#being seen in order to help sea life off the beach probably?? hes just . not good socially

[sometimesanalice]

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.”  You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in. 

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean. 

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up.  Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger. 

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment. 

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him. 

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face. 

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper. 

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up. 

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. 

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet. 

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[kitafter]

Okay but please have some endhawks thoughts about of them laying on the beach, keigo having a lovely birthday for once, and being fairly horny and very in love.

-

The sun was hot on his wings, drying out the cool water pearling up on his feathers as he lounged on the beach. Some of the sand stuck to his skin, but Keigo couldn't find the energy even to brush it off. Besides, more would just take its place later so what was the point.

He could hear Enji splashing his way up through the ocean, his body massive and crashing through the water about as unsubtle as a bomb.

Keeping his eyes closed, Keigo waited until a shadow crossed his face and salt water dripped across his cheek.

"Good swim?" He asked, his words slurred and heavy as Keigo struggled to find the energy to tilt his head enough to see his husband's face.

"Yeah." Enji settled on the blanket beside him, one hand running gently through Keigo's hair and down the slope of his neck.

He brushed the sand off of Keigo's skin without asking and Keigo grinned to himself.

"Are you about to fall asleep?" Enji whispered, his breath right at Keigo's ear.

Everything about him was hot and wet and near stifling in the sun.

"No." It wasn't entirely a lie.

His bones had just melted into the earth, probably. And Enji's hands felt so goood, rubbing down between his wings, his low back, dipping just beneath the waistband of his "criminally small" trunks. (Enji's words, not his).

"I still want it. My present," Keigo sighed, arching his hips just the smallest bit.

He half expected Enji to tease him, to make him say it, but it was Keigo's birthday and Enji leaned down for a kiss instead, "Anything, little bird."

His breath and body were always warm, faint wafts of steam that were near impossible to see flowing off of him. It made it so when Keigo opened his eyes, Enji shimmered like a mirage. He was every single one of Keigo's fantasies come to life, here in the flesh, and gazing down at Keigo like maybe he was every one of Enji's dreams, too.

There was no one else on the beach. No one there to see the way Enji towered over him, turned him over, pulled down his shorts, spread Keigo's thighs around Enji's massive body. They both reeked of sunscreen, fake coconut and chemicals and the salt of the sea.

Enji stopped to rinse his hands meticulously with one of their bottles of water and Keigo's heart nearly burst.

"I love you," he whispered as Enji set the bottle aside and grabbed the lube from their bag. The smile he got was sincere, automatic, and just for Keigo.

"I love you, too."

When he settled back down between Keigo's thighs, Keigo nearly sobbed. Everything about Enji was heavy, from his fingers drumming inside him, from the way he sunk Keigo down further into the sand under his weight. He even moved heavily, making space for himself in Keigo's body as Enji thrust his cock, slow and hard into him over and over again.

Enji brushed his fingers soothingly across Keigo's cheek, moving his hair out of his eyes. His body blocked the sun, but Keigo still felt like he couldn't see past the light of Enji.

"Happy Birthday," Enji whispered and kissed him fierce enough to send Keigo over the edge, and Enji not long after. When Enji rolled away, Keigo was still panting, his vision edging into black.

He must have looked as done in as he felt because he could see the concern in Enji's eyes when he guessed, "You're overheated."

"I'm fine," Keigo panted, but Enji ignored him as he set about gathering their things.

Keigo couldn't help but laugh as Enji forced a water bottle into his hands and ordered him to drink.

"Your cock is still out," Keigo informed him, and Enji rolled his eyes.

"You've seen it before. Drink." So Keigo drank his water and let Enji pause to tuck himself back in and carry him back.

When they made it back to the hotel, he obediently stood under the too cold shower and drank another water and let Enji tumble him into bed naked and near shivering from the air conditioning to cuddle.

Enji was still fussing over him an hour later when Keigo stopped him with a kiss.

"This was the best birthday ever. Thank you."

Enji singed the sheets of their bed and Keigo laughed and ordered room service while his husband put out the fire.

Best birthday ever, really.

[speramusxmeliora]

               lyric starter (s.c.)  \  ‘false confidence’

           a creak of a board makes him look glance behind him, and he almost rolls his eyes. Her. she looked so Serious.                     don’t take yourself so seriously.   “  Look at you, all dressed up for someone you never see. ”  a compliment..? a weird one. she looked ... really nice today, actually.  he wasn’t good with saying things though. it always came out sounding backhanded.          he breathes the salty air in deeply, elbows sinking to his lap from where he sat, slouching over the piers end, staring off absently into the water.

         “ you’re here for a reason.. but you don’t know why...”  he could...see that confusion from a single glance. she looked like she’d just been wandering. but also like she’d been looking for something. he wasn’t sure what. neither was she, from the looks of it.      Silence falls between them, and his lips part-- though he’s silent for awhile. He sighs, voice quiet-- tired. maybe a little sad.         “  you don’t even  like  me...so,  w h y...?    --  Why do you keep  finding  me? ”

                                   {   @amongstmortals  \  ~ Ara }

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Drown In My Desire

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: siren pls see ao3 for the full list of tags, this is... something edit: some formatting got fucked up and I had to make some adjustments, sorry if there are any wonky bits now 😅

Geralt is barely off the boat back from Skellige when he hears about the contract. There's a lone Siren causing trouble along one of the trading routes; drawing the ships closer until they wreck on the jagged rocks of the bay. The fishermen complain loudly about it as he disembarks and as soon as his feet hit dry land, Geralt makes straight for them. It's basic Siren behaviour, likely to be an easy job and then back on his way.

The men are offloading barrels and Geralt keeps out of the way as he approaches the one giving orders.

"Heard you've got a Siren problem," he says and the man straightens up to look him over.

"Aye, we do. You're a Witcher, right? You'll take care of it for us?"

"What are you offering?"

"Godsdamn anything at this point. Things wrecked six shops, we've lost 11 good men, countless hours of labour... Name your price, Witcher, we'll pay it."

"Five hundred," Geralt suggests.

"Fine by me. Bring back proof of the kill and you'll get your coin."

"Agreed." Normally, Geralt would request half in advance, but he's dealt with Novigradian merchants before and they're reputable and trustworthy most of the time. Plus, this is a simple contract, probably not even worth the 500 he asked for.

He stays to get the rest of the details from the merchant, then heads into town to rent a room at the Kingfisher. He won't be in town long, but he may as well have somewhere comfortable to sleep when he inevitably comes back cold and wet.

Geralt bribes a local fisherman to take him out to the bay or as close to it as possible - no one will go right in any longer. They moor on the far side and Geralt disembarks, thanking the man and paying him a generous fee for his service. He didn't have to bring him out here, and many other men wouldn't dare go this far.

He hears the song immediately and it makes him pause. Geralt has heard the Siren song before, has even fallen under its spell in the past, and this is not it. This is a Siren, for sure, and he is singing, but his song is... sad. Geralt frowns as he makes his way over the swell of the hill, the beach sprawling out before him in a wide arc.

It's sandy, devoid of rocks and debris but the tide is down and large, jagged rocks break the surface of the water. Waves roll up gently onto the shore and Geralt scans the shoreline, looking for any sign of the Siren. The song is coming from the far side of the small bay, but he sees nothing.

Readjusting the belts across his chest, he makes his way down to the beach and across the sand.

He spots him shortly, tucked under a shelf of rock out of the sun, curled around himself. Geralt thinks at first, that he may be injured, hence the despair in his song, but as he approaches he recognizes a sense of desperation in the tune. Approaching further, he catches the creature's interest and he looks up at him, his confusion a mixture of desperation and fear and resignation. Geralt looks him over as he approaches, not trusting the Siren not to jump out and attack. He knows well enough they're crafty and wouldn't stop short of setting a trap in dire situations.

But when Geralt is within a few feet, the Siren still makes no sign of wanting to hurt him. If anything, he looks miserable to have been discovered and Geralt does a quick once-over for injuries. There are none visible, but as the Siren unfurls himself, stretching out to his full length, Geralt pauses.

He doesn't know a lot about Siren anatomy past what a sorcerer will pay for what, but he's seen enough pricks in his life to know one when he sees it.

Jaskier whines internally and shuts up as soon as he sees the figure approaching. He was trying to attract... well, not him. Not a Witcher. He needs someone to solve his problem, not to be killed as the solution to someone else’s. But maybe that would be better than going through this every five years out here alone. Maybe the Witcher will be kind and put him out of his misery and then- well, at least he wouldn't be stuck here on his own like this.

But the man approaches and doesn't do anything. He just looks, walking closer until Jaskier could nearly reach out and touch him. Slowly, as non-threateningly as he can, he uncoils himself to prove he's not a threat. His cock aches and he's reminded of the fact that it's very blatantly on display, but that's the least of his problems now.

"You're the one who's been wrecking ships?" the Witcher asks and well, yes, Jaskier assumes that's his fault.

He's seen the wreckage washing up on shore, seen the men floating lifeless amongst the waves. He tries to help, but in this state, it's impossible to do much before the burning need overtakes him again and he's rendered useless.

"I didn't-" he starts, but he doesn't think a Witcher will care whether he meant to or not. He just wants a companion, wants someone to help ease this ache as his own attempts aren't helping any longer, he didn't mean for the humans to get in the way.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't mean for them to get hurt." Jaskier doesn't look at him, but the Witcher is quiet for some time and then,

"It’s... a mating song?" he guesses and something in Jaskier’s stomach twists uncomfortably that he could figure it out so quickly. Jaskier avoids his eyes looking instead at the way the sand coats the toes of his boots.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Jaskier's head snaps up at that and he looks the Witcher dead in the eye. He's never heard of a monster being given a chance to tell their side of the story, to redeem themself. The Witcher drops to the sand, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"I-" Jaskier starts, unsure if this is some sort of twisted game. "I just- I was hoping someone might be nearby to hear-" he feels pathetic, his only consolation the fact that the Witcher doesn't know that he came here willingly, he left his family willingly to go out and explore the vast oceans and now he’s miserable.

"How long have you been here?" the Witcher asks, "you've never caused problems before now."

"Before now I wasn't-" he rolls his eyes in frustration at himself, slapping his tail against the sand. "Sirens," he starts again, "go through cycles. I'm in heat and I'm alone and every attempt I've made to reach out has only ended in ruin." Jaskier scowls at his own confession.

"I tried to help," he adds solemnly, "I just... I can't focus, I don't have the strength to pull them to the surface- I tried," he persists, "but I'm not much use like this." His cock aches and he groans at the timing. "I hardly think that deserves a death sentence." He wraps his tail protectively around himself, hiding the evidence of his situation.

"Not here to hurt you," the Witcher explains, "just here to keep people from dying. I could... help?"

Jaskier starts at the offer, his wings snapping tight against his back. "What do you mean, help?"

The Witcher huffs a light laugh and Jaskier tries not to be too hopeful. He's never strayed beyond his race, though he knows many who have and if he were to, well, the Witcher isn't awful to look at. In fact, Jaskier thinks, taking in his shining golden eyes and shock-white hair tied back in a loose bun, he’s quite lovely.

"Now, I know you're not stupid," the Witcher says, almost sounding amused. "The offer’s there. I'll help if you stop with the singing."

Maybe it's the need coursing through him, or maybe it's the fact that no one has ever been so kind to him before, or maybe there's just something about this man's smile that makes him weak. Jaskier agrees.

"Not here," he says. "Can you swim?" The Witcher cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'd prefer not to have to do this out in the open where anyone could just wander upon us. I do have some sense of decorum."

"Where are we going?"

"Home," Jaskier says simply. "It's not far." He shifts in the sand, sitting up and gesturing out toward the sea. "A human could make the swim, surely a Witcher can as well."

"Fair enough. I'm Geralt, by the way. And I can swim."

"Jaskier."

He squirms in the sand, trying to force his cock to withdraw, but it's no use. Geralt rises, kicking off his boots and removing his gear, tucking it away into a crevice in the rock. He bends down, scooping Jaskier into his arms. It's a shock and Jaskier is helpless to do anything but wind his arms around Geralt's neck and hold on, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the way his cock juts out obscenely, betraying him.

Geralt walks into the waves, releasing Jaskier as soon as the water is up to his waist. He holds his breath, lets Jaskier take his hand, and follows him down beneath the surf. Jaskier feels marginally better out of the sun and sand, in the cool water, but not much. He swims quickly, eager to return home and get on with... whatever Geralt has in mind to help.

He ducks into the narrow tunnel, dropping Geralt's hand and gesturing for him to follow behind. He does, and Jaskier leads the way back to an underwater cave. Glowing coral grows near the ledge of rock, where the water gives way to open air again. It gives off a little light, but Jaskier can see perfectly well and he knows Witchers have night vision.

He slips up onto the stony cave floor and offers a webbed hand to Geralt as he breaks the surface. To Geralt's credit, he only seems a little out of breath as he's hauled up out of the water.

Jaskier flops back on his side, watching the way Geralt rises to his feet, tugging his soaked shirt off and wringing the water from it. His trousers remain in place and Jaskier finds himself disappointed, curious to see what's hidden beneath. But this isn't a fun romp for the sake of it; this is an agreement, Geralt is simply doing him a favour.

When he seems pleased with the state of his shirt, Geralt lays it out and lies down next to him, lining his body up with Jaskier's. He's... stunning up close and it takes more of his effort than it should not to simply reach out and touch him just for the sake of it. He remembers fucking other Sirens, the touching, the press of bodies - he misses it, and he finds himself wishing this was something more than a simple favour. But that's selfish; Geralt is already offering him so much, for so little in return and nothing, even, for himself.

"You'll have to walk me through it," Geralt says with a smile, "I've never fucked a Siren before."

"Oh. You can just... touch me?" Jaskier says and Geralt reaches out tentatively, slipping a hand over the swell of his hip.

"Like this?"

Jaskier nods. It's not exactly what he wants, but it does feel nice and he's not about to try and direct. Geralt's hesitation is short-lived and he slides his hand up Jaskier's chest, brushing his thumb over a nipple and Jaskier's breath catches. He watches the movement of Geralt's hand as his fingers press into his skin, warm, despite the swim through cool water.

He shifts slightly, leaning up on one arm and pressing back down, over the swell of Jaskier's hip and he tugs him forward before abruptly before dragging his fingers up the length of Jaskier's swollen cock. He's slow, but delicate like he's learning his way around, but it feels incredible and it's hard for Jaskier not to just thrust up into the touch and take the pleasure from his hands.

Geralt's fingers slip over the ridge at the base of him, curling around him beneath it and squeezing as he pulls up over it.

"What is this?" he asks. He sounds intrigued, curious, and Jaskier can't help but indulge him.

"'S hard to fuck underwater," he hums, moaning as Geralt's fingers reach the tip of his cock. One dips into the slit, pressing against it, and Jaskier whimpers. "Keeps me from... slipping out." The noise Geralt makes in response is hard to determine, but it sounds interested. He moves his hand back down to squeeze around the ring.

His fingers slip over the swell of skin, pressing against it and running his thumb along the edge. He likes it, Jaskier realizes. It prods at something inside him and he presses his hips forward encouragingly.

"Does that feel good?" Geralt asks and Jaskier nods, pressing his forehead against his arm to keep from moaning out loud. He wants to show his appreciation, wants Geralt to know he can do as he pleases with him, but he doesn't want to push too hard.

Geralt’s light touches grow bolder, pressing more firmly, jerking him quickly and firmly and as Jaskier whines and squirms beneath him, Geralt grows more confident. His fingers slip down, pressing between the folds of his sheath, pressing right down to the base of his cock and within. No one has touched him like this before, the sharp jab of a Siren's claws not conducive to pressing inside.

Something warm spreads through his chest and he finds himself pulling away, embarrassed by how vulnerable he suddenly feels letting a stranger touch him this way, a Witcher no less. Immediately, Geralt withdraws his hands and the look on his face implies worry.

"Sorry," he blurts, then softer, "tell me if it's too much."

"No, I just. No one's ever-"

"I'll stop."

"No," Jaskier says again, a little too abruptly. "No, it was good, it just... caught me off guard." Geralt doesn't wait to be told twice, but his fingers move more slowly as they slip back into place at the base of his cock. Jaskier gives a little thrust on encouragement and Geralt presses his palm against him, giving him something to rut against while he explores.

Jaskier rocks against him, burying his face in his arm as the need takes over. Given an inch, he's no longer able to control himself, so needy for it that he's invited a perfect stranger into his home to fuck him. But Geralt doesn't seem to mind his desperation, doesn't mention it. He picks up quickly on Jaskier's most sensitive spots, going back to rub over them, pressing his thumb beneath the swollen ring and Jaskier's mind goes blank with the pleasure of it.

He's never noticed how sensitive it is there; the use of hands in Siren coupling is rare and limited to squeezing and jerking, not prodding and rubbing like Geralt does so easily. It's hardly Jaskier's fault that he can't contain himself in the face of this new, wonderful sensation.

The swell of his climax creeps up on him slowly, his mind too preoccupied with where Geralt's fingers are and what they're doing. It's not until Geralt wraps around the base of him, pushing as far into his sheath as his fingers with reach, that Jaskier realizes how close he is. His hips jerk hard and Geralt's other hand shoots out to steady him, holding him close as Jaskier writhes against him.

There's not much else he can do like this, just squirm and try to press as much of his cock against Geralt's palm as he can. Otherwise, he's under Geralt's control, letting him do what he wants, take him apart as he will. Geralt's thumb presses along the underside of his cock, pressing up toward the tip and Jaskier jerks hard as his orgasm washes over him, spilling over Geralt's hand and up his arm.

His hips twitch, cocking slipping easily against Geralt's arm with his own spend to slick the way. He'd be embarrassed, coming so quickly with so little stimulation to anything but his cock, but Geralt hums, sounding very pleased.

He continues touching him, fingers slipping through his spend and using it as slick, rubbing down the full length of him and rubbing against the slit at the tip.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier can only nod and whimper, still struggling to catch his breath.

Geralt leans in, pressing his nose into Jaskier's neck abruptly and Jaskier shifts onto his back to allow him better access. He likes the warmth of Geralt's breath on his neck, the soft press of his lips and the occasional flick of his tongue against his skin. Geralt says nothing as his kisses become firmer, pressing down the column of his throat and down his chest.

His hand remains on Jaskier's cock, stroking slowly as he kisses down the length of his body, not even pausing as pale skin gives way to shimmering scales. He seems unbothered by it and Jaskier likes the feeling of his lips on his tail. Geralt doesn't release his cock until he's moved fully down the length of Jaskier's body, straddling the end of his tail.

Geralt kisses around the base of his cock, not touching it but for the barest brush of his cheek as he passes. Jaskier holds his breath in anticipation, arching off the bed with each kiss that gets closer to where he wants it. When Geralt's lips finally press against him, he lets out a strangled groan and arches off the ground, hands immediately and automatically groping for Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt kisses up the length of him, teasing the tip with his tongue before moving back down again. Jaskier wants his mouth, wants to feel that wet heat around him, so different than the cool touch of one of his own kind. It wouldn't be the first time he's had a mouth around his cock, but he's used to sharp teeth, to slow and cautious strokes. When Geralt gets his mouth around him, he's anything but.

The moment Geralt's lips wrap around him, quick and eager, sliding his tongue over him and pressing his lips in close, holding him tight as he sinks right to the base. His tongue presses in where his fingers had been and Jaskier knows now that he likes exploring, likes discovering what makes Jaskier squirm and taking advantage of it. And he's incredibly good at it.

His fingers that had, up until now, been happily settled on his hips, push up to brush against his skin. One hand remains, seeking out the smallest part of his waist and settling in the dip as the other moves down again. Jaskier's foggy mind suggests that he intends to wrap around the base of his cock, but Geralt gets distracted somewhere between. His fingers pass over Jaskier’s slit and he pauses. Slowly, Gerlt lifts his head, licking up the length of Jaskier's cock and looking at the opening beneath his fingers.

"Can I?" he asks and Jaskier nods.

This is... new. He knows for women it can be pleasurable to be touched this way, but he's never had anyone do it to him. As a child, they told stories about men who fucked each other like this, the way they fuck women, but Jaskier had been young and naive and passed them off as nothing but stories. He'd never found anyone who wanted to touch him that way and had assumed, like most things children talk about, it was a rumour.

But Geralt's fingers tease the opening and sparks rush over his skin. Jaskier's cock throbs and he pushes himself up to watch. Geralt catches his eyes for a brief moment, before dropping back to his work and pushing inside.

"Oh," he breathes, "you're wet." Jaskier squirms, as his body gives way to Geralt's finger, quickly joined by a second.

As with everything, he moves slowly at first, pushing deep and rubbing into him. It feels good, much better than Jaskier could have expected and then Geralt bumps against something inside him and Jaskier cries out, digging his claws into Geralt's shoulder.

When he realizes what he's done, he releases him quickly, but Geralt seems unfazed and he's smiling when he meets Jaskier's eyes again.

"You like that?" he asks and Jaskier lets out a breathy, yes. Geralt grins at him and ducks down to wrap his lips around the tip of Jaskier's cock.

Geralt's fingers work in time with his mouth, picking up speed as Jaskier's groans become more frequent, less controlled. It doesn't take him long like this, with his cock slipping down Geralt's throat and Geralt's fingers constantly pressing against whatever that is inside him that feels so fucking good.

He comes with a gasp as Geralt thrusts up into him again and Geralt makes no attempt to keep him from pushing his cock deeper into his throat. If anything, he seems glad for it, and when Jaskier slumps back against the ground again, Geralt pulls off his cock with slow precision, careful to wrap his lips tightly around the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and his chest heaves, but he's aware of Geraly lying back down next to him.

"That felt... good."

"No one has ever touched you like this?" Geralt asks lightly. Jaskier waves a clawed hand at him in response. "Mmm, understandable. But you liked it?" Jaskier huffs a tired laugh and turns to face him.

"Very much."

"Can I?" Geralt asks, already sliding slick fingers along his waist.

"Please."

Geralt rises to his knees, straddling Jaskier's hips for a moment before dropping to the ground on the other side of him. He presses right up against him, slipping an arm under his neck and holding him close as his other hand presses flat against Jaskier's stomach, sliding downward. He crooks two fingers, pushing inside him and seeking out that same spot again.

He finds it with ease and when Jaskier jerks hard, Geralt pulls him in against his chest. He drops his forehead to Jaskier's, breathing hard against him and Jaskier shuts his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him. Geralt thrusts into him, quick and precise, then slows to tease at the opening, fingers slipping slowly in and out, and Jaskier can't decide which he likes more.

When he's quick, it punches the breath out of him, leaves him mindless and aching for more, but then he slows, gently caresses and rubs into him and it's like a slow fire burning within him, gradually burning brighter. His mind goes blank, foggy with lust, and he wraps himself around Geralt's shoulders, drawing him close. Even with Jaskier wrapped around him, he never falters and before long Jaskier is writhing again, his tail slapping hard against the floor as pleasure courses through him.

He's overwhelmed, so entirely encompassed by pleasure that he can't do more than cling to Geralt and whimper until, at last, he comes, his cock untouched where it spurts over his hip.

Slick drips from his slit, mixing with his come and Geralt pulls out slowly, swiping his fingers through it and sliding them around Jaskier's cock. He cries out at the first touch, oversensitive from multiple consecutive orgasms, but it still feels good underneath the sensitivity and he can't bring himself to tell Geralt to stop.

When Geralt finally lets him go, Jaskier flops onto his back and stares up at him. Geralt is watching him, his eyes dark but bright, and he smiles. Unthinking, Jaskier reaches up, wrapping one hand around Geralt's cheek and tugging him down toward him. At the last second, he realizes what he's doing and hesitates, but Geralt closes the distance, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

It doesn't last long and Jaskier has to keep himself from nipping at his lips when they part. Geralt presses up close and for the first time, he feels the hard line of Geralt's cock beneath his trousers and it makes his breath catch. For a moment, he just stares at him, enthralled by the idea that Geralt is turned on by this.

"You're... aroused?" he asks and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.

"I'm fine."

"Could I touch you?"

"Mmm, if you like."

Jaskier grins, shifting onto his side and pushes Geralt over. He laughs and goes easily, watching as Jaskier spreads a hand over his chest. He maps out the planes of his chest, pushing clawed fingers through soft chest hair before dragging them lightly down toward the hem of his trousers.

He rakes his eyes over the jut of Geralt's cock, but doesn't touch, afraid of pushing too far. A favour, he reminds himself, Geralt is doing him a favour here. So he slips his hand back up to his stomach, mimicking the way Geralt touched him at first, exploring the little dips and rises in his skin, careful not to catch his claws.

And when he looks up to him again, Geralt is watching him. Something in the way he looks at him makes Jaskier's chest tight and he dips down again, catching Geralt's lips in a kiss. Geralt kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around so he can pull Jaskier on top of him.

Both hands move down, cupping the swell of Jaskier's tail and rocking him slowly forward. Jaskier's cock, still sensitive, presses against Geralt's through the rough fabric of his trousers. He hisses at the drag, but Geralt moans at the friction and the sound goes straight through him. This time, Jaskier does it on purpose.

They find an easy rhythm between the two of them and even with Geralt's trousers in the way, the sensitivity soon gives way to pleasure and Jaskier ruts against him, kissing him hard despite the lingering fear that he'll bite too hard. Geralt however, seems unconcerned. He's got one hand buried in Jaskier's hair, the other pressing between them, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. It takes him a moment, but he gets them undone, finally pulling his cock free and Jaskier groans as he ruts against him.

Geralt is hot, his cock even more so, and Jaskier basks in the warmth, pressing himself closer, even with Geralt’s hand still between them. He's sure he could come just like this, happy to rut against him, but then Geralt's fingers are pressing against his slit again. His fingers come away slick and he winds his hand around Jaskier's cock, stroking him slowly.

"What do you need?" he asks and Jaskier whimpers.

"What you did before," he breathes, "could you... do that again?" In an instant, Geralt flips him onto his back again, dragging his fingers up to his slit, but Jaskier stops him. "Could you... with your cock?"

"Oh. Fuck, yeah."

Geralt shifts, pushing his trousers down and kicking them off before pressing up close again. He pulls Jaskier into a deep kiss, his hand sliding away to bring his hips closer. He ruts against him, pushing through the slick and come and when he catches on Jaskier's slit, Jaskier lets out a little gasp and grasps at Geralt's shoulders.

