#gotta get in shape so I don’t get winded walking in the sand on the beach 🤣💀

[slythernnn]

I’ll finally be fully blonde again in 2 days 🙌🏽

[raindownforme]

Writing Event

Hi! I was tagged by @jschllatt for a writing event, and this is for her!

———

5. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used] (reader had freckles for context)

y/n stirred in their sleep, doing their best to shift with the almost unfamiliar weight. Almost, as if they didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else laying on top of them.

“Charlie?”

“No no no, go back to sleep.”

y/n peeked one eye open, looking at their boyfriend. Charlie was lazily propped up on one arm, the rest of his weight draped over y/n’s once sleeping self.

“Good morning I guess.” y/n tried to move, but found themself still stuck under Charlie. He had a leg wrapped between theirs and a hand holding the side of their face. “Can I get up yet?”

“No wait I’m counting.” Charlie’s voice was hushed, just above a whisper. y/n watched him squint as he focused on various points of their face.

“Maybe you’d be quicker if you put your glasses on.”

Charlie gasped, letting go of y/n’s face to reach over to the bedside table. He returned with his glasses resting on his nose, starting to fall off from the angle. “Okay. Now I have to start over.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” y/n yawned.

“Aw, you’re adorable. And yes I do.”

“Babe, I want to get up. Can you do this later? Some other time I’m asleep?”

“Fine I’ll stop counting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time to play connect-the-dots!” Charlie pulled y/n closer with his legs. He began to very gently drag his finger across the surface of y/n’s skin, following made-up patterns and lines.

y/n hummed lowly, feigning annoyance with their boyfriend. “Can you stop playing connect-the-dots with my freckles?”

Charlie drew back his touch. “Fine.” He rolled over, releasing y/n from his weight, and rolled over.

y/n propped themselves upright, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

Charlie mumbled a response and y/n leaned closer to try and hear him. He leaned closer a bit as well, repeating himself. “I wanted to see.”

“They aren’t even patterns, it’s just dots.”

“No, these ones-“ Charlie turned back and very gently put his thumb over the side of their face, right over where the cheek bones began and to the side of the outer corner of their eye. “It’s almost a triangle shape. Or a couple triangles. There a couple patterns, you just don’t see them.”

y/n paused, almost freezing under Charlie’s touch, then leaned into the contact. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Get back here and keep counting loser.”

y/n opened their arms, allowing Charlie to get back to his previous position in the shared bed and continue happily connecting the dots.

———

8. Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them]

y/n shivered. It was that kind of early morning cold. The being on a leather car seat while the wind whipped outside. The early morning chill of January.

y/n and Charlie knew this was coming. They’d known for two months know. Earlier, in the beginning of November when they planned the trip, neither one of them felt the sadness they feel now. They’d both been happy; y/n had the ability to come stay the whole month with Charlie. Usually, the couple could only see each other a few weeks out of the year. Usually it was Charlie with the looser schedule, and usually that made Charlie the one to drive or fly the distance between them.

y/n stared out the window lazily. There weren’t very many people out on the roads at this hour. They watched the grey industrial buildings pass as Charlie turned into the airport, going up to the third floor of the parking garage and finding an empty spot.

y/n quietly and slowly unbuckled themself from the car. They left the car, turning to see Charlie already holding their large suitcase. y/n smiled at him, small tears coming to their eyes. They reached out politely, trying to take it from him.

“No I want it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not even yours.”

“Let me. Please?”

y/n gave in with a smile, taking Charlie’s free hand in theirs as they let Charlie lead them into the airport. They made their way across the patterned carpet to the check-desk.

“Hi there.” There was a lone employee working the front desk. She extended a hand outwards. “Boarding pass and ID please?” y/n fished though their carry-on bag, bringing forth the paper and plastic card. The employee scanned it and looked over at their computer. “Alright, just you y/n?”

“Yes.” y/n knew it wasn’t meant to be cruel, but the words still dug at their skin and itched at their bones. Just them. No Charlie. They’d be alone. Again.

“Alright. That’ll be gate 36B. Unfortunately, sir, you can’t come to the gate.”

“What the farthest I can come?” Charlie glanced over to y/n.

“Just to TSA.”

“Is there any way?”

“I’m sorry I can only bend that rule if you’re accompanying a minor.”

Charlie nodded and the couple walked away. They walked towards the large LED bord that displayed the flight information. y/n watched Charlie scan it with squinted eyes.

“401 right? Flight 401? We’ve got— shit.” Charlie frowned. “40 minutes. We move gotta get you through security.”

“We?”

Charlie looked back to y/n. They had tears brimming their eyes and were fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of their sweater. They were still wearing Charlie’s sweater.

“I guess I can’t take you any further.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t have to get mad at me.” Charlie frowned at y/n. He set their bag to the side and gently took the carry-on from their shoulders, placing it near the bag. Charlie pulled them closer, wrapping his body around them and leaning his head against the top of theirs. “I’ll see you again.”

“But when?” y/n did their best to not cry, but it seemed impossible in this moment. They were tired. They were cold. And they had to leave the person they cared for more than anything within the next ten minutes.

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day? I can try and drive over in maybe April?”

“But that’s such a long drive. God why can’t this be fucking easier?” y/n groaned against Charlie’s shoulder, grasping onto his shirt tighter with their fists. “It took me so long to save for this and I don’t know— I don’t know anything.”

“Then move in with me.”

