#even muddy backroads

[taylorrepdetective]

Decided to listen to Carolina on repeat in preparation for TTPD, and remembered when an anon came to tell me it’s just about a movie and to not try to make it about Taylor’s life, and then Taylor wrote a song called Guilty as Sin?

[radicalbilly]

Best Friends Too

pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

summary: Lines have already been crossed in your friendship, but what happens when you add a new proposition? + Friends Support Friends

words: 3,058

a/n: nsfw content! i have been a monster for not updating but i’m trying. really i am. please enjoy

warnings: 18+ nsfw content, fingering f!receiving, p in v intercourse, unprotected (sorry, pls wrap it), minors do not enter

Now Billy Hargrove was definitely the type to whip through the empty Indiana backroads, California had taken its toll on him. He just had never been the type to speed because a girl had called his house after his late shift at work claiming that she needed him. But this wasn’t just any girl. It was you.

So, now here he was, speeding down some hick backroad, blaring Def Leppard loud enough to piss off the Hawkins nightlife, and praying that his locker room shower had been enough to rid him of the sickly chlorine smell from the pool.

And Billy had been so antsy recently. He’d kissed you, in retrospect that wasn’t really the worst thing that he had done to you, but he couldn’t think of that either. Not when he was driving forty over the speed limit and this town was known for kids going on late night bike rides.

It’d been weeks since then and he could still hear the sounds you made and taste you on his tongue. You acted none the wiser, you stayed exactly as you were with him. “Best friends” you’d like to remind him. Max had a field day when she heard you call him that, asking briskly if you’d be braiding his hair at your next sleepover.

He remembered scowling at your mischievous grin and the way you waggled your eyebrows at her comment. He also remembered having to excuse himself to his room at the thought of your hands tugging at his hair again.

His hands tensed against the steering wheel as he turned onto your street.

Billy’s frustration had been manifesting itself in the worst possible way recently, he was almost constantly hard. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to hang out at your house. Especially when you’d wear less and less with the warming weather, last weekend, you had only worn his shirt to bed and panties that he hadn’t secretly stolen yet.

He parked down the street, not so far that he couldn’t see your house, but far enough that he could sneak through your backyard without catching any attention to himself. His fingers were cold when he ran them over his face and he tugged down the front of his jeans to relieve some of the pressure before swinging open the car door.

Billy stalked through your yard, trying to be hasty and cussing at himself when he tripped over his own feet.

It was dark and he followed the light from your bedroom window. He could see you through the window, looking at your own reflection in your mirror and mouthing the words to what he thinks might be a Blondie song.

He knocked against the glass, snorting to himself when you jump and turn to look at him. He sees your eyes roll and a heartless attempt at fighting off the grin that catches your cheek.

You’re already reprimanding him before you even finish pulling the window open.

“I told you to come in through the front door, Hargrove.”

He’s quick to the punch when he replies, “You also told me that it was an emergency.”

Your jaw drops in a scoff and you turn as he pulls himself into your room.

“It was an emergency,” Billy’s eyes look over you quizzically and he quirks his eyebrow at you. “Really,” you offer, your arms push out in front of you and you twiddle your thumbs, “I’m home alone and I am in need of emergency company so I don’t freak myself out.”

His expression doesn’t change, “You’re such a princess.”

“How dare you!” Your hand lightly swatted at him and despite the glare that you shoot at him, you both end up laughing at each other.

A new dance had occurred in your friendship, one that made the line between friends and more than friends muddy. One that made the hand that you swatted him with squeeze his bicep before running down the length of his arm and grabbing his hand. Your fingers laced with his and you tugged him towards you a bit.

“Are you gonna stay tonight?”

Billy looked over your face, smirking to himself. “I always stay with you. You made me promise that we were friends.”

“I didn’t make you, you just did because it’s true and you can’t live without me.”

His dimple began to show, but he didn’t say anymore. He instead lead you to your bed and had you sit while he turned on the television. He flicked through the vhs tapes that sat beside it, picking a movie and starting it before coming to set beside you.

His boots thudded as he kicked them off onto the floor. And he lifted himself a bit so that he could flip the light switch.

You liked how comfortable he was able to get with you now, how you hoped that he felt more at home with you than with anyone else. In the new darkness, you felt him cuddle in beside you.

The movie started slowly and unfortunately wasn’t doing its job at catching your attention. From your laying position, your eyes trailed around the room. Nothing took interest until you saw Billy’s hand. His fingers were lazily thrumming against the wooden foot of your bed and every now and again his middle and pointer finger would draw a circle before thrumming again.

Your mind drifted back to his mouth and fingers working in tandem against you and you felt your face grow hot. Warmth had begun to fill your stomach and you gave an experimental squeeze of your thighs.

Billy noticed the movement and moved his free hand to rest on one of the ankles that you had unceremoniously thrown into his lap once you both got comfortable. His thumb grazed over the skin there and you felt goosebumps prickle your skin.

The inner turmoil began to reach its head.

“Billy.”

His head turned to you before his eyes did, trying to catch just a few more seconds of what was on the screen. When he caught your gaze, you felt your breath stutter and your words fail.

“Have you-,” you stopped, contemplating the next few words that were looming in your mind, “Have you thought about that night?”

He pretended not to know, tilting his head despite the fact that his hands had gone entirely still. “Which night?”

“The night that you dug through my bedside drawer.” He continued to play coy, “The night that you fucked me with your mouth, William.”

Billy’s hand tensed on your ankle, he didn’t look at your face but he nodded in response. You took that as a good enough answer.

“Have you ever thought about doing more?”

His snapped over to your face and his eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

You tried to calm your racing thoughts, you wanted to sound more composed than you felt.

“You’re my best friend,” that was a start, he squinted at you, “you’re my best friend and I trust you more than anyone. And, I don’t know, Billy. I’ve been thinking about that night and how it made me feel.”

Billy only nodded in response, you could tell that he was in his thoughts. Debating on what he’d say when you finished your little speech.

You wanted to deflect, you knew Billy really wasn’t going to spill his guts in some over the top “chick-flick” gesture. You’d already caught acknowledgment of his fondness for you, and it usually didn’t come easily.

“It’d be a lot easier to get off without all the extra strings, and you were right about the toy,” Billy grinned in spite of himself, he’d never give up the opportunity to be right. “It’s also easier than getting a boyfriend or you being at risk of getting cooties,” he pinched your skin at that.

“I won’t get cooties and you won’t get a boyfriend if you keep hanging around me.”

“I know,” you agreed gently, “You’d get too jealous over me.”

Billy didn’t bother disagreeing with you, but his hand teased closer to your kneecap. He opened his mouth to speak, but ran his tongue over his teeth instead. His free hand swiped over his hair, “What exactly are you suggesting, Princess?”

You sat up, your hands moving to fiddle with his fingers that rested on your knee, “A mutually beneficial part two, I guess.”

“You want us to fuck each other,” Billy deadpanned.

“But I don’t want to ruin our friendship!”

It looked like he was mulling it over and you could feel his hips shift from beneath your legs. His smirk was primal, when he moved his face closer to yours, “You coulda told me that you wanted me to fuck you.”

You let go of his hand in favor of reaching up to his jaw, your thumb teased his lower lip. “I did, and you chose to use this pretty mouth on me.”

His pupils were blown and you could feel a new pressure against the back of your legs, but he still felt the need to stick his tongue out and lick your finger that rested on him.

Your thumb slipped higher, the pad of it pressing against his lower teeth, you could feel his light panting when he nipped at the skin. He was already glancing down to your lips by the time you asked if he was going to kiss you again.

“Do you want me to?” Billy wanted to hear it, for real this time. He wanted to know that you wanted to kiss him, that you wanted him pressed against you in every way.

“Please kiss me, Billy.”

He maneuvered himself so quickly that it made you breathless. Your thighs hooked over his hips and his arm under your lower back held you in an arch while he rolled against you.

Billy’s lips met yours in a bruising press and he waited for you to gasp to sweep his tongue into your mouth. Your hands tucked into his hair, earning a pleased groan from him.

You could feel the heat growing in your belly again, more so when Billy kissed down the side of your throat, stopping to nibble and suck at the skin there. He knew you’d be pissed at all the dark marks, but he never left them on anyone else regardless of how much he loved to see them.

“Lemme strip,” you huffed as he furthered his trail downward. He nodded, helping to pull you upwards into his lap so that you could take your shirt off. His eyes locked down on your chest and his hands raised to swipe and grope you over the cups.

“You too, Bill. It’s not mutual if I’m the only one without clothes.”

Billy grumbled out what sounded like an apology to your chest before he pecked one of your newly pebbled nipples and laid you back down onto the bed. You rested on your elbows so that you could watch him take his clothes off.

His fingers fumbled with his belt before he looked at you through his lashes, “Are you sure about this?”

You wanted to snip at him, something that would fit your playful banter with him, but you couldn’t. You were serious, you didn’t want him to question how you viewed him.

You sat up and replaced his hands with yours over his belt, you couldn’t look into his eyes when you said this. “Billy, I’m really sure. I know you’re gonna take care of me better than anyone in this stupid town. And I’m going to take care of you, right? It’s better than toys and better than fucking around with randoms.” Your fingers worked deftly with the belt, “We’re better for each other than anyone, really.” The sentence was punctuated with the snap of the belt being pulled from the loops.

Billy grinned like a cheshire cat as he kicked free of his pants and boxers. You held his eye contact, instead of looking down at him. He could tell that you were trying to maintain your composed air, he knew that he’d break you out it.

“Lean back,” he instructed while his fingers pressed against the top of your shoulder. When your back was laid flat, he rubbed his hands up over your thighs and gave testing squeezes to your hips and to the sides of your belly before undoing the button of your jeans and tugging them down your legs.

Billy stared down at you, lightly smacking the outside of your thigh so that you’d spread open more for him.

“Those are my favorites of yours,” he praised, his index finger pressing into your core over the black lace of your panties. He could feel how wet you were through the fabric and he felt his cock jump at the thought of what he’d get to do to you.

You whined as he applied more pressure. “I know they are,” your hips shifted so that he pull your panties down your legs, “I had to steal them back from your house.”

Your legs fell back open and Billy stood to admire the view. His fingers swiped through your folds and you hissed when his middle and ring fingers dipped into you. He curled and thrusted his fingers into you just until you started to rut your hips into his palm.

You nearly growled at him when he pulled his fingers from you, opting to pop them into his mouth and suck them clean. “I knew you were a fucking tease.”

He glared down at you, before grabbing your thighs and pulling you to him. “Quit bitching,” he huffed as he rubbed the tip of himself against you, “I gotta make nice with her before I fuck her.”

Billy’s shallow thrust into you knocked the words out of your throat, replacing it with a pitiful whimper. He gently shushed at you, rubbing his hands over your thighs and trying to steady his breathing. He leaned into you as he bottomed out, pressing your chests together and nuzzling his nose against the side of your cheek while he breathed hard through his nose.

You could feel the slight burn of how he stretched you in such a satisfying way, he was right, your toy had nothing on him. Your hips shifted and he let out a low pitched hum, “Billy, please.”

“Please what, baby?” He managed to tease.

His gaze lifted to yours and he watched your brows pinch together when he gave a slow roll of his hips.

You pouted up at him, clenching yourself on him to spur him to move. “Fuck me, Billy, please.”

“Awe,” he cooed at you mockingly, before rutting into you and placing a deep kiss onto your mouth, “You’re such a pretty thing, with such pretty manners.”

You glared up at him, “Fuck y-,” you were cut off by a sharp yelp when he set his brutal pace. He pulled a pillow from the head of your bed and slid it under your hips while he pulled almost completely out before slamming his hips to yours.

You were nearly babbling in response to the filth that was dripping from Billy’s tongue in between his heady grunts and panting. He had drug your arms over your head to hold with his hand and was praising your pussy like it had been made for him.

“Such a perfect cunt,” Billy whined into the side of your neck, while moving his thumb to draw lazy patterns over your clit.

You loudly whined out when he asked you how you felt, “So good.” Billy’s ego inflated at how worn your voice sounded, “Billy, I feel so full.”

“Baby,” he purred easily, you keened at the petname, “tell me where you want me to cum or else you’re gonna feel way more full.”

You whined loudly at that, imagining Billy pressed against you, fucking his cum deeper into you and growling out his praises.

“Inside,” it sounded breathless, you could feel your walls fluttering around him and Billy had started pressing into the part of you that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Cum inside me.”

“Thank god, Princess.”

He followed the same pattern, angling his his hips and earning high pitched moans from your pouted and opened lips. He leaned to kiss you and released your hands which you used to rake down his back. You nearly sobbed into his mouth as you felt yourself tense at the peak of release.

The stutter of his hips against yours had you both panting into each other’s mouths, riding out your highs together and desperately clinging onto one another as Billy seated his hips against yours to rub his pelvic bone against your clit while he pressed his cum into you.

You both hissed at the over sensitivity when he finally pulled out of you. He stared down in adoration as he watched his cum slip from where he’d pumped it so deeply into you. Your leg twitched to kick at him when his finger wiped up the lost cum and pushed it back into you.

Billy knelt down to pick up the scattered clothes and he pressed a kiss to the outside of your knee. “Do you wanna get a shower?” he asked, already heading towards your bedroom door. You lazily nodded at him and he slipped out of the door.

You could hear his footfalls in the nearly silent house and when the spray of water hit the tiles on the floor of the shower. You’d nearly dozed off by the time he came to bring you to the bathroom.

It was so intimate, already crossing the borders of your new agreement when he loosely pulled your hair up with a clip and helped you step into the shower. He stood in front of the spray so that you wouldn’t have to worry about being pelted and he used your shampoo on his hair and placed your favorite body wash into your opened hand.

Billy knew that he didn’t have to wipe his sudsy hands against your back or rub the muscles there, he knew that it was more than friendly but he also didn’t care about that. He’d take whatever you were willing to give him, even if it was only best friends with added benefits.

Read Friends Support Friends for more!

[your-oddities]

╭─────────.★..─╮

Backseat

╰─..★.─────────╯

Cautions: None besides fluff!

Word count: ~1.3k

•——•——•——•——•——•——•——•

You press your foot on the gas nearly as hard as you’re able to. Sounds of the car protesting loudly grow by the second, though the vehicle won’t budge. You can almost hear grunting coming from behind the car, just barely audible over the engine’s roar. Several seconds pass and, deciding it’s not doing either of you any favors, you take your foot off the gas. You stick your head out the open window and look to the back of the car.

“Is it working?” You shout, trying to look around the trunk. All he responds with is a groan before you watch as he comes around to the driver’s side.

The bottom of Tim’s jeans and every inch of his shoes are practically caked in mud, his shirt also somehow getting dirtied up by the sludge. He trudges to the driver’s side, shaking his head. “Nah. Wheel keeps on spinnin’ but it won’t move.” When you lean back into the car, he rests his elbow on the open window.

This couldn’t have possibly come at a worse time. You two were taking the backroads home after a tiring day. It’s been all too long since you two have been home, your bed ready to replace the nights spent snoozing in the passenger seat. But things turned for the worse when a deer came from the darkness of the woods and darted in front of the car. Tim successfully steered out of the way, though also managing to drive into a large patch of mud on the side of the road. And now, after a few minutes of trying to force the truck out of its spot, the both of you silently agree it’s time to throw in the towel.