Geralt pushes forward pressing into him and Jaskier holds his breath as he stretches open on his cock. Geralt's eyelids flutter as he settles and then he rocks forward, slowly at first, just short little thrusts that leave Jaskier aching, pushing himself onto him, wanting more.

And Geralt gives it to him. He sinks deep, hooking a knee over Jaskier's hip to hold him close as he ruts, his cock pressed firmly against that spot that makes him wild. Jaskier bucks and whines, his own cock slipping against Geralt's with every thrust. He delights in the feeling of Gerslt inside him, of his warmth and the stretch of his cock, sliding into him and filling him wholly.

He's surprised to find Geralt as breathless as he is when he looks up at him and he can't help but tip forward and nip at his lower lip. Geralt groans and kisses him hard. He pushes him onto his back so he's straddling his hips and when he sits back, Jaskier's cock presses between his cheeks.

He rocks his hips, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat around his cock and Geralt shudders as he pushes back against him. His eyes flick up to Jaskier's and he licks his lips.

"Can I try something?" he asks and Jask nods enthusiastically.

Geralt withdraws immediately, pressing his fingers into Jaskier's slit. When he withdraws, he reaches behind himself, and Jaskier burns to know what he's doing, but the slick fingers wrap around his cock, and Geralt sits back on him. Jaskier groans low as Geralt's body engulfs him, heat seeping into every inch where they touch and he reaches out, fingers digging into his thighs, so careful not to leave scratches.

Geralt rocks back onto him, taking the full length of Jaskier's cock and grinding back against him. He rolls his hips and squeezes around him, pulling right up to the tip before dropping back down the length on him. Jaskier is breathless, helpless to do anything but squeeze Geralt's thighs and bite his own lip.

Tentatively, he wraps one hand around Geralt's cock, slipping webbed fingers over the head of his cock. Geralt moans softly, sliding one hand over Jaskier's and guiding it down. Jaskier nearly stops breathing as the head of Geralt's cock nudges against his slit and then he's sliding in again, filling him up even as he squeezes around Jaskier's cock.

It's so much. Jaskier's body sings with the twin pleasures of being filled so wholly and sinking into Geralt himself as he shifts his hips up.

"Fuck" he groans and Geralt drapes himself over his chest, kissing the moan from his lips.

He finds a rhythm, a careful balance that keeps them joined in both places and Jaskier has never felt such overwhelming pleasure in his life. He meets Geralt's thrusts, thrusting in deep as Geralt sinks into him and it's hardly surprising when he finds himself creeping close to the edge. Geralt's thighs shake around him and he wants to hold out, to make Geralt comes first, but Geralt reaches up, nipping at the sensitive skin over his throat and the pleasure that zips through him is too much.

His hips snap up hard and Geralt kisses him through it, deep and hard, his whole body arching against him. He follows shortly, burying himself deep in Jaskier's body and rutting into him urgently. The moans and pleas that drop from his lips do nothing to ease Jaskier's persistent erection, but as Geralt slumps against him, Jaskier feels the exhaustion creeping in.

Geralt, too, seems tired and Jaskier withdraws reluctantly, mourning the loss of Geralt's body around him. His cock remains stubbornly hard, still unsheathed, but the aching desperation wore off some time ago and he flings himself into the water, quickly rubbing himself down to prevent waking up sticky and uncomfortable. A moment later there's a splash as Geralt rolls off the ledge next to him.

He swims closer enough for Jaskier to reach him and he makes a point of wiping Geralt down first before wrapping a hand around his cock and sliding slowly. Geralt's eyes drop shut and he winds his arms around Jaskier's neck with a soft, shuddering moan.

"How long does this usually last?" he asks and Jaskier shrugs.

"Anywhere from a week to six."

Geralt gawks at him. "Six weeks?"

"On and off," Jaskier huffs, amused. "I don't swim around with an exposed prick for six weeks. And besides. It's usually two, though it is much more in much more... concentrated bursts."

"Meaning I should stick around?"

Jaskier's heart thuds heavily at the suggestion which is, realistically, ridiculous. He's known Geralt for all of a few hours and under normal circumstances, the man would have just killed him. But the idea of keeping him close spreads warmth through his chest.

"You don't have to," he says anyway. "You kept up your end of the deal. I'll be quiet."

"Mmm," Geralt agrees, nosing at his neck, "but it'll get bad again. What would you do with no one here to get you through it."

"Are you..." Jaskier starts, hesitant. "Are you saying you want to stay?"

"Maybe not exactly here," Geralt shrugs, "I'd appreciate being warm and dry part of the time. But I don't intend to go far. Maybe I'll camp out on the beach."

"Will you stay for now?" Jaskier asks hopefully.

"Yes."

Jaskier doesn’t acknowledge the way his heart clenches a little. He shouldn’t want Geralt to stay, shouldn’t care what he does with himself now that he’s fulfilled his end of the bargain, but as they finish cleaning up, he seems happy to be there.

Once they're both clean and Geralt has managed to pull another orgasm from him, they settle on the ground, Jaskier curled up around him. His cock rests perfectly against the cleft of Geralt's ass and he has to be careful not to move too much, lest he work himself up again. He spreads one wing out over Geralt, using it as well as he can to keep him warm.

“You should go back,” Geralt says quietly and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d say he sounded almost disappointed, “leave here and find more of your kind so you don’t have to suffer alone next time.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Jaskier admits, “but I like it here.”

“Mm,” Geralt hums sleepily, “guess I’ll just have to come back then, hm?”

Five years later…

The need returns, just as it always does, creeping up slowly and then hitting him all at once, but this time it's worse. This time he has the memory of his Witcher, soft and sweet touching him and kissing him and working him through it. And the memory only serves to make the need stronger.

But he made a promise.

So Jaskier holes himself up in his cave and deals with it as well as he can on his own and when that quits working on the first day, Jaskier swims to the surface in the hopes of coming across some other passer-by who might be willing to risk their life to fuck a Siren.

But when he breaches the surface of the water, there's a figure on the beach, moving oddly. He keeps low in the water, just his head breaking the surface and when he gets closer he realizes it's a man taking off his boots. It takes a couple of seconds to register as the man strips completely naked, but as he gets closer, as Jaskier swims further, he recognizes him. There's a swell of something warm and pleasant that settles in his chest and his heart beats just a fraction too quickly.

Geralt came back for him.

[herstarburststories]

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle. 

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea,  how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once. 

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction. 

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

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[itsmoonpeaches]

The Ocean Meets the Sky

Chapter 8: Meeting (FINAL)

Please note: Every prompt for this Kataang Week connects into an over-arching story.

Prompt: Free Day

Story summary: After his battle with Fire Lord Ozai, something lingers within Aang's spirit. Katara is the one that pulls the seams back together. No matter what, Aang and Katara find each other.

Chapter summary: Katara remembered watching him being taken away, his back to her as he stumbled up the steps and through the archway.

-

Or, Katara wakes up.

Written for @kataang-week

Read on ao3 or ffn.

---

It started with a promise on a solemn night, under the light of star-studded heavens. Katara remembered that she had been alone, a completely different person, in a period so far behind her that the edges of it blurred into oblivion.

She recalled copper skin, glistening whitecaps rolling gracefully against the coastline. The stench of caught fish baking in their baskets in the sunlight, and how the two of them would crinkle their noses at them.

Most of all she remembered the months, the year, she had tried to save him. It had been the year the life she wished for them became an unfeasible one.

The elders found them sparring in the maze of the stalks of bamboo around the estate. It had been the dead of night. They had never been spotted before. However, once they caught the eye of a single earth element sage, it was all over and there was no turning back.

They separated them with force, boulders of earth rising between them. She could not bend it back for she was not a user herself, but Kun did. He tried, but there was a knife to her neck.

Katara remembered watching him being taken away, his back to her as he stumbled up the steps and through the archway.

The sages tried to kill her that night, but she found a way. She tossed, she toiled, she threw dirt in their faces. It should have been impossible, but it felt as if there was someone looking out for her as she ran through the forest. Stripes of bamboo shadows ran across her body as she sprinted through to the other side.

Gales whistled at her back, urging her forward, and she heard a whisper like a charm. She knew the spirits guided her.

She only looked over her shoulder once when the moon was high in the sky and the night was old. She could never return to their town, lest she risk her life and his.

So, she did the best thing she could.

“I promise I’ll find you,” she vowed unto the wind. “I’ll find you again and again, and I won’t let the world break you.”

She was the only one that could bring him back, and the spirits listened.

-

There was something hard and uncomfortable digging into Katara’s back. If there was roaring in her ears, there was pounding in her skull. Pain spiked behind her eyes. She groaned and shifted her weight. She heard someone let out a surprised gasp above her, and at that moment her eyes snapped open.

She blinked a few times, attempting to get the blurred shape above her to sharpen. The outline of her brother’s concerned face came into view, and then everything slid into focus. His azure eyes were wide, and he frowned. She could just make out other shapes emerging around her.

“Katara?” Sokka asked, voice sounding smaller than she remembered. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Katara sat up gingerly, placing a hand on her forehead. She grimaced. “I’m fine Sokka,” she grumbled and batted away Sokka’s waiting hand. She glanced around what looked to be the same palace courtyard she had been in a while ago. It felt like days, weeks even. But, as she saw her friends flit between her and another person that that fallen onto the ground, she realized that that could not have been possible. She saw the thin streaks of blood on her bare arm and the half-moon crests where the spirit in Aang’s body had pierced her with his nails.

It had only been minutes since she was last here.

Her breath stuttered when she noticed exactly what she was doing there, why she was where she was. Without warning, she scrambled to her feet. She ignored Sokka’s protests and the way that Suki yelped from his side as she tried to lend her assistance.

Both of them hastily followed her the few feet it took to reach Toph and Zuko, the latter of which was patting the cheek of the unconscious figure they were trying to awaken. She saw dusty yellow robes, a wooden beaded necklace with an Air Nomad symbol that was askew. Her heart dropped.

Katara broke through them, and she did not even bother to acknowledge the annoyed huff Toph sent her way. She saw him…Aang. Just there, lying boneless on the cobbles. He was pale, his lips partially agape, head tilted to the side. It was as if he had been sapped of all color, as if he was gone.

Katara sank to her knees.

“Aang,” she whispered as the name hitched in her throat. She placed her hands on his face, caressing it between her shaking palms. She pushed her ear to his chest, trembling harder when she could hear nothing. Not the steady thump of a heartbeat, not the rise and fall of breath.

She lost him. She lost him, and all she could think of was the fact that she had failed.

“No,” she choked out. The tears came, dripped to the bottom of her chin, and dribbled onto his cheek. “This isn’t fair.”

She barely registered the silhouettes of her friends crowding around her, the way they shuddered too. After a hundred years of war and now with the peace they had worked so hard to achieve, it ended with a catastrophe anyway.

She bent over and gathered Aang close. She held him and her hold on him grew tight and desperate.

It was so silent and there was nothing, and she wanted more than anything else to turn back time.

“Hm,” a soft tone came. It was next to her.

She felt a murmur of a gasp against her skin, just close enough to the shell of her ear so that she heard it too. Katara stilled. She did not dare peel herself away, for fear of breaking the cautiously hopeful spell.

The words flowed out of her mouth without any thought. “Are you there?” she called wistfully for him, just above a whisper, just enough so he could hear. “I’ve missed you.”

Only when Aang muttered back, “I’m here,” did she pull away. Only then did she look into his starbright eyes, the same radiant silver as a galaxy shining on a clear midnight. She looked at him and he looked at her, and she knew that they understood. That they were souls that remembered.

There was laughing and obnoxious crying, clapping, and yelling, but they were together at last. The throngs of people did not return until Fire Lord Zuko commanded them to, and the questions only arrived if they wanted them to be answered.

It was time for rest, for peace. No silence would break them apart, and no more impending threats. For now, at least, it was their moment of freedom to be themselves.

And as the days went by, as the preparations for true reconciliation and unification were well underway, Katara found herself staring out onto the black sand beaches of Ember Island. She watched as the waves crashed against the sandy shore, as the waters smoothed out the stones. A familiar warmth crept up her toes as she waded through the sea water. Even when much of the world was preparing for autumn, she marveled at the fact that the Fire Nation remained in a perpetual summertime.

“It’s just a short pit stop,” Zuko had informed them. “I figured we needed a break…you know…before we have to head out to Ba Sing Se to speak with the Earth King. We’re staying with Uncle. I can’t wait to see how his tea shop has been doing since he went back.”

A ‘pit stop’, as Zuko called it, was really a bit of a vacation. Katara did not mind though, and neither did the others, especially Sokka. (“Finally, some time to relax and order some servants around to make me an all-you-can-eat buffet!”) She supposed that he had not had much time to enjoy himself for a while because of his recovering leg even if she did heal him as much as she could. Toph’s additional enthusiasm did not help. Though, she was grateful that Suki was there to rein them in if things got too out of hand.

Katara admired the way the grains of sand trickled in between her toes. She had taken off her shoes and left them near a palm tree, opting to walk on the beach in her Water Tribe clothing.

Twilight bloomed on the horizon, light blue with flecks of orange and yellow decorating the undersides of feathery clouds.

She could not help but think of a different sky she had seen back when she was entrapped in the world in between worlds, where there was a sunset and a balcony and Iroh’s tea shop. She wondered if perhaps, that could be real.

“Do you want to go inside?” asked Aang from behind her. She blinked when she saw him appear at her side. He was only wearing a pair of dark trousers. “It’s been a long day of traveling here.”

She giggled then at the absurdity of it all.

Aang tilted his head. “What is it?” he asked, confused.

Katara shook her head. “Nothing,” she replied. “It’s just that…I feel like you’ve said something similar before.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but all she did was take his hand and bring him closer to her so that they were both standing in the shallows of the cool water.

Katara stared at the way their fingers intertwined, the way he seemed to flush at her touch. She tried not to think about how she was probably pink with embarrassment as well. She felt it in how her face heated.

She cleared her throat. “You saw something too,” she started with some hesitancy, “You saw something when you were trapped there, didn’t you? A vision?” She knew that she did not have to explain what ‘there’ was.

He looked at her now, his gaze intense. He did not let go of her hand. “When I switched places with Vaatu in the Tree of Time I saw visions of the past…things I regret that I couldn’t stop,” he said. “It was all the things I thought of when I was taking away Ozai’s bending. It’s the reason why Vaatu could take over. A tiny part of him is in my Avatar spirit, like a tiny part of my Avatar spirit is in him.”

She squeezed his hand. “But you overcame it,” she remarked.

Aang let out a slow breath. “I did,” he agreed, “but only because of you. You saved me.”

Katara smiled and turned so that they were both fully facing each other. The current swished at her feet. “We saved each other,” she said. For a moment, she paused, thinking of how to word what she would say next. But she felt the surety in the way his hand pressed against hers. It was all she needed.

“Do you think…do you think those visions we saw…do you think that some of them could’ve been the future?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

When Aang studied her, it was as if he had a certain realization settle over him, a composure that Katara longed to feel. Perhaps, she wondered, if this was only something a person who had many past lives could be so confident about.

“I think that place showed us different parts of our lives,” he said. “I was told once that time is an illusion. Maybe what the tree showed me and what you saw…maybe they were the past, present, and future. Maybe whatever you saw is something that will happen.”

Katara found that Aang was most beautiful to her when he was himself, when he was telling his truth and no one else’s. And at that moment, as the humid breeze wavered through her clothes, her hair, she saw his truth right in front of her.

She had not yet told him what she had seen, and perhaps she never would, but it was the way he spoke to her. It was the kind words and the gentle gestures. It was the way he tried to understand what she was asking.

Aang did not know what she had seen, but he could tell that she wanted what she had seen to be true, and that was what mattered the most.

Katara cupped his cheek and her lips brushed against it. She moved with all the quietness in the world until his lips were on hers. They melted into each other.

On the sands of the beach and the sands of lifetimes, they finally met again. It was a meeting, a wish fulfilled. Life after life, until then. They found each other once more in a place where the ocean met the sky, and where their hearts remembered their promise.

[pepperonitimeline]

There is an interesting emphasis on timelines in Steven Universe

but like. Why?

Hypothesis: Steven Universe is made up of multiple timelines, but shown in an order that makes the events seem linear. read part 2 here!

I'm not the first person to speculate this at all. A lot of this stuff has been pointed out by @dogcopter​ @arrozbrillante​ @stevenutheories and many others on various platforms!

I just gathered the most conspicuous "evidence" into 1 post. If you’re interested in SU theory and analysis you should check out their blogs. :o) This was as short as I could make it..

And a big thank you to @love-takes-work for her podcast summaries!!! 

So, most ostensibly there’s Garnet, who can see multiple futures. In Pool Hopping she begins to call her visions timelines specifically.

Garnet: In this timeline, we do the opposite of that. Hey, you! Have a pizza!

Steven: Hey, Vidalia's house is around here. Let's bring her the last pie.

Garnet: Now, that would be nice. She must be upset that her son was taken into space by those Homeworld Gems. (referring to the events of I Am My Mom)

Steven: You mean Onion? He isn't in space. He's right over there. *points*

Garnet: Sorry, I-I must be thinking of a different timeline.

-

Garnet: My bad. I was sure we were in the pepperoni timeline.

-

Garnet: It's important to keep in mind that all these horrible things did happen to you in alternate timelines. Safety is fun.

In Steven and The Stevens:

Yeah

It was confirmed on the podcast that the Steven we see from that episode on is a different Steven than the one from episodes 1-21. In “The Fantasy of Steven Universe” Sugar explains:

"I think, early on, we knew for sure what we wanted to do was to create episodes that feel self-contained but give you a new piece of information or change the characters fundamentally. So, Steven and the Stevens, is tight but Steven does change fundamentally after having that experience. He's not the same- in THAT case he's LITERALLY not the same character..."

It’s muffled because they're all laughing but right after they say this Matt Burnett goes “He died.” 

Link to the episode

Love-takes-work also has a text summary of the episode

But something I haven't seen discussed very much is the time travel chase scene. Granted it’s very blink-and-you’ll miss it, there are some Stevens who witness the other Steven’s fighting but that don’t end up in the Sea Shrine at the end.

Way back in 2015 @stevenutheories already did the math as to how many alternate timelines may have stemmed from the time shenanigans: 3 to 5. Not counting the original one who is definitively gone. 

Technically quantum mechanics don’t work like that and those Stevens should have been Thanos’d too. I’m not going to pretend I understand physics, that is just what I’ve been told by someone who does. But then again the magic time thingy wasn’t bound by rules of real-life physics in the first place… so ??

Let’s cross-examine SATS’ accompanying KBCW post.

“At any given moment, if you asked me what I was thinking about, the answer would be one of two things: katana swords, or THE POSSIBILITY OF ALTERNATE TIMELINES RUNNING PARALLEL TO OUR OWN!

Proving the existence of these timelines can be pretty tricky, even for a seasoned paranormal investigator such as myself.  An inter-temporal incursion caused by the momentary weakening of the time-space continuum doesn’t really photograph well.  And all the cross dimensional time travelers I know don’t want to go on the record about their experiences.  Frankly, the only thing I can submit as evidence of alternate timelines is the fact that THEY ARE PROBABLY JUST SO COOL AND AWESOME THAT THEY HAVE TO BE REAL.

Think about it!  What about a universe where that asteroid missed Earth and we had DINOSAURS for pets instead of dogs?  Or a universe where someone was like “Hey, zeppelins are way cooler than planes, let’s just do that!”  Or a universe where AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF ME CAN GROW A FULL BEARD?!  What an amazing life that Ronaldo must have… in THIS stupid reality I have a really hard time getting my moustache to connect to the rest of my facial hair and it’s incredibly frustrating.”

KBCW and Ronaldo’s commentary in general are usually half-right. Like the “Polymorphic Sentient Rocks are aliens who want to hollow out the earth… to make it lighter so they can transport it back to their star system” thing.

I can't help but think the "Dinosaurs for pets instead of dogs" is a reference to the live action Super Mario Bros. movie- where the meteor that killed the dinosaurs sent them to a parallel universe instead, causing mammals to go instinct in said universe. (Don’t know about the zeppelins.)

And then, and THEN there’s Keep Beach City Safe, KBCW’s more obscure rival blog run by (most likely) Onion under the pseudonym "The Observer". Apparently he’s planted cameras all over town to record Steven’s adventures. There's also a "Recruiter" and second mystery narrator calling themselves "Marco Díez", it's a whole thing,

Assuming it’s real, here’s one of the posts I think are the most relevant.

“I have been on zero gem hunts over the years, and what i have learned over the years is: always be prepared for anything, and everything. Connie’s already knows that and this her first mission. I, wasn’t so fortunate on my first mission. It was a crisp Autumn morning, - with notes of cinnamon in the air. I was the mountains, the air temperature, humidity and level elevation levels, were perfect.

Then, I noticed the creature, it was charging me. I tried to evade the gem monster, but it just kept on coming, and coming! There was no escape! And then- Wait! I just remembered. I never been on a gem hunt! So where did I get that story from?”

This was posted on August 1st alongside Gem Hunt… and the day after the Greg The Babysitter post, which was deleted earlier this year, right after people started interacting with it again.

Being a Babysitter is hard, especially if your Greg Universe. This guy, in the picture above me. Wait did I just become self aware? Hey, I did! Haha, I always knew I was more to me than just a narrator. Actually this is the first time I thought about, Because I'm self aware baby! Woohoo, yeah! Wait, what was I talking about? Ah yes, Gregory. So this Greg guy,Has to Babysit this cool baby, because he owes her for letting him mooch off her. And Greg, is like totally irresponsible, he some how lets the baby climb a Ferris Wheel. How does that even happen? This dude is so not getting payed. And what's up with his hair!?!

So here it is, another story, told by Greg, about his past self. I wonder how many times I started a paragraph with the word so. And when he was telling this story, we got some clues that could finally tell use when all of this started. We know about the gems and what happened  thousands of years ago, but we don't know about the hems and  what happened thousands of years ago. They wee being very vague about the whole thing. Almost intentionally, well it was obsessively intentional.

?

There are subtle inconsistencies in Beach City's layout. ("The Observer" points this out, too.)

Remember Danny’s? In Bubble Buddies and Joking Victim, there’s a shop named Danny’s Salt Water Taffy.

Then in Watermelon Steven it’s gone.

As for a prop: Chaaaaps used to just be Chips

That’s from Monster Buddies, the episode right after Steven and The Stevens.

It's just as likely someone on the show simply thought the background/chips looked a little too busy or whatever. But re-doing stuff costs a lot of time and money, yknow? Neither of which is the animation industry very generous about. Did you know even props have model sheets?

Of course it could just be another brand of chips. Maybe Utz got involved somehow.

Lastly I want to highlight a quote from a Rebecca Sugar interview regarding SU ending.

“The story is continuing off screen and I do know what happens next, at least in certain timelines, for the characters,” Sugar says. “But I would have to decide how and when I’d want to dig into that, or if it’s best to give them their privacy.”

yeah so like what the fuck

[popculturebuffet]

Scottrospective: Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together! or Days of Summer

Hello all you happy scottaholics! Welcome back to those of you who’ve read the rest of this retrospective and welcome to those of you just joining us. This is the Scottrospective, my look at all 6 volumes of Scott Pilgrim, the game and the movie. It’s all the video game refrenes, slice of life story telling and boob punches you can handle!

It’s been three months since I left off with “The Infinite Sadness” , and while I intended to cover this one for Valentine’s Day, my schedule got away from me and with March being full up, this ended taking till April

I”m not too put off by it though as the hiatus between these two reviews is fitting for this one both in story and out. In story there’s a couple month time skip between books, while out.. this book got delayed a few times.  

This is notable to me at least because this was the first volume of the series I bought when it came out. As i’ve brought up before I came into the series via the Free Comic Book Day Issue and the second and third volumes, picking one up later. I still have my original copies despite no longer really needing them thanks to having the color editions in general. Always will provided something dosne’t happen to them. So this was my first instalment that I got to read fresh and got to wait for and be hyped about and i’d saved enough money that I was able to pre-order it. So the experince of waiting and waiting for the book only to keep seeing it slide back is vivid in my mind as is the frustration I felt having the one thing I COULD NOT WAIT FOR, keep going further and further back. 

So with this long wait and the fact I bought this one when it came out, as I would for the next two which didn’t get delayed thank god, this volume naturally means a lot for me. When I wrote Scott Pilgrim fanfiction, this volume’s status quo is what I based it on. It was the coolest to me and the one I loved to reread the most. It has the most contained story, the most character growth at the time, and the best art due to Bryan’s style having finally hit it’s stride. Not that the art for volumes 1-3 is bad mind you, but it’s very clear his style was changing and shaping into what it is now with each one and while it’d change a bit more, this volume is where the style and quality everyone thinks of when they think of this series and the kind you see on various art done from it comes from. 

So as you can tell i’m excited for this one. Before we get started there WERE two shorter comics released between this one both for Free Comic Book day, the first of which, Free Scott Pilgrim, is the reason I got into the series and the second, the Wonderful World of Kim Pine .. was both delightful and sets up Kim moving in with Hollie for this volume. Originally I intended to cover these in this review.. but I realized they wouldn’t of helped the pacing and this review is going to be way longer than my standard as is.

So instead I came up with the compromise. I did review them.. but as bonus reviews on my patreon. For just one buck a month you can read them and help me reach my stretch goals which now include reviews of Lost at Sea, Seconds and SnotGirl, aka Bryan’s OTHER comics. You can find my patreon THROUGH THIS LINK HERE if your intrested in the exclusives or helping me reach my reviews. I also intend to do an exclusive of Monica Beetle, a short comic Bryan did starring Scott’s dad in the 70s at some point so keep your eyes peeled for that, as well as the three strips he did of Style, the comic that gave us the prototypes for Lisa and Kim. 

I will talk about their connections and setups for this volume briefly: FSP sets up the next ex as a ninja, with Roxy having a bunch of posters come to live and pummel our boy, while Wonderful World has Hollie tell Kim she can move in with her. It’s not much, hence why i made these exclusives but they are good stories, so check them out. And with that JOIN ME UNDER THE CUT, as we enter Scott’s world once more as he grapples with the past, employment, and saying the L-Word... which might be Lesbians. I don’t know. Find out bellow!

So we open Two Months after Volume 3 with a beach birthday party! Complete with Kim in a swim suit!

But it’s for Julie who lobs a volley ball at Scott’s head when he and Ramona try to make out. 

I also dont’ know if “Manfiesting out of all the world’s collectives sorrows” counts as a “birth” necessarily but whatever. I love a good beach story. It’s just a fun setitng for swimming, romance and battling a giant crab with the help of the bird what lives in your backpack.