“What?” y/n looked at Charlie with a strange smile. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had suggested the idea, but they’d only been dating for a few months the last time it was mentioned. Now they were a year and 6 months deep and it was the first it had been mentioned in a while.

“Or I’ll move in with you. We wouldn’t have to be separated, and I could work virtually anywhere.”

“We don’t have— I don’t have room at my place for a streaming set up.”

“We can get an all new place. Just us. We can go look around when I’m down there.”

y/n thought for a moment. “Alright. You better hurry then.”

“Of course.”

The two stood in silence for a minute, still hugging. y/n glanced over at the clock that hung near the LED display. “I gotta go. I still gotta get through security.”

“No. Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” Charlie pressed y/n even closer, leaving light kisses on the top of their head and the side of their face. “I love you. Please text me when you land. Like seriously.”

“I will I will. I love you too.”

“Okay.” Charlie let y/n go. He handed them all their stuff and stepped back, taking them in before not seeing them for the next few weeks. “How many other sweater did you steal?”

“Only two more, but I think I deserve them.”

“Alright.” Charlie laughed a bit. “Go get on your flight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Charlie watched silently as y/n made their way through security. It took them almost five minutes, but once on the other side, they sent a sad wave to Charlie and walked off to the gates. Charlie waited a moment, hesitating, then made the walk to his car alone. He crossed the airport street alone. He walked in the parking garage alone. And he got in his car and drove home. Alone.

———

12. Canon! Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

Las Nevadas was on fire. The water feature had died out hours ago. The casino was crumbling to stone. The tower had been cut in half. The strip club had been shattered. The restaurant had been torn apart. The roads were destroyed. The toll bridge had collapsed.

But they won, right?

Quackity stood alone. He watched his allies from a short distance. Foolish supported Purpled’s weight as he leaned against the god with a broken leg. Fundy rested against a wall, panting and covered in blood that didn’t belong to himself. Sam was no where to be seen, but they knew he was still alive.

But Slime? He was running. He was running in a large circle, searching through rubble and ash as he shouted.

“y/n?” Y/N?” He leaned on his hands and knees in the sand. His suit had been ruined for a long time now. The seams of his button up shirt had begun to rip in battle, the bottom of his pant legs had been singed and torn and blackened by the battle, and he wore only one suspender now, the other one much too weak and quite easily forgotten. He did not wear his tie, however he knew who was wearing it. “y/n?”

“Quackity,” Fundy looked upwards to his ally. “We can’t let him.”

Quackity ran a shaky, blood-stained hand down the front of his own suit in a nervous manner. “He has to find out somehow. Do you want to tell him?”

Fundy didn’t say anything, instead watching his friend run around. “Y/N!”

“This is cruel.” Foolish whispered to Purpled. The young boy could only nod in agreement, just a little too weak to do much else. Foolish, realizing this, helped the teen move over to sit next to Fundy, resting him against the crumbling wall of the fountain. Foolish turned around with the intent to aid Slime in his search, but was stopped by a simple hand placed upon his shoulder.

Quackity stood to the left of Foolish. He could see Quackity do his best to hold in the tears that had already left small tracks through the dust that had settled over Quackity’s face. “Just— let him. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

The group watched Slime dig by hand. The rouble almost phased through his skin, but he kept digging. When he got too frustrated by one building, he ran to the next one, repeating the process. They watched on in pain for only a minute longer. Fundy looked to Foolish and Quackity. “Do we know where-?”

“Y/N.” Slime screamed in utter joy, pulling out y/n from the rubble. He proudly carried them back over to where Quackity and the rest of the group sat, gently setting them down on the ruined pavement. He kneeled with them, resting their head in his lap. Slime very gently carded his fingers through their hair, seeming to think to himself. He reached deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a neon pink healing potion.

Foolish shrugged off Quackity’s grasp and walked over to where Slime sat. He kneeled down next to the green guy, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him away. “Slime, buddy—“

“Let me go.” Slime’s voice was gentle and somehow mature. He spoke sadly, but also as though he understood what was happening still. “I can still save them. I know I can.”

Foolish glanced back to the group to watch Quackity shake his head solemnly. “Buddy, I know it’s hard-“

“No, I promised.” Slime’s voice began to shake. He desperately poured the potion over the parts of y/n’s body where damage was obvious; bruises from the crushing rubble, burns from the fires and explosions, and the gaping cauterized sword wound to their abdomen. Slime smiled as he gazed at their peaceful face. It almost looked like they were sleeping. “I promised them.”

“Promised what buddy?”

“I told them everyone turns to dust and goes away, but I promised them I wouldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen it happen. I watched it. And I wouldn’t let them turn to dust.” Slime leaned down, pressing a light kiss to y/n’s forehead. He stayed close, whispering to the corpse in his lap. “Im so sorry.”

Foolish placed a hand on Slime’s shoulder again, trying to pull him away. “Buddy-“

“No!” He pushed Foolish away, leaning closer to y/n and holding them in a protective embrace. Slime gently laid a hand on y/n wrist, feeling the material of his neck tie in a knot around it. “I can still help them, please just let me— let me save them. Please.”

The group sat in silence. Slime’s shoulders shook as he sobbed over y/n’s body. Fundy and Quackity wiped away a few tears as well, listening to their friend wail into the night.

———

14. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them]

“Listen, man, hurry up. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.” Schlatt leaned back into the plush leather seat, resting a hand over his eyes.