Silent seconds pass, the conversation lulling. Not a car passes by, not a helping hand. So, not sure what to do, you turn to Tim. "Now what?" He keeps on looking down the endless road, and it seems as though he hadn't even heard you. But he finally answers with a sniffle and a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"Dunno." Tim replies before looking back to you. "Text Brian and hope he's awake, I guess." He wipes his muddy hands on his already dirtied shirt, fishing his phone out of his pocket. You watch while he taps away at the screen.

“Hope? So we just, what? Wait here if he isn’t up?” Staying yet another night in this old, beat up truck is less than ideal. But you don’t have the money for a night in a motel, much less the energy to walk to one. So, before he even answered, you knew what the response would be.

He looks up from his phone and purses his lips a bit. “I mean, what else are we gonna do? We don’t got many options here.” He slips his phone back into his pocket and takes his elbow off the car. He quickly climbs into the back of the truck and slips off his grimy shoes. You lean heavily against the back of the seat with a weighted sigh escaping you. Out of the corner of your eye Tim’s hand snatches his pack of cigarettes from the center console, and mere seconds later the smell of nicotine and smoke fills your nostrils.

Silence takes over in the absence of conversation. Inevitably, you’ll have to fall asleep in here. And, inevitably, you’ll wake up with every part of your body hurting in some way or another from staying in the same position all night. You take a glance in the rear view mirror towards the man behind you. He looks to be even more tired than you are. His eyes are almost fighting to stay open, a cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes meet yours in the rear view mirror, yours swiftly looking elsewhere.

You curse mentally as he speaks up. “You cold?” He asks, honestly sounding bored. You’re almost confused by the question before your upper body shakes as a shiver runs through you. You hadn’t paid much mind to the cold. The heater doesn’t work well, so you two have been dealing with the chilly temperature for nearly the whole ride. You suppose you’ve gotten used to it.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Kind of.” The words sound awkward coming out of your mouth. There’s no apparent reason behind it. At least, not that you can think of. “But I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Looking back to the mirror, it’s obvious your words did little to nothing in convincing Tim, eyes fixed on you. But he doesn’t call you out on it. Rather, he scoots over a smidge and gestures with his head as a sort of ‘come on’ motion.

The smiling tugging at your lips is involuntary. You’re not even sure why he’s inviting you back there, but you can’t help feeling pleased nonetheless. Now hopping out of the driver’s seat, you climb into the backseat with Tim. His muddy shoes sit in the open spot for your feet, so you opt for a criss-cross position on the seat. “Sorry about the shoes.” He apologizes sincerely.

You merely shrug. “Don’t worry about it.” You shut the door behind you before looking back to Tim once more. Now, instead of an almost unreadable expression on his face, he’s simply smiling as he looks to you. His hands rest on his legs, the cigarette lazily held between two fingers. If there was just one contagious grin in the world, his would be it.

With his free arm, he opens it up to you. The wave of his hand only further solidifies what he’s wanting you to do. You’re cautious, of course. He’s never been one for physical contact. You lost track of the amount of times your arm or hand brushed against his accidentally and he immediately steps back or puts his hand in his pocket. But this, this is a warm welcome in contrast to the closed off demeanor he has every day.

Hesitantly, you nudge closer to him. He doesn’t rush you. Instead his eyes follow your movements as you edge closer towards his open embrace. Once you’re close enough, he places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes you into a surprisingly comfortable position. Your body is stiff at first, of course. You’ve never been in this sort of situation with him, much less one where you could touch him at all.

His hand rubs up and down your arm slowly. That alone serves to calm you. Your muscles relax and a deep breath escapes you as you realize that you’re gonna be here for a while. You almost immediately rest your head on his shoulder. A quiet laugh shakes Tim a little and he holds you closer.

He brings the cigarette up to his lips, taking a long, slow drag. The tip burns red until he finally breaks away a few seconds later. Smoke leaves his parted lips and his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he looks down to you. “Want it?” He holds the cigarette towards you as an offer. “Might help you feel warmer.”

You’ve smoked before, and so it’s not like this is far too new for you. Wordlessly, you grab the cigarette from between his fingers and bring it to your mouth. Breathing in deeply, eyes shut. Reluctantly, you pull it away and breathe out. Grey smoke leaves your lungs and your eyes open again. Glancing back to Tim, you hold the cigarette out for him to take. But he shakes his head. “I’m good. You can finish it.”

You’re unsure of what this change in his personality is due to, but it’s surely welcome. You lean against him heavily and his arm tightens around you. You take another drawn out drag from his cigarette, eyes shutting. His head rests against yours as a heavy sigh leaves him.

The night felt a little warmer after that.

• . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . •

Thanks for reading !! ヾ(^_^)

probably not gonna post for another month … el oh el … so happy holidays ! ♡

[chaotic-on-main]

Just Friends | ModernAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ best friends to lovers, expletives, implied sexual intimacy

☾ A/N ➼ This is the sauciest thing I've ever written and I haven't stopped blushing since I've finished it. asdl;jalsd anyways. Enjoy? This was proofread once, take it as is lmao. K love y'all bye <3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.3k

Levi clutches the seat belt that wraps tightly around his chest with white knuckles. He's flung forward yet again as the truck you both currently sat in took a massive dip in the dirt path, no thanks to your erratic swerving. He looks over to you with a signature scowl and a pointed look. You’re quick to shoot back a toothy grin. He knew better than to let you drive but he suggested it anyways since his knee pains were flaring up again with the oncoming storm.

“Will you keep your eyes on the fucking road?” Levi grumbles through clenched teeth.

“I am! But you won’t stop shooting daggers my way.” You swerve around another hole, almost hitting the wooden fence that separates the road from an open pasture, currently devoid of any farm life.

“I’m only doing that because you’re literally the worst driver I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.” Levi’s grip on the belt tightens. He looks up through the windshield of the threatening dark gray clouds that were rolling in far too fast for his liking. The weatherman had said the storm would be arriving later in the evening, but it seems the weather gods were feeling spiteful today. “Also, why the fuck would you think taking the backroads would be a better option??”

“I just thought they’d be quicker. I know how storms can get for you…” You trail off as you risk a glance over to your friend. He doesn’t give you a reaction so you continue, “I just wanted to get you home faster.”

“More like get me killed faster.”

“Hey! I’m trying my best here!” You hit a bump at full speed. You shriek as you grip the wheel hard to keep it straight. “At least it’s not raining yet!”

Curse you and your damn words. A heavy raindrop hits the windshield with a splat. Then another. And another. And suddenly it’s downpouring. Not enough to blind you fully but it’s loud against the truck’s body. You sense Levi tensing up next to you and you silently curse at yourself. You take a deep breath before glancing over to him with another grin.

 “It’s fine! I know where we’re going. We’ll be there in no time!” You feign a good tone. You only hear more grumbles in response.

.

After another 15 minutes of driving down a now muddy path, it was extremely clear that you had no idea where you were going. Levi hadn’t said anything the whole time, but he was increasingly getting more stressed, and you could feel it. You thought this was the right way, but you were questioning yourself. With the rain now coming down in sheets, it was even harder to see. Maybe you missed a turn?? You spot another divot and turn the wheel so you can drive around it, making sure to slow down. But that smart decision quickly turns into a big mistake. You feel the driver’s side tilt down and the truck abruptly stops.

“What did you do?” Levi glares hard at you.

“I was trying to swerve around a hole but I think there was another one on the other side.” You squeak. You press down on the gas, and you hear the truck rumble but not move. Mud sprays your window as you do so. You do it again, more rumbling, more mud. “I think we’re stuck.”

“You think so?” Levi’s voice is cold, jaw locked and tense.

“Listen man, I can’t control the weather. I was trying to do this for you!” You whip your head over to his icy gaze and give him an equally narrow glare.

“I never asked you to.” Levi digs his fingers into his thighs and looks away, out the window with his back turned to you.

“I know you hate storms but you don’t have to be so mean.” You huff and quickly unbuckle your seat belt before sticking the gear into neutral. Levi glances back over to you at the noise.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to try and push.” You pull up your cloth hood and zip your jacket up to your neck. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.

“The fuck you will. By yourself?”

“Well, you could help.” You turn to face him. His matching stormy eyes are wide at you, but he says nothing. “Yeah, okay.” You mutter before opening the door and sliding out into the raging wind and rain. You immediately regret it. In mere seconds you’re soaked to the bone. You tuck yourself in to keep in some warmth as you make your way over to the front of the truck, stepping around the massive hole it was currently stuck in. Muddy water went up to the middle of the tire and the way the hole was, there was no way to go forward. But if you could push the vehicle back, then you might be able to get it back on even ground.

You grip the front of the cold, wet metal and start pushing. It barely moves an inch. Of course. You do your best to plant your feet into the squishy mud under you and push again. There’s some movement, but not enough to make a difference. Wiping the rain from your face with an equally wet sleeve, you bend your knees a little and grunt as you push again. You feel it shift and move even more. You’re doing it! You glance into the windshield but notice the truck is empty. Something rustles next to you and you jump as suddenly you notice a figure to the left of you. It’s Levi. His raven-hair is already plastered to his skin from the rain, water dripping down his face as he pushes against the metal.

“What!?” He yells over to the rain to you, his eyes cutting into yours.

“Nothing!” You scream back, giving him a lopsided smile. “Thanks!”

“Whatever, just push!” It takes quite a few more before you’re able to get the wheel mostly out of the hole, the muddy water now just above the bottom of the tire.

“I think we just need one more big push!” You shout over to Levi, giving him a thumbs up. He nods and digs his shoes into the mud, you doing the same on the other side. “On three!”

“One… two… THREE!” You both shove on the hood at the same time and you feel like laughing because it gives easily, rolling back and out of the hole before stopping abruptly on flat land. But the shove was a little too strong and you find yourself falling face first with nothing to lean against and you’re suddenly tasting mud. You’re quick to push yourself up as you splutter out the disgusting water, wiping it from your eyes with a groan. When you look over, Levi is in the exact same predicament. If looks could kill.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to be out here!” You can’t help it, you burst out in laughter at the sight in front of you. Levi is drenched head to toe in dark mud, everything now brown. His face is just as covered save for his eyes and mouth that he just swiped clean. He scowls and says your name with irritation.

“Levi, come on! I know I got us here but everything else wasn’t my fault!” You frown at him. His sour mood was really starting to grate on you. You’re usually used to it but today was different.

You really didn’t mean to get the two of you into this predicament. You knew storms were the reason for his frigid attitude, but you couldn’t help but take it extremely personally. You were just trying to get him home quicker and it’s not like he fought back when you made the initial turn down the road. A distant rumble of thunder rolls through and Levi’s body freezes for a moment. You didn’t have time to sit out in the rain arguing. “C’mon. Let’s just get in. I can get the seats cleaned later.” You sigh and push yourself up from the ground, mud squishing under your fingers as you do.

Luckily, you kept an emergency kit in the back compartments in case you were stranded during the winter. The season change had come so quickly that you hadn’t had time to pull it out. In it were a couple towels, a reflective heat blanket, water and snacks, as well as a little first aid kit. Both doors shut at the same time and the quick change in volume is deafening. The rain is muffled as it hits the window and another rumble rolls through the sky, closer but still quiet in the safe haven you both found in the truck.

You throw him a towel before using the other to work on cleaning your face and hair. Before you both settled in, you made sure to shut the truck off so as to not waste gas. But because of that, it was now getting colder. Your clothes now feel icy against your skin as the wetness weighs it down. Once you were able to get as much mud off as you could, you quickly pull out the thermal blanket and unfold it. It’s big enough that you and Levi could share if you huddled close. Speaking of…

Levi’s already wiped off any traces of mud on his skin. He looks over to you as he’s cleaning behind his ears, his eyes softened considerably. However, a scowl is still ever-present.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever?” You mumble.

“Depends, are you going to attempt to kill me again?” He snaps back.

“I didn’t know this would happen.” You huff at him again.

“Tch.”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way then I’m not sharing the thermal blanket.” You wrap the thin aluminum plastic over your body and pull yourself into a ball before facing away from him with a pout. You can’t help but think about today as a whole. Sure, the situation you were both in was not favorable, especially with his past and storms. But it felt like there was something else going on with him. He’s been snarkier and ruder than he usually is with you. Ans a lot more serious.

“Levi?” You whisper after a few beats.

“What?”

“Did I do something wrong?” You pull your knees closer to you and hug them to your chest. There’s no response, but he does shift in his seat, it squeaks under him as he does. There’s a resounding silence before he sighs.

“No.” You flip your head to the other side so that you can see him. His gaze flicks over to the window quickly, failing to hide his obvious staring. You smirk at that.

“Then why are you so angry at me?”

“I’m not angry… at you.”

“But you’re angry.”

“…I guess.”

“Why?”

His eyes land on you and there’s pain in them. His typical brick walls are up and it’s infuriating to you because you thought 15-something years of friendship would have broken those down by now. His eyebrows pinch in the middle like they always do when he’s thinking hard about what to say next. And it stays like that for a moment. The rain is lightening up a bit and you can tell because of how much softer it is against the glass. It makes the silence all the more louder.

“What am I to you?” He leans back into the seat as he stares hard into your eyes, searching. The question takes you off guard and you release your legs, making them tumble to the floor so you’re sitting straight up.

“What are you to me? What kind of question is that?” You laugh nervously.

“What… am I… to you?” He whispers slowly. There’s that pain in his eyes again, shining like a lighthouse in the night. Begging for someone to notice it, to take caution.

“I- what do-” He snaps your name, and it makes you jump at his sudden aggression.

“Just answer the question, goddamn it!” Heat flushes to your cheeks as you swallow hard.

“Levi, what do you want to be to me?” Your voice now back to a whisper. He stares incredulously at you for a moment before doing something you never even imagined in a thousand years. He leans forward and closes the distance faster than you can blink. Then his lips are on yours, soft and hot. When he pulls away, it feels as if your entire body has erupted into flames. You pull your fingers to your mouth, still feeling the pressure of his against it. His wide eyes must reflect your own because you both gawk at each other in silence.

“Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thi-” He stutters before he’s silenced by you throwing yourself in his direction and pushing your lips back on to him. Eyes closed this time, you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer. Levi doesn’t hesitate to dig his fingers into your hips to pull you into him as he meets your rhythm, heaving chests pressed against each other as you both struggle for air. You both push away at the same time and take a deep breath, gazing hard at each other.

Levi’s face is flushed the most beautiful red you've ever seen and his damp hair was tousled every which way from your wandering hands. He doesn’t say anything, but you don’t mind. You don’t mind because you’re already pulling his shirt up and he’s tugging at your pants, cloth gripped tight under clenched fists. Whatever he is to you, it’s obvious that it’s more than just friends. And you were okay with that.

☾ shout-out to @humanitys-strongest-bamf for being my cheerleader last night. 💕 Also please join my taglist for future content!

[thisworldisablackhole]

nothing,nowhere. Hell or Highwater

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌑

FFO: COUNTRY, EMO, ALEX G, DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL / LISTEN

Country is back in. It has been for a while. Everyone wants to be a cowboy these days. The undercurrents of americana that pervade popular music have never gone away, but many artists over the past few years have been pushing their over the top characterizations of cowboys and countryscapes back into the mainstream by fusing the genre with electronic based pop and rap. Lil Nas X, Oliver Tree, hell, even Beyoncé has seen the potential in this fusion. In a way, it almost feels a little bit late for singer-songwriter and emo-rap-metalcore extraordinaire Joe Mulherin to be hopping on the trend, but I'm not sure if anyone has so unabashedly mixed alt-country and emo pop like this before.