So after the beach our heroes get dinner and Ramona sweetly calls Scott the nicest guy she’s ever dated. He responds with “That’s sad”. Blunt, but entirely accruate. Julie calls it pathetic and tries to counter Ramona RIGHTFULLY saying “who the hell asked you?” something that really should come after EVERYTHING Julie said with “Back off bitch i’ts my birthday”

So later that night Sex Bomb-Omb has a beach sing along, and I can’t help but notice Neil’s hairy legs. 

I mean yes it does make since for a 19 year old to have leg hair, but of all the characters besides Stephen, the ONLY other character we’ve seen it with to give it to, why the character you specifically single out as “Young” it’s just a weird choice I never noticed before. 

But anyways Julie has to whine about it because she’s Julie, she can’t stand other people being happy and complains the song...

One of my faviorite moments of the series. Knives puts a nicer spin on it, she’s here too and not over with Neil because, as we’ll find out later they broke up, but she just asks if Knives should be drinking. She shouldn’t but for fucks sake lady she was just trying to talk. I also do like that despite Julie trying to control Ramona’s love life, you know the thing the VILLIANS are doing, Ramona cannot stand her now.. and honestly probably never did. 

But Julie, SOMEHOW turns out to be right for once as Kim and Knives have disappeared later that night, and Scott elects to go look for them. Also Ramona says she wants to marry kim while drunk after Julie asks if she does. The throuple is strong with these three... serioulsy that’s my one true pairing for all three now. I mean it ballances out their collective flaws, it’s cute and Ramona is just as into her boyfriends ex as she is her actual boyfriend even when she’s not hamered. Why the fuck not?

Scott instead finds the two making out. I will confess I shipped these two when I was younger.. but I don’t. Not because their gay or anything or because I found another ship for them but because the age gap is still just as wide as it was for Scott. The game did not get this memo and made them a couple which is... ehhhhhhhhh. I mean I wouldn’t mind either being bi, but it just brings up the same problems even if their both hammered. I also question why this scene exists. No really outside of one face punchingly dickish comment from Scott later, this never comes up again and it doesn’t effect Kim’s or Knives character any. Why have this? it’s clearly not fanservice, it’s just a thing that happened. And while Scott Pilgrim as a series does have some of those, as does life and that’s fine.. this is a bit too major, i.e. Kim and Knives, two of the main cast, making out, drunkenly or not, to just.. gloss over you know? I feel Kim would feel majorly guilty for this, as she has the most active moral compass of the main group, and Knives would be massively confused but it’s just.. forgotten because I dunno. In a story that’s otherwise pretty stellar this stands out as an utter waste of potential. I’m not saying have them hook up, gay or not it’s still not better than what Scott did, but have them at least talk about it and have both grow or something from it. Sheesh. 

So we cut to.. another day. Maybe the next day I dunno but it’s August. Point is Scott and Wallace are grocery shopping and Wallace notes they can’t get fancy mayo as their barely in budget. I would’ve glossed over this scene... but @panur​ pointed out back around the Infinite Sadness review that this scene reveals something very intrestng: Scott.. is kind of a fincial burdern to Wallace. Before this while Scott mooched off him it wasn’t all that clear that Wallace was struggling. 

But here we notice that outside of some Havarti, it’s just the simplest stuff imaginable: turkey, bread, boxed mac and cheese ramen noodles... it’s nto BAD stuff, I have all of that in my house and it’s good stuff... but it’s not the kind of thing that you need to carefully budget for. Now granted part of this probably is Wallace as he likely spends a LOT on drinks, condoms and two 2 liters of diet soda a day.. but while he really needs to adress his alcohol issues, the rest is fair. He should be allowed to have as much sex and diet coke as he wants it’s his money. Same with the havarti. He earned it if he wants some really delcious cheese with herbs, seriously Havarati is the best, then that’s his bidness. But the rest of the time he’s barely managing to get  a basketfull of cheap food.. because he has to provide for Scott. It’s clearly something Scott dosen’t get and something I can relate to not getting. It took me a while to get how hard it is to budget for a full family, let alone two people on one income like Wallace has to. But Wallace is working on a nice job... but still a call center or something. He can’t pay for everything and the finccial stress is about to give as their landlord wants to meet with them. And as we’re about to learn things were even worse than we thought. 

Our heroes head home where we get a truly iconic conversation when, over margeritas (again proving my point that while Scott certainly isn’t HELPIGN wallace’s finacials, it’s not all on him)

This will be imporant later.. both the Lesbians part and Scott’s struggle saying it. he tried earlier on the beach but couldn’t get it out and Ramona clearly didn’t want to hear it as she kapt sshhhhing him.. playfully of course but still. 

So some time later it’s moving day! Kim is moving into Hollie and Josephs, and Scott, Stephen and Jason are helping. You might be wondeirng who the hell Jason is. He’s Kim’s boyfriend. I do not likes him. Not because he’s kim’s boyfriend, getting upset because a fictional character you fancy is dating is just patently stupid. I’ts like getting upset a celebrity crush is in a relationship: you had no chance anyway why. I wasn’t even bothered as a kid. I don’t really like him.. because he has no real personaliy and no real baring on the plot and I struggle to think why Bryan included him other than for a really annoying plot twist next time, which does not help my liking him knowing what’s coming. 

But while our heroes help our heroine move in, and Scott is suprised Hollie is there despite Kim having told him a minute ago she was moving in with her, something I can relate to sadly, we get something vitally plot important; Stephen passes Joseph’s room.. and notices he has a small recording setup in his room. Stephen quickly begs him to record the band’s album and Joseph agrees if only because he finds Stephen hot. Eh i’ve seen better relationships start on less, fair enough. And yes I said relationship more on that in a bit. 

So after a brief scene of Scott and Ramona having lunch where Scott fails to know her age and when Ramona says he could just ask.. hea sks and she dosen’t tell, not a bad scene character wise just not very plot important and probably should’ve bene swapped in order with the previous scene, we get to the next day. There’s a heat wave so Wallace orders Scott to go to the mall maybe find a job. He emphasises that. 

Instead Scott just sorta bums around thirst but nto having any money.. until an old face shows up. 

For those who forgot like Scott has, it’s Lisa Miller from the Volume 2 flashback, the girl who had a crush on Scott and was close friends with him and Kim. After a tackle hug  and some panic Scott eventually remembers.... if in a curiously unique and self serving way

At the time this was just hilarous. Now it’s very clear foreshadowing for the big twist in Volume 6. The two catch up while Scott is very clearly attracted to her but very clearly dosen’t want to be, with Lisa wondering where kim is, finding about Ramona, etc, before offering Scott lunch as the two catch up and Scott is very conflicted about how he feels. It’s nice visual stuff as he’s blushing, something more clear in the color version and trying to desperatley sort things out. As for why Lisa’s here she’s moving to the states soon, but is staying with her sister for now. 

So after an incdental scene with Wallace we catch up with Knives, who has broken up with Neil. And after some talk about Clash at the Demonhead, Tamra notes Knives apparently put a big x on her shrine of Scott... which baffles Knifves as she sure as hell didn’t do it and is still, sadly, obessed with Scott as ever. Granted Tamra isn’t at all helpful here claiming she did it even when she says she didn’t, is clearly confused and while yes we don’t know who else would care Tams, that just makes it all the more creepy. Stop gaslighting your bestie, she’s already got enoguh issues. She dosen’t need thinking she might have a split personality on top of the stalking, obession over a guy who has no intrest in loving her back, and attempted stabbings. Knives dosesn’t get a ton of focus in this one sadly. She kind of takes a back seat, and while sh’es not GONE from the volumle and someone close to her does impact it, she dosen’t really have any personal progression, negative or positive, like she does in every other volume, a shame since her personal jouney is one of the most intresting of the main cast. 

Anyways that night Scott hangs out with Lisa, having not gotten around to telling Ramona she exists yet and plays a game of find the Kim Pine. She goes to Neil’ and Stephen’s place for practice, but finds no one there and Neil being a dick... get used to that it’s going to get about 80 times worse soon enough. Though we do get this classic panel i’ve gotten some use out of 

He goes to Kim’s place, but she , Hollie and Satan’s Misterss have all left to Sneaky Dee’s, the local mexican place, for something to eat and Stephen is either high or doing.. something with Joseph. 

Yeah i’m not hiding that Stephen turns out to be gay in the final volume or cheating on Bitch and a Half with Joseph. And even if I hate Julie with the power of a frozen sun, I still dont’ think cheating on her is kosher. He could’ve just broken up with her and while part of it was likely confusion, and he could also be bi and not decided which one he wanted to be with, it’s still a dick move.. and later makes him a hypocrite but that’s a rant for next volume. 

So our heroes FINALLY find Kim, along with Hollie and Mouthface. And a nice thing I like is that Kim and Lisa are just.. increidbly close, happily catching up and making plans to hang before Lisa leaves, that despite Lisa having feelings for Scott the two ended up as close and She and Scott did and i’ts sweet to see. it’s also just.. rare to see Kim GENUINELY happy. I mean look at her

It’s not like she HASN’T smiled across the series but normally she’s just so miserable, likely because her best friends are a grumbly asshole who forces them to hang out with a raging typhoon of bitchiness, and an insenitive asshat who she never got closure with. This is the first decent human being whose not Ramona or Hollie, and that last one’s not going to last, in a while. It’s genuinely sweet to just see her.. enjoy the moment for once, honestly engaged with someone. Ramona shows up and finally meets Lisa, who apparently was on Degrassi.. I mean she says candaian show no one ever watched, and I watched that plenty but i’d like to think she was on there for a season or two. I liked Degrassi.. I honeslty miss it and think it could use some form of revivial and think porting it to netflix was a smart decision.. what wasn’t so smart was not having the other seasons leading into it on there. Need to watch more of it. 

So the next day Ramona stumbles into Scott’s dreams and both are annoyed, with Ramona suggesting he get a job. This finally gets him to try. He asks about Wallace’s work but understandably, he dosen’t really want scott there and asks if he even knows. So Scott sets out to ask his other friends for jobs, while Knives shows up saying she’s “totally not stalking him” but someone is following HER, a mysterious spiky haired dude in a black leather jacket, shades and with a sword on his back. Whu-oh. 

He tries Second Cup, with Julie annoyed that Stephen’s recording.. it’s hard to tell if she’s annoyed because she’s a bitch or because Stephen is both gneuinely annoying right now and clearly screwing around behind her back. My take?

But Scott realizes maybe getting a job at his Sister’s place of work who also works with his arch enemy might be stupid and backs out. He next tries Kim’s, but backs out of that too, admitting to kim it’d be stupid and Kim lists off all the reasons (His lack of resume, the fact them working together would be stresful and his ountain of late fees) why that’d be stupid, but in a jovial way. For once i’ts clear that while she’s still taking the piss out of them she isn’t mad at Scott.

In fact she genuinely helps him get a job, taking him to Stephen’s work since hers is dead right now anyway, a vegan place.  While Scott naturally compares things to a job system as he’d start as dishwasher while Stephen taught him prep, Scott agrees to genuinely take this seriously and Stephen’s boss decides “eh why not” when he asks her to employ him. Scott is gainfully employed baby! God I miss that. Seriously i’m not pimping my patreon for shits and giggles. 

But as he celebrates and Kim wishes she could punch his life in the face, they run into some trouble on the way home: Katana man who slices a motherfucking bus in half and chases them, with Scott reluctnat to fight because he has a sword and Scott does not, which is valid. He does escape though using subspace. He and Kim part awkardly and he returns home to Wallace throwing a party with two intresting charcters, a woman and a man of color, one of the few in the entire work, who are never seen again. 

The next night is practice.. or rather recording, and we start to see Neil get edged out, with him unable to come due to exams and clearly not happy about it, and Stephen just kind of ignoring anything he cares about like the dickhead he is. It dosen’t get any better as “recording” ends up just being Scott, Ramona, and Ratfaced Knacker watching bored with Joseph and Stephen work. Eventaully Scott and Ramona decide to get out of there as things are getting tensed between thing one and thing bitch, and leave.. and take Julie with them for some reason. 

So the three have dinner with Lisa, Kim, and Jason before The Mummies Curse thankfully leaves. Jason thought they were friends. 

We also get this exchange. 

I mean.. she is the better option. She his THE option. But before we can get the obvious answer of 

Stephen comes in with Knives. He smuggled her in. This leads to problems when Scott returns from the bathroom to find Queen Bitch throwing a bitch fit about him having brought her and screechs at her when she dares to talk to him “How do you even know my name?” Well Ted Cruz, you see when someone is an actually thoughtful and likes other people, they keep track of things about them and don’t constnatly tear them down or assume their partneer is automatically bonking a 17 year old instead of you know, actually forming something of a friendship and not shutting her out sensing she needs this friend group. Some people are not vacous piles of vitriol who care about nothing but themself and seem to go off at the slightest thing. 

Scott takes Ramona home but finds a drunken barely awake wallace so no sexy times. Not that he could anyway as the next day is the meeting with Peter their landlord. 

Peter reveals they’ll have to clear out by the 27th as their lease was for one year and their paid up.. as in only the first and last month. The two part melacholy knowing this sucks and isn’t a great situation. Then it’s time for Scott to work work, angelica, work work, eliza and peggy. After grueling day, can relate, he runs into  a wisp on teh wend and steels himself for a fight.. okay he bitches about it being too hot but it’s Scott. so it’s expected. He does get a hit in on his mysterious persuer.. and that’s when we meet Roxy.

Via boob punch, something Scott’s not proud of but in his defense, as Roxy keeps complaning about it, he was blindly struggling for a hit and din’t know the next Ex, or any of them, were female.. not that Ramona didn’t suggest it loudly enough by empahsising “exes” but scott’s a bit of a fuckwit. She mentions “everyone allways remmebers you”.. which is kind of ominus and tells me she tried to hook back up with ramona despite her having a boyfriend and she rejected her. Still on good terms though. But this confusing encounter ends with Roxy vowing she’ll get him next time gadget, next time. 

So we get some assorted slice of life scenes with the band, lisa and what have you as Scott tries to get in touch with Ramona but she keeps avoiding him. THat’s not worrysome at all. And Lisa brings up high school while drunk and clearly hits on Scott. He sidesteps it with her drunkness.. but this clearly isn’t over or going to stop being a problem. 

Speaking of problems Wallace makes Scott confront the truth: He either needs to find a new place to live or commit to staying, though Wallace is trying to nudge him toward asking Ramona to move into her place. Scott starts thinking it over, it being very hard especially since, as Stephen points out this was his very first place of his own.. but Stephen also points out these things are temoporary.. right before Scott ducks from katana guy. 

At work Scott wonders who it could be, though it turns out Stephen’s met him before, as he’s brought his family in here. So he’s PROBABLY not one of the exes.. but it leaves the question why he wants to cut Scott in half like Dewey Cox’s brother. But it turns out he’s nto the only enemy Scott’s casually running into as Roxy is there too.. with Ramona. 

The two talk, clearly about Scott and Lisa with Roxy trying to convince her he’s cheating and Ramona rightfully trusting Scott: while he IS attracted to her, he’s been fighting it every step of the way. Scott storms over to find out what’s going on and while Ramona is more distracted by his new job, she eventually realizes Roxy did attack him and he simply dscribed her poorly when he mentioned the incident over the phone. Scott is confused as he dosen’t get it. Is she with one of the exes what? After some hiinting from both parties, and Roxy rightfully mocking him for not getting the obvious... he finallyg ets it in the grandest way possible. 

So Roxy gets ready to fight and Scott can’t because sword, and gets fired in the background as he hides in Ramona’s bag and Ramona prepares to step in. Roxy screams at her for trusting him and defending him when Ramona.. just dosen’t her boyfriend to be bisected by her ex. A fight insues and a damn cool one at that. I honestly wish the movie had taken more from this, but simply didn’t have time leading it to instead be more like the envy fight with a bit of the Winfried Hailey fight from Free Scott Pilgrim. 

Roxy chases her and Ramona rightly points out Scott can’t run forever but takes him into Subspace.. where Roxy heads them off, having “taught you everything you know bitch” leading to a cool fight in the wintery version of subspace. Again why THIS wasn’t used instead I have no real idea. We also find out she’s a half ninja but she eventually leaves afer Ramona presses that button.. but Rammy is actually apologetic about it and Roxy’s “I hope you and your 24 children are happy together comment” is telling. 

Upon this readthrough of the volume.. I realized Roxy is the most layered and intresting of the exes next to Gideon himself. None of them are out and out terrible, but most of them have pretty simple motives: to kill Scott, ???, profit. Or in Todd’s case to kill scott, bang around and be a dick. But Roxy.. genuinely wants Ramona back. She’s the ONLY one who does: Gideon kinda does, but only in the sense that he wants her for his collection. But Roxy geninely still loves her, admitting so during this fight. And it’s not like she has no chance: out of the 7 exes she’s the ONLY one who parted with Ramona on anything resembling good terms. While intrestingly we don’t find out WHY they broke up, Ramona didn’t cheat on her like she did everyone else she was with. The two have coffee and hang out and Ramona geninely dosen’t even consider until Roxy tries to attack Scott that she’d really try killing him and tries her best to talk her out of it. But what holds Roxy back is her anger: She’s so bitter about the fact Ramona is bi or pan, so dedicated to viewing Ramona’s very orintation as a betryal (though Ramona calling it a phase dosen’t help and the movie RIGHTLY has Roxie comment on it and fly into a rage over it), and so driven to make sure the woman she loves dosen’t get hurt again that it blinds her to the fact Ramona dosen’t love her the same way anymore, and that while Scott is objectively a dick, and a cheater, and a greasy buttcrack pooflap, he is not a terrible person. A meh one sure, but he’s got good to him. She’s so biophobic she simply can’t see he’s a harmless moron.. well harmless to Ramona even with the cheating. He’s killed two people at this point and will kill again. Also she apparently has issues with only being a half ninja but this is never adressed. Point is Roxy’s really grown on me and is now probably my faviorite ex.  

Scott and Ramona talk it over on their way to Sneaky Dees and Scott finally asks to move in and gets a yes. His response is downright adorable. 

So at Sneaky Dee’s Young Neil is just a bit absolutely irate with Scott.. which isn’t fair as them not playing things is entirely on the blocky face asshole. Yell at him.. which he does, pointing out that they haven’t played shows in forever, and that the lady who owns Sneaky Dees not only runs shows, in the upstairs space, but has been asking them to play. Kim is rightly curious about this and to both Stephen just keeps saying “We’re recording right now.” And some of you may of wondered why I hate him. Well while he’s not exctly stellar in the first half in the second Stephen becomes goddman insufferable, slowly destroying the band for his affair and not giving one iota of a shit what anyone else wants. He’s a selfish, egomanical cheating prick. And yes I get it their recording an album.. but doing live shows would give them extra practice, MONEY, even if likely not a lot and exposure for said album. I get professoinal bands stop touring for a bit to do an album but you are not a professional band, and said bands still often iron out the album on the road. God you suck.

But while Scott sidesteps this argument he walks into another where Ramona confronts him about lisa about liking her.. and he rightly says if there was anything, which there was not it’s in the past. And while yes he is a cheater, she does not know this yet. This plot honestly would’ve worked better if she learned about the knives thing sooner, but instead she just comes off as paranoid for listening to Roxy about something that isn’t happening. Yes Scott’s been shown to be attracted to her.. but he’s been ashamed of it, fighting it and in denial about it, and is clealry all in with Ramona. Being attracted to someone else on a phsyical level does NOT mean your relationship is doomed. 

Things get worse as he goes home to ruminate.. and instead sees a man’s Penis. And Wallace..is at his second most unsymapthetic, not letting Scott get a shirt or a bus pass or something like a decent human being for no goddamn reason. Usually when Wallace is a dick to Scott, Scott’s earned it and badly needs a slap in the face. Here he’s just being a prick because.. the plot needs him to? I dunno it dosen’t work for me. It’s in character, I just don’t have to like it. 

So with no other options.. Scott ends up at Lisa’s. And so we get the last temptation of Scott. Lisa admits, embarassed that she’s been wearing sexy dresses and what not specifically to attract him, with Scott also mentioning how things are rough, Lisa tries to fight it herself pointing out he’s with ramona.. and when Scott points out they didn’t do anything in the past Lisa points out they should’ve.. and maybe they should now. 

We fade to black as Scott ends up in a dream and finds Roxy, who naturally has the same skill and tries to Freddy Kruger him before he wakes. He finds Lisa but they didn’t do anything: Scott pushed her away and babbled about how much he loved Ramona instead. As i’ve said.... his heart was never with LIsa... and even when he was so close to giving in he couldn’t. It’s a tangible sign of growth: He screwed around on Knives with Ramona, and given how bad things were getting with Ramona, it would be oh so easy to once again ditch a relationship the minute he found something else and oh so understandable. But... he dosen’t. He loves Ramona even if he hasn’t said it, he wants to make this work, and he’s changed. She’s changed him. He’s not quite a good man yet.. bu he’s getting to be good enough. Love turned him from a skeezy dumbass into a far more loveable dumbass. Ramona’s gotten him to stop dating a teenager (even if again he cheated), face his past with envy to finally move on and now get a job. He’s realized just hwo much she means to his life and world and so he goes to tell her. 

Riggghtttt after going to get his job back and works a shift, with steven wanting to punch his life in the balls. Stephen shut the fuck up. Just because Scott is lucky and your stuck dating satan’s scrotum does not mean you get to punch his life int he balls. Kim does, because he’s put her through more shit but not you. 

He goes to second cup to talk to Stacey.. only to end up at the wrong one where Knives also now has a job... and we finally get an answer to who the mystery katana guy is...

Yup turns out wielding giant weapons in vengance runs in the family. As for how he knows about Scott her aunt mentioned her boyfriend, everyone freaked out and obviously while her mom was mentioned as knowing in volume 1, they did not tell her dad whose brain turned into an engine of vengance and defaced the shrine. While part of it is apparnetly racisim for Scott being white the fact is he clearly saw Scott’s photograph. The guy is 5 years older. I get him being protective. Still dosen’t justify cutting off his head. His balls maybe but not his head. 

And then Scott ran, once agian finding a subspace entracne.. and this time we see inside ramona’s head and well...

Yeah.. that’s.. kind of fucked, and Ramona isn’t happy scott saw that, though she backs down once Scott explains..a nd then gets upset over him staying at Lisa’s but before SCott can tell her he loves her it turns out Roxy stayed over. So yeah, Ramona might of cheated, she tells him to alk it off and he runs around in a psycadelic haze of emtoinal confusion. And meets.. someone new...

Scott snaps out of his funk and ignores his doppleganger heading back for Ramona... whose fighting Mr. Chau. Scott left the door to Ramona’s head open and he followed him through Subspace. Scott lures him into the house and away from her only to run into Roxy. This leads to both of his attackers fighting and her wondering if Gideons ent him “Why does no one ever belivie in me?!” 

She soon realize no i’ts just unrelated and calls Scotto ut on hiding behind not having a sword and behind her being a woman, caling it a flimsy excuse. I mean she’s tring to kil lhim. It’s okay to hit an enemy combatant. Scott realizes he has to stop running... and get real with ramona leading to a truly epic, romantic and heartfelt speech and given how far he’s come and just how heartfelt it is it’s a real sign of how deep he feels. Sure we’ve seen genuine chemstiry between the two.. but htis moment is a shit.. from a simple relationship.. into true love. 

I may of only had a few but Relationships are not easy, They take work, they take time, they take patience and theyt ake love.. but if your willing to work with someone, look past some flaws and help them with the rest.. then it’s worth it. And Scott has finally realized it and for the first time in a while is running TOWARDS something difficult, actually working on this relationship and talking with his partner instead of running finding someone else or wallowing. He’s truly grown up. While he still has miles to go.. he’s taken about 50 steps forward with this. And as such given the kind of unvierse we’re in, as Ramona is genuinely touched by it he levels up a glowing sword with a heart shaped hilt coming out of his chest.. and realizing what’s happening he pulls it out....

So Scott faces off with roxy and in an awesomly short battle, their sords clash.. and he bisects her. 

Scott then honestly talks down Mr Chau who leaves after a nod, and Ramona tells Scott she loves him two. The two make out and all is well.

One make out fades into another, as we cut to Scott moving in with Kim and Blockhead’s help. Well kinda they only had one box but they owed him one. He and wallace comiserate over the end of their time as roomies. They’ll always be friend but it’s truly the end of an era. Also Wallace gets off another bit of dickery as he’’s very glad it all worked out for scott...

 Now there’s the Wallace I know and love. Dickish but just the right loveable kind of douchebag with that swagger. 

Back at Knives house she’s apparenlty into somebody though who I have no idea, Mr Chau give sher his blessing and she.. apparenlty doesen’t know chinese. I dunno. As I said her subplot this go round was her weakest overall. 

And so we end with the whole gang gathered to see Lisa off. It’s a REALLY nice shot, and one of the only times Wallace is seen with the Sex Bomb omb side of the group. Oh sure he goes to their shows and what not, but generally their never in the same vincinity so while there’s no interaction I still find this neat. Seriously the whole main cast is there, it’s a really lovely shot

Also Jason and Hollie.. who are getting awfully chummy. Whu Oh. And of course Craphole and Mouth Face are as likeable as ever. 

So we jsut get a genuinely nice sene. Except Stephen and Julie reconciling. Fuck that. Please move on. And as everyone fondly wishes Lisa adeu and wish she stuck arond the res tof the series we end on Scott and Ramona snuggling, Scott asking her her birthday and finding out she’s 24, and they both will be come september. Scott wishes this moment could last. 

They probperly snuggle as the volume ends on a high. 

Final Thoughts:

Yeah.. Gets it Together is, on rexamination, DEFINTELY my faviorite of the 6. Besides personal value i’ts hte best contained story, contaning lots of character development, great character moments, jokes, and EASILY the best art so far, with goregouness and creativty abounding. 

There is a problem here or there: Stephen and Julie’s subplot feels underbaked, and not just because I hates them, and there are several scenes that don’t further plot or character stuff. Ther’es also stuff that could’ve been expanded on.. but given this is still a pretty meaty graphic novel, it’s understandable why it wasn’t.. though it is why I’d love a streaming series since while the movie is excellent, a full series could expand on stuff from the books more Brian simply didn’t have time for. Knives also didn’t get a lot to do. 