Charlie sighed, looking over the stuff he’d piled on the couch. He huffed, looking around. “Okay. I’ve got my phone, charger, wallet, jacket, I’m dressed, teeth brushed, what the fuck am I forgetting?”

“Uh, buddy.” Ted cleared his throat and tapped at the side of his face. Charlie paused for a moment, squinting before realizing what he missed.

“My glasses! My goddamn glasses. Alright gimme a minute.”

The two boys watched Charlie walk back down the hall of Ted’s apartment. Schlatt groaned and lazily stood up from his seat. He walked over to the small pile of Charlie’s stuff and began sorting through.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find these faster, maybe we can actually get out of here.” Schlatt stuck his hands into the pockets of Charlie’s jacket. “Hate this fucking smog— oh.”

“Oh?” Ted sat up slightly, watching Schlatt pull a small black velvet box out. “Oh. Oh! Holy fuck.”

“Did he talk to you about this?” Schlatt dropped the volume of his voice, trying to not alert Charlie.

“No not at all. Is it for y/n?”

“I guess.” Ted and Schlatt had never met y/n in person before, only talking when they would be nearby if Charlie was in a discord call. But the two knew that Charlie loved them dearly, he talked about them whenever he got the chance. He boasted about anything y/n did, anywhere they went, any thing he could say.

“Do we— do we give him advice? Do we say anything?”

“Do you have advice to give someone who’s about to propose?”

Schlatt bit the inside of his lip. Instead of responding to Ted, he opened the box and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit dude.”

“What?” Ted got up and walked over to Schlatt’s side. The ring Charlie had gotten was beautiful; a silver band with ornate vines that held very small diamonds, all encasing a round amber gem. Ted very gently took the box from Schlatt, rotating it back and forth to see how the light glimmered on the gemstones.

“Ted this is… where’d he even get that?”

“I don’t know.” Ted stared into the ring. “We shouldn’t be hanging this. We should put it back.”

“Why do I want to wear it?”

“Why do you?”

Schlatt took the box from Ted, staring at it for a moment, then put it back in the coat pocket. He shuffled the jacket around, trying to make the setting look natural. “Now wha—“

“Okay I found it.” Charlie ran out of the room, rubbing at the glass with his shirt material. “What are we standing about?”

“Nothing.” Ted turned to Charlie quickly, awkwardly smiling. “Ready?”

The three boys made their way from Ted’s home to his car, then out onto the streets of Hollywood, headed towards Santa Monica. It was only a half-hour drive, and no one had too much to say.

“So. Charles.” Ted glanced at his friend in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “How are you and y/n doing?”

Schlatt made a pointed look at Ted as Charlie began talking. “We’re great! They got this really big job and we’re going to celebrate when I get back. There’s this restaurant downtown that’s so pretty— it’s their favorite! I mean, it was going to be a surprise, but hopefully it all goes well.”

Schlatt, thought for a moment, catching on to what Ted was thinking. “Is there something that needs to go well? It’s just dinner isn’t it?”

“Actually, can I tell you both about something?”

“Yes.” They both answered in unison, turning to look at Charlie as they stopped at the red light.

“Well, I wanted to, at dinner, I mean we weren’t doing dinner until I get back home, but I have this.” Both boys held their breath as Charlie went fishing in his jacket pockets. It took him a few minutes to procure the small black box, but eventually his found it and held it forwards, showing it off to his friends.

“Wow. Proposing?” Schlatt laid surprise thick into his voice, and thankfully Charlie didn’t notice.

“Yeah! I picked it out myself. Here look.” Charlie opened up the box, showing off the gems that sparkled in the sunlight. Schlatt glanced up at Ted who stared forwards at the 10 freeway.

“That’s really cool, thanks for telling us.”

Charlie frowned. “Is it not as good idea? You don’t sound that excited.”

“No it’s a great idea! I mean obviously we don’t know y/n as well.” Schlatt gestured to himself and Ted. “But it’s obvious you love them. I mean look at you, buying a ring and everything. Making dinner plans, Charlie this is amazing.”

“Also Schlatt found the ring earlier.”

Schlatt smacked Ted on the arm, sending him a glare. “So you guys knew?” Charlie smacked the box shut.

“Not on purpose. I was trying to find your glasses and I just happened across it. You didn’t hide it very well.”

“I—“

Ted laid on the horn, repeatedly honking at the Tesla that had cut him off. “Son of a mother fucker.”

“Starting to hate LA?”

Ted peered over at Schallt with a glare, then went back to driving. “We are happy for you Charlie, we were just kind of waiting for you to mention it to us.”

“Yeah, and we want to meet y/n! It’s been two years now?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m just scared? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I’m terrified.”

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s y/n. You fly home tomorrow right?” Charlie nodded. “Let us know how it goes man. I’m invested now.”

Charlie laughed. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Charlie took the 7 hour flight home. In that same day, Ted and Schlatt each received a picture of y/n wearing the engagement ring around their finger, both them and Charlie smiling wide.

———

Congrats Nat on getting 1k!

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene I | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. okay! so first chapter of a new series im starting! its a series rewrite of the genshin impact plot. i had always wanted to do one of these, and with my comic obsession, if you read marvel/dc comics youll find some crossovers hints. hope yall enjoy as i finally start to write and get on some type of schedule. its also one in the morning so imma head to bed :)

Word Count. 1,633 words

Page Count. 4.8 pages

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ Act I, Scene I ] [ next scene ]

Prologue Act I: Scene I | Monstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

                So, what you're trying to say is that you fell here? From another world?