Hell or Highwater is the newest entry in the series of Joe Mulherin doing whatever the fuck he wants since leaving Fueled by Ramen and regaining ownership of his career. He already dropped a full length record of emo rap bangers earlier this year, and now, almost as if to flex his new found creative freedom, he's switching things up with nine sad, manure scented acoustic tracks. "John Wayne (I Wanna Be A Cowboy)" kicks things off with a reminder that Mulherin is, in fact, a millennial, and his perspective as a 30 something year old struggling with motivation and trapped in cycles of late night doom-scrolling definitely shines through in the lyrics. Somber strums of the guitar accompany him as he sings "I wanna be a cowboy, but I sleep too late. I stayed up all night watching Walmart fights on my phone". At face value, it's a bit cheesy, but the message of desperately wanting more for yourself yet having too much executive dysfunction to take those steps is honest and easily relatable for the modern age. Don't worry though, not every song is so on the nose with it's tiktok generation pandering. Fourth track and one of the biggest album highlights, "In The Country", hits us with the beautiful cry of the harmonica and a much less obvious approach to discussing depression and the yearning to escape to a quieter, simpler life.

I'd be remiss not to mention that there is still a small hip hop influence on this album. "Hydrangeas", "Cliché Lovers", and "Honey" all feature some 808s and trap hi hats, but Mulherin's sad cowboy persona still remains at the core of these songs, and these elements blend so seamlessly into the rest of the album that they hardly feel out of place, especially if you are already familiar with the previous work of nothing,nowhere. These songs bring a sort of mixtape feel to the album, and while they aren't the star of the show for me, they act as nice segues between the more countryfied moments. Things really get kicked up a notch near the end of the record with bombastic choruses in a slacker visage like early Dashboard Confessional meets Rocket-era Alex G. Closing track "New England" ends things off on a particularly high note, starting with the lone riffing of an electric banjo before drums, acoustic guitars and blues slides all drop into place. Mulherin throws a slight twang on his voice as he recites some of his most muddy truck lovin' lyrics to date, "Well, I know that backroads and dirty clothes just ain't for everyone. So, you take the city lights and skyline, give me a setting sun". It's probably the most cowboy cosplay moment on the whole album, but in the midst of the trees and cornfields still lies an explosive, tearjerking chorus of lost love that could make me weep. Mulherin has always had a knack for hooks and catchy choruses, and this song further exemplifies the fact that he could easily make a career in writing chart topping hits if he wanted to.

I'll admit, I wasn't expecting to fall in love with this album. My personal relationship with country music has gone from ironically blasting "Fix A Drink" by Chris Jansen for shits and giggles, to eagerly watching Lucinda Williams live with clasped hands and open ears, but when the emo kid next door suddenly shows up on your front lawn with a cowboy hat, acoustic guitar in hand, and face painted like a clown, I think anyone would be a little skeptical. But whether it's rap, metalcore, or alt country, Mulherin never fails to write a memorable, heart clutching song. Hell or Highwater is just further proof that his song writing talent transcends borders, and—outside of the constraints of major labels—he truly can do whatever the fuck he wants.

[candlelitcorners]

Remote Reflections

I didn't think much of it when the eyeglasses first appeared.

My house sits atop 9 or so acres, encircled by woods and fielded area off a county backroad. At the bottom of the hill is a medium-sized pond of dark water that flows up from a well. The well is covered by a tiny stone building.

Ever since I moved in, the door to the well house has been sealed shut. I've never opened it- never needed to. Water flows out from under the door, down a short stone path and into the pond.

A hundred years ago, I was told, the well fed water to the house. These days, it only kept the pond full.

From time to time, some trash or other items could blow in from the road and get stuck on a branch or along the water's edge.

I thought that's where the eyeglasses must have come from.

Until they turned up, week after week.

Sometimes I spotted them half-floating, and sometimes they were lodged in the muddied edge of the pond. Once the shattered frame was even a few feet up the hill as if carried by a curious animal.

After over a month of picking pieces of eyeglasses out of my pond, I found a small pile of glass and metal scraps, leading up the stone path to the well house. They seemed to be coming right out from under the door with the well water.

And, well, that couldn't be possible.

Sleep was a struggle to find that night. I was stiff as a board in my bed, eyes refusing to close. What else was in the well house? What was bringing the glasses there? What was putting them out?

In the morning, my face felt tired- exhausted, rather- from the late night. I mustered up enough strength to swing an arm over to the bedside table and feel around for my eyeglasses.

My chest tightened, throat going dry.

They weren't there.

[adelaidedrubman]

wip music monday ft. last line tag

i given some sick tunes and tagged to give some in turn by @v0idbuggy @inafieldofdaisies @derelictheretic @socially-awkward-skeleton! also following skelly’s lead and combining this with the last line tag i got from @cassietrn beloved. sending tags for either out to @direwombat @henbased @florbelles @unholymilf @poetikat @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @afarcryfrommymain @voidika @strafethesesinners @strangefable @deputyash @purplehairsecretlair @corvosattano @jackiesarch @nightbloodbix @trench-rot @ri-a-rose @blissfulalchemist and anyone else interested!

another day, another snippet and thematically relevant bop from hook, line, and sinker.

“You got the plan down, right?” Jestiny hissed at the man fumbling uselessly with the task of baiting his hook, leaning into the motion of casting her line to inconspicuously shove in front of him and hopefully block the embarrassing display from Sherri and Skylar’s view. “Don’t need me to fuckin’ rehearse it with you again?” 

By the time they’d parked the skiff perfectly midway between Can of Worms and the bank at which her ex-girlfriends were presently fishing, Jessie was beginning to think that this entire thing had been a massive, undeniable mistake. 

and, of course, obligatory lyric excerpt. this song truly tells jestiny’s story like none other. the whiskey has failed to solve her heartbreak, but she knows what the solution to this situation is — no, not meaningful self-reflection. she simply needs a boat. and adelaide may ask her about the break up, but the admiral sure won’t.

this whiskey sure tastes fine right now / but it ain’t doin’ the trick, no / yeah, it ain’t gettin’ me gone enough / to make my mind forget / that one shot, two shot, three shot more / don’t change the fact she ain’t in the picture anymore / this bar stool ain’t workin’ / but if anything can / it’ll be me on a dock pushin’ off of dry land

i need a lake, a little bit of bait / i’d even take a creek / i’m tired of all these concrete streets / we were running down / yeah, what i need right now / is some roddin’ and some reelin’, first catch feelin’ /praying to the man for some muddy water healin’ /don’t need no sad song on my radio / burnin’ up some black smoke, down a backroad / i need a boat / i need a boat

don’t care if it’s a pontoon / brand new, been used / as long as it’ll fish / just wanna cast it out yonder / let my mind wander off to anything but this / i’m tired of runnin’ into all my friends / askin’ if i’m over her lovin’ / yeah, but out there where the river lets in / them fish don’t ask me nothin’

[cigarretteluvr]

i traded hot, still, perfect evenings for santa ana winds and light polluted nights, train tracks and muddy soles for the 405, backroads for pch. blissful youth for wild freedom. and i don't regret it, but i still miss it everyday, the sun doesn't shine the same here, the people don't smile the same here. sacramento, i miss you most now that it's may. i miss the way you raise your dandelions, i miss your secret hideaways, i miss your dry summers, wet winters, cozy autumns, and perfect springs- how do you make the city of angels seem so uninteresting? my city of trees, my heart leaves you, aching i hate to be homesick, i'm sorry for escaping

[bcnes-archived]

@underworldslibrary ( greaseball ) sent ; ❝ you look like a mess. ❞

"You know, believe it or not, I kinda feel like a mess. Thanks anyway." It's not much of a stretch to imagine he looks even worse, spattered in mud and with his hair sticking up at all angles. He can't even be bothered to care about that at the moment; he's a bit more pressed that the lousy excuse for transport down here evidently doesn't hold up one bit on muddy backroads. Damn thing spun out entirely, and it's only his continual bizarre luck that he supposes spared him from getting flipped head over heels - instead it had slammed to a stop against some metal structure or another.

McCoy couldn't scramble out fast enough. He's going everywhere on foot from now on, that's it. No more cars, no more shuttles, no more goddamn spaceships.

He's got no idea what the damage is, nor who could have spotted his sorry ass and come to check and see if he's not dead, but he's got something of a vague answer to both those questions when he hauls himself to his feet - stiffly, and already cataloguing injuries in his head - and comes face to... ankle... with a... something. One brow arches and he looks up, never at a loss for words but most definitely at a loss for coherent manners at the moment.

"What in the hell are you supposed to be?"

[sea-and-sky-intertwined]

rain and stormy skies

skywater and lightning was skylight

sitting in the backseat of the storm

windows rolled down and raindrops running down me

cold winds as my warm blanket  

drink in my hand growing ever colder

taking the backroads, even though the streets were clear

muddy paths and ugly drooping trees

water flowing into the storm drain

and cactus wrapped in gold

i have been okay before, in a time i can’t remember

but right then

in that car, in that storm, in that hour and minute,

i think i felt happy again.

[arrestmebobbygoren]

Queer Theory Song Analysis: 'Tim McGraw' by Taylor Swift

[Verse 1]

He said the way my blue eyes shined

Put those Georgia stars to shame that night

I said, "That's a lie"

Just a boy in a Chevy truck

That had a tendency of gettin' stuck

On backroads at night

And I was right there beside him all summer long

And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone

Since her first single, Taylor has always shown us her world through the queer female gaze. Even when she is describing herself, she writes women in much more vivid detail than she writes her male characters. In Taylor’s sparkling blue eyes, we can see the infinite possibilities of first love. In her voice, we get a sense of her personality – witty, sarcastic, wise beyond her years, sardonic, maybe a little insecure.

The other person, in contrast, who she characterizes as ‘just a boy’, has even less agency than a broken-down truck. The truck, which gets a personality and a brand name, is something we can picture; the boy, however, is notably absent from the verse.

It is worth noting that this song is entirely existing in the head of the narrator, and therefore the truth of most of this narrative cannot be independently confirmed; in fact, the only think we know to be true is that the narrator said out loud “That’s a lie.” We will come back to this later.

[Chorus]

But when you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

The one we danced to all night long

The moon like a spotlight on the lake

When you think happiness

I hope you think that little black dress

Think of my head on your chest

And my old faded blue jeans

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think of me

Taylor will often use male placeholders for female-centric experiences. It is interesting that Tim McGraw does not invoke in Taylor any visions or memories of a male lover. What we see, instead, are snapshots of a woman – in a little black dress, in faded blue jeans – and symbolic representations of womanhood – the moon and water are associated with femininity, fertility and female energy.

Also notable here is Taylor’s pronoun usage, and the way she will purposefully muddy the picture that she painted for us. We see the female narrator in blue jeans; but the boy we were introduced to in the first verse is notably absent. Instead, we are given one old character (“I”; the narrator), and one new character (“you”). Though it is possible to infer that the “you” from the chorus and the “he” from the first verse are the same person, the text is not explicit about this. Rather, it obfuscates, changing the point of view. The narrator is no longer describing someone; she is now in dialogue with them.

We are again missing any glimpse of a male lover. Instead, we are given imagery of the narrator’s blue jeans, and a black dress without a wearer. One queer reading of this is that the narrator is picturing two women – herself in jeans (the pronoun associated with the jeans is ‘my’) and her lover in a black dress (the pronoun associated with the dress is ‘you’). Of course, these could both be the narrator’s clothes -- her lover picturing her in a little black dress, and also in her old faded blue jeans; but this interpretation does not take away from the inherent queerness of the chorus, because we are again only seeing depictions of what a woman is wearing, as told by a female narrator. If there is a man in this story, he is not the subject, nor the object of interest.

[Verse 2]

September saw a month of tears

And thankin' God that you weren't here

To see me like that

But in a box beneath my bed

Is a letter that you never read

From three summers back

It's hard not to find it all a little bittersweet

And lookin' back on all of that, it's nice to believe

We could assume that verse two would take us back to “I” and “he”, but instead, the camera stays on the narrator and “you”. (“He” actually never returns, except in the outro, which is a repeat of the start of the first verse). Here, we see the narrator crying (“you” is unaware); and referencing a letter that she wrote three years prior to when this song takes place (“you” is again unaware).

The contents of the letter are never specified, though we can infer that ‘you’ is the subject of the letter; and that, since it is hidden under the narrator’s bed, it’s contents are personal and private – perhaps feelings that the narrator feels that she has to hide -- from others, from ‘you’, and perhaps even from herself.

It is clear is that the narrator has been thinking about ‘you’ for at least three years now, that ‘you’ is now gone, and that their absence has left the narrator bereft. But the last line of the verse again calls the premise of the song into question, when the narrator reflets “it’s nice to believe.”

It may be that the narrator wants to believe that when ‘you’ hears the narrator’s favorite song, ‘you’ will think of her. Or it may be that the narrator wants to believe that the summer she spent with ‘you’, the long-term object of her affections, was real.

It is possible that the summer that the narrator spent with ‘you’ never happened – that the entire thing played out only in the narrator’s dreams and fantasies. It is also possible that the summer did happen, but not as the narrator wishes. Perhaps ‘you’ is a close friend – someone who the narrator had grown up with and who, over the years, the narrator had developed feelings for, though she could barely admit that to herself, let alone speak those feelings aloud. Now, three years later, ‘you’ has left the picture; and the narrator finds it bittersweet that just as she has come to accept herself for who she is and who she loves, her chance to tell ‘you’ how she feels has passed her by.

[Chorus]

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

The one we danced to all night long

The moon like a spotlight on the lake

When you think happiness

I hope you think that little black dress

Think of my head on your chest

And my old faded blue jeans

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think of me

This chorus reads differently when seen through the lens of fantasy rather than memory. The narrator hopes that the person who has occupied her thoughts for the past three years will remember her when they are gone. And if they do think of her, she hopes they might see her as she had always wanted them to see her – as someone they could fall in love with. The chorus is romanticized and full of longing; it seems that the narrator is now only in dialogue with herself, and it is unclear if she is remembering a dialogue she had with a lover, or creating a dialogue she wishes she could have had with the person she secretly loves.

[Bridge]

And I'm back for the first time since then

I'm standin' on your street

And there's a letter left on your doorstep

And the first thing that you'll read is:

"When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

Someday you'll turn your radio on

I hope it takes you back to that place"

At last, the narrator has resolved to let ‘you’ know her feelings. Whether she has decided to tell a former lover that she still thinks of them and hopes they still think of her; or whether she has decided to let someone know for the first time the depth of her feelings; or whether she wishes she had the courage or the right set of circumstances to come clean, is up for interpretation. What is clear is that the narrator has had to work to get herself to the place where she can figuratively or literally unbox her feelings – and that she has no idea how her feelings will be received. We are left on the doorstep where the narrator has laid her heart bare, and we are completely in the dark as to how our coming out will be received.

[Chorus]

When you think happiness

I hope you think that little black dress

Think of my head on your chest

And my old faded blue jeans

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think of me

Oh, think of me

Mmmm

[Outro]

He said the way my blue eyes shine

Put those Georgia stars to shame that night

I said, "That's a lie"

We are left with the only thing we know to be true about this story – the fact that the narrator declared out loud that something was a lie. It is curious that the only time the narrator calls out something as being a lie is in the first verse and the outro -- the only parts of the song that reference the mysterious and devoid ‘he’.

Perhaps we are to believe that this is a tell -- and the use of the pronoun ‘he’ is a bait-and-switch, intended to wrap the song and the songwriter in a cloak of heteronormativity. It could also be that the entire song is a lie – a creation, a fantasy.