But their drowned out by tons of great decisions: Lisa was a wonderful additoin to the cast and I genuinely wish she’d stuck around, adding in some energy, blending well with the Sex Bomb Omb crowd, and having great dynamics with everyone and her arc with Scott is heartbreaking,knowing she can’t have him but wanting him anyway having never gottne proper closure on the man she’s always wanted. She’s a heartbreaking character and its nice to see her end in a decent place and on good terms with Scott, having let him go for both thier sakes. 

And while Lisa is a highlight everyone is on their a game here for the most part apart from knives, girl hitler, and captain dumbass: Scott grows signfigantly but is funny as hell, Wallace has an intresting arc trying to nudge Scott out without being overt about it, scared to really confront him, Kim is in a happy and serene place for once and it shows. The villians are also intresting: While Mr Chau is a tad underbaked, he’s sitll a cool imposing presence. I do think he shoudl’ve had more to do with the plot.. but is still just so freaking cool it papers over that and him just.. disappearing after this like poor Lisa. 

Roxy is far more intresting, having clearly more going on than we see and while I wish we’d got her backstory, she’s easily the most engaging of the exes, being the only one to actively compete with Scott (All her and ramona end up doing is making out a little it turned out), and have bigger stakes than just “The glasses wearing douche asked me to beat up my exes boyfriend and I was like alright. 

All in all Gets it Together is really magical, the series high point, and just damn fun and it was a pleasure to go through

Next Month on Scott Pilgrim: It all falls down as we take a look into what once was my least faviorite Album, vs the unvierse. Two perfect assholes try and murder scott with Robutts, his relationship and band crumble and things get sad so very very sad. 

Next on this blog: More LIlo and Stitch! The Proud Family come to Kauai and get into a fight with our heroes. Also wizard kelly... who if nothing else is now far more tolerable now i’ve had to spend another volume with the wicked bitch of the west. Touche universe touche. See you at the next rainbow. 

[pirate-kwazii]

Watching Ring Of Fire now so here’s more of my thoughts

Is that a fence in the water

Is everyone groaning about the sea urchin and crab or yawning? I can’t tell

Okay I’ve had the Vegimals song stuck in my head for awhile now

Kwazii’s alarm clock shoots tennis balls at him- same

And Dashi starts the day with yoga

Tweaks fell asleep playing video games mood

Shellington what the fUCK

Tf is that- is that lava?!?

Oh ring of fire like the volcanoes- I feel stupid now

They’re doing their role call out of order

What the fuck Kwazii why did you eat 17 kelp cakes

Is the only thing you eat is seaweed

VIDEO TRAINING VIDEO TRAINING

*terrible accordion playing* *everyone winces*

How many cousins do you have peso?!?!

Kwazii: I’m going out and FAST!!!!

Captain: *eyebrow raise*

Kwazii: I mean I’m checking the engine

MORE GUPS?!?!

“Don’t push the Z button” Kwazii is definitely going to press it I bet all 3 of my dollars

Wait why did Peso and Barnacles need a Gup if they were taking the octopod?!

How much time does Tweak have to keep making all these gups?!

Aw Kwazii loves that Gup so much

WHAT IS BARNACLES WEARING WHAT THE HELL NO

Kwazii’s copying it omg-

Shellington and Dashi are such nerd friends it’s actually adorable

Tremors those are probably important

Ring-shape? Like the ring of fire-

Oh no comms are down

A TSUNAMI?!?!

Mateys you should’ve stayed at the Octopod

Kwazii saved Tweak’s life and now it’s flooding

Why don’t they know about the Ring of Fire if they LIVE in the ocean

Oh no the comms are down they can’t reach them!!!!

Damn at least no one is alone...

Of course the Chinstrap Penguins live on a volcano

Well at least Shellington and Dashi are alright and above water so there’s a lower chance of drowning

“How does he know I’m an octonaut?” Maybe it’s because you’re wearing the octonauts colors and the logo all over it

Wow itd be faster to push the stupid thing

Last time you guys followed the screaming sound there was a tsunami

Well at least you found the whales you wanted to find

“I’ve always wanted to see a whale but not like this!” I’d sure hope so Shellington

Of course the volcano erupts

Tweak Kwazii are ya okay?!

THEY DONT HAVE AIR TANKS ON THEM OH NO

TWEAK!!!

Now is not the time to copy Barnacles- holy shit it worked

She just noticed that?!

Shit you guys are stuck

Kwazii beggars can’t be choosers

Why is that the only way to get across Tweak

No Tweak pay attention

ITS ON FIRE

I really hope you guys can hold your breath

She’s pulling a Ladybug and the things she looks at glow now

Improvised fire extinguisher

WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE ARENT YOU UNDERWATER

Eww they landed in seaweed and a banana peel

Why does everyone end in the garbage disposal- sorry compost

Oh he almost fell in-

*opens door and floods room* Guess we’re swimming after all

Tunip leave him it’s natural selection

Grouber just sits and eats during a panic- same

“Lesson Nine- dealing with disasters” what

Why is the background of those videos so bad

I mean it’s rad but also bad

Tunip: *hands the Vegimals a bunch of shovels* good luck

Mateys how did that dirt pile work-

*quickly unplants all the seaweed*

*vacuums the animals*

LEAVE THE SEAWEED YOU HAVE ENOUGH

“You gotta save us!” Why didn’t you get their attention sooner?

Why do none of them notice the volcanoes that they live on/near

We’ve seen the rafts it won’t work

How the hell did you think of that

Is that even possible

They only leave Inkling in charge when legit no one else is there

Kwazii and Tweak: *mimic pirates, rabbits and Barnacles*

Peso and Barnacles: *mimic penguins*

How was the lava that aLMOST COOKED YOUR EGGS NOT A WARNING SIGN

Wow Inkling is not good at this I see why he’s never in charge

Even Kwazii and the Vegimals have managed the octopod better than that

Why is there is Disco Ball

Why does it always switch to the training videos

“Dashi’s so good at this” yeah it’s almost like it’s her JOB

There was a BUTTON FOR THAT EXACT REASON AND YOU DIDNT THINK TO PRESS IT FIRST?!?!?!

Took you long enough jeez

What is they fall off of the “slide”

“Mothers and babies first” anyone else can perish

Well that egg is dead

Oh never mind he got it

WHY DIDNT YOU TWO GET ON THE SIDE TOO TWEAK WOULD UNDERSTAND

I mean she and Kwazii are trying not to be set on fire so I’m sure she’d get it

“I just hope everyone else is okay” well shellington and Dashi are stuck on a volcano that’s exploding trying to get a beached whale out on a very slow Gup, the Vegimals are trying to evacuate the garden, and Tweak and Kwazii are trying to get out of the burning and flooding repair area so no I don’t think anyone else is okay

“This isn’t working” no really Dashi

Oh the crabs know Kwazii that explains so much

Another Training Video?!

The crew all look so nervous when they appear in a training videos

Oh now Dashi and Shellington are mimicking Tweak

Poor Shellington he’s clumsy

“I have to say I.. really like that plan” yea cuz it’s the one that doesn’t involve you burning in the lava

Shellingtons getting a workout in oof

He’s about to fall into the lava

Now the crabs about to fall into the water

Oh god he’s screwed

Crab jump on the whale- now he’s flying

Shellington get out of the lava!!!

Alright some people are safe

Oh never mind the other volcanoes are erupting too

That water level is dangerously high are they gonna be okay

Kwazii don’t phrase it like that it sounds like you’ll die

KWAZII!!!!!

Oh god oh no his tail

Mimicking Barnacles saved the day

TWEAK!!! KWAZII!!!

Oh they are alright thank god

They’re gonna be traumatized from this- *angst time*

“And how will we get up there” Kwazii making good points again

Kwazii with a grappling hook is a terrifying idea please get one

And now they find out the comms are down

Kwazii trying to be helpful

WHY DOES SHE HAVE AN EMERGENCY CARROT STASH

KWAZII GOT ONE TOO

Another video but this ones useless-

TWEAK YOU TURNED OFF THE POWER

They sounded the octo alert together!!!

Babies

EVERYONES OKAY!!!!

OF COURSE THERES ANOTHER ONE

Kwazii and Tweak: ya we’re good

Also them: *trying to not to drown or burn*

They are all gonna connect to each other like Voltron aren’t they

KWAZII DID PRESS IT IM NOT LOSING MY $3 TODAY!!!

Tweak: I got a plan

*crashes through the hatch*

Kwazii: *excited cat sounds*

Yeah they’re going together naturally

“Mega Gup Z” epic naming skills Tweak

“Seat swap” “wait a minute- WHOA”

“It’s completely covered in sea creatures” there’s no way you get all of them

Oh good some are swimming away

“Sit tight” they can’t really do anything else Captain

Do we know where they go after being S U C C E D into the mega Gup z?

And now rocks are everywhere

Kwazii’s excited cat noises are giving me life

Couldn’t the crabs walk away?

Oh no they’re getting stuck in the volcano-

Oh they’re good thank Neptune

Dashi: yea it’s bout to erupt we gotta go

Peso: I saw something inside there we gotta go look

Does Peso want them to die

Of course the animals sound snobby

“Why ever would we do that” CUZ ITS ERUPTING i swear all the creatures have the IQ of a walnut

“I didn’t even make a button for it” bruh

Yeah just like Voltron

Kwazii: *even more excited cat noises cuz he gets to destroy things*

Why do you all name the moves with the word “mantis” in front of them?

They all share one braincell and Barnacles and Peso have it 90% of the time

Tweak gets the other 10%

Everyone else runs on pure chaotic energy

“Tweak Status Report!” Tweak: WE ARE FUCKED

Let Tweak say “Fuck” 2k21

Kwazii: *e x c i t e d c a t n o i s e s*

*throws sea creatures at whale*

*blows up into five gups in massive explosion in front of erupting volcano*

Is all that sea urchin thinks about is food

“You know what I’d like? Dinner” “you know what pal, that sounds great”

“Have the eruptions stopped” “yea but that’s not what I called about”

Is Inkling trying to be more than that guy who sits in his library all day?

Yea it’s not hatching because of the bandage all around it

Please say the egg doesn’t die

Oh it’s alive good

Octonauts: remember that island that got destroyed by a volcano? Would you like to live on an island that volcano created?

Penguins: not really

Octonauts: too bad

Vegitoa? Wow

ITS THAT STUPID SONG AGAIN LAST TIME IT WAS IT MY HEAD FOR TWO WEEKS

“It still felt like we were working as a team” maybe cuz you were all copying each other the whole time

“You really, really need to update those training videos” yeah fair enough

Of course the Vegimals still remember the dance

I see what the hype was about that was a fantastic movie mateys... though everyone’s probably gonna have some problems after that

[monsterywriting]

Thenerius - pt 1

masterlist

word count: 4,555

male tiefling x female reader

AN: this is planned as a two-parter, like Adam, just super long because i want to make “shorter” (i.e. not a bunch of parts) stories so i can keep up better.

The Deep was a small inn with an attached tavern overlooking the ocean about an hour’s ride from the nearby port city of Alfore. The location was not entirely by accident, or so your boss claims, and it definitely was not a miscalculation of Alfore’s outward expansion when purchasing the land.

Nevertheless, against all odds, Mr. Thistle’s business managed to prevail despite the city’s outer limits remaining largely unchanged for the better part of a decade. His secret to paying his taxes on time was largely thanks to his clientele, taking in those not traditionally welcome within the city limits. To put it bluntly, pirates.

It was your second year working at The Deep but your entire life had been spent within it’s pine walls, your mother having worked here before you. Though you weren’t quite used to being a worker there, there was one thing of which you were certain: you have made more gold in these two years than you had with the salary of a scribe for the capital’s archives in five.

Whenever a pirate crew blew in with the with the sea breeze, the drunken tips of coin and jewelry of dubious origins were almost worth the whirlwind of destruction left in the wake of their days-long benders.

But at present, that period of prosperity was still months away and you were currently struggling to clean the tavern when all you wanted was to curl up in front of the fire on the far side of the room.

There weren’t many guests staying overnight this time of year, whatever handful of travelers entering Alfore by land were willing to stop so close to their destination, but the tavern was never truly empty.

You relaxed slightly as you approached the fireplace, taking your time dusting the mantel as the heat thawed your freezing body.

It was about two-thirds of the way into your third straight shift, the night before having started off promising. A rare merchant ship’s crew stopped by the tavern for the evening at the end of your first trip, but the tips hadn’t been impressive so you had agreed to stay and help the morning shift expecting the clean up to be worse than it actually was.

With over an hour left in your shift, everything was spotless and you had little else to do but pretend to dust as close to the fireplace as you could.

A tap on your shoulder nearly made you topple over the old trinkets on the mantel, Lenora giggling at your reaction behind you. She was a pretty young woman, clearly descending at least in part from the sea, though you never asked her any specifics.

“I hope winter ends early this year,” she sighed, setting down an armful of cleaned mugs on the bar counter, “I hardly got any tips last night, and those assholes ran me ragged filling their ales! Even the pirates would at least leave a gold coin a piece for that!”

“Tova willing,” You snort, slipping behind the bar and stowing the mugs away in their place underneath the counter, inclined to agree with Lenora before a yawn escaped you, your hand quickly covering your mouth as you were unable to contain it.

“You should go sleep in my room for a bit,” she suggested gently, wiping down the wet spots where the mugs had been with her rag, “We’re pretty much finished and you had a long night.”

“I’m fine,” you replied tersely, unwilling to admit how tempting the offer was, “my shift’s almost over.”

Before Lenora could argue with you, Thistle poked his head out of his office and called you into it.

By the time you entered the cramped room - once an extra supply closet - he was already behind his desk, writing something furiously that you couldn’t see over the towering stacks of papers surrounding him

Mr. Thistle was a halfling, the only one you’d ever seen even among all the people at the port. You didn’t know much about them, other than what you observed from your boss. Despite his youthful appearance, you knew for a fact he was much older than he appeared. And, in his case, his personality very much fit his namesake, his tongue and wit both sharper than perhaps was wise.

“What are you still doing here? Your shift ended an hour ago,” Mr. Thistle didn’t look up from his paperwork, his voice sounding almost bored, though you had known him long enough to recognize that it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“You agreed to let me take on more shifts last month, Mr. Thistle,” you answered.

“You have been here for twenty-four straight hours,” Mr. Thistle frowned, “Rose will kill me for overworking you once she’s well enough to visit.”

You swallowed a growing lump in your throat, shaking your head emphatically, “Please, sir, at least let me finish this shift. You know I’ll work hard and I need the money…”

“Sir? When have you ever called me that?” He spat, but you knew him well enough to know he was cracking, “Fine, finish your shift. But you’re out of here by noon! And I don’t want to see you again until next weekend.”

“Thank you!” You said as you walked out the room, deciding to get one last word in over your shoulder before slamming the door shut behind you, “You’re the best god-dad, sir!”

Just as you returned to the bar with a new vigor, the bell hanging above the tavern entrance rang as it was struck by the opening door.

You and Lenora glanced at each other before turning to see who had arrived at such an odd time of day and season.

“Thenerius!” You cried out once you saw exactly who was ducking down to pass through the entryway without his horns knocking into the doorframe, exaggerated cheer masking your shock at seeing the pirate captain in the middle of winter.

He smirked as he strode up to the bar, his purple hand lifting to dig around his breast pocket for a bag of gold he dropped on the counter for you to take. You quickly hand it off to Lenora to put in the inn’s safe, ignoring her not-so-subtle wink at you and practically skip into the kitchen to help pass out the first round of ales.

You weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, all too happy to greet any customer you knew had gold and play the part of eye candy for them.

Any boredom or exhaustion you felt from your back to back shifts vanished as the solution to your stress magically appeared before you.

Thinking ahead, you save Thenerius’ table for last and no sooner do you set down the four pitchers of ales you’d been carrying is the tiefling pulling you down to sit on his lap. You quickly slide off to sit at his side, allowing him to keep an arm around you. You feel a bit self conscious, knowing you probably smell worse for wear after three straight shifts, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he downs his first mug of ale.

Glancing around, you note that the other crew members didn’t look nearly as jovial to be here in the snow as their captain did. It was definitely dangerous to be navigating the waters this far north this time of year, the winds less reliable and ice tending to form bergs out where there was no hope for rescue, not to mention that pirates tended to stick to the beaches in the south while they waited for winter to pass.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask, unable to hide your curiosity at how two out-of-season crews managed to stop at the inn, this one more surprising than the merchants.

“The winds were favorable,” Thenerius beamed down at you, though that still didn’t answer the question of why they’d want to leave the south now of all times. Seemingly sensing your dissatisfaction with the answer, he flung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, his voice lowering to a hushed whisper that tickled the shell of your ear, “and I simply had to come see my treasure as soon as I could.”

You giggle and pretend to turn your head in a bashful display, inwardly cringing at the nickname. You’re all too happy, however, to accept Thenerius’ hand slipping into your skirts and feel gold pieces clinking together as he drops the coins into your pocket. You accept his flirting and flirt back yourself, tolerating his occasionally hand fondling as he laughed and drank all night. Well, that made it sound more lecherous than it actually was.

Thenerius was obsessed with your hands, feeling the pads of your fingers and rubbing circles on the back of them. You had asked him why when he first asked you if he could hold them, having stared at them constantly before then. He said because they were soft, and you understood. Your hands were no dainty things, the beginnings of some callouses here and there, especially where you held your pen, but they were like a newborn’s in comparison to his, roughened from working on boats his entire adult life.

He also demanded a lot of your attention, constantly keeping conversations with you going when you wished nothing more than to just sit there and fall asleep from his ministrations. Nevertheless, you’d complement Thenerius and look impressed as he recounts the harrowing adventures he’d experienced in the past year and dutifully feel his new scars on his already scar-riddled body in feigned awe.

The man had an ego the size of a small island, an easy enough thing to stroke in order to get a better haul of tips at the end of it all. Other’s also provide company as you are, you even catch Lenora’s eye with a smile as she leads a minotaur into the inn portion of the building. You resist the urge to shake your head, unable to believe she was turning in so early in the day. Mr. Thistle definitely wouldn’t approve, but you were no snitch.

Though, you never let Thenerius get that close to you, drawing the line whenever the tiefling attempted to push the envelope of acceptable public behavior, acting coy when you needed to and sometimes only narrowly managing to avoid his attacking lips by keeping his mouth busy downing more ale.

He was even more clingy than the ones who just wanted to fuck you, but dealing with Captain Thenerius of the Red Night was second nature to you now, well worth the flirting game you two have played for the past two years. Just keep him company until he was piss drunk, and then it was easy enough to extract yourself from his grasp and actually help the others run the tavern. He was by far the customer with the loosest purse strings, always throwing gold around like he were some purple holiday saint.

The constant boasting and drunken attempts at kissing were turn-offs even with his admittedly handsome features when sober. But, he was about as harmless as you were willing to think a pirate, never demanding more of you in the carnal sense, and he was constantly slipping you extra coins, so you remained pleasant.

Realistically, you knew the gold was more likely than not blood money, given his occupation. However, it made no difference to you where the money came from so long as it ended up in your pocket, and the tiefling only ever sought you out when he visited.

You coo at Thenerius’ virility as he flexed before you, your hands on his bicep and nodding along with whatever he told you, both of you ignoring how his crew was gagging and groaning at your cavity-inducing display.

You truly had one person to thank for your position as the pirate captain’s favorite in The Deep: Paloma, a former worker at the tavern herself before she fell pregnant and got married. Once she knew she would no longer be working at The Deep, she had introduced you.

Frankly, the tiefling had shown no interest in you at first, his eyes never straying from Paloma as she worked bringing out supper. It had been awkward - you had barely started working at the inn after emerging from the archives where your only contact with another soul had been through books written by long-dead authors. You had not yet perfected the art of flirting with customers, and you definitely weren’t one to fight for a man’s attention.

It was by pure luck you happened recognize the origin of one of Thenerius’ rings, and even more luck that his attention had actually been on the on the table shuffling a deck of cards when you commented on it, the ensuing conversation what finally got you on his radar.

However, even as you grew comfortable falling into the role of companion for the pirate whenever he blew into town, you were never so foolish as to fall for him or any of the other pirates from different crews that took a shining to you, as some of the other girls were prone to do.

You held no illusion that the Thenerius that would cuddle you like a child would their favorite toy after a few pitchers of ale was born out of anything more than loneliness from a pirate who was likely holding his first warm body after months at sea. And who knew whose body he held after months going back to the other side of the world.

Even if the visits were like clockwork, it was only a few weeks out of the year and their free spirits and lifestyles only spelled heartbreak for those whose lives were spent on land.

And even you could appreciate the fun of the pastime. It definitely wasn’t torture; Thenerius was on the handsomer end of the pirate spectrum, meticulously looking after his appearance and general health even on long stretches at sea. It was hard to tell how much older than you he was, his appearance both rugged from the sea and boyish from his mannerisms, and his choice in outfits were… colorful, to say the least, always wearing the most expensive fabrics he acquired during his travels - which somehow always tended to be the gaudiest.

Though you would never allow yourself to fall for him, maybe you would have at least bedded him had he not ended every night shitfaced, though that bit was partially your doing.

After an hour, and Thenerius is relying on the wall to stay upright more than himself, you try to slip out of the booth as quietly as you can. However, just as you’re about to stand, arms suddenly snake around your waist and pull you ungracefully back down. An undignified yelp escapes you, and it takes all your willpower to not let your instinct to fight against your captor win.

Once you turn, he is staring quite intensely at you, though he fortunately makes no attempt to kiss you. Involuntarily, you begin to turn red at his scrutiny, knowing pretty words won’t placate the tiefling on the rare occasions he goes completely silent like this.

“My shift is almost over,” you whisper, awkwardly pulled an arm out from Thenerius’ hold to pat his cheek gently, “I have to go.”

To your surprise, Thenerius actually lets go on the first try. However, he also rose to his feet and followed you out the tavern and to the stables. He was silent as he watched you ready your horse, so quiet you may have forgotten he was there had you not felt his stare upon your so sharply. Just as you passed him leading your horse out into the courtyard believing Thenerius to just be drunk, he calls out to you.

You stop in the courtyard, looking up at the tiefling in curiosity as his hand dove into his coat pocket to pull out a beautifully intricate golden ring with emeralds encrusted along the braided band.

Normally, your weren’t a fan of such gifts, preferring more liquid assets over something so valuable that you were expected to keep and wear in front of the giver. However, you found yourself making an exception as the ring was so breathtaking you needed to put on no act as you thanked Thenerius and took it carefully from his calloused fingers.

“I love it,” you smiled, trying the ring on each finger until it slid snugly down your right index. You presented the ring to the pirate captain, laughing as you watched his tail swishing behind him and the way his entire expression lit up seeing you wear his gift.

“Actually,” Thenerius cleared his throat, sounding almost nervous as he took your hands in his before you could climb onto your horse, and you cursed your heart for leaping into your throat as his thumb stroked lazy circles over your knuckles.

You manage not to wrench your hands out of Thenerius’ sudden grasp, watching as his thumb and forefinger slowly pull the ring off your right hand. The confusion must be apparent on your face as he chuckled and whispered reassurances as he transferred the ring to your left hand, the fourth finger before your pinky.

It took you a moment of staring to register what was happening, your body only kickstarting into action when Thenerius was in the process of kneeling before you, “I was hoping to do this tonight in front of my crew, but if you’re leaving now-”

Like an automaton finally kicking to life, you took in a gasping breath and closed your fists around the collar of Thenerius’ coat, not caring how you appeared as you pulled him back up before his knee could touch the dusty ground and there was evidence of what was about to transpire.

He fought against you at first, but when you growled out a stern “stop!” he allowed you to haul him back to his feet.

“What’s wrong?” Thenerius had the nerve to look hurt as you yanked the ring off your finger and shove it back into his hand.

“What’s wrong? You’re proposing to me, damn it!” You nearly shouted, managing to curb your temper despite doubting anyone inside would be able to hear you.

You were teetering a dangerous edge, yelling as you were at a pirate of all people, and who knows what he did to get the damned ring, but you were too caught up in your own anger to care that he could easily kill you where you stood. You were too busy feeling as though your world was crashing around you. Things were good. Why did he have to go and ruin it all by doing this? Why couldn’t he just… continue your game in perpetuity. It wasn’t the first proposal you’ve gotten at work, but it was definitely the one that hurt the most.

“I love you,” Thenerius croaked, “I thought-”

“Love? You must be out of your damned mind,” you scoff in disbelief, “You’ve only seen me three times in two years. less than four weeks total. And you’re proposing? You love anyone who bats their eyelashes at you for gold?”

“That’s not true,” Thenerius said, appearing so stricken by your episode you had to avert your eyes to the sheer pain in his own, “You didn’t do it for the gold. You care for me as deeply as I care for you.”

You turn to your saddle, pulling out a burlap sack from your bag and forcing it open. You pull out a tangle of jewelry, necklaces, earrings, even a ring or two.

“I needed the gold, that’s it.”

Thenerius stares blankly at you, and you take his distraction as an opportunity to jump on your horse and ride off.

You don’t slow until you knew The Deep was far behind you, finally allowing your mare to walk the rest of the way home once you’re confident you put enough space between you and the pirate. You didn’t relax until you saw the familiar barn roof above the treetops ahead.

“I’m home!” You called from the doorway, immediately struck by the stillness of the house as unease settled deep in the pit of your stomach.

Pushing back the unpleasant thoughts, certain it was rooted in what had transpired at work, you ventured deeper into the cottage, making your way to the bedroom.

“Mother?” Your call goes unanswered as you enter, smiling softly when you saw her still wrapped up in the bed.

The fire on the far side of the room was burning low, so you threw another log in it before going to sit on the chair at the side of the bed to remove your work clothes.

Just as you were about to crawl into bed, you notice the open book still by your mother and walked around to grab it. It was an old book you immediately recognized, the hand-drawn illustrations and worn pages all too familiar from your childhood. You carefully mark her place with the torn piece of paper she always used and set it on her bedside table.

Glancing at your mother, now closer, you couldn’t help the uneasiness that crept back to the forefront of you mind as you realized how peacefully she was sleeping.

No rattling breathing, no tossing or turning, none of what had plagued your mother’s nights since she first fell ill. A chill ran up your spine as you reached out a tentative hand to brush against her cheek, relief making your legs weak when she grunts at your disturbance and rolls over onto her back.

“What is it?” She yawned, starting to emerge from her blanket cocoon.

“Nothing, I just got back,” you whispered, smoothing back her hair from her eyes, “Have you taken your medicine today?”

She nodded, already drifting off again. You sighed, any thought of sleep gone from your mind from the scare.