                But, when you wanted to leave and go back to your world... Your path was blocked by some unknown God?

        You could only nod at Paimons commentary, watching as she floated next to you, a small hand to her chin as she looked deep in thought. Looking forward to the vast openness of the ocean in front of you, memories flashing before your own eyes as the pain settled in your heart, the wind slowly picking up before the tears filled your eyes. It hurt to think back at what happened, to how you lost them, the two people to found you after being lost for so long.

        That carmine red outlining the dark abyss shaped like a star would haunt you as a woman walked out, snowy white hair and the bandages around her legs flowing around her as her voice seemed to break through your skull, demanding your attention while the twins next to you could only look up in confusion. The anger in those golden eyes was enough to make you take a step back, you've never met her- Hell, you've never seen or heard of anyone like her, so why did she come at you with such ferocity? Even her mere presence contrasted with the ivory, baby blues, and gold of your surroundings, the heavenly area around you tainted with this... Unknown God.

        "Outlanders, your journey ends here." She demanded, the portals behind her sharpening with the wave of her hand. Lumine took a step forward, her shock evident in the small gasp she let out before speaking, determination and confusion spilled across her features.

        "Who are you?"

        "The sustainer of heavenly principles." She responds quickly, bringing a hand up to her line of vision with a small red and black cube in her hand, twirling it causing the ground beneath you to tremble, Aether looking between you and his sister. Shaking your head, you bent your knees ready to jump, the engines in your heavy boots started up, as your mask appeared on your face once again with only a light touch to the earpiece.

        "The arrogation of mankind ends now." The ground lit up around you, red and irritated with magic you haven't seen before, your boots shooting you into the air as Aether and Lumine jumped- following your lead as they pulled their golden swords and allowed their wings to manifest, holding themselves in the air.

        It was barely a second, before you moved forward with the twins by your side, your hands moving to the Quads in their holsters and taking them out for another fight. You only thanked whatever Gods in your own world were listening, and that damn mentor of yours, before your mind went back to the battle at hand- requiring you to fly around and dodge the large amounts of glistening red and gold cubes that came in your way, blocking you from the target of the Unknown God.

        Before you knew it, the end of this battle came quickly, an explosion from the mere speed of you, Lumine, and Aether stopping right before the Unknown God to attack.

        And that second was all she needed to do what was needed. 

        Her gaze fell upon you, making you shiver in fear, before you flew back and blasted a beam of energy at her from your Quad, only for it to be absorbed by a cluster of cubes. Your voice came out robotic, echoed with the technology that covered your face, you eyes moving to see the cluster of cubes enveloping the twins that were once beside you. 

        "Aether! Lumine!" They only looked at you in horror, fading once the cubes covered them whole, returning to the Unknown God in a hollowed and golden version of her twisted and unique weapon. She watched the rotating cube with wide, uncaring eyes, giving you enough time to circle around her and attack once more- throwing the handheld mines from your belt onto her form, the beeping accelerating once it met her skin, and an explosion following quickly. 

        By the time the smoke cleared, and before your mask could scan and gain some sense of recognition, the cubes that protected the Unknown God attached themselves to your outstretched hand, closing in on you while maintaining the explosion you caused. Eventually, it all settled into one cube that contained your hand, before you followed the same fate as the twins.

        "Wait! Don't go! Give them back!" You managed to scream, desperation in your voice, as you watched another family be taken from you once again, your vision fading into darkness and your heart breaking once again.

                And just like that, the god took away my friends.

                Some kind of seal was put on my being, and the power I had was gone.

                And while I had the freedom to travel the universe, worlds, and entirely new realms.

                I was now trapped.

        "How many years ago was it? I don't know, Paimon. But, I've gotta. I have to." You answered Paimons question, still looking out to the sea in front of you, mask now hidden into the earpiece that decorated your left lobe. The leather of your jacket warmed you from the cool breeze of the sea, the bodysuit underneath regulated your body temperature in any environment, but you specifically used it when in space when you held the title of Guardian. But you couldn't afford to think about that now.

        Not when there's a chance of finding Aether and Lumine. 

        "After I woke up, I was alone- until I met you two months ago." You finished, looking over to your floating friend, who only turned as she spoke.

        "Yeah. Paimon really owes you for that. Otherwise Paimon likely would have drowned... So, Paimon will do her best to be a great guide!" She smiles, hands on her hips while looking up to you, seeing as she always chose to float around chest-level when around you. You sighed, a weak chuckle escaped your lips before you sat up from the sand, brushing off the back of your cargo pants and looking towards your guide for this new world- patting her head and making sure to be careful of the crown that hovered above her.

        You had only hoped Paimon would do most of the talking for you anyways, due to Tevyat’s language being foreign even to your ears and tongue, a feat for a Guardian of your reputation. A decent understanding of the oral part of the language under your belt, you found reading to be easier, since it did look similar to some scripts back in your own world. Your thoughts were cut off as Paimon spoke up, calling for you to follow her as she sped ahead of you, following the path from out of the beach to the grassy area ahead of you.

        "Awe, the path ends here. I guess we'll just have to climb, huh?" You rolled your eyes, shaking your head while you started to heave yourself up the large rock, Paimon taking notice of this.