But whether the narrator is reminiscing or dreaming, the one thing that is clear is that the world that Taylor has built for us is female – that the people who are active in this world are women, the people who are doing the gazing are women, the people being gazed at are women; and that any men who inhabit this world are hinted at, but never seen and never heard.

[brianc521]

Bad Boys Bring Heaven To You | Brian Craigen

Warning; This Fic contains smut and unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it yall! Enjoy.

They were a walking cliche. Always have been. From the ages of 7 to now 22, they were always polar opposites. Which is why they worked so well together. 

Brian walked around the halls of their high school with a leather jacket, ripped black skinny jeans, dirty white t-shirt, and a busted lip or black eye. He smoked cigarettes and drank too much. He almost never attended class, he really only ever showed up to school to make sure no one ever messed with his Anna. 

Susanna, named after her grandma, started going by Anna when she met Brian in second grade. He’d told her that Susanna was an old lady name and promptly started calling her Anna, saying it was ‘much prettier.’ 

Anna is a fair skin wild-child. She was stick thin as a young child, but as they grew she suddenly thickened out, and filled nicely into a curvy body. Her dark blonde hair sometimes looks a bit reddish in the sun, and the freckles on her nose gave her such an innocent look when paired with her big brown doe eyes. 

She’s Brian’s weakness. Always has been. He’s been head over punches for her since the day he met her. He’d pushed her down on the playground and when she skinned her knee and started crying softly, his bad boy facade fell. He’d walked her to the school nurse and sat with her, holding her hand, as they cleaned the dirty muddy scrape and bandaged her up. 

“Please Brian?” She asks with a pout, blinking her eyes at him in a way where he can’t refuse. 

“Sweetie, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He caresses the side of her face. 

“But,” She sticks her bottom lip out. “I just wanna try.” 

He sighs, hanging his head because man she really knows how to get what she wants. 

“We’ll take the backroads, the last mile is all yours okay?” He offers, holding his hand out. 

“Okay!” She grins, taking his offered hand to swing her leg over the seat of his motorcycle. 

He looks back, getting a small glimpse of her creamy thigh. She’s always wearing these short sundresses now, and they love to make his mind wander into the gutter. He reaches back when she’s settled up nicely against his back. He can feel her breasts pushed up against him, and he can tell she’s not wearing a bra today. 

His hand lands on her left thigh, and he slips his fingertips under the hem of her skirt for a minute. Biting his lip he lightly scratches his fingers down her leg and he can hear the intake of her breath in his ear. 

That only revs his engine further. He knows he just promised to let her drive the last mile home, but he doesn’t know if he’s gonna have the patience to let her. He was barely able to handle watching her walk into her college lecture when he dropped her off earlier.

He makes the decision to break his promise when she holds his waist tighter on a curve, and when she squeezes her thighs against his. She’s warm, and squishy, and he can’t wait. 

He takes a sharp left to take them down the road to his place, and she whines in his ear. That alone almost makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“You promised.” She loosens her grip on his waist. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He yells so she can hear him, dropping his right hand from the handlebar to rest on her hands.

He pulls the bike up into the driveway of his own little run down house. It’s nothing special, just a workshop with a bedroom and bathroom attached. It was his Grandpa’s, and when he passed he took it before the rest of the family could sell it. 

When he turns the bike off they sit for a moment, he doesn’t move. He does in fact smirk though when Anna clutches his shirt. The bike’s vibration does rile her up. His hand that’s still on hers pushes them down, just so she can feel that he’s riled up too. His left hand goes back to her thigh, this time caressing it. 

“Please.” She whimpers. He can’t handle it, he gets up off the bike and turns to her in a flash. Her cheeks are flushed red, lips a bright pink, hair messy. Her legs seem to be shaky already, so he crouches down and lifts her easily into his arms. 

Her legs wrap around his waist, his hands resting just under her ass to hold her up. He walks her into his place, kicking the door shut behind him when they enter. Once in his room he sets her down, lifting her dress over her head revealing her white lacy panties underneath. 

“Damn Baby.” He husks, devouring her with his eyes. She’s staring up at him like he’s the only man in the world and it’s just making him harder. “What do you want Baby?”

“You.” She answers so quickly. 

He grins, gives her a ‘come hither’ motion and when she does he plants a sinful kiss to her lips. One that has her at his mercy. He sits on his bed, breathing heavily as he looks her up and down again.  She stands between his spread thighs, and he bites his lip as he stares at her naked body. 

“You’re so sexy.” He hums, palming her breasts in his hand. She moans at the rough feel of his hands on her sensitive nipples. 

He trails his fingers slowly down her body, dipping them down into the front of her panties. He groans at the feeling. 

“You’re so wet Baby.” 

She’s groaning at how he’s teasing her. Clutching his shoulders so her knees don’t buckle from beneath her. His thumbs hook into panties at her hips. He shimmies them down her thick hips and thighs, and that fateful tattoo stares right back at him. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. The black inked ‘B’ on her hip stands out on her pale hip. He leans forward, planting a small kiss to his initial and she keens in his hands. 

He pulls her down onto her lap, making her straddle him. She gasps at the feel of the fabric of his jeans on her bare mound. He’s bulging, and when he grabs her ass she jumps into him. She moans at the feel and he grins. 

“Come on Baby.” He licks his lips. He pulls her close again so she rubs against him. Her eyes roll back and he knows she feels good. He likes making her feel good. So he keeps holding her hips, making her roll against him. 

Her thighs start to squeeze him tighter, and she starts to take control of the speed leaving him a panting mess beneath her as she rides him. 

Her back arches, moaning his name, nails digging into his shoulders as she stutters. It ripples through her, sending a shockwave through her entire body. When she finishes she slumps against him, and he kisses down her neck. 

“Good job.” He mumbles into her ear, tugging on her earlobe. 

“That was new.” She breathes out, yelping when he rolls her over onto her back. “You’re wearing too much.”

“I was wearing enough a minute ago.” He snides, and he snickers as she hides her face from him. “I love when you hide from me, as if I don’t know how you taste or how you look when you cum.” 

“Stop!” She whines, rolling into his pillow. 

“Uh huh,” He tsks, grabbing her legs and rolling her back to her back. “'M Not done with you.” He says, hovering over her. 

Her eyes flick open at the feel of his warm skin on hers. She didn’t even see him undress, but here he is in all his glory over her. 

“Ready?” He asks, receiving a nod in response. With that he slips in, growling at the feel of her warm walls around him. “Oh god Baby.” 

Her head is thrown back, legs coming up to wrap around his narrow waist. He grabs her hands that go to wrap around his neck. He plants them on the bed, keeping his fingers intertwined with hers. 

“Been waiting to feel you all day.” He moans, starting a slow deep rhythm. “Since you sent me that dirty text this morning.” 

“Faster.” She pants out, tugging him in closer with her thighs. 

He speeds up, changing out how far he comes out. Making it deeper. 

“God you’re so warm.” He drops his head into the crook of her neck. “I can feel you sucking me in.” 

“Please Brian, please.” She pleads with him, not being able to come up with other words. 

“Oh god, oh god.” He croons, feeling the tickle go down his spine. 

“Please, please.” She moans, holding his hands tighter. She clenches when she feels herself get closer, making Brian throw his head back and growl. His growl vertebrates through her making her back arch off the bed. 

“Come on Baby.” He speeds up even more. 

“Brian!” She yells out when he hits that spongy spot inside her. 

Her jaw drops when she comes, and he watches as her eyes squeeze shut and her body goes stiff and then lax. He groans lowly, holding her tighter as he cums. They hold each other as they both come down from their highs. 

He pulls back after a few minutes, slowly pulling out of her. She gasps at the loss of him, and then at the feel of him leaking out of her. He watches, finding it extremely sexy when he can see his cum drip down. He pushes it back in a few times with his fingers, until she pushes him away from being over sensitive. 

He promises he’ll be right back with a kiss on her forehead and rushes to his bathroom to clean up. While he’s cleaning himself he’s got the shower water running to heat up. Once he’s clean he grabs a small wash cloth from the cabinet and drenches it with the warm water. 

“Let me clean you up baby before we shower.” He whispers as he nudges her legs back open. 

“Sleepy.” She mumbles. 

“I know, but we gotta get all cleaned up. Then we can take a nap okay.” 

“I have to write a paper tonight.” She talks out loud, suddenly remembering the world outside of their relationship. 

“I know, I’ll set an alarm for 5. You start on your paper and I’ll make dinner.” 

“You’re gonna make me dinner?” She asks with a small pout as he tosses the washcloth into his hamper.

“Mac and cheese?” He offers.

“Yum.” She nods. 

“Come on.” He lifts her. 

“You’re so cute.” She whispers, playing with his hair.

“For you.” He looks at her as he sets her down in the bathroom. 

“My Brian.” She sighs, staring up at him.

“Yours.” He responds by kissing her lips softly.

[uhzuku]

touch starved daryl dixon with the touch me title!

Touch Me [Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes] Starving P1

Summary: It’s been a long time since anyone’s touched Daryl just because they want to, rather than being obligated to - He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/Reader, Alpha!Daryl Dixon/Omega!Reader

Prompt: Touch Me

For: Anon

Warnings: m/f, Touch Starved!Daryl Dixon, A/B/O Dynamics

Notes: Whew, loved writing this one! I made it A/B/O simply because the thought called to me. Enjoy!

Starving Masterpost

Winter had been hard for the group thus far. After losing the Greene Farm to the herd of walkers and discovering that they were all infected with whatever the hell turned the dead into ravenous, ever hungry beasts, they’d been forced to live a life on the road, unable to find a place that they could stay for long that was safe for the heavily pregnant Lori to have her baby.

Rick was different now. The Alpha was colder, more distant to the group, and Daryl understood: they’d all more or less turned against him after the herd attacked and they’d lost Andrea, Patricia, and Jimmy - all except Y/N L/N and Daryl himself. Rick was Y/N’s best friend even before the End - She, Rick, and Shane had grown up together, getting muddy as hell while catching bullfrogs in creeks and fishing for catfish in ponds on Shane’s parent’s property. The Alpha leader of their pack only talked to anyone aside from her when the plan of where to go had to change, and only when she urged him to. Daryl had heard Lori’s whispered worries that the other omega woman was slowly wooing her husband, that she was going to contest their bond, and a part of Daryl wished Y/N was, since she and Rick both deserved to be happy after the hell they’d been through.

Another part of Daryl didn’t want that. That part of him wanted Y/N as his. She was just so... good, and everyone could see it. She was the only person who’d remotely believed in Merle and himself when they’d joined the group, and she was the only person that said they could join. She’d worked in the Autoshop Dale had owned before the end, so he listened, and she had a long, long history with Shane and Lori, so they did too. Glenn she’d grabbed and taken into her apartment when she’d ordered pizza and the television had had an emergency broadcast by the president right after he’d arrived and they’d talked for a couple minutes. When she’d seen what was happening and heard the screaming outside, she’d told him to stay there but call his family, and they’d stuck together while trying to escape Atlanta. Y/N kept contact with Shane and Lori, telling them to keep to the backroads and to go to the old campgrounds they’d made a few summers back with Rick in the quarry. She’d pulled a panicking Glenn to Dale’s autoshop and they’d piled into his RV. They’d picked up various people along the way and told various cars to follow them as Y/N drove into the quarry. Daryl and Merle came across them while on foot with their weapons two and a half days later, Y/N had welcomed them into the fold, and that’s how their group was formed.

He felt her fingers dance across his wrist and he jumps in surprise, looking down at his arm as he’s pulled from the memories. She looked up at him with big sleepy eyes. They’d just found a house filled with pillows and blankets an hour before and everyone had immediately made little nests for themselves with whatever wasn’t given to Lori; Y/N had taken a few blankets and two pillows before the others were snatched up and had made a pretty big nest area for herself. Daryl bitterly notes in the back of his mind that Rick would probably be sharing it with her; the pair had stuck close together more or less since the incident with Shane.

“You need sleep.” She says softly, pulling him from his thoughts. He focuses solely on her, brushing away the twinges of jealousy. “Glenn and T-Dog are on watch right now, and Rick is patrolling. You can relax.”

He wanted to argue, but he knew that if he did, she wouldn’t. She was easygoing that way: she was most often right and she knew she was, but she wasn’t one to make a fuss - instead, she’d let you make your mistakes and still be there to comfort you after you fell.

Daryl knew he was physically exhausted, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the same mentally. He also didn’t want her to let go of his wrist. The last time anyone had touched him was when Rick and Shane were beating the hell out of him in order to defend themselves when he’d attacked Rick for abandoning Merle. They’d traveled, found the farm, and after that, Daryl had distanced himself even more than Rick currently was. Y/N brought him food often and talked to him as much as she could, but no one else ever really talked to him, and no one touched him.

Touch was important. Touch meant safety, touch meant home. Touch meant family, and love, and care.

Touch was everything, and Daryl never got any.

He found himself willingly laying down beside Y/N as she gently pulled him down, settling them both in the nest she’d made. She curled into him, letting him wrap his arm around her with his hand resting on her stomach while hers laid on his chest. She carefully moved his crossbow and sat up on her knees to gently push his vest from his shoulders, folding it and placing it safely in her bag. She laid back down next to him and pulled him close, notching his head on her shoulder and putting her chin over the top of his head while wrapping her arms around him. He wraps his other arm around her and breathes in deeply, enjoying her scent. His grip tightens and his fingers press into her soft skin hard as his deep breathing suddenly quickens; he can’t get enough of this. She was so safe, so perfect... how was he supposed to ever let go?

Was this what true mates felt like?

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you shy away from everyone, even now.” Her gentle voice murmurs against the crown of his head. “You may be a big, strong alpha, but you need a pack too. Loners never make it long these days without turning into Rutters, or worse: Ragers.”

Rutters were alphas that were so deeply overtaken by their rut that they couldn’t think clearly and wouldn’t listen to anyone aside from their true mate or the person mated to them. Ragers were alphas that were in a permanent version of Rut Rage (a fury caused by another alpha encroaching on a Rutter’s territory) and they never came out of it.

It was a death sentence.

Daryl found himself burrowing closer to her, pressing further into her hold. He relished the feeling of her touch, especially the way her fingers felt as they ran through his messy hair. He feels her press her lips to the crown of his head in a soft kiss.

“I know you, Daryl Dixon.” She whispers. “I know your eyes and I know your heart. Next time you need this, you’d better come to me - Rick is not my mate. I’m obligated to care for the entire pack.”

Daryl’s hopes fall as he hears the word ‘obligated’, and he swallows down the slowly burning ache in his chest - that is, until the omega holding him speaks again.

“Though you’re not nearly as much an obligation as the others, if I’m honest.” Came her whisper. “You’re easily my favorite pack member.”

Daryl’s heart felt like it would explode out of his chest in his excitement, and he smiled softly against her warm, soft skin. He heard soft snores sound from various other areas of the room and saw Rick enter the house they were in; his three hour patrol was over, and it was T-Dog’s turn to walk around the area they’d claimed for the time being. Daryl’s eyes glitter in the darkness covering the pack as Rick’s lock on his form entangled with Y/N’s; the other alpha’s eyes are dark with jealousy, and Daryl immediately knew that his and Lori’s jealousy was in the right place:

Rick did want to be with Y/N.

Daryl wouldn’t let it happen. He was completely willing to let them be before he actually experienced the ecstasy that came from the omega’s touch. Now, though?

Now she was his, and Daryl would do anything to keep her close.