You decide to spend the rest of the day outside, finishing all the chores that had piled up while you were gone. First, you had to clean your horse’s hooves, then feed the chickens and gather their eggs, milk your goats and finally take the cured meat our of your small smokehouse.

It was still strange being home, even after so much time had passed since leaving your life at the capital. You had once swore you’d never return to the tiny cottage, leaving to make your own way in this world.

But circumstance led you back home, despite making many offers to have your mother move in with you at the capital. She insisted, however, that she preferred the peace and quiet the country offered her, though you knew in truth she couldn’t leave the home your father had built, the memories and perhaps some buried hope that he may one day return for her keeping her firmly rooted.

By the time you were able to turn in for the day, you were completely drained of all energy. In truth, your exhaustion had begun to catch up to you once you went into the barn to bring your horse out, but you had persevered to finish everything that needed to be done.

Rather than immediately knock out as you wanted, you sat at the table and counted your coins from your past few shifts.

“That’s a lot more than I ever made in two days,” your mother hummed, glancing over your shoulder as she made her way from the kitchen to set two plates filled with steaming food in front of you.

“It was a busy couple days,” you smile. If she notices how strained it is, your mother makes no comment, “I’ll have enough to buy enough medicine for the next few months.”

“I hope that means you’ll finally take some time off,” she huffed, “I’m beginning to forget I don’t live alone anymore.”

“Mr. Thistle banned me from going back to The Deep until next weekend,” you chuckle, feeling a small bit of tension release from your shoulders at how your mother’s face lit up at the mention of her old friend.

“Oh, how is Aedan?” She asked excitedly. She was the only person brave enough to cll Thistle by his first name, or at least the only one he allowed to live afterwards.

“You know, we’d all feel better if you moved into the inn,” you said, not looking up as you deposited your final coin into your purse, knowing your mother’s response before she even spoke.

“For the last time, I’m not leaving my home and neither you or Aedan are going to convince me any different,” she said, her voice rising until a coughing fit overtaking her.

You grimaced as you watched her body curl in on itself, her entire frame shaking with the coughs. Still, you made no move to help, knowing she would only wave you off.

You bit back everything you wished to say, fighting the urge to shake her and tell her the man who abandoned both of you was never coming back, that it was dangerous for her to stay here by herself.

“I’m going to bed,” you say instead, taking your half-eaten plate to the sink and dropping the rest into the scrap pile for the chickens.

As you lay in bed, you turn your head to look at the book your mother had been reading. It was a collection of fairytales, the same book she used to read to you to sleep as a young child. You had loved it back then, the stories of a wily pirate crew’s adventures in far off lands.

Once you grew older and could read the dedication on the blank space of the cover page, you’d refused to listen to the stories any longer, though your mother would still stay up late to read its pages alone.

It had been a gift from your father to you as a baby, before he stopped showing back up. He couldn’t resist the call of the sea, a pirate at heart, your mother had said, but he would return to the two of you one day. You scoffed.

Reaching over, you pull the book onto your lap, flipping the cover open in the lamplight. You stared down at the elegant ink script, the looping cursive rivaling that of even the senior scribes in your prior occupation but remaining as secretive as ever.

You once wondered what your father thought as he wrote the small paragraph, if he knew he would leave your mother at the same time he professed his love and hope for you. Now, you had too many other things to worry about to remain bitter over someone who may well have long since forgotten you.

You mind wanders for a moment, a purple face with lovestruck eyes crossing your consciousness for a moment you quickly stifle, an underdeveloped question cut short before it could fully form and haunt you. You place the book back to where your mother kept it, finally able to keep your eyes closed once your head hits your pillow.

Would he leave, too? And then, nothing.

part 2

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Kismet {11}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy

Words: 7k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: The musical notes emoji 🎶 signifies a song being sung. They are the lyrics.

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As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 

🎶 “But I don't wanna give up. Baby, I just want you to get up. Lately, I've been a little fed up. Wish you would just focus on—me. Can you focus on me? Baby, can you focus on me?”

 The sounds of H.E.R filled the semi-rustic kitchen as you moved around it, checking on the multiple things you were making. Her album was one of your go-to things for mellowing out. You sang along and got lost vocalizing along with her. It didn’t take long for you to forget what time it was and that you weren’t exactly alone in the house. As the song ended and the next came on, you held your hands in the air, already feeling the opening of Girls Need Love Too.

  🎶 “Honestly, I'm tryna stay focused. You must think I've got to be joking when I say. I don't think I can wait. I just need it now. Better swing my way.”

 The lyrics were hitting you as right as gospel right about now. Pulling open the oven, you checked on the treats inside, making sure they were rising just the way they needed to. After you were pleased with their progress, you checked your pots on the stove one more time, then went back to the pitcher you were mixing your famous mimosas. That was when DSVN came on, and the hypnotizing sound of the lyrics with the beat made your mind drift back to Henry, especially when the hook came on. It sounded like it was made just for you in this situation.

 For the next few minutes, you focused on trying not to burn breakfast rather than dancing or singing. That was until Santana came on, and you couldn’t help but bust out your best salsa moves to Carlos’ electric guitar and Latin flare. The song was so catchy that you quickly got carried away winding your hips and doing your best Shakira impersonation. If she were standing in front of you, you thought she’d be proud because you gave it everything you had. Before you knew it, the song was almost over, and you’d forgotten about being quiet, and were now singing along to the song as you danced around the kitchen.

 “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.”

Your scream was loud, so loud it bounced off the walls of the room. Your head nearly snapped off your neck from the force of which you spun around.

 “Oh my god!”

 Henry stood there pinching his lips, trying to stop himself from laughing at you.

 “You scared me half to death.”

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I um—I smelled food and heard music, and here you are,” Henry explained.

 “Oh no, no. How long were you standing there?”

 Another smile spread across his face, and it was all you needed to know he’d probably seen the whole thing. Embarrassment filled you.

 “Oh god, no.”

 “Don’t be embarrassed. You can dance and sing. I enjoyed the show.”

 You snorted while shaking your head, trying to overcome your embarrassment. When you met his eyes again, you still saw the amusement there.

 “Good morning,” you began.

 “Good morning. What’s—what’s going on?”

 He motioned to the organized chaos around you.

 “Oh, breakfast.”

 “Did you order?”

 “Nope. One hundred percent handmade but these hands,” you replied, holding up your hands and flexing your fingers for emphasis.

 Henry’s eyebrows shot up as he approached the kitchen island.

 “You cook.”

 Approaching the same island on the opposite side, you nodded. “I cook and bake and mix and clean, iron, and do laundry.”

 Henry snorted and nodded, clearly amused by the sarcasm in your voice.

 “Cute.”

 You smiled and leaned against it, resting your elbows on the wooden island keeping your eyes on him.

 “I know I don’t look it, but they do say never judge a book by its cover,” you replied.

 Henry nodded before he spoke. “For the record, I’ve never judged you.”

 You studied him for several moments before your eyes drifted over him, taking in his tan linen pants and cream shirt. He looked good, and you almost got lost in that before you snapped out of it. Clearing your throat, you pushed off the island and looked around.

 “I’m almost done.”

 “What’s for breakfast, chef Taylor?”

 You smiled, “I’m glad you asked Mr. Cavill. We have lavender vanilla  bean beignets, scrambled eggs, sausages, and of course mimosas.”

 Henry’s eyebrows again shot up. “Wow. How long have you been up?”

 Turning from him, you dropped a few mint leaves into the pitcher you’d just mixed. “Well, I actually haven’t slept yet.”

 “So you’ve been up all night?”

 “Yep.”

 Sliding to the right, you turned off the oven and took out the beignets to place them on the stove to cool.

 “Why? Is everything all right?”

 “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m a night—insomniac.”

 He was going to find out one way or another throughout this vacation anyway, you reasoned with yourself.

 “Really?”

 He sounded hesitant but also surprised.

 “Yeah, most of the time.”

 You used the time he stood there in a state of shock to finish up what you were doing before turning back to him.

 “Are you going to pass out later or soon?”

 “Nope. Come on. All done. Can you grab those two?”

 You nodded your head to the two platters on the stove as you took the others walking out of the kitchen to the outdoor dining table he’d shown you yesterday. Once he saw the table that had two other platters and set place settings, he exclaimed.

“Wow.”

 “I know, but I like to cook.”

 “Everything smells incredible,” Henry complimented as he stood at one of the Rattan chairs waiting for you to sit first.

 Once you sat down, you motioned for him to begin. “Dig in.”

 A few minutes passed with the two of you loading your plates with various items. Once you were finished, you took up the pitcher and poured drinks for you both. When he brought one of your beignets to his mouth, you paused and watched him sink his teeth into it. As soon as he did, he moaned so loud it filled the space and drifted off.

 “Holy--,” he began but never finished because he took several more bites finishing his first one. Once he’d swallowed and reached for another, he continued. “How did you learn to make beignets?”

 “Well, it began with my Gramaw, but eventually, it was experimenting.”

 He bit into another and rolled his eyes into the back of his head, and groaned. “These are heaven.”

 “I’m glad you like them.”

 Covering his food-filled mouth, he spoke, “Love them, get it correct.”

 You snorted and nodded as you began to eat. The view before you caught your eye once again, and getting lost was easy. The morning was beautiful, warm, and calm, with a gentle breeze that carried the salt in the air from the nearby sea. You didn’t know who wouldn’t love waking up to this every day. It was then you realized how badly you’d needed a vacation after all.

 “You stare out a lot.”

 Henry’s voice brought your eyes back to him to find his already on you.

 “I’m sorry,” you began with a soft smile. “Another thing about me, I do that—a lot.”

 “What’re you thinking about?”

 You looked out again and nudged your head to the view. “How incredible this view is and that I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve taken a vacation,” you confessed.

 “Tell me about it. I was literally running on fumes. I have no idea how I made it this far,” Henry said.

 You continued to eat and fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

 “Was there anything particular you wanted to do today?”

 “Like what?”

 “There’s so much to do. I know a good spa. There’s diving, boat tours of this incredible lagoon, wine tasting, touring, driving along cote d'Azur. You name it, and it can be done,” he listed off.

 “A lot of choices.”

 You brought your legs up and hugged them to your body as you continued to eat while thinking about your options.

 “What do you feel like doing?”

 “I don’t mind either way,” Henry quickly responded.

 That didn’t help you one bit, but you made the decision all the same. “Nothing screams vacation like a bikini, and a beach, so let’s live it up.”

 He smiled as he nodded. “All right. We have a plan then,” he said, clapping his hands.

 The rest of breakfast was comfortable and peaceful. Neither of you seemed to mind that conversation fell to the wayside because you were both lost in the food and scenery before you. After breakfast, you and Henry managed to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen together as you endured his teasing on the multitude of things you’d used to cook. As you cleaned, you caught his eyes on your body a few times, but he kept his physical distance for the most part. After you separated to get yourselves ready for your day in the sun.

 You spent longer than necessary trying to decide on the right bikini. You didn’t know if you should go demure princess or buxom goddess. You were moving and making decisions by reading him. You told yourself the night before that you’d go at his pace and take your cues from him. If he initiated touching, you’d reciprocate. If he kissed you, you’d kiss him back. If he stayed away, you would too. You didn’t want to do the wrong thing or anything, especially since you didn’t know where you stood with him. Letting your self-doubt win, you chose the middle ground on the bikini.

 Thirty minutes later, you stepped outside the villa to find Henry waiting patiently at a white Fiat convertible.  

 “Wow. Is this yours?”

 “Yep.”

 “I don’t know why I’m surprised. We have established that you’re a car man.”

 He smiled as his eyes trailed over you. “Wow. The short shorts come out, huh.”

 You looked over yourself, then back to him. “This is short? Ha, just you wait. I have even shorter.”

 “I bet you do,” Henry chided as he held open the passenger door for you.

 “It’s about a ten-minute drive to the beach, maybe eight if the cliffside isn’t flooded.”

 “Wow, you’re right there, huh.”

 He smiled and nodded as you slipped into the car.

 “All right, let’s go. I have a goal to be kissed plentifully by this French sun, so in two weeks' time, I’m showing every bit of the melanin my ancestors blessed me with,” you joked.

 Henry shut your door and walked around to the driver’s side. Once in, he pressed the start button.

 “Bring it on. I happened to really like yours…it’s sexy,” he slipped in, meeting your eyes for a few moments.

 “Did you just call me sexy, Mr. Cavill?”

 His smile was wide before he slipped on his sunglasses. “Did I? Maybe, maybe not,” he said before he pulled off, beginning the journey.

 As he drove, you relished the breeze and sun on your skin and waved your hands in the air, fully enjoying the carefree vibes you felt. Before long, you’d pulled out your phone and began snapping a multitude of pictures of the scenery, the people, and occasionally even Henry, though he probably had no idea. You didn’t want to miss the chance to see how perfect he looked behind the wheel.

When you got close to the beach, Henry parked along the cliff as plenty other cars had done. According to him, no one made a fuss about small things like that; as long as people could still pass it was all right. The laidback style was already agreeing with you. With him carrying all the bags like the gentleman he was, you allowed him to lead you across the road toward the sands of the beach and then down the shore to find the perfect spot. It took a few minutes, but when you found it, you staked your claim, stomping in the sand, marking it as yours. Henry took the initiative, spreading the oversized beach blanket using the items you’d brought with you as anchors for the corners.

 Once he’d gotten it perfect, you wasted no time pulling off your tank then peeling off the shorts your wore. You tried to keep your eyes away from him, though you really wanted to know if you had his undivided attention. The middle ground bikini you’d chosen was still a look. The cut complimented your curves, while the color complimented your complexion. You wanted to take it at his pace, but you also had to show him you were still hot.

 When you lied back on the blanket, you gawked at the ocean before you and marveled at its sparkle while the sun reflected off of it. Looking beside you to him, you found his eyes on you and his jaw slightly ajar.

 “This is so beautiful.”

 Henry snapped his head away from you and looked at the view you were just staring at. “Very,” he replied, his voice constrained as if his throat were closing. He held your bag out to you, but he didn’t look at you again.

 “Thank you.”

 You dug through it looking for your sunscreen spray. Once you’d found it, you began spraying along your arms and shoulders, rubbing the mist in working your way to your chest.

 “Why France?”

 “Huh? Excuse me?”

 “France. Why France for buying a house?”

 “Well, I have some French blood-ties; the Channel Islands has its history of it, and France is smack in the middle of there and London. I fell in love with it,” he explained.

 “Why Bandol?”

 “Oh, that’s easy. It’s still luxurious enough like St. Tropez but not as high profile. I can be Henry here and not worry someone is taking my picture.”

 You nodded and understood perfectly. It was hard being on all the time. You’d gotten so used to it that you often forgot how to be off.

 “I get it. It’s the same reason why I’ll always choose Australia and Ireland overall,” you explained.

 “I’ve only seen Ireland a few times. I think I need to go back,” Henry added.

 You smiled as fond memories washed over you of your time in Ireland. “You definitely should.”

 You sprayed your shoulder closest to him and began rubbing in the liquid.

 “Ehm, need some help?”

 Your eyes met, and you fought back your smirk. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

 “Yeah, I can help. It’s no problem,” Henry assured.

 You handed him the bottle, then turned your back to him and waited. He didn’t touch you for several moments.

 “How many tattoos do you have?”

 “Um—not sure, seven, eight maybe,” you said while anxiously waiting for him to begin.

 “That’s quite a bit.”

 “Not too much. They’re all strategically placed,” you explained.

 When you felt the sprays on your back, you held your breath and waited for him to touch you. As Soon As he did, you bit your bottom lip, trying to ignore the feeling of completeness that washed over you. You liked the feel of his hands on your skin.

 “Have you—ehm, have you ever thought about tattoos?”

 “I have,” Henry began, his voice deeper than it had been moments before. his hands trailed lower to the small of your back, and you hunched over even more, giving him more access. “I’ve just never gotten around to it,” he finished.

 Turning your head to rest your cheek on the tops of your knees, you smiled. “Too much work?”

 A soft chuckle escaped him, and you felt his thump trail up your spine until he reached the back of your neck. Two sprays hit your skin, and he began rubbing into your shoulders. A weak moan slipped out, but he didn’t pull away. The kneading of his hands became more forceful then. You were quickly losing your nerve and grip on reality. Another moan slipped from your throat, and that was when Henry’s hands stilled and rested at your shoulder blades. You felt his fingertips trace the softest pattern onto your skin before they were gone.

 “All done.”

 By then, your heart was racing, and the butterflies in your gut were fluttering below your waist. Clearing your throat, you turned back to the ocean.

 “Thanks.”

 “No problem,” Henry said before he stood and discarded his shirt.

 The action didn’t help you at all. Your jaw hit the floor as you took in every inch of him you’d spent all night since seeing the sprigs of hair peeking out his shirt. Plenty of dark hair decorated his chest and trailed down his abs until it disappeared behind his pants. A soft gasp drifted out of you, but your eyes refused to stop ogling. So you sat there looking at him and counting each of his eight ab muscles. The man had an eight pack; you thought to yourself as your throat painfully tightened.

“What’s wrong?”

 Jerking your head up to his face, you shook your head, trying to find words.

 “Wrong? Huh, nothing—um—you uh—you’re—you’re--.”

 Henry smiled as he cocked his brow, waiting for you to say something intelligible. You had nothing, though.

 “Cat got your tongue?” The humor in his voice was so obvious, and you felt like an idiot.

 “And my brain cells, it would seem.”

 His smile made you smile while trying to avert your eyes from the rock hard statue that he was.

 “Sorry.”

 Henry scoffed. “It’s okay,” he said.

 “No, it’s not. You’re a person, not a piece of meat,” you clarified, feeling awful. You were doing the same thing to him that you hated men doing to you.

 “Wait, you think I’m a piece of meat?”

 Looking back at him, you spoke, “No, but I’m sure women look at you like you’re a piece of meat and in turn treat you like it.”

 He nodded, “They have in the past.”

 Your eyes again drifted downward, but you caught yourself before they got to his massive pecs. Clearing your throat, you stood.

 “Do you burn easily?”

 “I’m a white British man, of course, I do,” Henry joked, making you snort loudly.

 “Wow, do you want some?”

 He held his hands up as if to shield himself from you. “Are you looking for an excuse to feel me up?”

 “What!?”

 Henry snorted and laughed loudly.

 “You’re kidding,” you surmised.

 “Yes. You should have seen your face.”

 You shook your head while burying your face in your hands. “Wow. That’s not cool.”

 “You were an easy target,” Henry said, turning his back to you. “Oil me up, baby.”

 You had every intention to, but the side of him from the back stopped you in your tracks for a few moments. As you slowly approached him, you accessed the entire meal that was him before you, unsure where to start. You sprayed over his back then slowly began rubbing across his skin. You couldn’t believe that even his back was as toned as an Olympian. Your brain was slowly short-circuiting with every inch of skin you touched. When you brought your hands down his spine to his tailbone, Henry groaned, and you fought the urge to go lower.

 “All—done,” you said slightly above a whisper.

 “Not quite,” Henry said, turning to face you. “My chest burns easily too.”

 Face to face with temptation; you knew you were destined to give in. it was only a matter of time.

 “I thought you could--.”

 “—Nope. You started the job, so you should finish it.”

 Smiling, you bit your bottom lip. “Does that go for my chest too?”

 Henry’s eyes dropped to your breasts and rested there for a few seconds before he looked back into your eyes with a completely cheeky expression on his face. “Well—that is entirely up to you, Ms. Taylor.”

 Like a child, you giggled most uncharacteristically. Slapping your hand across your mouth, Henry laughed at you. “Oh god.”

 You sprayed across his chest and abs but hesitated touching him. Instead, you stood there gawking at the way his chest glistened. It’s not that you didn’t want to feel. You really, really wanted to feel. You just didn’t think you would be able to not come across as a thirsty fiend. Henry waited patiently waited no doubt taking notice of how you were beginning to hyperventilate. After a minute, he took a step back.

 “Here, I’ll finish the job—this time.”

 You dropped to the blanket and laid back, trying to recover. You couldn’t believe this was life right now. You’d never been attracted to anyone like this. You never struggled like this with anyone, and that reality was a little alarming. Peeking up, you watched as Henry finished rubbing the sunscreen into his chest, spreading it along his swollen shoulders and bulging arms. Your mouth ran dry while another part of you was anything but.

 While proving to be a heightened temptation, a day at the beach was just what the vacation doctors ordered. The roaring sun, the breeze with the salt in the air, and the screams and laughs of people enjoying themselves were wonderful. You didn’t think about work not once, or anything beyond the man beside you reading a book and the book you were reading while the soft sounds of jazz drifted between you. It was perfect.

 Every so often, your eyes drifted to Henry and took in different parts of him. Everything you saw you liked, and the fact that you liked it, only helped your brain daydream even more. There were a few times he caught you staring at him just as you caught him staring at you or parts of your body. When you did catch him, it only emboldened you to play up different parts of your body. You were relieved to know he at least still found you attractive.

 When he goaded you into the water, the two of you played in the waves. The first time Henry splashed you and got water in your hair, you made gasped and pretended to make a big deal about it, which prompted him to apologize profusely. You considered it payback until you tackled him in the water, holding him underneath until he lifted you in his arms like he was Goliath. Your eyes locked, and there was a moment you thought he would kiss you, but instead, he tossed you into the water. That one action began a water war that he easily won thanks to his colossal size and overpowering strength. You didn’t mind.