        "You mean I have to climb the rock, P, you just have to float." You laughed, reaching the top with a grunt before she whined about floating taking as much energy as walking or climbing. It wasn't bad, you've climbed a lot worse in even more horrid situations, but damn did that take a good breath from you. You'd have to work on rebuilding some of your stamina while traveling here, and possibly need to find some supplies to settle somewhere for a bit, maybe even collect whatever currency they had here.

        "Well, let's take the route we planned! We're off to... a Statue of The Seven!" She smiles with glee, before a questionable face appears as you both move forward, her head turning towards you as you attempt to take in much of the scenery and areas you could. Your heavy boots only crushed the poor underbrush and grass that came into contact with it, your belt that was filled with gadgets and such clinking with the sway of your hips- hitting the holsters.

        This world is beautiful...

        "Which of The Seven are you looking for exactly?" She asked, making you shrug your shoulders at her, hands up as you walked towards a nearby tree- picking up the strange orange fruits and packing them away before moving forward. They looked like some weird crossbreed of orange and pear, but, you hoped it would taste as good as it looked.

        "To be honest? Any of them. They should have some idea of what happened, but even then, The Seven are gods in this world- and from what I remember of gods... they aren't too sane to say the least." You said, reaching a small cliff side that overlooked a lake with a statue near the edge of the small island in the center of it. 

        "That's a Statue of The Seven!" She pointed in its direction as you gave her your full attention, your finger going to touch the back of your ear to signal that, mindful of the metal to not trigger the activation of your mask.

        "There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show The Seven's protections over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon's not sure whether the god your looking for is the Anemo God, but... Paimon'll take you to the Anemo God's place first, and there's a reason why~" She muses, giving you a small wink before turning around, allowing you to follow her down the path to the first Statue of The Seven.

        To the first step towards finding Aether and Lumine.

        Your journey has started.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 17: I Swim For The First Time...?

It was Annabeth's idea. She loaded us into the back of a Vegas taxi as if we actually had money, and told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front." "You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked. He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first." Annabeth handed him her green Lotus Cash card. He looked at it skeptically. "Swipe it," Annabeth invited. He did.

His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign. The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highness?" "The Santa Monica Pier." Annabeth sat up a little straighter. I could tell she liked the "Your Highness" thing. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change." Maybe she shouldn't have told him that. The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert. On the road, we had plenty of time to talk. Percy told us about his latest dream. The Lotus Casino seemed to have short-circuited my memory. I couldn't recall what the invisible servant's voice had sounded like, though I was sure it was somebody I knew. The servant had called the monster in the pit something other than "my lord" ... some special name or title.... "The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades." "Maybe..." he said.

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described." He shook my head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

The crooked one... Annabeth's eyes widened. And looked at Percy. Who had a look of realization. "What?" I asked. "Oh... nothing. I was just—No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—" "Like what?" "I—I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt." I wasn't sure what was wrong with her. She looked pale. "But if Percy already retrieved the bolt," I said, "why would we be traveling to the Underworld?" "To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your parents back." I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat." "Why, thank you."

"Only mine is there. I'd rather get Y/N's than mine." Percy said gripping my hand.

"Huh?"

"You lost them thanks to me." He smiled weakly. "A-Anyways, the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," I reminded. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?" Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. Annabeth was looking at me as if she knew my next question, and was silently willing me not to ask it.

I have every answers. I could tell you. What do you wish to know? We are to help one another after all...

Could you tell me how I could save my parents?

Save them?  As I told you only we could save them. Being there, you'd know your only option. Only you could do it. Do you wish to know more?

What's this quest?

A trap. Next one?

Who is my parent?

Hahaha, that is a question I shan't answer. Just believe in all gods. Befriend them and you'll know. You could trust them all.

Even Zeus, Hades and Poseidon? They kinda suck...

Unless you're positive they aren't your parent, you don’t have to.

Yeah, can I have like... I don't know... I kinda want Hephaestus. He seems coolest. I an NOT blessed in like singing and all that so I can’t be Apollo's.

I've already given you a parent. My apologies. The one I chose would be... quite a friend. Would you want to know more?

Well not re---

"Y/NN!! Ask more about the quest and Percy's dream!!!" I hear Annabeth scream at my ear.

"Oh my gods! Don't scream at my ear!" I yelled pushing her away. "What do you mean ask about Percy's dream? Who will I ask? The driver?"

"You----"

"She can't remember whenever that happens." Percy explained. "They already told us."

"What are you guys talking about??"

"Nothing. We were thinking about the pit..." Annabeth sighed.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" I asked her. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?" "Y/N... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades... No. It has to be Hades." Wasteland rolled by. We passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES. The problem was: we were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. If we got there and found out we were wrong, we wouldn't have time to correct ourselves. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin. "The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured us. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing." She tried to boost our morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but my heart wasn't in it. There were just too many unknown factors. It was like cramming for a test without knowing the subject. And believe me, I'd done that enough times. The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it reminded me of Echidna's reptilian voice. At sunset, the taxi dropped us at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave. Grover, Annabeth, Percy, and I walked down to the edge of the surf. "What now?" Annabeth asked. The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. I thought about how long it had been since I'd stood on the beach at Montauk, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea. I felt anxious being near the water. Percy took my hand.

"What?" I said slowly pulling away from him.

"Trust me and come with me." He said looking at me in the eye. "Percy," Annabeth said. "That's stupid! She can barely stay alive up here!"