The Walking Dead - @thanossexual

Daryl Dixon -

Forevers - @superfanficnatural @emoryhemsworth @notyourtypicalrose @fandom-princess-forevermore @chonisberonica @hardcoresupernatural @shikshinkwon @spnbaby-67 @cececolbert @amethyst09

[littlemisslol-fic]

Summary: Two years after the events of Barviel Keep, Varian has tried to adapt to the expectations brought by being a King’s Ward, with mixed results. Haunted by ghosts, Varian is forced to face the demons he tried to leave behind in Bayangor when his abdication is forcibly stopped by a third party, out for revenge against the Bayan Royal bloodline. On the run, with few allies left to turn to, Varian finds himself chasing a ghost through a series of tests that only a true heir of Demanitus could ever hope to pass.But the shadows are ever present, looming and dark, and not everything is as simple as it might seem.

Notes: An innocent side trip ends with repercussions. Merrick makes another move.

Today marks the one year birthday of the first story in this series, Like a Rowboat, so what better time to kick it out of hiatus than now? Time to get the ball rolling again.

The road to Pincosta was a lesson in patience.

The group kept off the main roads for the most part, sticking to the backroads just as they had while making their way to Old Corona. They’d been walking for almost two days already, and Varian was starting to get tired. The backroads were quiet, the kinds of roads someone would walk if they didn’t want to be discovered- but that also meant that they weren’t exactly well maintained, nor were they the quickest option available.

Varian scowled as he tripped over a stone that had been half-embedded in the dirt path, grunting and shaking out his foot as he followed Eugene and Rapunzel through the quiet woods. He knew the logic behind not taking the main road- hell if anything it was the obvious choice- but that didn’t make sloughing through endless muddy, messy, footpaths was fun.

Eugene seemed unaffected as he led them along, idly swatting at a few large bugs that were buzzing around his head. With an exaggerated grin he slung an arm over Varian’s shoulder, gently nudging a half-asleep Ruddiger.

“Smell that, kid?” he said, taking a dramatic sniff. Varian rolled his eyes, but played along. It was nice of Eugene to try and distract him, and he was grateful to be distracted.

“What,” Varian asked, “The smell of damp forest and skunk? Cause if so, yeah, I smell it.”

“Not that, my vertically-challenged friend!” Eugene said, shaking Varian a little at the sass. Ruddiger chittered his disagreement with that, but Eugene held strong in the face of the raccoon’s ire. “That, my dear boy, is the smell of adventure!”

“Exhilarating.” Varian deadpanned, catching sight of Rapunzel smothering a laugh with her hand. “I am… just so excited. Truly, my feeble heart can’t take it-”

“I know!” Eugene cut him off, “Think of this as your chance to finally travel! That’s what you wanted, right?”

Varian looked skywards- Sun give him strength- before fixing Eugene with an exasperated look.

“You know,” Varian said, “I think the circumstances kind of changed some things.”

Eugene paused, but shrugged.

“Never happy, these kids!” he said to Rapunzel, who snorted into her hand. Even Varian couldn’t help but snicker, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as he tried to keep a straight face. Eugene wasn’t done, however. “I’m just saying, give them an inch and they’ll take a mile, no gratefulness at all-”

“I resent that.” Varian finally broke, playfully shoving at Eugene, “Keep going on about the youths and I’ll sick Angry and Red on you-”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“Try me.”

Eugene’s eyebrow raised, the main appraising Varian to try and find the lie. Unable to find it, he huffed out a put-upon sigh, removing his arm and instead ruffling Varian’s hair. The alchemist scowled, swatting at him, but Eugene merely took the hits with grace.

“You win this round, goggles, but I swear when we get to Pincosta-”

“Which I still don’t think is a good idea-”

“You shush. When we get you to Pincosta, you’ll be grateful for this life experience we’ve given you. Someday, we’re all gunna look back on this and laugh!”

“Like the time with the Saporians?”

“Well, no, okay-”

“Or the time with Cassandra?”

“Now that was extenuating circumstances-”

“And the time with Zhan Tiri?”

Eugene finally gave up, shaking his head with a good-natured sigh. Rapunzel seemed to dislike the direction the conversation was headed, stepping up and putting a hand on both their shoulders.

“How about we break for lunch?” she asked, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving!”

Varian sank down into a slouch, backing off. Eugene had just been trying to lighten the mood, it wasn’t fair for Varian to get snippy with him. When they stopped on the side of the road, he nudged Eugene in a quiet apology, which the man returned. Varian shot him a grateful smile, taking the subsequent hair ruffle with grace. All of them were on edge, it was true, but at least Eugene was the forgiving type.

Rapunzel sighed as she flopped down onto the grass on the side of the path, stretching her arms a bit and rustling around the duffle bag. The sun beat down on them, hotter out from under the canopy of the trees, and she seemed to perk up with the brighter light.

“Okay!” she said, “Let’s see what we’ve got.” The clinking of glassware echoed around her, the princess moving empty bottles and supplies around. Varian sighed and sat next to her, leaning into her side with a tired whine. Rapunzel shouldered the motion with grace, taking the brunt of her brother’s weight as he complained.

They’d been walking for days- Varian’s feet felt like they were going to fall off. It wasn’t like this was the longest trip he’d ever been on but with the horrible terrain, combined by the swift pace Rapunzel was leading them on, Varian was ready to drop. Eugene looked a little better, flopping down with a huff onto his own patch of grass. He fell flat on his back, letting out a long breath and closing his eyes. Varian snickered quietly, watching the dramatics. Rapunzel paused for a second, arching a brow.

“Okay,” she said, “Who ate the last of the apples?”

Ruddiger took the opportunity to slide off of Varian’s shoulders- hitting the grass with a thump and frantically scurrying off into the woods. The three humans watched him go, before sighing in tandem.

“You know, I think I might have a theory.” Eugene said, not opening his eyes.

“Right.” Rapunzel sighed, sorting through the bag again. “In that case, I guess it’s good we’re near a city; this is the last of our food.” She pulled out a small jar of pickled eggs, scrunching her nose at the sight of the green liquid. Varian did the same, leaning away as she undid the lid. The strong smell of vinegar and egg wafted from the jar; Varian cringed.

Eugene popped an eye open at the stench, sitting up with a sudden excitement.

“Oh, gimme!” he crowed, “I love these things!”

Rapunzel passed him the jar without question, looking away as Eugene began to shove eggs in his mouth. Varian felt himself almost gag- while healthy, pickled eggs had never really been his go to snack, per se. Eugene didn’t seem to care, shoveling them like it was his final meal. With a small muffled mrph noise he offered the jar to Rapunzel who smiled but shook her head. Eugene shrugged and went back to eating.

The princess turned away, smiling conspiratorially and shifting a little so that Eugene couldn’t see what she had. With a small grin, she held up a small bag of… something. Varian arched a brow, leaning closer as she held out her hand and poured a small cluster of hard candies into it, each wrapped in a golden foil that caught the light and glittered.

Varian’s face lit up, and Rapunzel shushed him quickly. She nudged his hand gently, tipping her own so that half the candy fell into his palm. Varian smiled, leaning against her as they unwrapped the treat. Rapunzel’s smile was warm, leaning her head on his; Varian could feel her smile on the crown of his head. The taste of maple sugar was a welcome one, something sweet and simple that was oddly grounding after the week he’d had. Something about being able to sit and enjoy a small luxury settled Varian, made him feel a little more at ease.

So, of course, that’s when the universe had to intervene.

Eugene suddenly made a noise, something that was distinguishable as distressed, but through the eggs there wasn’t much in the way of words. Varian and Rapunzel both straightened up as the man hastily gestured down the road before screwing the lid onto his jar and shoving it into their bag. The man grabbed the bag’s strap, frantically gesturing for them to move towards the thick treeline. Varian was up first, cautiously getting to his feet and watching as Eugene frantically gestured towards the road. The man finally seemed to get sick of being a mime, huffing and firmly pushing Varian towards the brush, Rapunzel hot on his heels. The three of them skid into the woods, hunkering down among the thick leaves and branches at Eugene’s insistence. The man swallowed thickly, gasping, before sinking lower in his hiding place.

“Horses,” he whispered, “A lot of horses.”

Sure enough, not a minute later, the thundering of hooves was audible over the noises of the forest. The three Coronians huddled closer to the ground, watching with tense anticipation as a large group of men- all of them wearing dark coats and a blood red sash- thundered by on horseback. Varian felt Rapunzel’s hand reach for his wrist, grabbing it tightly. He slipped his wrist up, so they were holding hands, the two siblings cringing into each other as the group of Merrick’s men passed them by.

Varian could hear his own panicked heartbeat thud in time with the horses’ hooves, scrunching his eyes closed in fear. Rapunzel was shaking next to him, her hand gripping tightly onto his. Varian was sure if she gripped any tighter his bones would snap. Eugene was the only one of them who seemed even a little composed, but Varian could feel the tenseness in the man’s shoulders next to him, speaking of experience. It set Varian on edge, to know Eugene was anxious about their situation.

The alchemist shuddered, cringing closer to Rapunzel as one of the men called something to the group in a language he didn’t understand; all three Coronians flinched when the group laughed loudly.

After what seemed like hours the patrol finally passed them, the crew of nearly twenty men finally thundering away as quickly as they’d come. Once they were out of sight Rapunzel made to stand, but stopped when Eugene held up a hand. She sank back down into the dirt, not questioning Eugene’s strange behaviour. There was a tense beat of silence between them all, the forest slowly reawakening around them. The only thing Varian could hear was birdsong and the rustling of leaves, but even he waited for Eugene’s say-so before moving. Rapunzel did the same, both she and Varian watching with interest as the man put his ear to the ground.

He held the position for a tense couple of seconds, ear touching the dirt, before looking to them and nodding, pushing up and onto his feet.

“We’re clear,” he said, “They’ve moved on.”

The three slowly crept back onto the road, still tense after the close call. Varian’s rabbit heartbeat slowly began to calm, the thud-thud in his ears abating now that the danger seemed to have passed. He stared down the trail, towards where the warriors had gone, his face sinking into a frown.

“That isn’t… great.” Varian said, looking with wide eyes down the path where the men had vanished. “If they’re already out here, then-”

“Then we’ll just have to be really careful.” Rapunzel said with her hands on her hips. “They’ll be going for Vardaros, but so long as we don’t draw too much attention to ourselves, it’ll be okay.”

“Sunshine’s right.” Eugene agreed, trying to seem positive in the light of Varian’s concern. “Just gotta make sure to stick to the side roads, and keep an ear to the ground. Like hide-and-seek!”

“We still have to go to Vardaros, though.” Varian said grimly, “Unless we want to eat pickled eggs for the whole trip.”

Eugene’s eyes lit up at that, but Rapunzel looked downright squeamish at the thought.

“Good point,” she said, tapping at her chin with her frying pan. “Maybe Eugene and I will go, Varian, and you can stay behind and-”

“And what, get attacked?” Varian argued, “Splitting up is literally the worst thing we could do right now.”

Rapunzel paused, thinking it over. Varian picked at his glove, still looking down the road. He knew that logically it wouldn’t be smart to split up, leaving him alone would inevitably end with Varian having to fend off any attacks on his own, which with his track record could only end badly. There was also the niggling feeling of patronization, that Rapunzel thought he was so useless he needed to be left in the woods while she and Eugene did all the work. It made him almost want to take back what he’d said, to be left alone just to show he could, but tactically it was a horrible plan. Rapunzel didn’t seem enthused by the idea either, tapping her chin once more.

“Well, we’ll have to see how it looks when we get there,” she finally said, tugging at her hair nervously. “Maybe they won’t even stop in Vardaros, they could just move on if they think we’re farther ahead.”

“With our luck?” Eugene laughed, shouldering their bag with a grunt. “I bet they’ve already set up shop.”

Rapunzel deflated, her shoulders slumping. Varian looked at her closely, saw the exhaustion in her spine and the despondence in her face. Something sick filtered through his gut, a tense collection of fear and anxiety and stress- but he shoved it down. Rapunzel had been shouldering his bad mood for the last two days, and had tried to be nothing but positive- but even she couldn’t deny the severity of their situation. Varian grit his teeth, standing a little straighter. The sick feeling in his stomach solidified into a determination, and he stepped closer to her, catching her eye.

“We’ll deal with it when we get there,” he said, “But we’ll deal with it like we deal with everything else- together.”

That seemed to do the trick; Rapunzel perked right back up again, nodding.

“And we’ll win together too,” she declared. “Just like we always do.” She smiled, the first real one Varian had seen from her in days. It scrunched her face in the same way it always had, full and bright and open in a way that was just so Rapunzel. For the first time since Corona burned, Varian saw his sister again. She smiled, glorious and full, and it shined lighter than the sun.

“To Vardaros, then,” she said.

Varian smiled, letting her link their arms at the elbow.

“To Vardaros.”

>>><<<

Rapunzel found that something in her refused to relax.

It had been hours since they’d last seen the patrol- nearly half a day, to be exact- but she still felt the same tenseness in her muscles that she had when they’d been right in front of her and her family. The princess shuddered- that had been too close for comfort, even if nothing had come from it. They were looking for Varian; Merrick had probably sent men in each cardinal direction in an attempt to find her brother, like dogs after a downed bird.

The thought made her sick to her stomach.

Rapunzel startled a little as Varian- fast asleep to her left, his head propped up on her leg- snuffled in his sleep, and curled tighter around Ruddiger unconsciously. Rapunzel smiled softly, something frail and affectionate; she lifted a hand up to run it through his messy hair, gently untangling some of the larger knots with the sort of unconscious ease she had from years of practice. Varian leaned into the touch, snuggling closer into her warmth. Eugene snored nearby, flung half over a log as he twitched in his sleep.

Rapunzel snickered at her husband, the man idly kicking a foot into the dirt. Varian shifted a bit at the noise- Rapunzel kept detangling his hair as he settled again. The clearing around them was well off the beaten path- Rapunzel was grateful, as they were finally able to light a fire for the first time in days. It cracked merrily in the middle of their small camp, tucked out of sight in the massive, winding roots of an ancient elm. The forest around them was calm and quiet, relaxed in a way that suggested safety.

But Rapunzel refused to let herself be caught off guard.

She idly thumbed at the handle of her frying pan. She was sitting with her back to one of the large roots, propped up against it in something almost like a slouch. It was late in the evening, the moon full and bright in the cloudless sky. Rapunzel caught herself scanning the forest in the moonlight, unable to trust her surroundings.

Not while she had her family to protect.

Ruddiger purred in his sleep, snuggling close to Varian. The boy hugged his pet close to his chest, curling into a ball around the raccoon. Rapunzel cooed under her breath- for all Varian liked to insist he was an adult, he would always be her little brother. And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? It was up to her to protect him from things that would do him harm; she would gladly step between him and danger no matter the cost. Rapunzel sighed, gently taking her hand from his hair. He didn’t register the change, huddling close with a sigh and relaxing a little more into her leg. Rapunzel smiled, idly slipping a hand into her dress pocket to ward off the cold. Despite the fire, it was still early spring; the evening chill was nothing if not persistent.

Rapunzel’s fingers touched parchment, and her heart sank.

She had nearly forgotten about the letter. Varian’s letter, if she were brutally honest with herself, the one she had been hiding from him. Rapunzel bit her lip, slowly drawing the wrinkled envelope out. She’d completely forgotten she’d kept it in her dress, worried that someone would find it and deliver it to its rightful owner- and by the Sun didn’t that train of thought make her feel cruel. Varian had a right to know that Aisha- his mother- was alive, that she was waiting for him to come find her. Her throat felt tight, like it was being squeezed at the thought.

