard, like a fucking rock. But you’ll be too tired.”

Teasingly, Y/N nodded her head in agreement, earning a hard glare from her lover. At this, he stopped the movement of his fingers, slowly pulling them out of her. Y/N’s mouth opened wide, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion as Harry sucked his fingers past his lips, indulging in her sweetness that tasted like a little sliver of heaven. 

“Wh-wha…?”

“Close y’mouth, Y/N. Gonna catch flies,” he smirked, reaching over for her bikini bottoms and sliding them back up her legs until they were nestled against her soaking wet, throbbing pussy. “Said it y’self. Can’t be exhausted for the finale today, gotta be quick on your feet and coasting the gnarliest waves. C’mon slow poke, gotta get some practice in.”

So, Y/N was pissed off to say the least. And because of this, she was extra determined to push herself as far as she could to come out on top today. Harry on the other hand, well he was just mad that he had an insane hard-on that his own girlfriend didn’t want to tend to. He should’ve expected his little stunt wouldn’t go over nicely, but the look on her face when he stopped was absolutely priceless.

When it was announced that Y/N and Harry had won in their divisions everyone was beyond elated at the news, cheers and hugs and kisses spread all around the group. Though when it was their turn to congratulate each other, they looked at each other, small smiles on their faces before they turned to make conversation with someone else. That didn’t stop them from reaching for one another though, slyly interlocking their hands together.

They were whisked away quickly for pictures, holding their trophies high in the air, the biggest smiles on their faces. Y/N’s parents were cheering them on, more specifically her because they were so proud she was able to take her life back. Y/N could cry at the sight of her mother being a blubbering mess, and her dad’s admiration sparkling across his eyes. Though, with the support of her family, Y/N’s mind couldn’t help but wonder about Harry’s family, and how they couldn’t support their son with what he loved. 

With this, Y/N squeezed his hand harder, and despite the cameras around them, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his lips, the clicks of the cameras and the chatter of the crowd increasing. But, neither of them cared as they looked at one another, full of love.

Because that’s what this was. Love.

It didn’t matter that they had only met a little over three months ago, only dating for two months. They were in love. And that’s all that mattered.

Going out to dinner that night, they hardly left each other’s sides. They were being that obnoxious clingy couple that no one likes being around, but they didn’t care. Because they both knew they were in love. An unspoken love that didn’t have to be announced because the whole world knew, and so did they.

“Cheers to the love birds! And for the love of God, could you stop looking at each other like that,” AJ gagged, causing everyone to laugh before they clinked glasses.

When they left the restaurant, Harry and Y/N hopped into Betty, driving around for a little while before they decided to stay at his for the night. It was when the wind was blowing in her hair again, the moon shining above them and shining through her hair, his hand gently on her thigh, squeezing softly in contrast to that morning, that Harry truly felt it. This love that he has for this girl. Love that’s meant just for her. Her, and only her.

This gushy feeling was put on hold for a little while though the moment they walked through the door of his apartment. Y/N was bent over the arm of his living room couch, her one leg bent and on the armrest beside her while the other was trying its best to keep her steady on the ground. Harry’s fist was wrapped up in her hair, proving to make it more difficult for her to keep her balance. Though she wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“What’s the matter, babe? You said I could fuck you all night.” Harry’s hot breath coated the shell of her ear, “Y’tired?”

She gasped at a particularly hard thrust that felt like it had hit against her cervix, trying to get the word No out in between her moans and whimpers. 

“Hope not. Had me aching all day for your tiny cunt. M’gonna need a few hours to really appreciate it.” She could feel his menacing smirk against her skin as he again thrusted so far deep inside of her, her one leg gave out. If it wasn’t for Harry holding her up, she would’ve fell right over, too weak to even try and get back up.

They went twice on the couch before Harry helped her get to the shower, where they did it again. And then when they finally cleaned themselves, they got into bed, where they did it again, but this one could be classified under love-making. It was slow and sensual and sweet, just like them. Harry paid extra attention to her scar, trailing down the tissue with soft kisses as they softly climaxed together.

It was a little past midnight at this point, and they were both extremely tired. Y/N was on the brink of dozing off into dreamland before Harry interrupted her exhaustion. 

“We never finished our game of twenty questions, did we?” He murmured, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/N lazily opened her eyes, shaking her head, “Don’t believe so.”

“Think it’s my turn,” he hummed. “Do you love me?”

There was silence for a brief couple of seconds, making Harry think Y/N had dozed off before answering his question. But, Y/N just needed those seconds to collect her mushed thoughts inside of her mushy brain before giving him a coherent and valid response.

“Yeah. I do.”

Harry smiled, probably the biggest he’s ever smiled, leaning down and taking hold of her face and smashing their lips together in a ceremonious kiss.

“Sick. Ditto, Sunshine.”