"If the water pulls her could you save her?" He glared at the two. "As long as she holds me she'll be safe." He gripped my hand.

"I-I'll trust you... But I have to make sure you won't let me drown... I-I need---" Annabeth then sighed and walked over to us taking our wrist.

"If she drowns I am totally not siding on you during the war." She hissed at Percy while tying Aphrodite's scarf on our wrist.

"how do you have that?" Percy asked.

"I forgot I gave it to her." With our wrist attached by a cloth, he held my hand tight then we kept walking, up to my waist, then my chest.

"I'm scared..." I gulped. Percy pulled me closer. That's when my head went under. I held my breath at first. It's difficult to intentionally inhale water. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I gasped. Sure enough, I could breathe normally. Percy was smiling at me, with his arms still around me. We walked down into the shoals. I shouldn't have been able to see through the murk, but somehow I could tell where everything was. I could sense the rolling texture of the bottom. I could make out sand-dollar colonies dotting the sandbars. I could even see the currents, warm and cold streams swirling together. I felt something rub against my leg. I looked down and almost shot out of the water like a ballistic missile. Sliding along beside me was a five-foot-long mako shark. I almost screamed until I saw how cute it was. The thing wasn't attacking. It was nuzzling me. Heeling like a dog. Tentatively, I touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting me to hold tighter. Percy took my hand and wrapped it on the fin, he grabbed the fin with both hands, so I followed his actions. It took off, pulling us along. The shark carried us down into the darkness. It deposited us at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sand bank dropped off into a huge chasm. It was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon at midnight, not being able to see much, but knowing the void was right there. The surface shimmered maybe a hundred and fifty feet above. I knew I should've been crushed by the pressure. Then again, I shouldn't have been able to breathe. I wondered if there was a limit to how deep I could go, if I could sink straight to the bottom of the Pacific. Then I saw something glimmering in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward me. A woman's voice, "Percy Jackson." As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding. She dismounted. The sea horse and the mako shark whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag. The underwater lady smiled at me. "You've come far, Percy Jackson. Well done. And you brought... a friend." I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed. "H-Hello..."

"You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River." Percy said. "Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court." "An... you serve in Poseidon's court?" She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest." I felt so out of placed being here so I wrapped my arms around Percy tighter. "If my father is so interested in me," Percy said, "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to me?" A cold current rose out of the depths. "Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told him. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism." "Even to their own children?" "Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. Why do you think they're trying to find who Y/N's parent is? They helped raising her, that's why her scent is gone."

"M-My Olympian parent raised me? I don't remember anyone... I'm pretty sure neither my mom or dad are Olympians... or Greek."

"Well that is what they're trying to figure out."

"Well, what's my father doing then?"

"That is why I give you a warning, and a gift."

She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm. "I know you journey to Hades's realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?" "Urn... no, ma'am." "Ah, but you have something else, Percy. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet." "What will happen?" "That," she said, "depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."

Percy took the three pearls and pocketed it. "Oh... but there are four of us. We'll need one more."

She looked at me and Percy. Then looked at her empty palm. "Your father..."

"I'm not leaving any of them if I need to use this." Percy said firmly.

She sighed and out came another pearl. Instead of handing it to Percy she handed it to me. "The lord does not like you. He's been firm and obvious of that fact. But... as his son refuse to leave you..."

I took the pearl reluctantly and thanked her. "What about the warning?" Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy Jackson." She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void. "Wait!" Percy called. "At the river, you said not to trust the gifts. What gifts?" "Good-bye, young hero," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone. "Your dad... must really hate me to leave me in Underworld when worse comes to worse..." I muttered burying my face on his neck.

"Don't worry... I won't let him hurt you, just because whoever your parent is raised you." He kicked upward toward the shore. When we reached the beach, our clothes dried instantly. Percy told Grover and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls. Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price. Not to mention Y/N is hated." "They were free." "No." She shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait." On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea. With some spare change from Ares's backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. We showed the driver the Underworld address slip we'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told Percy. "You a child actor or something?" "Uh ... I'm a stunt double ... for a lot of child actors." "Oh! That explains it." We thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop. We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book. Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars. Percy froze in front of an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody

"—my stepdad, Smelly Gabe." He explained.

He was talking to Barbara Walters—I mean, as if he were some kind of huge celebrity. She was interviewing him in our apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand. A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife... my Camaro... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it." "There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver. He has taken a young girl that goes by Y/N L/N with her." The screen cut to a grainy shot of me, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares. "Who are the two other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America." "C'mon," Grover told me. He hauled us away.

It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a New Yorker. I don't scare easy. But L.A. had a totally different feel from New York. Back home, everything seemed close. It didn't matter how big the city was, you could get anywhere without getting lost. The street pattern and the subway made sense. There was a system to how things worked. A kid could be safe as long as he wasn't stupid. L.A. wasn't like that. It was spread out, chaotic, hard to move around. It reminded me of Ares. It wasn't enough for L.A. to be big; it had to prove it was big by being loud and strange and difficult to navigate, too. I didn't know how we were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by tomorrow, the summer solstice. We walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging. As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you." Like an idiot, I stopped. Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys. Instinctively, I drew my knife. When the knife appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at me with a switchblade.