Did the events of the past few days not prove that Varian was better off without any sort of connection to his bloodline? All Bayangor had ever brought him was fire and blood, chaos and death and pain- it broke Rapunzel’s heart to see her brother put through so much in such a brief amount of time. Bayangor had brought them Aldred, it had brought them Merrick, it had brought them yet another attack on Corona. Quirin had died to keep Varian away from these people, away from his history. Bayangor had given them a kidnapped child and a crown made to rip the free will away from its wearer- it had given them nothing but suffering and misery, and Rapunzel wouldn’t stand by and let Varian get sucked back into the absolute hellfire that was that bloodline. Not again.

The note was still folded in its open envelope- Rapunzel had kept it as intact as she could to keep it as inconspicuous as possible. She reached in with dainty fingers and drew the letter from the envelope. In the silence of the forest the soft crinkle of parchment sounded near damning, but she persisted. The words were identical to the last time she’d read it, the same pleas from a woman who only wanted to see her son, word for word. Rapunzel had poured over the note countless times by now, reading and rereading as if it would change the contents the more she willed them to be different. It never changed, though, remaining as damning as ever.

Rapunzel tensed as she read it again, seeing the words your mother scrawled on the bottom like a branding flame, large and obvious and nigh unmissable-

Eugene let out a particularly large snort, shattering the silence and startling Rapunzel. She felt her heart leap in her throat at the sudden loud noise, clutching the letter close and holding it tightly. Varian shifted, rolling over. Rapunzel shoved the letter into her pocket, frantically trying to calm her racing heart as Varian’s eyes groggily blinked open.

“Punzie?” he asked, his voice slurred with sleep, “Wha-happun?”

Rapunzel couldn’t help but smile- with the note safely tucked away in her pocket she had both hands to gently begin to fuss with his hair again. As much as he whined, she knew that he enjoyed the contact. Case and point, Varian leaned into the touch with a smile, his eyes slipping closed a little.

“Nothing happened,” Rapunzel assured him, “Just Eugene snoring.”

“Not again…” Varian whined, pressing his face into her knee. Rapunzel laughed quietly, biting her lip as the boy snuggled a complacent Ruddiger close.

“Go back to sleep,” she prompted him, sighing with relief when he took the advice. Within another minute he’d fallen back asleep, his breaths evening out. Rapunzel kept playing with his hair, looking around the campsite again. The dark was an inky blanket around them, thick and cloying.

Suspicious.

“You’re okay.” she whispered to him. He didn’t respond, of course, but she kept mumbling to him in the quiet of the night. “You’re okay. Nothing’s going to hurt you, not again.”

She felt her teeth grit, thinking of fire and wind and pink tourmaline, of grey stone and a burning library. She looked down to her brother, so young, so innocent, and with a history filled with so much pain. Rapunzel was through sitting on the sidelines, chasing after the evils of the night instead of meeting them head on before they could do any damage. Her gaze hardened, the women shifting to look into the fire with a newfound sense of determination. When she spoke next, her voice echoed with conviction.

“Not while I’m here. I promise.”

>>><<<

Varian had never been to Vardaros before- hell, before this disastrous week he’d never been outside of Corona save for his forced vacation to Bayangor- but from the stories Rapunzel and Eugene had told him he didn’t exactly have high expectations.

And even then, Vardaros still managed to be disappointing.

Varian huffed a little as he pulled the hood of his dad’s cloak a little higher on his head, his hair covered by the large hood. He shrank into the feeling of it, the swatch of blue-grey fabric warm and soft and feeling almost safe as he quietly followed Rapunzel and Eugene through the packed streets. Rapunzel stuck close to him, constantly looking back as if to confirm that Varian was still following them; the alchemist couldn’t help but feel a little put-upon… did she think he was going to wander off like a little kid? Get lost like a toddler in the crowd?

Varian bit the inside of his cheek, trying to push down the indignation. Rapunzel was probably just as stressed, tired, and generally shaken as Varian was. He had to cut her a little slack, right? It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, it was probably that she was just worried.

Right?

The alchemist shook himself; he was being paranoid, and this was not the time for infighting. He sank a little deeper into the cloak, pulling it closer. It was a warmer day today, thankfully, but not so warm that Varian’s cloak looked suspicious; a small stroke of luck that was blissfully received. The market was relatively quiet; Eugene had taken them to one of the shadier market centers in the city in order to keep a lower profile- and thus it was basically abandoned in the light of the midafternoon.

The stone walls that made up the canyon Vardaros sat in reached high into the sky, so high that Varian had to crane his neck to see the top. The market, being crammed into one of the smaller canyon offshoots, had multiple stories of buildings, reaching up by at least three to four stories. The higher levels were connected by a series of wooden footpaths and rope bridges, the complex network nearly blotting out the sun by the time it hit ground level. Varian was rather appreciative of it, sticking to the shadows and generally trying to stay out of the way; it wouldn’t end well if he were recognized, especially considering the search party they’d seen earlier the previous day.

Eugene led them through the market, a series of stalls and small shops manned by the kind of people who, had Quirin been around to see them, Varian would have been told to stay away from. Though Vardaros had been cleaned up in the past few years- at least according to Rapunzel and Eugene- it was obvious that a reputation as a hive of scum and villainy was harder to wash away than most would hope. Here, in the underbelly of the underbelly, it seemed that Vardaros’ use as a crime hub was still going strong.

And now, it was decidedly working to their advantage.

“We’ve almost got everything.” Eugene was saying, “But I want to see if we can get some science stuff for the kid-” Varian perked up at that, “Just in case.”

Rapunzel bit her lip, searching through the pocket of her dress. She pulled out the gold that Frederic had left in their bag, idly counting it. It was a fair handful, at least to Varian, but he’d also been raised smart enough to know how to budget. Rapunzel pursed her lips, tilting her head.

“We could probably swing for some alchemy supplies,” she finally agreed, “So long as we keep it to the essentials.”

The last bit was directed to Varian, who snapped to attention. He nodded quickly, looking between the two of them.

“I don’t need much.” he said, “Just a couple compounds for the goo-bombs, maybe some for higher caliber explosives-”

“Maybe we won’t do the explosives, bud.” Eugene cut him off, “No offence but they’re not exactly… subtle, and we need to be at least a little sneaky if we’re going to get where we need to go in one piece.”

Varian paused, thinking about what Eugene had said, before nodding.

“Fair enough,” the boy said, “I’ll just make extra goo-bombs then.”

“Deal!” Rapunzel chirped. A few people looked at her with odd expressions, seeing someone so peppy in the middle of such an… interesting group of people was probably a little strange. One of the larger men looked from Rapunzel to Varian; the boy shrank back under his gaze, shifting closer to Eugene as he did so. The man’s eyes narrowed, but he moved on, disappearing into the crowd. Varian shuddered- he didn’t look like one of Merrick’s men, but one could never be certain.

Eugene paused when Varian drifted close. The brunette followed the boy’s eyeline, just catching the strange man vanishing into the crowd. Eugene pursed his lips, looping an arm around Varian’s shoulders. Varian felt his nerves settle at the touch, breathing easier. Eugene patted at his back, comforting.

“C’mon kid,” he said, “Sooner we got the alchemy shop, sooner we’re out of here and on the road again, right?”

Varian leaned into Eugene’s side, sinking deeper into the feeble, protective half-hug. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, with limited success.

“Yeah,” the boy said, trying to sound enthused. “Yeah, of course.”

They moved on together, sticking to side streets and alleyways, keeping well out of the public eye. Vardaros had a certain feeling to it- it gave Varian the constant urge to check over his shoulder. Like the city itself might swallow him up if he wasn’t careful. Varian felt guilty by association just by walking around. Something about Vardaros made him nervous- be it the patrons or the looming, constricting walls of the canyon surrounding the city- and Varian couldn’t wait to be back on the road.

The side street they were on opened up into another large courtyard, surrounded on all sides by shoddy looking buildings. In the very center was a large fountain, long since died up and left to crumble. The cracked cobblestones shifted slightly under Varian’s boots, crumbling as he walked. Eugene’s arm was solid on his shoulders, tugging him along and keeping him away from prying eyes. Varian’s gaze drifted along the wall of a nearby building, where a large board was put up. Bounties, he realized, looking at nearly fifty different pictures all tacked up haphazardly. The board was nearly caked with wanted posters, some official from different kingdoms, some very obviously from different gangs and organizations. Varian slipped out from under Eugene’s arm, and looked closer.

He caught sight of some familiar faces, Andrew, the Stabbingtons, a few others he recognized from prison, but one bounty was painted with damning perfection and put right smack in the middle of the board.

Varian’s eyes widened when he saw his own face staring back at him.

He stumbled over a cracked cobblestone, jerking to a halt. Varian heard, more than felt, his breath hitch. How had they already- so quickly-

Shit.

“Uh. Guys?” he called softly. Both adults turned to see what he was looking at. The poster of Varian’s face was blatantly obvious, as was the ludicrously high price of eighteen-hundred gold for a live capture. Varian’s bounty hadn’t even been that high when he’d been accused of attacking the princess- and if the large stamp of bright red ink in the bottom corner was any indication, Merrick wanted Varian very badly.

“Oh. Uh.” Eugene said, shifting closer to the wall. “That is a… very high number.”

Varian nodded, stunned, biting his lip. How long had the poster been up? It couldn’t have been awfully long, the parchment hadn’t even started to degrade from being outside yet. The anxiety began to creep back in, a sick, cloying feeling. Varian bit a little harder into his lip- who had seen the wanted poster yet? He knew they had been careful, but even Eugene had mentioned that they probably had a few more days before a bounty would go out. They thought they’d have more time before word would get out, before they’d have to be overly cautious. Varian looked back to the poster, his heart sinking.

It seems their time had run out.

“What are we looking at- oh.” Rapunzel's voice cut off as she got a look at the poster. Varian’s terrified little face stared back, immortalized in ink and parchment. Varian couldn’t help but feel a little offended, at least his Coronian wanted posters had made him look scary, not like a frightened baby bunny. Eugene patted him on the back, sympathetic, before reaching forward and tearing the poster off the wall.

“Hey, at least they got your nose right,” the man grumbled, looking once at the paper before shoving it into his pocket. Rapunzel looked nervous, scanning the crowd. Varian did the same, not arguing as she reached a hand for him. The boy took her hand without question, following as Rapunzel tugged him away from the board. The three Coronians dipped into the shadow of a stall, huddling in a circle and looking at each other for a plan. Rapunzel dropped her grip once Varian was turned away, grabbing up their bag of supplies, but she shifted so that she was shoulder to shoulder with him, as if assuring herself that he was still there with physical contact.

“Forget the alchemy,” she said quickly, “We’ve got to get out of the city.”

“Agreed,” both Eugene and Varian said at the same time. Rapunzel was already moving back into the street, the boys following her lead-

A rough hand closed around Varian’s wrist.

The alchemist winced as he was forced to stop, looking over to see the man who had been looking at him oddly before. The man held up another copy of the wanted poster, gruffly shoving it in Varian’s face.

“This you?” the man asked, shaking the parchment.

The boy backed up as much as he could, nose wrinkling at the smell of the man’s foul breath.

“Nope!” he said, trying for a peppy smile, “Can’t say it is, sorry sir-”

The man reached a calloused, filthy hand up and tore Varian’s hood down, his eyes immediately going to the stripe in the boy’s hair. His gnarled, pockmarked face split into a wide grin, and the grip on Varian’s wrist got tighter.

“I think it is,” the man said. His greasy, black hair fell forwards into his face as he leaned forward into Varian’s space. “And that means I am about to be very rich.”

The boy tugged a little harder on his wrist, his other hand reaching for one of his bombs on his belt- this was exactly why they shouldn’t have come to the city, they should have just foraged for something to eat. Ruddiger hissed at the man from his place on Varian’s shoulder, growling like a little motor-

A familiar figure loomed up behind Varian, and the alchemist caught sight of a silver knife before Eugene Fitzherbert’s voice drifted between the boy and the man holding him.

“Problem, sir?” Eugene asked, the silver of his knife glinting in the weak sunlight of Vardaros’ underbelly. The man went pale, quickly letting go of Varian’s wrist. The boy clutched his hand close, rubbing at the spot where he knew a bruise was beginning to form and backing into Eugene’s chest. The man scowled, looking at Eugene with a murderous expression.

“No trouble,” he hissed, stormy grey eyes flicking from Eugene to the knife, to Varian, then back to the knife.

“Good.” Eugene said. “If that’s all, my brother and I will be going. You have yourself a nice, quiet day.”

The man’s expression darkened, but he still backed away from the Coronians. Eugene set a hand on Varian’s elbow, pushing the boy back towards Rapunzel and behind him. Varian had seen the expression on Eugene’s face a few times, the grim set of teeth and furrowed brows that only showed up when the man was furious with whatever was in front of him. Even when they’d been enemies, Varian had never seen it directed towards him- but he had seen it directed towards others before… Zhan Tiri, the Stabbingtons, Merrick.

And to Aldred.

The grey eyed thug vanished from sight. Varian saw Eugene’s shoulders slump with relief, the man’s posture sagging.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eugene said, shuffling his family forward nervously. “I don’t think we have a lot of time before nosey over there tries his hand at something else.”

Rapunzel nodded in agreement, and together the three of them hurried to gather their supplies and move on. Varian followed in her shadow, meekly hiding behind her. As they scurried off, leaving the market in the dust, none of the Coronians noticed a set of grey eyes following them, nor the scraggly, malicious smile splitting a pockmarked face.

The man turned, disappearing into the crowds like smoke in the air.

>>><<<

When Arianna met Merrick for the second time, he seemed smug. Something in the way he smiled at her and her husband put the queen on the defensive. It had been days locked away in isolation in the cold, damp, inky depths of the dungeon- and to see her jailer return in such high spirits made Arianna’s hackles raise. Her first thought was for Varian- if Merrick had found her boy, harmed a hair on his head-

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Merrick said, leaning up against the wall across from Arianna’s cell. “We kinda got started on the wrong foot.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” she asked, crossing her arms. Merrick’s grin only widened.

“It’s what I’m calling it, sure.”

“And that’s the only thing that matters?”

Merrick paused, pretending to think before nodding with a grin.

“Yep,” he said, popping the p. “Now. Okay. So I know it’s been rough, and I do so apologize for the way you’ve been treated- our fight isn’t with Corona, it’s with the crow, after all. But since he’s got the both of you convinced that he’s innocent, or whatever, I’m afraid we’re going to have to resort to… drastic measures.”

His flesh hand waved in a complex motion, and Arianna saw toxic green eyes twitch. Sparks leapt from Merrick’s outstretched hand, flying forwards unnaturally and moving directly into Frederic’s face. The man stumbled back, coughing roughly before suddenly jerking to a stop. Arianna watched in horror as her husband’s eyes glazed over and nearly unfocused- the man almost slumped over from his own weight.

“What did you do?!” she demanded, glaring at the teenager in front of her. Merrick grinned, flexing his natural hand.

“Told her I didn’t screw it up,” the man muttered to himself before turning to Arianna. “And don’t worry, queenie-bee,” his grin went sharp, “I merely… convinced him to see things my way. Freddy, darling?”

Frederic snapped to attention, glazed eyes focusing on Merrick through the bars. Merrick stood a little taller- Arianna tensed at the look of absolute malice on his face.

“Tell me, where would your daughter take the crow?” Merrick asked, crossing his arms and looking expectant.