 By the time you’d sat to enjoy the picnic lunch Henry had packed, only a handful of people had recognized the two of you and asked for autographs and pictures. It really was the perfect first day of vacation, and you already didn’t want it to end. After lunch, you and Henry were walking along the shore, enjoying the lull of water crashing onto your ankles like you had no cares in the world.

  ~~~~~~~~

 -Henry-

 You were gorgeous, more gorgeous than you’d ever been. You were drop dead with make-up on, but without you were a knockout. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and he knew you had to know. There was no way that you didn’t. He didn’t start the day with any expectations because he really didn’t know what to expect, but it had turned out to be a great day. He looked across to you and took in your curled and coiled hair that framed your face and gave you an even more youthful glow.

 “So your hair is naturally curly?”

 You smiled and nodded as you turned to look at him.

 “Curly, coiled, kinky, it’s a bunch of stuff.”

 “So you straighten it.”

 “Yeah,” you confirmed.

 He was confused.  “Why?”

 With your brows knitted together, you took him in. “What do you mean why?”

 “Why? I can imagine it takes a lot of time. So, why do you do it?”

 You scoffed but didn’t speak right away. He allowed you the time to think.

 “Well—in the business, it’s easier. As horrible as it is, there are not many people who will cast the black actress with unruly hair or will have the right people who can do it properly. It’s a huge thing for black actresses, and unfortunately, can be the reason why many don’t get a role. So for me—I guess I got used to directors or photographers preferring the sleek look, so I just—maintain it. No one really cares for this,” you said, motioning to your hair.

 He understood what you were saying. Hollywood was fickle; he was living through it right now but couldn’t believe people's ignorance.

 “I like your hair right now. I like how free and beautiful it is. You don’t look—bound. You look free.”

 Your eyes met his, but he couldn’t read the look in them.

 “Oh uh—thank—you.”

 “You’re welcome,” he replied with a smile. “You should just leave it alone from now on.”

 You snorted. “Oh, is this how you want to see me?”

 He could hear the tease in your tone, “Free and beautiful? Absolutely.”

 Again the look in your eyes stumped him. Before he could ask you what you were thinking, you looked away and back out to the water.

 “What if I want to see you like this from now on?”

 He chuckled, “What, shirtless with bad hair?”

 You laughed with him for a few seconds. “Well, nothing wrong with this view at all,” you said, making him blush.

 “Oh, and for the record, your hair is anything but bad. When it’s all slicked to perfection, you look put together, but—I like the more…distressed you. You look free and boundless.”

 The smile on his lips hadn’t slipped since you’d begun your walk, and staring at you, he didn’t think it would slip. You looked away and cleared your throat, something you’d been doing a lot the entire day.

 “I’ll make a deal with you. You keep this look going, and I’ll keep this look going,” you proposed piquing his interest.

 “Do we have a deal?”

 “All right, we have a deal,” he sealed, holding out his hand for you to shake. When you did, you smiled mischievously.

 “Good,” you said before you pushed him into the water and the incoming wave.

 Shock flooded him though he should have known from the glint in your eye he’d picked up.

 “Did you really?”

 With pride and joy, you nodded, “I sure did.”

 As he stood, he wiped his face of the water and chuckled to himself.

 “As a gentleman, I will give you a four-second head start,” he announced.

 “Four seconds?”

 “Three now.”

 You squealed and ran down the beach, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. It was futile. He was fast. Once he’d counted down, he took off after you. When you looked back to see him coming, you screamed louder and tried to pick up the speed, but as he said, he was fast. In a few short seconds, he caught you and immediately began tickling you, making you scream even louder.

 “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you shouted through bouts of laughter and screams.

 “No, no, too late for that.”

 With you in his arms, he brought you to the water facing you out so you could see the massive wave coming in. You screamed again while kicking your legs, trying to get him to drop you, but it was no use. Seeing there was no way out, you stopped screaming, but when he tossed you into the wave, you screamed until the water engulfed you. He stepped back and waited for you to wash up on the shore. When you did, he proceeded to tickle you some more until you tripped him and rolled onto him to retaliate.

 Though he hadn’t let on that he was ticklish, you figured it out and exploited it mercilessly. The tickling led to both of you playfully throwing wet sand at each other while waves knocked you down. When he grabbed you, he smeared the wet sand across your chest below your collar, making you scream. That was when you coated his chest down to his waist. He pulled you to him rubbing his chest over yours to make sure you were as lathered as he was.

 “Oh my god!”

 A wave crashed over the two of you, nearly drowning you—nearly. When the water receded, you were still there in his arms, practically underneath him. he took in your beauty, and all he wanted to do was kiss you. he almost did before he stopped remembering what had led you to this point. He was tired of proving and showing you he wanted you—wanted to be with you. It was your turn to prove to him that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. That was when another wave washed over you, dampening the mood. He was thankful for it.

 Once he was standing, he pulled you upright.

 “Ready to go?”

 You nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

   ~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

 After leaving the beach, the two of you walked along the shops that decorated the surrounding area. He pointed out all the places he’d visited over the last few days. He knew some of the shop owners by their names, and it was something you liked for some reason. After the first few shops, you decided to pick up something for dinner and spent the next few minutes trying to decide just what to get.

 “Any special requests?”

 Henry’s surprise only lasted a few minutes before the smile you were getting so used to appeared.

 “You’re cooking?”

 “Yep.”

 His surprise turned to awe as he circled you once. “You can pick whatever you want,” he whispered in your ear before he walked to a stack of cans.

 “Are you sure?”

 He nodded, assuring you that you were good to make the decision.

 “Do you eat a lot?”

 “Do you?”

 “Hell yeah, I do,” you said in an exaggerated tone that had Henry laughing.

 As you walked around the store, you placed various items in the basket that Henry carried. Some peppers, scallions, garlic, onions, mushrooms, and plenty of herbs followed before you walked across the way to a seafood shop. You thought about something simple like salmon but changed your mind when you saw lobsters and said what the hell. You were only going to get two, but Henry piped up and tricked you into four, citing your insatiable appetite. Deep down, you wondered what appetite exactly he was referring to, for food or him. A trip to the local spirits shop had you stocked for more than just one night.

 When you made it back to the villa, Henry was the one to carry the bags to the kitchen, not letting you lift anything but the beach bag you’d left with at the start of your day. You met him in the kitchen in time to see him hoist everything onto the island.

 “All right, you’re all set there.”

 “Thank you, Superman.”

 He smiled and helped you unpack the items in the bags, laying them out on the counters and the island. Once that was finished, you made a move to the door.

 “I’m going to take a shower. I can feel sand everywhere.”

 What was to be a relatively quick shower quickly turned long because you needed to wash your hair and treat it, so you didn’t have any residual salt damage. No one liked breaking hair. That alone usually took almost an hour. Instead of going for the full experience, you cut a few corners in the routine but still managed to complete it. After throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank, you made your way back to the kitchen, ready to cook one of the best meals he’d ever have.

 With soft music playing and a towel wrapped around your hair while your leave-in heat treatment did what it was made to, you began prepping the ingredients. The soft music and time alone gave you more time to process the perfect day you’d just had. There was nothing about it that you’d change, even down to the intense tension that was constantly between you. If another day played out the same way, you still would think it was perfect.

 “All right, I’m clean now. Would you like some help?”

 Henry stood behind you in a tank and sweats with his hair full of curls.

 “Sure, you can actually prove to me that you know what you’re doing in here,” you teased as he approached your side.

 “I’m about to knock your knickers off.”

 You snorted and peeped at him. “Promise.”

 The flustered look on his face said he just realized the land mind he’s just stepped into. Pushing it to the side, you focused on the chives you were chopping.

 “What would you like me to do?”

 Looking around the kitchen, you assessed everything that needed to be done then delegated.

 “Those veggies need to be rough diced and washed.”

 “Consider it done,” Henry replied, stepping away to begin prep. Before he began, though, he walked to one of the bottles of wine you’d just gotten, popped it, and poured two glasses.

 “A little vino for you.”

 Smiling, you took the glass. “Thank you.”

 The two of you worked together chopping, dicing, and slicing the vegetables and herbs and the seafood for dinner. Every few minutes, your eyes met, and you giggled. Once the cooking began, Henry teased you about your towel wrapped hair, saying that was how magazine covers should show you. You watched his form and how he handled his knives and liked how he moved. He handled knives like he’d been doing it his whole life.

 When you saw him perfectly Julianne cut the cucumbers you practically drooled and were ready to push him against that island. You loved a man who could handle himself in the kitchen. Pumping iron and weights and a nice body was great, but cooking dinner for someone because you care, was a supreme turn on.

 When the lobster was steaming and the potatoes boiling, you leaned beside him and watched him kneed the dough he was prepping for what he called his famous sugar rolls.

 “So mentioned you have nieces or nephews? I don’t remember which,” you began.

 “Yes. Three nephews, no nieces.”

 “Cool. What’re their names?”

 Henry smiled as he spoke, “James and Peter and Lucas.”

 “Strong names.”

 “Yeah, Nik and Charlie picked them,” he said.

 “Nik—he’s the older brother, right?”

 “Oldest. I’m surprised you remember.”

 “No girl?”

 “Ha, Charlie really wants a girl. He has a son Lucas but dreams about having a daughter.”

 “Nice. I have two nephews, Niko and Milo, and a niece Aloa, my oldest sister Miesha,” you added.

 The way Henry smiled, you could tell he liked kids. “That’s nice. Do you see them a lot?”

 “I try. It’s hard, though, with my schedule.”

 He nodded, then shifted to the sink to rinse off the cucumbers before beginning with the carrots.

 “I understand.”

 With your curiosity piqued, you decided to dive right in. “So you like kids.”

 “Love kids,” he replied. “You?”

 “Uh—yeah. They’re precious.”

 “I’m guessing you’re close to your brothers.”

 “Oh god, yes, really, really close. We talk several times a day. They’re my first call when something good or bad happens, and it’s the same for them.”

 “That’s good. I’m close to mine too. We don’t talk every day, but I try. I do have a twin, so we don’t need to talk. We just know what’s going on with each other,” you explained.

 “How is that having a twin?”

 You shrugged and put a piece of cucumber into your mouth. “It’s everyday like for me. I don’t know what to say,” you said with a small chuckle.

 “Are all the clichés true?”

 You scoffed and went back to keeping yourself busy. “What clichés exactly?”

 “Oh, you know that you feel each other’s pain and feel what the other feels, oh that you know what they’re thinking.”

 You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It’s not like I fall down the stairs, and he feels me fall. That’s just impossible.”

 Henry nodded and moved to rinse the carrots.

 “Yeah, it’s more like a constant presence I feel. You—you never really feel alone, sort of like this constant connection or feeling like someone always has your back. We can feel what the other feels a lot of the time, but it’s sort of like a gut feeling more than an actual physical feeling. There are times he’ll feel when I’m sad and crying, and it’s incredibly annoying.”

 “I can imagine,” Henry started.

 Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to face him and waited for him to speak.

 “Does he feel everything—your moments of happiness or—pleasure?”

 Snorting, you laughed loudly, unable to keep it in.

 “Happiness, I think there could be valid proof to that. As for pleasure, no idea. It’s never been brought up but kinda creepy to think about that.”

 You both busted out laughing, realizing just how creepy it would be if there were any validity to that. Cooking together turned out to be really fun. Usually, you hated people in your space, but with Henry, you didn’t mind it at all. You didn’t mind the subtle way his body brushed yours whenever he passed you. You didn’t mind the sly looks across the kitchen when he took a sip of his wine. You didn’t mind the flirtation in the air, and when he watched you make your lemon cake for dessert, you didn’t mind that he was learning one of your secret recipes. It was something you felt you could get used to.

 Two hours later, you were bringing out one of the platters to the dining table in the yard just in time to catch Henry putting a clay vase filled with beautiful lavender and rapeseed flowers. The purple and yellow combo was so bright it looked like it belonged with the décor around you.

“Wow, would you look at that,” you began eyeing the perfectly set table. “You can set a table too.”

 His smile was wide. “I sure can.”

 “With the proper place settings. I’m impressed.”

 He ran his fingers through his hair and slowly licked his lips as he shrugged. “I didn’t go to finishing school or anything but--,” Henry trailed off, making you laugh at the sly reference to you.

 “Oh, okay, Mr. Cavill.”

 You backed away with your hands raised, making your way back to the kitchen with him following close behind. You pointed to him the items to go, and he walked with you back outside.

 “I know you think I eat a lot, but--.”

 “Oh, stop it. I am sure you have to have a high-calorie intake to maintain your Superman shape, so—ta-da,” you said, giving him jazz hands in front of the food-filled table.

 “Oh, so you’re looking out for me, huh.”

 “Of course. What else is your girlfriend supposed to do?”

 Henry’s smile slowly slipped before it reappeared but only for a second. “Girlfriend, huh?”

 Just like that, your stomach fell through the floor, fully realizing what you’d said. Now you felt like an idiot especially seeing his reaction.

 “Um—well--.”

 Not waiting for you to respond, Henry walked to your chair and pulled it out for you.

 “Uh—give me a second,” you said, bending forward to pull the towel off of your head.

 It had been well past the forty-five minutes you usually kept it on for, and you didn’t want to eat with this heavy thing on your head. Using your fingers, you combed through your curls then stood up to face him. This was practically the first time you stood before a man that wasn’t part of your family with your hair natural. You hated that you felt self-conscience about it. The look on his face was a lot different this time. His eyes were wide, and his mouth ajar.

 “Sorry. Thanks,” you said, slipping into the chair.

 Once he’d pushed you in, he sat across from you.

 “So I know you love your beer and steak,” you began with a smile. “So the steak is cooked in Guinness—a lot of Guinness.”

 Henry chuckled and assessed the steak on his plate while nodding.

 “Bon appetite.”

 Once henry put a slice of the steak in his mouth, he moaned and gave you the chef’s kiss. You knew exactly what it meant, the good ol seal of approval.

 “This is really good.”

 “I’m glad you like it.”

 After putting another slice of steak into his mouth, he nodded. “I love it. you’re a great cook.”

 “Thank you. I tried to tell you.”

 Henry chuckled, giving you a slight roll of his eyes before he continued eating. He was right dinner was good. While you ate, you enjoyed the setting sun and conversation about music, good food, and good wine. One bottle of wine quickly finished, then you were cracking open another and another. When dinner was finished, you sat there listening to the stories of his childhood where his mother played referee between five boys. The way he talked about her made her sound like a saint. It was clear to see how much he admired and loved her. That made you like him even more.

 By the time you climbed into bed for the night, your mind was racing a mile a minute, and all your thoughts were of Henry and the probability that he just might be the perfect man. That thought scared you even more than there being something wrong with him. If he were perfect, then it meant he was perfect for you, and perfect for you meant commitment, complications, and vulnerability while opening the stage for possible heartbreak. Even through the fear, one constant remained—you wanted him.

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

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[whitetrashjj]

Random question, but do you have any guess on the timeline? Like JB and Sarah seem to be in their season 1 finale clothes while in the episode that’ll take place in Charleston (where Kie is wearing the smiley face tee). How can that be?? We see them all jumping from the boat in different clothes and even in the Bahamas in different clothes. I’m so confused!!! Lol

Come on honey, what do you think I've been doing, analysing all the bts and spoilers we've gotten over the last year and cross referencing it with the trailer and still trying to construct some sort of timeline of events, like a crazy person?

Okay, yeah... timeline spec under the cut...

I'm not going to add photos for now because this is already so long but I can provide some in follow ups if y'all would like

So the big question is why the fuck are Sarah and John B in their finale outfits for so long if they are in the Bahamas in them and then back in Charleston in them. The answer, they aren't I'm thinking a week, two tops. If they were there longer they would have found other clothes, no question. But when does the time jump happen then? you may ask. Fucked if I know.

So I think John B and Sarah get to the Bahamas but apparently the cops are after them?

I guess maybe Ward know's and put out word? Maybe they aren't presumed dead for very long. The boat captain hears about these kids dying at sea and informs people that they actually picked those kids up and dropped them in the Bahamas.

Now, let try and make sense of Jarah B's time in the Bahamas.

They are on the run from the cops.

At some point Sarah gets kidnapped.

I predict this is on Ward's authority

Later when Sarah says 'she's driving' the same white vehicle that drove past and distracted her before getting kidnapped

They stole it in an escape attempt perhaps?

Later we have Jarah B in the green truck

They are confronted by Ward and Rafe

Who are wearing the same clothes they were when Ward shows Rafe the gold making me think this takes place in a small amount of time.

They push Ward to get away

Rafe aims a gun at them

Someone in a yellow jumper pushed his arm away

My prediction is Cleo - who I think works for Ward but ends up siding with Pogues

The gun still goes off and this might be where Sarah get her wound

Now after this I think Sarah and John B, for whatever reason, head back to the OBX. To do it I think they steal My Druthers Too - Wards Bahamas boat

In the meantime I believe this is when we have the pokie dock scene. Aka Kie in the pink top.

I truely can't make sense of what is happening in the dock scene but Pope doens't want Kie being cuddly, Kie storms off and then comes back because Pope has soemthing of hers? Idk man idk.

Kie and Pope get on the HMS which is just parked up in the marsh

At some point Kie and Pope - and I think JJ - are at the Wreck.

Then this brings us to the smiley face top and Charelston.

The day starts with JJ and Pope coming to pick up Kie and she fights with her parents

Kie is seen smiling on the dock at the Chateau

And then they are off to Charleston in Heywards truck.

The order of events here is unclear but a lot happens.

Pope goes to visit Limbrey

I think JJ and Kie have there own mission, which later leads to the shoulder touch while they are waiting for Pope

The Pogues reunite

They are seen wreaking havoc and collecting fuel, presumably for My Druthers Too

At this point Sarah is injured and at some point they have oversized white shirts over their finale clothes.

We see all the Pogues on My Druthers Too, maybe headed back to the OBX?

Next we have the police chase.

Now I think the Pogues are camped out on a beach somewhere the night before.

We have John B and Sarah in daylight sitting side by side.

At night Pokie do the same and lean in for a kiss

Perhaps now they have their friends back they can try and figure out what they are

The next day the cops find them, there is a chase along the beach.

They hide out in a swamp (the marsh?)

Sarah is struggling because of her wound

Sarah gets cornered by the cops on the Tannyhill dock

With what looks like John B's keys in her hand

John B gets arrested, as he's in those same clothes in his mug shot

He is facing the death penalty

Now this is why I believe John B get's exonerated midseason

He's been arrested, and they aren't going to stage a jailbreak

Also the pogues investigating the gold and having parties at the Chateau would not be happening while he's on the run

The still of Pope, Kie and JJ at the Chateau I think is them seeing John B after he got out.

There is also a police raid on Tannyhill

I think arresting Ward

Then the Pouges have their cats ass party to celebrate John B being a free man.

Rafe is out for revenge against John B and goes to Barry for help

They go to the Chateau and shoot at JJ

I don't think this is in the same night but I could be wrong

Now, I'm thinking that it is possible the time jump isn't until this point. I don't think it will be a large time jump - a month or so

All the outfits I have mentioned until now are still warm summer ones.

So there is a small jump with the pogues going back to school, everyone is now wearing jumpers and such

I think they are trying to frame it as it's just the three of them that are back at school but it's not

Again I could be wrong

Now because of the jumpers I think the storm drain/sewer scene happens after this time jump

In this case I don't know what the pogues are up to in that time Jarah B are in the Bahamas

I think the sewer scene might be about this mission they are on with finding keys and the map room and Pope up on the rafters ect. All at the word of Limbrey.

The scene where Kie and Pope find the key maybe before the time jump.

It's of note that there are pictures of JD and Maddie where Pope is wearing that outfit from the key finding but Kie seems to have changed.

I also think Kie getting/almost getting Tboned by the ambuecne takes place while Kie is wearing the key finding top

The next big scene that I'm sure of is when the pogues find the map room - because of the outfits

We see Pope happy in the Twinkie

The Pogues discover the room

There is a still of them lurking in the bushes

The find an old abandoned building and Pope falls from the rafters trying to find something and John B and JJ fail to catch him

Pope is in the twinkie with blue light flashing - looking worried

And Pope has mud on his face with some sort of cargo behind him

The order of these events is probably different

And then onto the explosion

The pogues are at Tannyhill the day of the explosion, Wheezie is also there and there is a cop car there

They are riding around in the twinkie at some point

And as they watch the explosion happen Sarah is barefoot

Then I guess we move onto back to the bahamas

Because of course they aren't letting go of the gold.

It looks like they stow away onto a cargo ship to get to the Bahamas

We see JJ and Kie at what I'm guessing is a port before they get on this ship

On the ship - my guess - we have JJ and Kie do the handshake, everything's going according to plan

The plan? Get off the boat before they make port

We see John B and Sarah jump

And then we see them waiting in the life boat as Pope and Cleo Jump

JJ and Kie are nowhere to be seen

What we do see if what I think is Rafe trying to stop them

I think this is when JJ gets hurt, they both jump from the ship but perhaps JJ is unconscious, he's got blood on his head

He gets pulled to the boat

Kie is freaking out but the shot we get is after he has come to and they know he is alright

You can see Sarah smiling in the background, Kie almost looks relieved and you can see JJ's lips starting to turn up in a smile

The Pogues then make it to the beach safe and sound and I guess in the Bahamas

There is at least one costume change of them - like did they pack bags?

Kie is in a white top and jean short when Sarah is in the grey bikini from 'back in the g game baby' which I think will be one of the last scenes in the show - which is odd that they would show us but I think they were trying to make us think that was at the start of the series to throw us off

There are also the photos where Kie is back in the eagle top and JB is in the fruit slices one that he jumped ship in... I can't really make sense of that.

Anyway I think that's a basic rundown of my current thoughts. There's still some outfits that I can't place to a scene other than a vague, they are here and these people are these. I could be way off but it's where my head is at right now.

[doctenwho]

Ten’s Proposal

Sure can do! I’m not the best at romantic stuff (I’m attempting to learn, and getting better I think), but hopefully it’s what you were looking for! Thanks for the request, and I’m glad you like the content!

Get ready for some Ten being a giant romantic and a bit of a nervous wreck! 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,557

Summary: Read the prompt above!

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to creator!)

“Right then!”  

Your body jerked roughly as the TARDIS landed, feet slipping a bit as your hand shot out to grab one of the rails behind you to ground yourself. Not only had you not been expecting to land right then (the Doctor had given no warning), but you’d also been a bit lost in your own head.  

“We’re here,” the Doctor continued on with a grin, pushing a few buttons and pulling a lever on the TARDIS’s control panel, “c’mon then, a whole new planet for us to explore!”

You righted your footing, pulling yourself upright in order to glare at the Doctor halfheartedly. He turned towards you with an excited grin, but blinked when he caught sight of your glare.  

“Whot?” His eyebrow rose in confusion and his eyes tracked your movements of steadying yourself.

“A bit of a warning would’ve been nice,” you huffed as you moved to join the Doctor at the console, he gave you an apologetic smile before averting his attention back down to the screen on the TARDIS’s console. “Where are we exactly?”

“A small planet just beyond the milky-way. We’re about thirty-four thousand light-years, give or take, away from your earth.” The Doctor explained, turning the screen he’d been studying towards you so you could get an image of what he was talking about. A lot of what was written on the screen you didn’t understand, number higher than you could count and planets listed that you’d never even dreamed could exist.

“Thirty-four thousand light-years away from earth?” You gaped, trying to make sense of what was being shown, “how far is that?”

“Hn,” the Doctor paused, taking a second to do some quick mental math, “a light-year is nearly six trillion miles, and the milky way is roughly twenty-seven thousand light-years away from your earth, so, this planet would be... eh one point nine million nine hundred eighty-seven thousand three hundred twenty-six multiplied by ten to the power of seventeen miles? Give or take, once more.”

You watched as the Doctor ran a hand through his hair, almost as if he were trying to clear away the numbers from his brain, then grinned at you.  

“...what?” you couldn’t help but ask. Everything he’d just said had really gone in one ear and out the other. It was like he’d just started speaking Gallifreyan to you, when you knew he was still speaking English, just... really, really smart English.

“Alot,” he simplified for you with a fond smile, “a very, very large amount of earth miles.”

“We’re very far away,” you mumbled, eyes still locked on the screen, trying (and failing) to make sense of the large line of numbers.

“Incredibly far away,” the Doctor agreed with a laugh. “Now, we’re not here to talk maths, we’re here to have a look around, right?”  

You didn’t really say anything else as you watched the man stride towards the TARDIS doors and throw them open, he turned back to grin at you, then gestured you over before stepping out of the TARDIS, “it’s just as beautiful as I remember,” the Doctor sighed happily, before glancing back at you and holding a hand out as an invitation, “well, c’mon, (Y/N).”  

You barely even hesitated before moving to follow him out, peeking out the doorway before gaping at the scene before you and taking the Doctor’s proffered hand.  

He pulled you out, into his side so he could throw an arm over your shoulder, “welcome to Noelani, (Y/N).”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, stunned.

It was an ocean, a sandy beach, with a beautiful ocean.  

But it wasn’t anything like you’d ever seen before. The water was a rich purple, and the sand a stunning white that could put the Bahamas or Hawaii back on earth to shame. The sky was clouded, but two bright orange suns could be seen shining high above the waves.  

“It’s... it’s beautiful,” you stammered, because it truly was. It was like an edited photo from one of the beaches on your planet. Familiar, but completely out of your world too.

“Indeed,” the Doctor nodded, stepping down and dragging you along with him. “I’ve always loved coming here. It’s one of my favorite places in this universe, since no matter when I come the suns are always shining.”

The man paused, thoughtful before he added a slow, “I haven’t come around for a while, but it’s still exactly like I remember.”

“You stopped coming?” You asked as you fell into step with him, barely able to draw your eyes from the world around you. It didn’t look real, but then again, when did anything the Doctor showed you look real?

You couldn’t imagine knowing a place like this and not coming back—as of now, you’d surely want the Doctor to bring you back and you hadn’t even left yet.

“It’s been... fifty-seven years? Fifty-eight?”

“Wow,” you turned to look at the Doctor. The two of you were down by the water now, close enough to touch if you wanted, but you stayed back with the Doctor. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring out to sea thoughtfully.  

You stood beside him for a moment, letting him think, or whatever it was he was doing, before you cleared your throat, drawing in his eyes, “is it... okay to touch?”

The Doctor’s eyes followed your gesture downwards towards the water that was slowly climbing towards your shoes. If the water did prove to be safe, you’d probably take your shoes off and walk along the sand—or maybe in the water if it was warm enough to do so.

“Oh,” he looked from the water back to you, “oh, of course! It’s perfectly safe,” then, the Doctor was crouching down and dunking his hand into the water, whether to prove its safety to you, or to test it before you could in case he was wrong, you couldn't tell, “yes, it’s perfectly alright. No different from the ocean on earth.”

“Really?” you asked seriously, leaning forwards to dip your fingers into the purple water. It was perfectly warm—cool enough to be refreshing, but heated enough from the suns that you could jump right in like a regular swimming pool on earth.

“Of course,” the Doctor nodded, standing to his full height and wiping the wetness on his hand off onto his trousers, “well, a bit different.”

“Because it’s purple?”

“No-- well, yes,” the Doctor laughed lightly, “it is purple, but that wasn’t what I was going to say. This planet is really like nothing else in the galaxy.”

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously as you took your hand from the water and shook off the drops clinging to your fingers. The water came off just like regular water would, you’d kinda expected the rich purple colour to stain your hands.

“Everything is clean,” the Doctor explains, “it’s untouched by anything, clean of humans and creatures, and even Gallifreyians. There’re no lifeforms of any sort. No aquatic animals, no fish, or trees, no underwater plant life. It’s created its own ecosystem without really having the necessary components to create one. Technically speaking, nothing that breaths oxygen should be able to survive here.”

“How can it be untouched if we’re here?” you ask before jumping onto the next, more important question, “wait, how are we breathing?!”