Percy then pulled me behind him and swung Riptide. The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the..." I figured I had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed taking Percy's hand. We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner. "There!" Annabeth shouted. Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE. "Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated. It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside. "I think we lost them," Grover panted. A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?" We all jumped. Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to. His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—I couldn't even count them. "I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile. I resisted the urge to say, Yes, you are. "Sorry to barge in," Percy told him. "We were just, um, browsing." "You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?" I was about to say No, thanks, when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom. There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size. "This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O. "Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, any-way. "Um," Percy said, "I don't think..." "Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool." "Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost." "Almost what?" I asked. He looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit." Annabeth said, "But what—" He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her. "Hey!" she protested. Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!" Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress. Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down. "N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!" The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and Percy to grin. "Almost, darn it." I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec." "Let my friends go." "Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first." "What do you mean?" "All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit." Annabeth and Grover kept struggling. "Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!" A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Grover and Annabeth's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends. "Don't worry," Crusty told us, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?" "Percy! Y/N!" Grover yelled. My mind was racing. I knew I couldn't take on this giant water-bed salesman alone. He would snap my neck before I ever got my sword out. "Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" Percy asked. "Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted. "The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens. "Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that." "You're right. It's got a good ring to it." His eyes lit up. "You think so?" "Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

Percy looked at me weirdly. When I gave him a nod he must've understood. He got closer to hold my arm. Crusty grinned hugely, his fingers still didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?" "Not too many." "That's right!" "Y/N!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?" "Don't mind her," Percy told Procrustes. "She's impossible." The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting." "What do you do if they're longer than six feet?" "Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix." He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe. He said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end." "Ah," Percy said, swallowing hard. "Sensible." "I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!" The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose. "So, Crusty..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?" "Absolutely. Try it out." "Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?" "Guaranteed." "No way." "Way." "Show me." He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?" I snapped my fingers. "Ergo." Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress. "Hey!" he yelled. "Center him just right," I said. The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom. "No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo." Percy uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments ..." "You drive a hard bargain," he told us. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'" "I think I'll start with the top." Percy raised my sword. "No money down! No interest for six months!" He swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers. I cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot. "You look taller," I said. "Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time."

Percy looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map. "Come on," Percy said. "Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death.'" "Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."

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[iboughtaplant]

Sing Me Awake With A Song About Pirates 

Prompt: Beach Day 

Relationship: Yennefer/Renfri/Jaskier 

Rating: G

Warnings: no warnings apply 

Summary: Pirates Yennefer and Renfri dock in Kerack and have a relaxing day at the beach only to come across a merman tangled in a net.

Here is my first prompt fill for the @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

Read it on AO3

They had just docked in Kerack and Yennefer was looking forward to taking a break. They recently had a rather nasty run-in with a Nilfgardian trading ship and even though they made it out with the loot, she wanted it off her ship as soon as possible. She stretched her arms above her head as she walked down the gangplank onto the dock.

Her crew was hefting barrels off the ship, rolling them down the dock to bring into town. Once on the dock she adjusted her hat and strutted over to Renfri, her second mate, who was just finishing talking with--read bribing--the dock master.

“Are we all set?” Yennefer asked Renfri once the man had walked away.

“Yup, we were never here. Won’t be included in the log when we leave in a few days. And I can have the boys dock the ship in the cove nearby if we run into trouble and need to get out of port.”

“I can only cross my fingers we don’t run into trouble.”

“It does seem to have a way of finding us. Remember that time in Skellige with the Cintran man of war, we got out of there by the skin of our teeth.”

Where Yennefer could do with a break from finding themselves in trouble. Renfri seemed to relish in it. She was energized by the adrenaline of a fight or a chase. And Yennefer could admit she did love the gleam in Renfri’s eye whenever she was itching for a fight, or a fuck. Which is where it worked out that they were lovers.

All that being said, Yennefer just wanted to relax. She wanted to take a break from being the captain of her ship and her crew, even if just for the few days until they had to set sail again.

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

After all the business was taken care of, Yennefer and Renfri had lunch at one of the taverns. It was all very expected. Renfri said she wasn’t that hungry, but then ate part of Yennefer’s portion in addition to her own. Yennefer had to glare at a fellow pirate captain who wouldn’t stop leering at her. Renfri threatened to stab a man and Yennefer convinced her not to. Just normal everyday things.

Yennefer figured they would pay for a room, she and Renfri would make love and she would get a chance to sleep without having to worry about ten different things at once the way she would on the ship.

Which of course meant that Renfri grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the tavern and in the opposite direction of the inn and brothel. “Come on, this way!”

Renfri pulled her along and they sped up into a run. “Where are we going?” Yennefer asked.

Renfir gave her a smirk and said, “You’ll see.” Which was about what Yennefer expected. But Yennefer also noticed that there was a bottle of rum in her hand.

“Nick that did you?”

“The tavern won’t notice that one measly bottle is gone. And we are pirates, gotta live up to the stereotype.”

Renfri slowed her pace, which made Yennefer slow her’s. They came to where the path met the beach and turned to sand.

“I was hoping to sleep, not drink myself to oblivion and pass out.”

“Then more rum for me,” Renfri said as she waved the bottle at Yennefer, who only rolled her eyes in response.

“Come on, Yenn, a relaxing walk on the beach is what you need. Plenty of sunshine left. And then we can watch the sunset, it’ll be romantic.”

“So you’re the romantic one, now?”

“If it gets you to smile, then sure.”

Yennefer of course couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed on her face. “Alright then, lead the way.”