“I don’t know.” Frederic mumbled- Arianna felt herself slump in relief. They may not have known for sure where Rapunzel would have taken Varian, but they did have a few ideas between the two of them. Merrick’s face darkened, but he still pulled a key from his pocket nonetheless and opened Frederic’s cell.

“So, you were telling the truth then. That… isn’t ideal.” Merrick muttered. “But I guess that’s why we improvise.”

He turned to Arianna, who slowly backed away from the iron bars of her own cell. Fear pulsed through her, but she forced herself into a straight back and a stiff lip. She glared at her jailer, even as he pulled a face at her.

“Ah, well.” Merrick shrugged, shaking out both hands as if the metal one could get as sore as his original. “Guess I’ll be needing both of you. Pain in the ass, but c’est la vie!”

He did the same motion again- Arianna felt a rise of panic as she pressed herself into the stones at her back. The man scoffed as the sparks grew from his hand once more, looking her dead in the eye.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “It’s just like falling asleep… and when you wake up there’ll be one less evil in the world.”

The sparks hit her dead in the face- Arianna coughed roughly as she breathed them in. A sudden urge to sleep overtook her, clouding her thoughts like smoke in a closed room. She clenched her fists against the stone wall at her back, shaking her head. She had to fight it, if not for herself than for her children- Varian and Rapunzel would need all the help they could get…

Arianna grit her teeth, shaking her head once more. The spell pushed at her consciousness once more, the most aggressive attack yet, but then… silence. The smoke in the crevices between her thoughts dissipated- Arianna stood a little straighter as the feeling of drowsy claws trying to drag her under let go. The spell… hadn’t took? Arianna panicked a little, her mind reeling; the spell hadn’t worked, but what to do about that fact?

Thinking quickly, Arianna tried to mimic Frederic’s stance, slumping a little and unfocusing her eyes. If Merrick couldn’t tell the difference, then maybe she could escape? Or find help, at least. Arianna stared blankly at the floor, trying to school her face into a lax expression- she shoved the panic down deep into her chest and waited with hitching breath.

There was the sound of jingling keys, and a lock being flicked.

“See? Easy.” Merrick muttered to himself, “Just gotta force two innocent people into giving me information, like that’s morally justifiable.”

Arianna’s cell popped open just like Frederic’s had, and the Queen let out a small sigh of relief. Merrick grumbled to himself as he turned around, walking from the room. His whole demeanour had changed, the false pep long gone. The act, it seemed, had been dropped. His shoulders slouched, face flipping into a small frown as he waved at them to leave their cells.

“Follow me, then,” he sighed. Frederic began a lumbering gait forwards- if Arianna didn’t know any better, she would think he was sleepwalking. She mimicked his posture, silently following the two men up the stairs. Her thoughts were flying a mile a minute- why hadn’t the spell worked? It hadn’t worked on Varian either… what connected them that didn’t also connect Frederic? The halls of her home, charred but still standing at least, flew by as Arianna’s thoughts grew more and more wild.

She could see ash and burned lumber being cleared away by maids and guards alike, the entirety of Corona brought to their knees by the band led by the man in front of her. Countless members of Merrick’s group kept watch over the castle staff, keeping them in line. She felt her teeth grit, hoping that her people had at least been treated with respect during their time since the takeover… no one seemed worse for wear, but she could see the shock and fear in their eyes as their monarchy went walking past. A large part of her wanted to call out to them, to tell them it was going to be alright, but she couldn’t. She needed to be smart about this- and the opportunity she’d been given was worth too much to pass up.

Merrick led them to one of the council rooms, one that Arianna had never really used in her time as queen. It was a smaller space, only twenty by twenty meters, with a large table set in the very center. Cerise was there as well, slouching in an ornate chair with her boots kicked up on the oak surface. She looked smug, rocking her chair on the back two legs. When Merrick entered the room, she let her chair hit the polished wooden floor with a thunk- and her grin turned into a smile with too many teeth.

“So it worked this time?” she asked, her voice echoing in the chamber. Merrick scowled, shoving at her as he drew close.

“You shut it,” he said, “I don’t know what happened with the crow- but I didn’t screw it up.”

“Sounds like denial to me, but whatever helps you sleep at night.” The younger woman grinned, “And we have news.”

Arianna tensed, but followed Frederic as Merrick gestured for them to sit. She did so, holding her head down so they couldn’t see the fright in her eyes. Had they found Varian?

“Did one of the patrols catch them?” Merrick asked, decidedly more excited than Arianna would think he could sound.

“Not quite.” Cerise grunted. She pulled out a map of the nearby territories, laying it out and setting it on the table. Arianna could see countless notes and lines drawn over its old, brittle surface. Cerise pointed with a thin finger, gesturing to a large city.

“They were spotted in Vardaros,” she said, and Arianna’s heart dropped. Cerise kept going, ignoring how Merrick shoved into her space to stand so they were side by side. “About a day ago.”

“All the way out there?” Merrick mumbled, “Damn, they’ve made good time.”

“They must be walking in basically a straight line.” Cerise agreed, “But I think I know where they’re headed.”

“You just said they were in Vardaros,” Merrick said, confused.

“Yeah, were in Vardaros- they would’ve moved on by now.”

“But why would they do that? The place is perfect to hide the crow.”

“Exactly, it’s too perfect. I’m willing to bet they stopped for supplies and kept going.”

“But where? They could be anywhere by now-”

“Not exactly.” Cerise cut her brother off, gesturing with her finger. “Look, they started in Corona-” Her finger jabbed at the map. “-And made a beeline towards Vardaros, but didn’t stay.” Her hand moved in a perfect line across the map to land on a tiny, painted version of the city. “So, then what?”

“Then they ran to wherever they were actually headed.” Merrick said, scratching at the back of his neck. “C’mon, ‘Rise, I’m not good at this tactical shit.”

Cerise rolled her eyes, but began to elaborate. She moved her hand along the same line that it had been travelling before, moving past Vardaros and off into the outer countryside. Merrick followed her finger with interest, as did Arianna.

“If Vardaros was a stop,” Cerise explained as she did so, “Then they weren’t making a beeline for the city- they were aiming directly at their final destination and Vardaros just happened to be in the way.”

“Oh.” Merrick said, drawing it out. “Duh.”

“Yeah, duh.”

“Shut up.”

Cerise only snorted, her finger trailing to a stop on what looked like a coffee stain on the parchment. She cocked her head, raising a brow. Her eyes focused on the spot, and she leaned forward for a closer look.

“Looks like the only place nearby is a place called… Pincosta,” she mused, and Arianna could hear the confusion in her voice. The queen tried to keep her breath from hitching- Rapunzel had told them about her adventures once the Saporian memory wipe was over, she knew her daughter had been to Pincosta. The panic in her chest came back with a vengeance, loud and screaming-

“Never heard of it.” Merrick grunted, pushing his sister’s hand out of the way to get a better look. Cerise seemed unaffected, slapping him on the shoulder in offense. “What the hell is it?”

“Me neither.” Cerise said, “I think they have a diamond or something that’s important. I dunno.”

“Why the hell would they go there? It’s out in the middle of nowhere, no fortifications. It’s just some shithole-”

“Makes it the perfect place to hide a crow from a pair of foreigners, then, doesn’t it?” Cerise murmured, something toxic entering her voice. Merrick’s confusion slowly morphed into something smug, the two siblings looking at each other with barely contained glee.

“Think you can beat them there?” Merrick’s voice was halfway to a laugh, his teeth flashing in the sunlight.

“Oh, I know I can.” Cerise said, “And if he’s that close to the border, then he’s close to-”

“Yep.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Yep.”

Cerise laughed, something nearly exasperated. “Bless the Highers, finally something goes our way.”

“It’s about time.” Merrick said in the same tone. “What will you need?”

“Just my horse.” Cerise said quickly. “I don’t want to spook them- small and discrete is the name of the game here.”

Merrick turned to Frederic, grinning. “Freddy, darling,” The man said, “If you could order your men to saddle the horse for my dear elder sister, that would be amazing.”

Frederic nodded at the command, standing from his chair and lumbering away.

“Gods, that’s so creepy.” Merrick said, watching the man go. “Like, really creepy.”

“Yeah, but useful.” Cerise shrugged. Merrick pursed his lips but nodded, conceding the point. Cerise smiled, turning to her brother with something feral in her eyes.

“I trust you’ll be able to take care of things while I’m gone?” she asked, and Merrick nodded. He looked down to the map, and then back up to his sister.

“Oh course,” the man assured, “We’ll be waiting for you here.”

Cerise firmly clapped Merrick on the shoulder, passing him and heading for the door. She had nearly made it out of the room when Merrick cleared his throat; she paused, looking back to him with an expectant look. Merrick seemed to want to say something, but he closed his mouth with a click, smiling instead. His next words sent shivers down Arianna’s spine.

“Happy hunting.”

[sadaboutniall]

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Thirteen. March, 2012. 

Niall can’t sleep. 

It’s three o’clock in the morning and he’s fucking exhausted and he’s in New York and he can’t sleep. The day’s been long: an early wakeup call, a never ending album signing at a mall somewhere in New Jersey, a long drive back to the hotel. He spent a few hours fucking around with Louis afterward, playing FIFA, eating pizza, just generally chatting shit and he’d felt fine, mostly, just tired, until now. 

For the most part, the homesickness thing hasn’t really gotten to Niall over the past two years—at least not the way it gets to Louis and Zayn and even Harry sometimes. He doesn’t spend hours curled up in his bunk on the bus on the phone to home, doesn’t feel like he needs things like Barry’s Tea or Club chocolate bars to Tayto crisps to remind him of what he left behind. He loves Ireland, of course he does, but he loves adventure, too—he loves the wide, open roads of American highways, the constant hum of New York City outside his window, the unmatchable energy of screaming fans everywhere he goes. It feels like he’s made a good trade off, if he’s honest—he had to lose to gain, but, most of the time, he doesn’t feel like he’s lost all that much. 

But today was St. Patrick’s Day. All day he’d fielded questions about Ireland: about what he misses, what his favorite slang words are, what he wants to do whenever he goes back next, as if he even knows when he’ll be able to go home again. By the middle of the day it felt like someone was banging him over the head with a hammer, shouting at him to miss Ireland, think about Ireland, call home to Ireland. 

And then there was a girl. She was one of the last ones in line for the signing and couldn’t have been older than six, long blonde hair, a shy look on her face. She clung to her mom’s leg and looked up at the five of them with wide eyes, like she couldn’t quite believe they were real, and when Louis asked for her name she whispered ‘Isla,’ standing up on her tippy toes to watch Louis scribble it onto her copy of the album. 

Bang, Niall felt, hammer over his head again. Bang, bang, fucking bang. 

And now he can’t sleep. And he can’t stop thinking about it. And St. Patrick’s Day is technically over but he feels weird, antsy, a little clammy. He wants to take a walk but not through the city, his only option right now—he’s thinking about backroads in Mullingar, overgrown fields and muddy ground along the canal. He needs to move: to jump, to run, to do something that isn’t laying on his back in a hotel bed and staring at the ceiling. 

He needs to talk to Isla. 

They’re not talking anymore. It was an on purpose decision, one they made together a few weeks after the breakup, when he’d called her in the middle of the night to tell her about a movie he’d just watched and she told him this had to stop, told him it was too painful to keep talking the way they used to, told him they had to take this break up seriously, if that’s what he really wanted. 

They’d drawn a hard line in the sand then: no talking except for birthdays, holidays, and emergencies, and all conversation had to be strictly platonic. Isla’d offered to write up an official contract for them both to sign, Niall’d told her it wouldn’t be binding until she actually got accepted into law school. She’d laughed and hung up on him, and that had been the end of it, really. He hadn’t even had time to see her over Christmas, because he was only home for three full days. 

And so, when Niall does crack at 3:47 in the morning New York time, he shouldn't be surprised that Isla answers the phone with simply, ‘are you okay?’

‘Hello to you too,’ he says, warmth immediately pooling in his stomach. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Why are you calling me, then?’ Isla sounds a little tired and Niall does some quick math: 8:47 am in Ireland, on a Sunday. ‘This is a breach of the contract.’ There’s a smile in her voice, one Niall matches instantly. 

‘Is not. St. Patrick’s Day is a holiday.’

‘That was yesterday,’ Isla says, feigning annoyance even though Niall can hear her laughing. The sound of it melts over him like a duvet, warm and familiar. Safe. ‘And it doesn’t count.’

‘Why the fuck doesn’t it count? It’s our country’s national holiday, it should count the most.’

‘You don’t live here anymore,’ a rustling sound, a chirping bird. Isla’s outside. ‘It doesn’t count for you.’

‘I respectfully disagree, barrister,’ Niall settles down a little more comfortably in bed, imagines Isla’s smile. ‘As a citizen of the great nation of Ireland and a budding national treasure I retain all my rights to—’

‘Shut up,’ she laughs. ‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing, really,’ Niall admits, shrugging his shoulders even though Isla can’t see. ‘Couldn’t sleep, thought you might be able to bore me to death.’

‘Time’s it for you?’ Niall hears a gust of wind down Isla’s end of the phone, bites back the sudden urge to ask if she’s wearing a jacket. 

‘Uh, nearly four in the morning. I’m in New York.’

‘Sick. Have you eaten one of those massive hot dogs?’

‘Yeh, first day we got here,’ Niall laughs. It had been one of the first things he and Liam did. ‘They’re so good.’

‘You there for a few more days? Hasn’t your mam got cousins in New York? You should call round.’

‘I did, saw them the other day. The kids are super cute,’ he ignores the stirring in his stomach, the way it gives him butterflies to know that Isla remembers these kinds of things. This is strictly platonic. He carries on, ‘don’t want to talk about me, though. What are you up to? Sounds like you’re outside.’

‘Observational,’ Isla laughs, and Niall imagines her giggling in the early morning sunlight, March frost curling in the air. ‘I stayed over at Emilia’s last night, just came out in the garden to take your call since she’s still asleep.’

‘Oh, did ya? Girls’ night?’

‘No, bit of a party, actually,’ Isla says, and Niall hates how it clangs in his stomach, hates how he still feels left out knowing that his friends are having fun without him, that life carries on when he’s away. His life now is more exciting than he ever could have imagined—yet somehow the thought of his mates drinking cans in Mully’s basement without him makes him jealous, makes him forget about just how much he dreamt of what he has now. ‘Everyone was here.’

‘Ah, what was the occasion?’ Niall tries to keep his voice light, not like he’s digging. ‘Paddy’s Day, or?’

‘Yeah, Paddy’s Day. And celebrating, too.’

‘Celebrating what?’ Niall feels suddenly like he’s missed something. 

‘Uh, me,’ says Isla, sounding a little embarrassed, and a little confused. ‘I, erm. I got into King’s College last week. The law program.’

It feels like he’s been in a car, going 75 miles on the freeway, and had to slam on the breaks. It feels like whiplash, like falling on his face, like that hammer from earlier, bang, bang, fucking bang, life goes on without him. ‘Isla,’ he manages to say, deep breath in, deep breath out, ‘what the fuck?’

‘Sorry?’ she asks, confused. ‘What do you mean what the fuck?’

‘You didn’t tell me?’ He tries not to sound angry, accusatory, but there’s a feeling he doesn’t recognize bubbling over in his stomach. The fact that something like this could happen in Isla’s life and he didn’t get to be a part of it makes him feel like someone else. 