“That,” the Doctor turns to you with a grin, “is the fun bit. It cleans its self. Algae unlike any other, on any other planet I’ve seen. It cleans and filters the water and air, turns any carbon dioxide that happens to be here back into oxygen like any other photosynthesizing plant. Even the sand gets cleaned, which I’m still not sure how that happens when this planet is inhabited.”  

The Doctor blinked in mild confusion before continuing on, “in two weeks, it’ll be like we never even stepped foot on this planet. It always reverts back to its pristine initial state.”

“That’s amazing,” you grinned, “it’s so beautiful here, why do more people not know it exists?”

“It’s hidden a bit,” the Doctor grinned in return, “a gem hidden behind the universe’s tourist attraction, like the milky way. I only found it because I was looking for it- well, I was looking for nothing, seeing where the TARDIS took me, but found it anyways.”

“The TARDIS made a good find then,” you gave the man a smile, taking his hand again after wiping any of the water that had still clung to you had even after the shake onto your shirt.

“She did,” the man laughed, “as far as I know, no one else knows of this planet, but that’s just going off of that I’ve never seen anyone else here before.”

“More ocean planet for us then,” you laughed as the Doctor started walking, pulling you along carefully.

“Yes,” the man smiled adoringly, “but we can’t stay here too long. We’ll run out of oxygen, since there’s only the algae here to filter the carbon dioxide back into oxygen. That process is a bit slower than us breathing though. We have... I’d say three days between the two of us of fresh air, before we’ll need to head off and let it revert back once more.”

“Three days seems like a good vacation,” you joked. The Doctor laughed, dragging his thumb along your knuckles where he was still holding your hand before he interlaced your fingers together.

“Shall we walk along the shore?” the Doctor offered softly, looking down at you fondly. He had a soft smile on his lips, and his eyes kept scanning your face, “there’s a peninsula a bit away but it has a beautiful view.”

“Sounds good to me,” you gave a supportive one shoulder shrug before smiling at him, “I’m going to take my shoes off though. I’d rather not have my shoes filled with sand.”

The Doctor nodded, releasing your hand so you could kick off your shoes and gather them up so they didn’t get lost or forgotten on this planet.  

“I’ll carry them,” the Doctor volunteered, taking them from your hands and holding them by their collars in one hand. He slipped his other hand back into yours, grinning at you before leading you along down the shore.  

You’d never seen anything as beautiful as this planet. Not on earth, not on any other planet the Doctor had taken you to in the years you’d known him. It was unique, and lovely and it made you feel special that the Doctor would bring you here. He’d spoken highly of the place since he’d brought you here, and it made your heart stutter in your chest that he thought you were worthy enough to show it to you.

The Doctor looked lost in thought as he led you along. Occasionally he’d glance in your direction, almost as if he were checking to make sure you were still with him, even though he was holding your hand. When you’d catch him staring at you, you’d raise an eyebrow in question, but he’d just smile widely and turn away without a word.  

The two of you walked for a while, but you couldn’t complain. The sand was soft and almost fluffy under your feet. It wasn’t as rocky and granulated as it was on earth, but fine and almost like a dense grainy dust. And even with the two suns shining down on you, you weren’t hot or sweating after all the walking.  

You were walking closer to the ocean, and every few minutes the water would crawl up and brush against your toes and the sides of your feet, but it was really nice. The Doctor was on your other side, staying on the dry sand since he hadn’t taken his shoes off.  

It wasn’t long until the peninsula came into view, just as the Doctor had described it. The purple water crashed softly against the sand; waves small but visible. You hurried your pace, dragging the Doctor behind you this time. You wanted to stand in the middle of the sand and see nothing but water in front of you and to your sides.  

You really wished you had a camera of some sort because it really was breathtaking. You knew people on earth who would’ve killed to see something like this. And you really weren’t sure anyone would really believe you if you told them.

“Do you like it?” the Doctor asked by your side when the two of you stopped moving. You turned your attention from the waves, looking towards him and nodding with a wide smile.  

“I really do,” you told him.

“Good,” the Doctor smiled, almost like he was pleased with himself. The two of you just stood for a moment, looking out at the sea.  

“You know,” the Doctor spoke, “there is a reason I brought you here...”

“Oh?” you looked back over at the Doctor. He’d set your shoes on the ground beside him, and his hand that wasn’t holding your hand was tucked in his suit jacket pocket. “And what would that reason be?”  

“There was something I wanted to ask you, I’m just not sure how to do so. I feel like it differentiates between planets, and I... well, I don’t want to do it wrong.” The Doctor turned towards you, tilting his head as he let your hand go. Before you could frown at him doing so, you were distracted by him stuffing the hand you’d just been holding in his remaining pocket.  

It looked like he was looking for something. Searching through his pockets—it wasn’t unusual for him to lose something in his bigger on the inside pockets.

“You can ask me anything,” you promised, watching the man closely.  

“I know,” the Doctor paused in his searching through his pockets to grin at you, “now, uh, as you know I’ve had a few companions through my life who choose to stay with me and travel through space and time. And as much as I love having companions with me, keeping me company, I’ve learned not to... get attached to humans. For obvious regenerating Time-Lord reasons.”

You weren’t really sure where this was going.  

“But I, well, the thing is, I’ve gotten a bit attached to you. Well, more than a bit attached. You’ve been with me for, well, for years now. You’ve been a constant in my life for so long now. I... well, I can’t really imagine my life without you. There have been very few people that... that I love, and you’re one of them.”

You didn’t say anything, letting the man sort through whatever he was trying to do. You were sure anything you said would’ve distracted him. So it was best to just let him do whatever he needed to do before you replied, or touched him or anything along those lines.

The Doctor looked down for a moment before looking back up at you. He pulled one of his hands from his pocket and took your hand into his once more, holding it tight and secure, but soft as well.

“You make me happy, and you’re always by my side, and, well, the TARDIS loves you too. You’re... well, you’re just perfect. You’re perfect and I’ve not thought about you as just my companion for quite some time now. I... I love you; I love you differently than I love my past companions.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, squeezing his hand softly.

“I know,” the man gave you a goofy grin, “I’ve known that all along, but you never knew I loved you in return. I have for... for a long time now.”

It made you smile that the man was saying he loved you. You’d told him you loved him when the two of you first started kind of dating—which was after about a year and a half earth time of space travelling together.  

The Doctor would never call it dating, but that’s what it was, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was more courting to him, but whatever it was, it was as close to human dating as you could get. And you loved every minute of it.  

He’d never once muttered the words back to you though, not even the times you were sure he was going to say it back, or when he looked like he was biting his tongue to keep from repeating them back to you. He’d always had a sort of reluctance to saying anything overly fond-- like I love you, which you could understand. He’d probably said it too loved ones he lost along the way.  

You knew he loved you—but it was something else to actually hear him say it.  

“I should probably get on with it,” the Doctor mumbled. You eyed the Doctor hesitantly, curious but a little afraid of what could be coming next all the same.

He shook his head, as he cleared his throat, “it’s been a very long time since I’ve even thought about asking anyone this but,” the man suddenly dropped down onto one knee, managing to keep his hold on your hand, pull his second hand which had been tucked in his pocket the whole time out, and all without tumbling down, “(Y/N), my brilliantly amazing human companion, will you possibly do me the honors of marrying me?”

And it was then that your brain short circuited.  

In his hands was a ring. Small, but perfect. It had tiny little gems that you couldn’t really make out with the suns light casting through them and making them sparkle beautifully. The band was gold, but you were almost certain it wasn’t earth gold.

He’d just asked... he wanted to marry you. In that moment you didn’t know how to speak—how to express your enthusiastic agreeance to the proposal. You weren’t even sure you could form words beyond the unintelligible slur of letters falling from your mouth.

Marriage. The Doctor wanted to marry you.  

“I’m sorry if this was wrong for human ideations,” the Doctor mumbled, forcing you to blink yourself out of your excited daze, “I’ve only ever seen one romantic film from your earth, and I really tried to mimic it with the romantic setting and the ring and the monologue but if-”

“Yes.”

The Doctor froze, fingers tightening around yours for a split second before they relaxed. “Yes?” he repeated like he’d heard you wrong. He looked ready for rejection, even if you’d literally already said yes. He was still on one knee, staring up at you.

“Yes!” You gave a sharp, excited nod, which was followed by an almost frantic laugh. You reached your hand up to cover over your mouth, as if you could stop the unvoluntary sounds you were making, “yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Doctor!”

It took less than a second for the Doctor to be up, pushing up into your space and grinning widely in excitement.  

“That was a yes!” The Doctor beamed, eyes lighting up in sheer excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet where he was stood beside you, “you said yes! Oh, (Y/N), my love, you said yes!”

The Doctor slipped the ring he’d held out to you onto your engagement finger (on the wrong hand, but you’d fix it later), then he was cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss you couldn’t be happier to accept.  

He pulled back in the same excitement he’d pulled you in with, eyes wide and adorning, and smile as bright as you’d ever seen it. You were sure your smile matched his almost identically. “You said yes,” he repeated, like he almost couldn’t believe it.

“I said yes,” you laughed, eyes watering as you looked up at the Doctor. His eyes were a bit wet too, but he looked more concerned over your damp eyes than his own.  

“You’re crying,” he whispered, cradling your jaw in his hands and swiping his thumbs under your eye lids to wipe away the tears.

“So are you,” you giggled, lightly slapping your hands on either of his cheeks so you could dry his tears as he’d done to you. “Happy tears,” you added as an explanation for the both of you.  

“Incredibly happy tears,” the Doctor gave a light laugh, “you’ve made me so incredibly happy, my love.”

“We’re getting married,” you dreamily whispered in reply. You still couldn’t believe it. You’d never really though the Doctor ever would’ve wanted something like this. Like marriage. And to a human no less.

“You’ll be my wife,” the Doctor agreed, eyes fondly settling on your face, “my beautiful wife.”

The Doctor pulled you into a hug, and you happily returned it, pressing the side of your face against his chest. He held you tightly, settling his cheek atop of you head, but you could almost feel him smiling above you. His hearts were sped up, excited and happy, and it made your whole being light up with warmth.

“I really do love you,” he whispered lovingly above you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, “I’m so happy you said yes.”

“I love you too,” you reminded for the second time, grinning into the fabric of his suit jacket. “I always have, and I always will.”

<><><><>

Hope you enjoyed Ten’s overly excessive saying of the word ‘well’ while he’s nervous! As always, let me know if it wasn’t what you were looking for! I do hope I did the proposal justice, but I just don’t know with romance.

Oh, and Noelani means heavenly mist in Hawaiian as far as I know (from Google) and I thought it was an adorable name for the ocean planet. Now, as always, thanks for reading and new promps always appreciated!

[cloudenthusiast2]

You meet a HQ volleyball team on your vacation #1

Length: 1500 words

Genre: a little fluff & slice of life

#1: Karasuno (beach)

You look up to the deep-blue sky, shadowing your eyes while searching for a cloud, but no matter how hard you tried, you can’t find any. No wonder why, it is the hottest day you’ve seen that summer. The air is heavy from the heat and your throat feels really dry even though you’ve drank from your bottle just a couple of seconds ago.

The beach is crowded as usual which makes you feel a little lonely. You try and not think about that as force your way through the people, fixing your eyes on the sea.

The aquamarine water in front of you seems so fresh, so inviting. You just can’t wait to get into it. You just can’t wait to sink into the infinite water and forget all about your worries and struggles, and actually enjoy your summer break.

You quickly throw your towel to an empty spot on the ground covered in sand, then stripped out of your clothes. Apply some sunscreen in a hurry, put your hair up in a ponytail then you start rushing towards the water.

As you get closer, it keeps getting bigger and now it’s the only thing you see. You instantly forget about everything, your grades that didn’t end up being good enough, your friends who didn’t even care to accompany you to the beach, your parents who have to work all day leaving you all alone at home…

And you’re ready to take the last step to jump into the water…

And your senses are blinded by the beautiful, luring water, so much that you don’t hear the alarming yell.

You only feel something, an unknown power harshly hitting your head. Then you lose your balance and everything goes black.

The first thing that reaches you in the blank darkness are the many different voices.

You’re hovering in the infinite black for a few seconds until their meaning finally gets to you. And suddenly, everything comes back.

You’re conscious now but – despite that your body immediately wants to move – you stay still, and continue to listen to those sounds.

– Bakageyama! Your toss was too low, I told you to bring it higher! – An excited voice claims loudly. – Now look at what you’ve done!

– It was your fault! – Retorts someone. – You can’t even handle my easiest tosses, idiot!

– Someone strangle these imbeciles – joins the dialogue a low voice who doesn’t sound like excited at all, almost like its owner was bored to death.

– Hinata! Kageyama! Calm down! – orders someone, while other sound like they’re holding back their laughter in the background.

– Is she gonna be okay, Suga? – asks someone in a worried, or rather scared tone.

– Stop shaking, Asahi, she’s fine. – The voice comes from directly above you, so suddenly that your heart skips a beat.

You open your eyes slightly so you can catch a glimpse of the guys around you.

The last words came from the boy kneeling next to you. He has silver hair and eyes – you state as you examine him through your eyelashes.

– Are you sure? Shouldn’t we take her to the infirmary?

– She’s gonna wake up in a minute, I’m sure – replies the silver-haired boy, Suga, then he turns at you.

You’re caught. It’s too late to close your eyes, so you just open them wide and look up to him. His whole face brightens up as he smiles at you.

– Good morning! Are you alright?

The whole group goes silent and everyone looks at you. You avert your eyes in fluster, then slowly nod. Although the back of your head does feel a little heavy where you got hit, it was bearable.

– Ah, good – sighs Suga but the tall, bearded man next to him looks even more relieved. – You scared us a little with your faint. Hinata, you should apologise for hitting her so badly!

– I’m really sorry! – An orange-headed little guy jumps in front of you and although he was arguing with his friend a few moments ago, he seems regretful now. – It was the low set, my hand slipped, I wasn’t aiming at you, I promise!

– I’m glad – you mutter, touching the back of your head. You feel really embarrassed as so many people are looking at you, but when you take a better look at them, they actually seem like nice people.

– I apologise too – says an older looking guy with a warm smile. He places his hands on Hinata’s and a grumpy looking, black-haired boy’s shoulders. – My kids can be quite feral.

– You’re not their dad… are you? – You instantly regret asking this stupid question from a guy who’s clearly in his late high-school years but luckily he just starts laughing along with some other boys.

– Daichi-san! He really is kinda our dad at this point! – yells a very short boy with his hands on his hips.

– Dadchi-san! – adds the guy wearing no shirt next to him.

– Well, I’m the captain of the team – explains Daichi kindly. – So you could say I’m some sort of leader figure.

– Team? What team? – you ask.

– Volleyball! – shouts Hinata. This one word is enough to make him so excited that he grabs your hand and makes you stand up. He points at the other side of the beach. – We play there, in groups of four! Kageyama and Suga-san are the setters and I’m the ace of our team…

– She’s probably not interested in this – interrupts a blonde guy whose voice you remember. When your eyes were closed, he sounded salty but actually seeing him up-close makes him look at least three times saltier. A tall, green-haired boy stands next to him, nodding to his words with a sweet smile. – Just let her go back to her group already.

– Ah, you’re right, Tsukishima! – agrees Suga to his words. – So? Where’s your group? We can walk you back.

– I- I came alone.

You hate to say that out loud. Now everyone will pity you and make your loneliness a hundred times worse.

You lower your head… Only to look up again when the orange boy next to you excitedly yells.

– Oh! Then she can join us!

You stare at him in disbelief but you’re the only one who’s surprised by his words.

– Good idea, Shoyo! – shouts the other short boy, then he points at himself. – My name is Nishinoya, the libero! Great to have you in the group!

– I don’t… I don’t want to be inconvenient… – you start stuttering.

– You’re not – smiles Suga –, it’s the least we can do for you after our children attacked you.

– But I’m really…

– Come on, we need one more player anyway since someone has to be the referee.

You try to refuse again but it’s actually harder this time. The idea of playing with them seems actually nicer and nicer with every passing moment. Volleyball was always much fun and the boys seem like a good company.

– I can teach you my Rolling Thunder if you play with us – says Nishinoya but the others instantly boo him.

– That won’t make her come!

– You know your thunder is just a regular receive, right, Noya-san? – asks Tsukishima with a contemptuous smirk.

– Don’t be cocky with your elders!

You can’t help but smile at them, then finally give with a nod. Tsukishima and Noya keep on arguing but the others ignore them and ask questions about you as they lead you to the volleyball net.

Hinata explains to you how playing in the sand is so different, Suga and Daichi ask how you do in school, even the bearded man, Asahi and the shy Yamaguchi tries to get to know you.

You soon begin to play beach volleyball and it has the same effect on you as the water. You really do forget about everything and have fun with the dorky boys who are really funny and amusing, even without realizing it.

Noya really tries the so called Rolling Thunder, but only half-succeeds since he fells into a sandcastle a little kid is building. They calm him down by giving him Kageyama’s milk which the setter is not particularly happy about. Yamaguchi tries a floating serve and starts happily blushing when he succeeds, immidiately turning to Tsukishima, who nods with a hidden smile. Suga teases Asahi so much, Daichi has to cut in. When Tanaka scores, he can’t rip off his shirt since he’s already shirtless, so as a compensation, he shouts so loudly that a kid nearby starts crying. It turns out it was the same child who’s castle was ruined, but the milk isn’t enough this time, so Hinata – who’s the best with children – and you have to play with him a little in the sand. Later you go back and with the help of the aspiring ace, you score a point and everyone cheers for you.

You only realise how much time you’ve spent with them when the sun starts setting down. You only realise how much you’ve enjoyed yourself with them. And how don’t feel alone on your vacation any more.

[luxekook]

in too deep ☼ knj

☼ dedication: this fic is a bday present for the loml tay aka tay bay bay aka @interludemoonchild​!!!! luv u long time <33 (sorry this isn’t about hobi skksksks)

☼ pairing: marine biologist namjoon x assistant reader

☼ genre: idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, crack

☼ summary: you had always grown up being told tales of terrible jobs with tyrannical bosses. but now, you’re left to wonder why you hadn’t heard more tragic stories of all-too-wonderful jobs with all-too-beautiful bosses... did falling for your boss only lead to heartbreak and a two weeks’ notice? or could it yield the possibility of romance?

☼ word count: 3.1k

☼ warnings: pg15, cursing, chaotic energy, pining, miscommunication, mentions of quitting, lots of sea nerd stuff, namjoon is smart af but an idiot in love, the reader isn’t any better, crabby bois, arguments, completely cheesy fluff, short make out sesh, mention of sex

☼ banner creator: heathy bby @shadowsremedy​

☼ beta reader: the amazing and astoundingly talented phia @meowxyoong​

“Kim Namjoon!” You cry, swatting the blue-clawed crab away from your feet with a broom, “What did I tell you about bringing your goddamn crustaceans into the office?”

The man in question hustles out of his office looking disheveled, “You’ve seen Carl?” He sinks right down to his hands and knees to peer under your desk. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, little buddy!”

You stare disappointedly as your boss picks up ‘Carl’ from his hiding place and cradles him to his chest. “Namjoon,” You sigh exasperatedly, folding your arms.

He looks up at you and blushes, “Sorry, Star. I just feel so bad leaving them downstairs at the lab. It’s so lonely and dark down there.” 

While your stomach flips at the mention of his nickname for you, your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Well, why don’t you just stay down there with them?”

“Because you’re up here…” He mumbles something incoherent. 

“What?” You lean forwards, your ears straining to catch the garbled syllables.

Namjoon clears his throat, looking everywhere but at you, “Because it’s nicer up here.”

“Don’t tell your investors that,” You laugh, thinking of all the fancy and shiny equipment housed in the aquatics lab a few floors below. Working for a top-tier marine biologist sure had its perks - namely the state of the art kitchen with a full espresso bar. 

“Star, I would never!” He looks affronted by the mere mention of such a thing. “Now, apologize to Carl for scaring him.” 

You scoff, but just one glance into Namjoon’s sparkling brown eyes makes you crumble instantly. “Fine,” You begrudgingly shoot the crab a look, “Sorry, Carl.”

“See, Carl?” Namjoon croons, “She’s sorry!” As he turns back to you, you can immediately tell he is about to launch into Marine Biologist Mode™. 

“Carl is a blue crab - a Callinectes sapidus, to be precise. That scientific name literally means ‘savory beautiful swimmer’.”

“Savory, huh?” You quip, relishing in the scandalized look Namjoon shoots you.

“Don’t listen to her, Carl,” He whispers, stroking a finger gently down the crab’s shell. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes… He’s named for his pretty sapphire-tinted claws, and he’s one of the most harvested species of his kind. So, don’t even think about it.”

You burst out laughing as he eyes you, “Okay, Joon, I’ll leave my pot of boiling water at home.”

Namjoon splutters out a choked laugh, looking at you like you are the most exasperating thing he’s ever come across. And, you probably are.

When you came to work for the distinguished marine biologist four months ago, you found him literally buried beneath piles of research papers, files, and National Geographic magazines. Apparently, he had tripped into his filing cabinet and everything had fallen off of the shelves onto him. The man had been a right mess. It was no wonder he had put an ad out in search of an assistant.

In your new role, you slowly but surely introduced some structure and organization into Namjoon’s life as best you could. The first thing you did was update his office. The man still had an honest to god lava lamp on his desk. You were still baffled at how he had managed not to break the fixture before your arrival.

Swiftly following the disposal of the cursed lava lamp, you ordered new file cabinets - and had them nailed to the wall. Virtually, you did even more. You restructured his online platforms and updated his schedule to include more than just scattered notes like “Meeting at 10AM, i think? Or was it 10PM?”

To his credit, Namjoon adhered to most of your suggestions and changes, but apparently he still refused to grasp the ‘no creatures in the office’ rule.

Overall, Namjoon was a great boss - kind, understanding, sweet, and a tad eccentric. His love for all things sea-related shone through the gentle way he handled his specimens, the passionate tone of voice he used while speaking on any related topic, and the stars in his eyes at the mere mention of discovering a new species.

It had been all too easy to become infatuated with him. Especially when he called you “Star” and left you to interpret the meaning on your own. 

You remember the exact moment that you fell in love with him so vividly. It had been last month, just three months into working for him. Namjoon had been going off about fucking sand of all things.

“…Sand speaks of history, of science, of travels. Each grain of sand holds thousands upon thousands of years of movement, of erosion. For example, the beach outside of this building is tan because of the iron oxide tinting the quartz and the feldspar to a light brown color. But, there are other beaches that are black, white and even pink in color! It’s fascinating! And to quote the goddess of marine biology Rachel Carson: "In every curving beach, in every grain of sand, there is a story of the Earth…”

Yeah, you are head over heels for your boss. And that’s why you needed to quit.

The end of the workday arrives too quickly - a common theme it seems when you love what you do and who you work for. Namjoon walks beside you down to the parking lot. You sneak a glance at his face and note that he seems deep in thought.

Your mind slips to the image of you and Namjoon going home together to a shared house overrun with fish tanks and models of sharks. It’s all too easy to picture, and all too painful to acknowledge the impossibility.

“Star,” Namjoon’s voice jolts you from your fantasy. You blink up at him, realizing you’re both stopped beside your adjacent cars. Namjoon smiles at you, “I’ll see you tomorrow? It’ll be Friday, finally...” 

It seems like he wants to say more but stops himself for some reason. You pause, waiting for him to continue, but he just blushes and brings a hand to the back of his neck bashfully.

“Yeah, Friday,” Your tone is less enthusiastic. You planned to hand in your two weeks’ notice tomorrow. It’s a complete strategy on your part so that you can have the whole weekend to cry and shove at least one gallon of ice cream down your throat.

You wave goodbye to each other and enter your respective cars. You watch Namjoon pull out of the parking lot before you and pause to rest your forehead on your steering wheel. You were so screwed.

Twenty-four exhausting hours later, you find yourself with your fist poised over Namjoon’s wooden office door. Are you actually doing this? Are you really going to quit the only job you’d ever loved? 

Yes, you are. You love Namjoon too much to stay here surrounded by his charisma and his beauty. You love him too much to try to complicate his workspace, his sacred ground. You love him too much to ask him to blur the lines of colleague and lover.

You need to leave - for his sake and for yours. It isn’t like he still needs you. He has been following your routine with vigor and always keeps his office organized now. Your tasks have been dwindling for weeks. 

It’s time to move on. God, even the tension today had been off the charts with you and Namjoon skirting around each other like you were both walking on eggshells. Clearly, he is also feeling like you are in the way.

With that in mind, you straighten your shoulders and finally knock on the door.

Your ears strain for any sign of an answer. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to sustain the meager amount of courage you had mustered up inside you. Twisting open the handle, you push the door open and are immediately met with an empty office. Damn, he must be downstairs.

You chuckle at the sheer idiocy of your panicked state over knocking on an empty office door.

This is perfect anyways. You can hand Namjoon your two weeks’ and then evacuate the building in one sweep. Shutting down your computer and grabbing your things, you trudge out of the room and towards the stairs.

The journey downwards seems akin to walking the plank as you take each step slowly, dreading the inevitable. 

Ciara has it all wrong: you do not love it when you One, Two Step. 

The entrance to the lab looms overhead. The steel double doors look more like the gateway to hell rather than a nice entrance to a marine facility. You don’t break your stride as you march through the doors. If you had, you might not have kept going.

The familiar light humming of the tank filters meets your ears as you peer around the rows of shelves containing colorful fish and scuttling critters.

“Joon?” You call, the nickname slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

“Back here, Star!” His answer sounds from the very back of the lab. Of course, that’s where the crabs are housed.

You make your way past the tanks of clownfish and the pools of stingrays to where Namjoon sits hunched over the shallow tank containing four green-tinted crabs. 

“That’s it, Nala.” Namjoon croons as the smallest of the four crabs swims around the tank, “You show your brothers how fast you are.”

“Talking to your subjects again, boss?” You can’t help but tease the man you've grown to love as he fawns over his work.

Namjoon blushes slightly and nods, pushing his glasses up to rest on the bridge of his nose, “Studies have shown that it helps them develop.”

“I thought that was humans?” You say, shifting your weight back and forth. The letter in your hand seems to burn more each second you hold onto it. You couldn't take it anymore.

As Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, you thrust the letter into his chest and say, “Never mind. This is for you. Please read it later.”

With that, you fast-walk your way back to the entrance of the lab. The sound of the envelope tearing open only forces you faster. Fuck, it had been idiotic of you to assume that he would actually listen to you and open it later. Namjoon is as impatient as they come. Of course he wouldn't wait.

“Star!” His strangled call startles you, “What is this?”

“We can talk about it on Monday!” You reply, somehow already close to tears. Why is this godforsaken lab so big? You pace down the aisles of tanks and breathe a sigh of relief as the exit comes into view. 

Then, Namjoon comes barreling around the corner, cutting off your escape. The man looks baffled as he clutches your written resignation in his hands. His chest heaves as he holds the torn pages out towards you, “What. Is. This. Star?”

You bristle. I guess we’re doing this now, you thought. Stiffening your shoulders, you muster all the false bravado you can manage, “It’s my two weeks’ notice, Namjoon. I’m sure a smart guy like you can read.”

“Okay, allow me to rephrase,” Namjoon stalks towards you, tossing the crumpled letter over his shoulder. “Why did you give me this?”

“The letter explains everything,” Your eyes dart around, both in search of a viable escape and in avoidance of his intensity.

“Sure it does,” He scoffs, his eyes blazing with disbelief. “I want to hear it from you.”

Your back hits the cool glass of the tank behind you. You’re trapped between the contrasting temperatures of the water and Namjoon’s body.

“Joon,” Your voice shakes, “You don’t need me anymore. You’ve done everything I've asked of you and then some. You’re organized. You’re on time. You’re put together. I barely have enough tasks now to fill a day, let alone a week. It’s time to move on.”

“Time to move on?” Namjoon echoes before barking out a humorless laugh, “I don’t need you anymore? That’s really what you think, Star?”

“Don’t call me that.” The nickname snufs out any trace of fight left inside you, and you plead, “Just let me go, Joon.”