‘Niall, we agreed—’

‘This counts as an emergency,’ he insists, sitting up in bed. He feels cold all of a sudden, like he wants a blanket, or her body, on top of him. ‘Isla, holy shit. I’m so fucking happy for you. I mean, I knew you’d get in but still, fuck, I can’t believe this is happening.’ It’s not a lie, the fact that he’s happy for her. But, he thinks, a rank feeling he doesn’t like still curdling away in his stomach, it’s not the whole truth. He should’ve been there with her when she got in. He hates himself for not. 

‘Thanks,’ Isla’s smiling, birds singing in the distance. Niall imagines her with her face turned toward the sun, her eyes closed, her arms wrapped around her body. He imagines her in his Derby jumper, the one he’d left in Mullingar for her to keep. ‘It’s a crazy feeling, isn’t it? I guess both our dreams have come true in the end.’

‘Yeah,’ Niall says, a tight cramp forming in his stomach, a lump pressing against his throat. ‘I guess they have.’

He can think of at least one dream of his own that hasn’t.

####

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[strawbewwysamurai]

Soba is a Dish Best Served Cold [Sanji | Soba-Mask fic | Chapter 1]

Rating: Gen  Warnings: Canon typical violence  Characters: Sanji, The Straw Hat Pirates

The Straw Hats stop on an island to relax and refresh after their adventures in Wano, but after hearing about some dark happenings nearby, Sanji decides he'd rather skip resting, and don a certain caped costume once again, looking to help those who need him instead.

-----

Sanji took one careful step over towards the edge of the roof he was currently standing on, crouching down slowly to perch there, the very tips of his boots sticking out and over the side as he peered intently down over the cityscape below him. It was both noisy, and quiet. The sounds of the city still roared this late into the night, from people shouting gleefully or drunkenly at each other in the streets, to dogs barking as people passed the alleyways they hid in. Yet the night somehow made it feel so much more quiet than any shouts in the day, and Sanji couldn’t tell if it was just the still of the darkness, or if it actually was quieter, no matter how intently he listened.

He was looking, well- listening, for something, anything really. A suspicious figure making their way down the dark alleyways and backroads of the city as they spoke hushedly on a transponder snail, a commotion caused by a robbery or an attack of some kind, or even just a scream for help that echoed through the barren streets that night. Anything of the kind would be enough to move him from his perch and into action, looking to help whoever should need it.

The Straw Hats had stopped here on this booming and bustling island earlier that day, looking for some sort of refresher after everything they had been through in Wano Country just mere weeks prior. Goodness knew they needed it, after dealing with what they had there, and no one had had any qualms about taking a slight detour on their way to the next island.

Leaving Wano had been bittersweet, of course. It always was. Saying goodbye to those they had sailed with, who they had fought with, and had befriended through their journey was painful, as usual whenever they made new nakama on their many misadventures, but it was also tinged in the sweetness of accomplishment and how they had achieved their goals on their journey, and that they had befriended those along the way in the first place. It was all another step to making their captain the Pirate King, and every one of them were grateful to be a part of it.

Yes, they all loved the excitement and chaos of a good adventure on their journeys, but a good few days of relaxation and avoiding mishaps was always a good thing to have in between.

Well, it would be, if Sanji were to actually relax...

Yesterday, Nami had found this city-filled island on the maps along route to their next destination, and had adamantly decided they all needed a break after Wano at such a place that promised rest and relaxation, and boasted it’s seemingly endless restaurants, spas, and shopping. It was blindingly obvious that Nami’s intentions weren’t just to get everyone rested up for the next adventure, but rather to bargain and haggle her way into bankrupting half of the shops here. But none of them would dare to argue with her or call her out on it.

Besides, they all needed to stretch their legs up and away from each other for a bit, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity. And everyone had done just that as soon as they had docked earlier in the afternoon, with Nami heading for the spas and shops, Zoro looking for a tavern with Luffy, and Sanji himself separating from any of the little groups to head to the food market by himself.

He was in search of things they needed to stock up on before they set sail again next, or refillings of little treats that everyone enjoyed having on the ship. It was his job as the chef to ensure everyone could snack happily, and he was also looking forward to possibly finding local ingredients that couldn’t be found anywhere else. He loved figuring out new recipes to go with them whenever he found something new, and the new flavors were always so exciting.

He hadn’t been in the markets long though, before he caught onto a few whispers.

It started out with just a few whispers, and concerned looks in his direction. The faces of people trying to figure out who he was, who the brand new face was. Normally, Sanji was used to it, given how many little island towns they had stopped at over the years together, but here it just felt- out of place. It was a big city, not a small town. Why did it feel like everyone was trying to figure out if they had seen him before or not?

Admittedly, it wasn’t just him. He noticed the distrusting glances traded every now and then between other market goers, and it did nothing but worry him just slightly. He could sense something was going on in this city, and he wasn’t sure it would be anything good from what he was finding.

It was only a bit later on in his shopping did he hear any sort of firm information as to why everyone was looking so distrusting at one another.

“Here you go sir! That’ll be five hundred berries.”

“Thank you, mademoiselle. Please, keep the change~”

“Aww, why aren’t you sweet!” She blushed and waved a hand at him as he laughed and took the bag of fruits from the stall girl. She was adorable, and as per usual, Sanji was falling fast. Peppy and sweet, she had thrown in an extra apple for free if he’d promise her he’d try an apple tart recipe she had given him during his browsing of her stand. He wondered if he’d be able to have a drink with her later that night, and decided the question at the very least was worth a shot.

“One more thing, miss-”

She looked back up with him with a smile and a tilt of her head. “Ah, yes sir?”

She was adorable- A face covered in freckles was framed in fiery curls that were held back by a forest green bandana, both complementing the greens and reds of the apples and other fruits she was selling, with a slightly muddied dress to match. She would occasionally wipe her hands down on the apron she had tied around her waist, though Sanji wasn’t sure what she was wiping off, or if it would even help given all the flour that had taken up residence on her apron. He found it entirely endearing, nonetheless, and had found his latest crush in her. He took in a slight breath before he popped his question.

“I was wondering if you would be so kind as to join me for a drink sometime later tonight. You could pick your favorite place, and it would be my treat.”  

“Ah!” She exclaimed, her demeanor changing suddenly. Her smile fading, she was no longer peppy, she wrung her hands together once and let out a nervous laugh.

“Honestly, sir, I wouldn’t advise going out too much at night if you can help it. What with everything going on lately…”

He blinked at her once, barely processing the rejection over her slightly concerning choices of words before he shook his head slightly with a laugh. “My apologies miss, but I’m mostly just passing through here, so I’m not very aware of the local happenings. What would be so wrong in going out for a drink tonight?”

“Well… There’s been quite a few… attacks lately…”

“Attacks?”

"Yes sir, attacks." She let out a sigh with another wring of her hands. Sanji hated to see her so worried, but he had wanted an explanation as to why the whole city seemed to be so distrusting of each other, even more so than others they had stopped at in the past, and it was looking like this was his best bet at getting an answer.

“Have people been getting badly hurt?” He pressed gently, trying his best not to upset her, but actually get information at what was even going on. She shook her head.

“Um… I guess you could say that, but… it’s usually much worse…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t think one person who’s gotten attacked has made it out alive, at least to my knowledge.”

Sanji gaped slightly, a chill running down his spine.

“Not one? Then how do you know what’s causing the disappearances? I mean-” He shook his head and waved a hand lightly. “Not to doubt your information, just to question the-”

“Because the local law enforcement always finds puddles of blood with some sort of belongings that belonged once to the now missing person, or people.”

Sanji went silent after that, unsure of how to respond or even if he should after hearing something like that come from such a frightened lady’s mouth. He had his explanation, though. And he knew he wouldn’t like it, not based on the looks people gave around the city and the way they had been carrying themselves, but this was a completely different level. Possible murders or brutal kidnappings? That was the work of disgusting people and pirates that riddled the streets of gambling and port towns that were meant for such leeches, not a city that boasted about it’s leisurely activities and shopping districts.

Something sinister was patrolling the shadows, it seemed.

He would admit, he didn’t see himself as one who got involved in situations like this by his own choice, not at all. The very life of a pirate was living side by side with danger, and ignoring the fall out from such. That involved not helping everyone he would come across on every single island they would stop at, no matter how docile or hostile the island was. His nakama would laugh though, claiming there wasn’t a person in the world he wouldn’t drop everything to help, and no matter how much he threatened to not let them have dinner that night or snacks that morning, it did nothing to deter them from cheering about how weak he was for those who needed help, and how kind his heart was because of it. Not even he could help but smile, throwing out more empty threats as they always carried on despite it all.

Besides, the stall girl seemed quite distressed anyway, and who was he if he chose to ignore a woman’s sufferings?

“And is there… a certain area of the city where most of these incidents are taking place?” He questioned, trying to seem casual but it was probably obvious right now what he was doing regardless. “Maybe a corner of the city that whoever has been doing these things has been hanging out in more than other areas? A home base, so to speak?”

It took her a moment, he’d give himself that. But her jaw slowly dropped open as she realized what he was questioning of her.

“You’re… you’re not seriously thinking about going out and finding out who’s doing all of this, are you?!”

He shrugged, nestling his paper bag of fruit into the crook of his elbow.

“I don’t know, I just thought it’d be nice to see the city during the few days I’m going to be here, and would rather avoid the less safe and tasteful corners of the neighborhood.”

“Has anyone told you how awful of a liar you are?”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face in the next second. Oh, if only she had seen him throughout his years as a pirate- how much he had lied to their enemies faces and gotten away with it so smoothly- To the point where he was right behind Nami and Usopp in terms of who could lie the best and get away with the most.

“No, never, mademoiselle~”

She only continued to stare back at him, almost disbelieving of what he had just asked her a moment ago. So slowly began to shake her head as she lifted a hand to the bridge of her nose.

“Right. Sure. A random man who claims to be new in town wants to take down a possible serial killer that no one, not even the local law enforcement, has any clues or leads on yet. Wonderful. Wow, Bea, you’re really about to tell him aren’t you?”

“Well Bea, I would first like to say you have a beautiful name befitting of such a wonderful young lady-” Sanji began, his smile only growing bigger as he gave her a little bow, careful not to spill the contents of the bag he held. “- And secondly, if I were to, say, take down a possible serial killer that no one, not even the local law enforcement, has any clues or leads on yet…”

He held his right hand out to her, and waited to continue until she had given him a confused look and put her own hand in his. He kissed the back of her hand lightly before looking back up at her, a smile still ever present as he spoke again.

“Would you be so kind as to join me for a drink sometime later this week?”

She let out a groan slowly, but a smile began to form across her face despite it as he let out a laugh before finishing his sentence.

“You could pick your favorite place, and it would be my treat.”

She just watched him for a moment, trying to read him in some shape or form, before she shook her head defeatedly, a few curls escaping her bandana as she did so with a smile.

“Look, if you’re so willing to recklessly chase someone who’s somehow managed to take so many lives, be my guest. But don’t you expect to play hero and then come waltzing back here to take me on a date without actually catching the guy and making it out alive.”

“Oh darling, trust me, I don’t ‘play’ hero.”

“Sure.”

“So.” He straightened up, letting go of her hand as she gently pulled it back away. “Where are most of the crimes happening? Is there a general area I could look?”

She gave a hesitant shrug. “Most of the cases I’ve heard have been happening on the south side of town, near the far port. There’s taverns there for any sailors or pirates to stop in and it makes for good business usually, except lately with everything going on.”

“And you’re sure it isn’t just some pirate activity going on? Bar fights with innocents getting wrapped up into it all?”

“There’s never any bodies, just blood and something belonging to the victims.”

He rubbed his goatee as he thought it over. It was the perfect place to do whatever the culprit was doing- choosing an area that was both usually busy and also a bit shady. A place where pirates and sailors frequented, coming and going so much that the local authorities would assume at first that the culprit of the crimes was a passing pirate, and that there wouldn’t be any need in locating them in the first place, given how quickly they would have left the island after doing something so horrible as what they had if they were even slightly smart.

He could only hope that everyone had caught on that this wasn’t just a passing pirate anymore, not after how often it was happening long after the criminal should have escaped after doing what they had. This was someone who was here for a long haul, or a resident of the island themself. And if it was the former, Sanji needed to catch them quickly, in case they were on the ending half of their stay here or risk losing them.

And the taverns… That just ensured drunken victims and witnesses to entangle themself with. Less likelihood of them getting caught should they slip up if no one was in the proper state of mine to identify them in the first place. At the very least, this person- or people- had been smart enough to think of a good location to do what they were doing. He would just need to be smarter in order to catch them.

Easy enough.

He gave Bea another smile before adjusting his paper bag once more and giving her a little wave goodbye.

“I think that’s all I need, thank you mademoiselle~”

She stared at him once more, before rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Sure, well, good luck with your little murder mystery, sir. Please don’t go dying as well, alright? You actually seem sweet, and I’d hate to see you in the paper tomorrow for any other reason besides being crowned a hero for taking down the perpetrator.”

“Sweet you say? Why, you flatter me, my dear!” He laughed, taking a step away as he began to leave. “The name is Sanji, and I hope to hear you exclaim it tomorrow when I come back here to take you out for drinks that evening, alright?”

She watched him walking away, nodding at him as he did so, so he could leave with an answer to his flirts at the very least. She could only hope he would cower away from what was going on by nightfall. He seemed like a nice man, and his eyes were nothing but kind.

Sani, however, was confident. He’d dealt with emperors of the sea, Marine admirals, and warlords of every shape and form. He’d faced greater threats than most, and even faced his abusers again for the sake of his true family. It would take more than a street criminal to make him cower from a fight, much less when a date with a lady was at stake, or the lives of whoever else this criminal planned on taking too in the future should Sanji not stop them here.

He wouldn’t be cowering anytime soon, no. That much was obvious. It was simply a matter of how he was going to go about tracking down the guy, and taking him down…

He had a bit of an idea as to how, though.

-----

His wait in silence on the city rooftops ended abruptly, the moment a piercing scream echoed through the alleyways and reached his ears.

He jumped into action, quite literally, off of the building. The scream was coming from the direction of the port and taverns, and he hadn’t seen anyone go by for a while now, which could mean very little witnesses to what was going on, much less credible and sober ones. He needed to be fast, or else whoever was causing the scream, and whoever was doing the screaming, would be gone before he could get there.

The cold air bit his cheeks where they weren’t covered in his mask as he jumped, and the wind whipped by him as he fell. It was a free fall- He hadn’t yet activated his boots, or made any attempt at sky walk, and there was no need to. Falling was faster, a more direct route to get to the source of the screaming, and yet somehow- it was as if time itself slowed.

He could never place it, not when he dropped from sky walking, and not when he first dropped from flight when he had first donned the raid suit when fighting against Page 1. It was a freefall, and time moved slowed for the mere seconds it would last, seeing as he never got high enough for it to last any longer. The world was unmoving for the time, and the stillness held a calm unlike any other he had experienced. His entire senses were somehow both screaming out all at once, and not there at all, his heart beat pounding once and then nothing, not until his descent was complete.

He wondered if any of the others felt this way whenever they jumped from high places, be it Luffy launching himself off of something headfirst into adventure or a fight, or Chopper jumping from a floor up to change forms before mowing down an enemy or join the others in whatever fun they were having. Maybe it was just him, just Sanji who felt this strange sense of calm wash over him in the moments before he caught himself midair and stuck a landing, or launched back into flight.

Whatever it was, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the feeling of the fall, and he enjoyed the moment that seemed to last forever, yet in reality only lasted a second or two before he would flip around and catch himself, dashing off in the direction of the screaming as fast as his suit would take him, to save someone. To solve what was going on. To help someone who needed him.

Who needed Soba Mask.