“Never,” He growls.

“I don’t understand what you’re not getting,” You sigh, exasperated and drained, “You’ve surpassed my expectations and erased the need for my position. I think the saying ‘the student has become the master’ applies here.”

Namjoon gapes at you before he snaps, “You’re the one who’s not getting it! Have you ever considered that the student might just be in love with the teacher?”

Joon rakes a hand through his hair as you become the one to gape open mouthed at the frustrated man.

He continues, “I wake up earlier every damn day because I can’t wait to see you at work. I organize all of my things because I just want to see you smile at me when you notice. I spend an hour each night picking out what to wear the next day because I want to impress you… Don’t you see? Everything I do is for you, is because of you. I want to be the best version of myself for you.”

Your mind struggles to compute the seemingly impossible notion that the object of your affections returns your love. “Did you,” You gasp out, “Just say that you loved me?”

“Yes, you complete jellyfish! I love you. I am in love with you! And it’s not like it’s not obvious! I call you ‘Star’ because you are my starfish, my sea star. You are the one who keeps the balance to my ecosystem of chaos. You are the key species that keeps everything afloat.”

“And you thought that was obvious?” You yell back at him, “How on earth would I immediately have known the intense analysis behind your nickname for me, Namjoon the science buffoon?” You huff, scrambling to process the amount of information that had just been thrown at you. 

He needed you?

He loved you back? 

He nicknamed you after a fucking marine invertebrate?!

Namjoon blinks in surprise, “Did you just insult me with a Bill Nye pun?” You don’t deign to give him a response. Namjoon chuckles before grinning sheepishly, “Okay, fine. You make a good point.”

“I know I do,” You pout. “You can’t just spring this on me, Joon. Why haven't you told me this before?”

“Because I was nervous that you would leave me, that you wouldn't return my feelings. Obviously, the first point is moot. What about the second?”

“You’re asking if I love you back?” Your body sags against the tank behind you, “How could I not, you crab-loving, walking mess of a—”

Namjoon captures your mouth with his, kissing you with fervor. His hands wind their way up to cradle your face between them like you are the most precious thing to him. 

Pulling back slightly, Namjoon rasps out, “So, you’ll stay?” 

“Hm, I don’t know,” You crack a wry smile, “What’s in it for me?”

“Well, let me show you,” Namjoon replies before whipping his shirt off. You gape open mouthed at the expanse of beautiful tan skin in front of you. 

Was that a hint of a tattoo swirling over his left shoulder?

He reaches down to tug at the hem of your dress, insinuating he wants it off. A nice concept in theory; however, with one look around at your surroundings, you slap his hand away. “Namjoon! Not in front of the fish!”

“But, Star, these aren’t fish! These are squid, and they are classed as cephalopods—”

You put a hand over his mouth, “Allow me to clarify: I will only fuck in a creature-free zone.”

Namjoon murmurs something beneath your palm. You give him a warning look before removing your hand. He immediately repeats himself, “My office?”

Your eyes narrow, “I know for a fact you have at least three crabs in there.”

Namjoon pauses, looking suspiciously shifty, “There are only seven…” 

You wait for it.

“...teen.” He finishes.

“Kim Namjoon!”

Two Years Later

The short walk down the aisle ends too quickly as you find yourself standing in front of a teary-eyed Namjoon. Five of his friends stand behind him in a row, while the sixth stands proudly as the officiant.

They really are out here looking like a whole boy band, you muse. But, you only have eyes for their leader. 

Namjoon stands before you, all tall and handsome in his tux; and as Officiant Jin™ begins the ceremony, you can't help but wonder how you got so lucky.

Finally, the ring exchange is introduced dramatically by Seokjin who spouts something about circles and never ending love. “Let us now have the rings brought forward and presented by the ring-bearer!” He booms, raising his arms up like he is summoning a great force.

Ring-bearer? You rake your mind for a prior mention of a ring-bearer… You thought Yoongi as the best man would have the rings.

Suddenly, Namjoon produces a silver whistle from his pocket and blows it once. You stare at your soon-to-be husband like he has sprouted another head.

And then you hear it: the sound of legs and claws scuttling across the floor towards the altar. 

“Tell me that is not what I think it is,” You whisper-yell over to Namjoon, who looks way too pleased for your liking.

Your fears and exasperations come true as Namjoon swoops down to pick up Carl who has two shiny rings tied to his shell with a ribbon.

“Oh, Kim Namjoon,” You sigh as you watch him remove the rings from Carl and hand the crab off to a disgruntled Taehyung, “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to marry me,” Namjoon grins.

And marry him you did.

a/n: jellyfish have no brains, lolz. idk why making joon call the reader a jellyfish made me crack tf up but IT DID.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[god-of-dust]

i recently remembered that my fic Liminality was actually part of a bigger story; it’s old and don’t think i will ever complete it, but since @thetpot left me a lovely comment i thought that i could share some of the parts i had written, as a treat.

the story is set in the post-canon world. aang is in his twenties, dealing with grief, ptsd and depression and his avatar responsibilities. on top of that, he realizes that he’s fallen in love with zuko and this causes him to break up with katara; a lot of angst and self-hatred follow, because he feels like he’s breaking the heart of the woman he loves and betraying his best friend too.

so, here are some snippets! note: they’re unedited and also not in chronological order.

[Aang speaks with Avatar Yangchen in the spirit world]

“Avatar Yangchen?���

“Hello, Aang. It seems I'm the one you turned to in your moment of need, this time.”

“Why, though? I didn't think about you, I just... needed someone to talk to, I guess. Someone who has nothing to do with all this.”

“You don't want to have this conversation with any of your friends.”

“They're too close to Katara and I don't want to force them to pick sides.”

“And Fire Lord Zuko is, of course, out of the question.”

“If I saw him now, I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut and I'd spill my guts and it would be embarrassing for both and that would only make things even worse... he doesn't deserve this. I'm the one who messed up.”

“Why do you think you messed up?”

“Why? I fell in love with my best friend! I hurt Katara and I'll hurt Zuko too if I don't learn to keep my feelings hidden! I should have hidden them better from the start!”

“Is this what would make you happy? Learning how to hide your feelings, having no one the wiser?”

“I wanted to marry Katara and make her happy for the rest of our lives, and now I ruined our relationship because I just had to be like this! My life couldn't be simple, oh no, I couldn't just be with her, I had to want more—of course I hurt her!”

“I see now the reason you chose me instead of Avatar Roku or Avatar Kyoshi, whether you were aware of it or not. You're missing something crucial... something that not even they would see.”

“What is it?”

“You're an Air Nomad, Aang.”

Aang waited. Since no explanation came, he spoke. “Well, yeah, that's kind of hard to miss.” He gestured at himself, “orange robes, bald head, tattoos—you know, the whole package. I don't see how it should change things, though.”

“You know that, but you forgot what it means. The love you carry in your heart is the truest expression of our heritage. You can't love like Katara does, because you were raised in the Air Temples and your heart knows no boundaries or shame. Most people would consider things like distance, social status, race or gender, but you never put meaning in such limitations. That's the way of Air Nomads, Aang, our way.”

“But Katara loves me too, who cares if she's not an Air Nomad!”

“While her love for you runs deep and fierce, she has a different understanding of what it means. Sometimes, as you experienced, this can cause conflict. Katara expected you to have romantic feelings for her and her only. You certainly love her and did your best to grant her wish in full, but by doing this you failed to see that chain for what it was and how it would hurt you both.”

“This sounds an awful lot like 'you're destined to hurt everyone and you better not try to have a relationship ever again'.”

“I'd say it's more like 'you seem to be naturally inclined to love more than one person in a romantic sense and your culture never repressed this attitude like others would have'.”

“Am I really not capable to feel romantic love for only one person? I think I can learn. I learned a lot of difficult things that opposed my Air Nomad nature, so why not this one? I want to be with Katara. I miss her so much...”

“But you also want to be with Zuko, don't you?”

“I... I can't be with him. That wouldn't be fair.”

“Why not?”

“I don't want to push my feelings on him. I never asked for this and he certainly didn't either!”

“It seems our conversation has come full circle. You insist that Zuko will reject your feelings, that they will cause him distress and pain, but that's an assumption on your part—quite the heavy one, at that. Do you trust your best friend so little?”

“Of course I trust Zuko, I trust him with my life! It's myself I don't trust, and I don't want to jeopardize our friendship!”

“And yet, you treat him like a fragile glass sculpture. The bond you share has weathered way worse than a love confession gone wrong. Zuko himself has weathered worse.”

[Zuko’s pov, reflecting on something that had happened with Aang. i don’t remember if i had a plan for it, but it’s possible that it was actually the Papaya Incident from another fic of mine, He gives me the holiday I needed all the time]

Pebbles lay scattered on the sand, round and shiny from the waves. He picked one up and rolled it between his fingers; it was black, a solid weight, and smooth to the touch when he ran his thumbs over it.

His mind wandered, lulled by the sound of the wind and the sea.

Things with Aang were going well. After the initial period of embarassment on both parts, they'd eventually reached a new stability and stopped obsessing over every little thing they did and said. The hot springs accident had helped a lot and Aang's sun-kissed nature had done the rest; Zuko'd let himself be led, knowing that his friend was the most vulnerable, not to mention the one he trusted to make the right decisions—way more than he trusted himself.

He remembered what the old ladies had told him years before about the Island. Without consciously realizing it before, those words were the reason why Zuko was there—sitting on the beach by himself, holding a rock and waiting for the magic to happen.

A tingling in the back of his head reminded that he didn't know what the water would bring ashore this time. There were still so many sharp angles in him for the sea to smooth over, so many questions that may or may not be best left unanswered.

Nonetheless, he stayed. He'd always been too stubborn for his own good.

He threw the pebble over the water and watched it skirt on the surface. One, two, three, then down with a small plop.

Things with Aang were going well, and yet Zuko was antsy. He'd adapted and was comfortable in their situation, but something had irremediably shifted the night before. Something that was probably brewing slow and deep since Aang's confession.

They weren't kids anymore. It used to be a nostalgic thought for Zuko; it reminded him of how many years had passed already, of the responsibilities on their shoulders. The difference in their ages didn't feel like a chasm anymore, especially since their roles put them on equal ground; they'd matured, losing a big chunk of the recklessness of youth. Zuko'd learned to hold his temper (most of the times) and Aang'd learned to be serious and diplomatic (when needed).

Now, though, their adulthood also held a different kind of weight and Zuko was running out of excuses not to notice.

The arch of Aang's impish grin, the vibrations of his laughter, the scratch of his beard on Zuko's cheek as he hugged him... they pulled at strings that any other friend couldn't reach. Aang had always been special. This was another layer of Zuko's defenses slowly being peeled away, another way in which Aang was turning his life upside down to make him discover new paths and new meaning.

Zuko had never been attracted to a man before, which meant that of course Aang had to be the exception.

There, he'd admitted it, in the privacy of his own head, with the burning circle of the setting sun as a witness. He was attracted to Aang. He was charismatic and funny and handsome and fuck if Zuko hadn't wanted to kiss him the day before.

[more flirting]

“I never noticed that the tattoos on your arms are separated from the one on the back... and I guess the ones on the legs are separate too,” Zuko pondered, lazily following the blue line that traced Aang's spine and disappeared under yellow fabric to reappear again on both of his thighs.

“You've seen me half naked a million times and you're noticing it now?” Aang asked, all cheek and impishness.

“Well, yes, I wasn't really looking though.”

“You weren't, but now you are?” Aang's smirk turned almost lecherous as he wiggled his eyebrows in the most theatrical flirting in history. “I'm flattered, darling, but if you want me to take my clothes off to, ah, 'see the tattoo' you have to wine and dine me first.”

“...you just said I've already seen you half naked and I certainly didn't wine and dine you first.”

“Ah, but that was different—now you're looking!”

“What if I was only pretending not to look?”

“Then you already owe me the wine and dining, even though proper behaviour would have been asking me out before the ogling. I'd say I expected better from the Fire Lord of all people, but I understand the irresistible appeal of my toned, hot body.” He stroke some poses to show off his muscles and Zuko busied himself with a thorough examinations of his own fingernails. It was nothing he hadn't already seen anyway, no need to stare while his friend acted like a dork and interpreted what seemed airbending forms with abandon, since he already knew how Aang looked, thank you very much.

Which is why he was completely unprepared for the sulking, cross-armed Airbender hovering so close that he could taste his body heat.

“Stop ignoring me! Rude!” Aang lamented as a truly wounded man.

It should have been exhausting to deal with all that unbridled shifting energy contained in a single person, the constant pull that kept Zuko's attention inside the vortex that was Aang... and yet, it wasn't, because Zuko wasn't alone in this. Since that day a lifetime ago under the fiery eyes of Dragons, they'd never stopped dancing—they danced and pulled at each other's strings, dug in deep darkness and broke down walls to let the light in.

No force on the Earth could have stopped the blush rising to Zuko's cheeks as the split-second realization brushed his thoughts and exploded with bursting colors.

Spirits, he loved Aang.

Of course, this wasn't exactly new. However, it was the flavor of it, the quality of the burn, hot and vibrating and fierce, the senses amplified by the proximity of the wonderful man before him.

[Aang is acting strangely (bc of depression and all the rest) and the gaang notices]

Toph's inquisitive eyes didn't bear anything good for Aang. Her abilities always allowed her to slip into people's spaces, more often than not in a way that let her obtain blackmail material galore; his heartbeat quickened and he cursed himself because that was just what he needed, another incriminating piece of evidence in her probably already long list... for whatever his crime was.

Katara, Sokka and Suki stared at both of them, unsure of the meaning of their silent conversation.

Aang silently begged for some of his enemies to sweep through the windows and try to kill him. He would take them on all together if needed, as long as he could avoid hearing the next words out of the earthbender's mouth. Could he take a quick trip to the Spirit World? It seemed a nice option, to leave his unconscious body and his friends entirely behind.

Then, Toph opened her mouth.

“Out, Twinkletoes.”

She stomped a foot and raised her arms. Aang was catapulted out of the door, quickly and brutally, before he could realize that she was, in fact, being considerate and granting them privacy. Small mercies, indeed.

“Don't think I don't know that you know I know,” she announced as he pulled his arm until they entered the adjacent room. The ominous echo of the door closing made Aang discover that, mildly considerate Toph or not, in no way did he want to have this conversation.

“So, what's with you and Flame Boy there? Did he ask you to kill him again?”

Subtle as a ostrich horse mating call... or a boulder to the face.

“He didn't do anything, Toph,” Aang answered, trying to cover the giant tangle of mess in his chest with exasperation.

Toph, of course, wasn't fooled. “Makes sense, since he was acting normal—well, normal for his overdramatic royal ass.” She put her hands on her hips, legs apart in her best rooted stance. “So you're the one with the problem, and I bet he doesn't even know.”

“Please. I don't feel like talking about this.” The tiniest crack in his voice, as the surface of an iced lake that could break and swallow him up for a single misstep. His hand found his prayer beads and caressed them.

“Spill,” Toph ordered.

“I said no!” Aang shouted, “leave me alone!”

“While it's nice to meet your backbone again, I'm not going anywhere. Spill.”

Aang's blood was boiling. A distant part of him wondered if he was actually firebending from every pore of his body, like a human torch of anger. She taught him to stand his ground, didn't she? He was going to show her how good of a student he was. He didn't own her any explanation for anything. “Why do you have to be like this? It's always a game to you, poking and prodding at things that are not yours to know! Can't you see that I'm already miserable enough as it is?”

“I can see it quite well and I'm blind, Aang—that's exactly why I'm doing this! You've been moping anxiously and hiding it from everyone for months. I'm sick of your shit, you're obviously not managing to fix whatever the problem is, and you're going to tell me what's wrong right now!”

“Moping anxiously?” He laughed, an ugly sound, like scratching the bottom of a barrel. “So if I don't act all light-and-laughter every single moment of my life, you get 'sick of my shit'? How about you let me live and have emotions like a normal human being?”

“I would have bashed any other human being's head in for being so infuriating. You're lucky I'm trying to help you, though you don't seem to give a shit!”

The echoing silence constricted his chest. His temples pulsed. His eyes burned. They weren't getting anywhere, it was exhausting, he just wanted it to end.

“It's not just Zuko, isn't it?” Toph said too softly, after a too long pause. That gentleness didn't belong on her voice and Aang hated it.

“This isn't any of your business. I'm leaving,” Aang spat out.

He turned, ripped the door open and disappeared into the corridor; Toph didn't feel his footsteps—he'd probably airbended his way out of the building.

She shook his head, wide eyes staring into nothingness. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Twinkletoes?”

[follow-up to the previous scene]

“So, I may have royally fucked up,” Toph announced, spreading her arms in a dramatic fashion.

“What did you do to him?” Katara asked sharply. Toph registered her body humming with pent up energy, coiled and ready to snap.

“Yeah, what did you do? I haven't heard Aang raising his voice in years. You must have delivered some serious ass kicking,” Sokka added. At least it seemed like he wasn't sharpening his sword—not yet.

“I asked him what the hell's wrong and he blew up on me.”

Katara's eyebrows furrowed and she slowly asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Toph enunciated, “that he's acting weird. Weird as in he's got issues and he doesn't want to acknowledge them and he's shutting us out because he thinks that pretending to be fine is serving some sort of purpose when obviously it doesn't.”

Katara wasn't a ball of menacing vibrations anymore. In fact, she was unnaturally still—hesitating. “What do you mean, 'issues'?”

“Does he seem okay to you? Don't tell me you, of all people, haven't noticed! His responses are off, he speaks like he's reading from a script, he pulls out his magic avoidance tricks whenever we try to have any sort of meaningful interaction with him!”

“Of course I noticed,” Katara sighed. “I've been worried—really worried—since Bumi's funeral. I know that everyone mourns differently, but... he buried his friend and the next day he was already busy with some ambassador duty for the Northern Water Tribe. When I offered him support, he smiled and changed the subject. I thought that maybe Air Nomads have a different understanding of death, that this detachment is part of his culture. I should have trusted my intuition from the start instead of letting him sweep everything under the rug.”

[Aang and Katara break up]

“It's Zuko, isn't it.”

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. There was no hiding this. “Yes.”

“You clearly love him—it's so obvious now that I let myself see it.”

“Katara... I'm so sorry.”

“Please, don't. This is... I don't know what to say. Just—go to him, be happy together, whatever you need to do. Just go, Aang. I can't do this.”

He couldn't do this either. To see Katara, his strong, fierce Katara, with trembling lips and wet eyes was torture.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, “I'm so sorry.”

He broke her heart. He loved her. He hurt her.

So he did what he always did: he ran away.

[Aang’s confession, first version]

“Aang, why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you?” Aang questioned.

“About you and Katara,” Zuko answered. “I mean, you don't have to tell me, but apparently everyone else knew and I was the only one left out of the loop. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Zuko. It's just...” Aang gestured weakly, like he was trying to conjure the right words from thin air.

Zuko waited for Aang to elaborate. It didn't happen. They kept feeding the turtleducks in silence, Zuko sitting cross-legged with his back propped on the tree and Aang with his pants rolled up and his feet in the water.

“Aang, I didn't want to pry or make you uncomfortable. It's your business—and Katara's, I guess... anyway, not mine. So, uh... sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck, self-consciously.

Silence, again, thick and full of undecipherable things.

When their eyes met, hundreds of lives dwelled behind Aang's gaze, heavy with unspeakable burdens. The eyes of the Avatar, reflections of a long, unbroken line of heroes and protectors. They had lived, they had seen.

Too much for Zuko, whose chest tightened in the struggle to catch his breath. What was happening? This Aang was so vulnerable, so... raw. Rarely had he seen his friend so close to unraveling.

“You don't have to apologize. You're right, I didn't tell you, but it wasn't because of something you did—it's because you're you, and I couldn't deal with it.”

“I'm... me? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I love you,” Aang said. “That's why Katara broke up with me, why I couldn't tell you. I love you and it's a mess.”

Aang's words might as well had been shouted, for how they left Zuko stranded and grasping at something, anything that was supposed to make sense of what he'd just heard. Because surely there was an explanation. Aang loved Katara to death and beyond. This was some kind of elaborate joke that Zuko hadn't caught up on.

“Come on, what really happened?”

Walls shut off any reaction from the Air Nomad. He was in business mode—imperturbable, collected, the perfect picture of the perfect hero; his smile was so fake it gave Zuko the creeps as he said: “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have burdened you with this. I'm leaving.”

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was happening all the same, though, and this was the crossroad where years of friendship could slip like water through Zuko's fingers if he didn't do something to stop it.

He was still petrified.

His hand moved and grabbed Aang's wrist and made him turn. They were face to face, touching yet almost unreachable. Almost.

“Don't go. I don't want you to—” leave me.

No flicker of acknowledgment from under Aang's façade of rocks and hollowness, though he'd stopped in his tracks and now stood there, staring, with Zuko still holding his wrist.

“I don't know what to say. This is... unexpected and I will probably need time to digest it, but please, don't go like this. We can talk.”

“I betrayed you.”

“What are you talking about?”

The façade was starting to fall apart.

“We were friends and I fell for you. You trusted me and I had to ruin everything with this. I'm sorry.”

What the hell? “Okay, you know what? Now I'm getting pissed,” Zuko growled. “You didn't ruin anything! Stop this fucking ridiculous guilt-trip right now!”

“This isn't a ridiculous guilt-trip!” Aang yelled, and there it was, the fire that burned down the walls.

“I'm shocked to discover that my best friend's in love with me since I had no fucking clue before this conversation, but guess what? It's not the end of the fucking world! You should know better, since you saved it once already!”

“How can you be okay with this?! It's creepy and it's wrong!”

“Do you want me to hate you? Because it seems like that's what you're waiting for, and you refuse to accept that I don't hate you at all!”

[Aang’s confession, second version]

“Why didn't you tell me that you and Katara broke up? I had to hear it fom Suki, of all people!”

“Oh. That. I, uh... kind of didn't want to tell you.”

“So it was on purpose! And you're evading my question.”

“It's... um. Complicated?”

“Did you cheat on her with Mai? I might have to challenge you to an Agni Kai for that.”

Aang choked on air, which made Zuko's eyebrows rise. “Please don't tell me you did it for real.”

“I didn't cheat on Katara, and especially not with Mai.”

“Thank Spirits. I wouldn't be able to win in a duel against you. So, what happened? Suki said she didn't know and she seemed sincere.”

“No one else knows, just me and Katara.”

“Is it a secret? I won't pry if it is.” He was so very curious, though—it was clear as the water from the pond in front of them.

“Definitely something that I wouldn't want people to know, yeah,” Aang said. He fidgeted, playing with his necklace and stroking its wooden shapes. “But you probably should.”

“I should?” The conversation was becoming weirder by the minute. “Well, tell me then.”

Zuko turned to face his friend and—was Aang blushing? The back of Zuko's neck prickled, a familiar yet undecipherable sensation. What was going on?

“Look, Zuko, I... uh...” Aang stuttered. He covered one of his eyes with a hand and took a deep, steadying breath, then muttered: “Ugh, it's like pulling teeth. Worse than learning Earthbending.”

Lacking a decent answer to that, Zuko waited for Aang to catch his thoughts, whatever they were.

Aang tried again. “You know we're friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, hesitant.

“I'm in love with you.”

“...what?”

The can of worms had been opened and Zuko could only listen and stare, mouth agape, as the Air Nomad barreled on. “One day I realized that what I felt for you was different than friendship and—I'd always chalked that up to you being you, you know? You've always been special to me, but it's such a tender feeling and it scared me a little, and when I talked about it to Katara she got mad and cried and broke up with me. So, uh, that's what happened.”

Turtleducks paddled happily on the water, the mother guiding her little offspring in swaying curves to peck at the breadcrumbs the two men had thrown for them. There was so much green in the garden, so much peace and sweet birdsongs. Time had no weight nor shape here.

It was Zuko's turn to be utterly uneloquent.

“That's... not what I was expecting. At all.” A memory suddenly surfaced and his face coloured. “Wait, so that time at the hot springs—you did it on purpose?”

“What? Spirits, Zuko, no!”

“Well, what should I think? You come here and you tell me that you're in love with me since who knows how long, I'm sort of freaking out right now!”

“Nothing changed! If you didn't realize before I told you, why are you so worried?”

“I—it's weird, okay?” Zuko bellowed. “And you can't say nothing changed, you've been in love with Katara for so long, and now you're not, and you love me!”

“But I do love Katara.”

“What? How?”

“What do you mean, 'how'?”

“Well, it's either one or the other, no? You must have a... preference or something for her or me.” He paused. “I can't believe I'm having this conversation.”

The sky was immensely blue, the perfect day for a ride on Appa, and Aang, too, couldn't believe he was having this conversation—but, surreal as it was, it was also necessary. Zuko was proving the point Avatar Yang Chen had made to Aang years before: Air Nomads had a particular outlook on life and love that clashed with the other cultures'.

So, it was the moment where Aang had to explain love to his (other) beloved all over again.

“I don't have a 'preference', I really love you both... there's no way to compare because you're not Katara and Katara isn't you, and in any case I don't care because you're both fundamental, irreplaceable elements in my life. I'm not expecting you to love me back, but it's very important to me to be your friend.” He touched Zuko's arm softly, a question for reassurance, and his voice was clear but low. “Can we be friends? You know—after this?”

The stutter followed by a lack of words, Zuko's averted eyes... they fed the pit in Aang's stomach, a slime-covered, abyss-dwelling monster, but he couldn't—wouldn't—force his hand. This was it, yet another crucial moment in their lives that made them or broke them.

“Your friendship has survived worse,” Avatar Yang Chen had said, so Aang closed his eyes and waited for the monster to strike or leave. I've survived worse, too. I'll be okay.

When Zuko got up and started pacing, Aang decided that focusing his own attention on something else was the best way to leave him space. It's a good sign that he didn't punch me in the face, right? He wouldn't still be here and pacing if he hated me. That doesn't sound like Zuko, he's way too impulsive to not explode in a situation like this. He's probably confused, and stuff. Yes.

He let his eyes wander, a bit more hopeful. Focusing on something else... like the turtleducks, who looked inviting indeed, all tiny and fluffed up and cute.

He took a piece of bread from the satchel and spread the crumbs in the grass in front of him with all the art he could muster; satisfied, he watched and waited. C'mon, there's food here! Delicious bread, just for you! Momo would have been on the loaf way before it was pulled out from the bag. They barely deigned him and his prize a glance. Rude! But he still wanted to pet them, because they were adorable. Making sounds to attract them would interrupt Zuko's brooding.

What to do?

Perhaps they wouldn't shy away if he got closer.

A man on a mission, Aang creeped towards the edge of the pond, slow and silent like the trained monk he was. One of his targets seemed to notice him and tilted its head curiously. Hello, little one. By some miracle, it started to head in Aang's direction.

[Bumi’s funeral]

It was more of a drizzle than rain, really. Tiny, steady droplets of water pelted softly Aang's smooth head and bare arms. The sky was partecipating in their mourning like the kind old friend that it was.

Omashu's mail service wasn't operative; a gentle stream slid down the railing instead. Bumi would have loved to slide on the now wet road—he probably did it every time the occasion arose, Aang mused.

Except now Bumi rested, too still, in an elaborately carved yet solid wooden box and wouldn't go sliding in the mail system ever again.

The King of Omashu was dead.

Bumi was dead, and with him the last person who'd survived from Aang's life before the iceberg. Now he was with the others, and they weren't gone... but they weren't with Aang either. They were spirits now. No one, not a single one would walk on Earth anymore—they would play in the crowded, sunny courtyard in the Air Nomad's memories, to be remembered and cherished with smiling faces and bright hearts.

[Aang and Aunt Wu aka the fortuneteller]

“First Katara, then Guru Pathik, then you! Why is everyone like this? Why can't anyone just give me a straight answer for once, instead of acting like my life is a series of riddles to solve? This 'fated Avatar' thing's gotten old and I'm tired of it!” He can barely breathe, his own element betraying him, and his voice cracks as the wood of a funeral pyre as he goes on. “Is this what I saved the world for? Giving everyone else a future where they belong, by sacrificing mine?”

“An interesting question, Avatar.”

“MY NAME IS AANG!” he yells, desperate, selfish as the day he was born, when all he cared for was survival; he feels stripped as raw and defenseless as then, tender skin in a world too bright and big, unable to carry himself through it and crying his heart out to fill his lungs with life.

He grits his teeth, suffocating the instinct to spill more useless words that he won't be able to take back.