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

They walked arm in arm down the beach and then Renfri stopped. “This looks like as good a spot as any.”

“For what?”

“To sit, to relax.” Renfri elbowed Yennefer in the side. “C’mon <em>Captain</em> take a load off.”

Renfri then plopped down and sprawled out, uncaring of the sand getting everywhere. She unhooked her sword belt and laid her sheathed sword next to her in the sand.

Yennefer sat down next to Renfri and nudged her to put her head in her lap. She combed her fingers through the wind-tousled hair. It was relaxing. “Are you going to pop open that rum or what?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Renfri said as she sat up and pulled the cork out with her teeth. She took a sip and then passed the bottle to Yennefer.

“That’s some strong stuff.”

Yennefer took a pull from the bottle. “It sure is. You don’t need much to feel it do you?”

“Nope,” Renfri said with a laugh before grabbing the bottle and drinking some more.

They lounged in the sand for a while, eventually shedding their boots and laying down on their spread out coats.

Yennefer closed her eyes for a bit, enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing and the warmth of the sun on her closed eyelids. She would always love the sounds of the ocean, the smell of salt in the air.

With her eyes still closed, Yennefer felt and heard Renfri get up. “Where are you going?”

“Down to the water. Come with me?” Renfri asked as she started to shed more of her clothes. She kept on her smallclothes, consisting of short linen braies and a fitted sleeveless tunic.

Yennefer followed suit and stripped down to her own similar underthings. He took her tricorn hat off last and tossed it on top of the pile to keep their clothes from blowing away.

Renfri grabbed Yennefer by the shoulders and initiated a kiss that turned as searing as the hot sun on their skin. Yennefer licked into Renfri’s mouth and Renfri gently nipped Yennefer’s lip in return, making her moan.

They pulled away from each other panting as they regained their breath. Renfri pushed her forehead against Yennefer’s. “Let’s go cool down. I’ll race you,” Renfri said right before he let go of Yennefer and ran down the beach towards the water.

Yennefer ran after her, following her into the foaming waves and wrapping her arms around her waist. They tussled playfully and Renfri dragged Yennefer further into the water until it was up to their thighs. They kissed again, this time lazily as the water crashed against them.

They stayed in the water for a little while longer, swimming out further to submerge their bodies fully and enjoy the cool water.  

Once they felt they had thoroughly soaked in the salty sea water, Yennefer dragged Renfri back to their pile of clothes to dry off in the slowly waning sun. It was still bright, but nowhere near as high in the sky as it had been.

The sun warmed their bodies once again. Yennefer tugged on her pants and coat, shoving her shirt and stockings into the deep pockets. Renfri pulled on her own pants and slung her coat over her shoulder.

“We should have plenty of time to walk over to the rocks to watch the sunset. If you want?” Renfri asked, turning to look at Yennefer.

“Of course,” Yennefer said, leaning forward to kiss the side of Renfri’s mouth. “Maybe we can do more than just sit and watch the sunset.”

Renfri’s breath hitched before she nodded and gathered up her boots in one hand, shoving the nearly empty rum bottle into one of them.

They linked arms and started their barefoot stroll down the beach.

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

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while just enjoying each other’s company and the quiet beach.  

As they progressed down the beach, Yennefer could make out a shape on the sand in the distance. She nudged Renfri’s shoulder and pointed. “Do you see that? I can’t make out what it is, and I don’t have my spyglass on me.”

They both squinted into the distance. “A beached whale? Maybe.”

“Seems too small to be a whale.”

“Guess we have to keep walking and get a closer look.”

“We were headed in that direction anyway,” Yennefer answered.

They picked up their pace a bit, still walking barefoot across the sand. As they near the shape on the sand they could make out a scaled tail. Yennefer dropped her boots and trudged her way over, it was where sand started meeting rocks, the sand littered with smoothed rocks she had to make her way over. Renfri was a few paces behind her, picking her own way through.

As Yennefer got closer, her eyes widened. It was a man, well a merman if the curled blue tail was anything to go by. Yennefer really hoped that he was alive. It was a bit unnerving that the merman didn’t move.

Getting even closer, Yennefer gasped as she noticed that the merman was tangled in the rope of a fishing net. She dropped her boots she was holding and scrambled closer. The merman’s suntanned skin was dry to the touch, he must have been out in the sun for hours and he washed up too high for the tide to reach.

“Renfri!” she yelled. “Quickly, come on.”

“I’m here,” Renfri panted behind her. “Oh no.We have to help him,” she said with conviction.  

“I know. Quick, we need your sword. I’ll hold the ropes taut and you can cut them. Then we have to get him down to the water.”

Yennefer kneeled near the unconscious merman and grabbed the ropes of the net at random, just wanting to get him untangled and not willing to waste anymore time in trying to fiddle with the ropes.

Yennefer held lengths of the net as far away from the merman’s body as possible  as Renfri slashed through them. After repeating the process a few times, the merman was surrounded by slashed pieces of rope, and was freed. Yennefer shed her coat and chucked it and her hat out of the way. She was able to roll the merman partially onto his side. Renfri came to her aid to help roll him onto his back.

Once on his back, they could see just how parched his lips looked and just how wilted his fin-like ears were. They didn’t ogle long as they were more concerned with helping the merman regain consciousness.

Yennefer stood behind his head and squatted down to gripp under his arms. Renfri was already positioning herself near his tail as Yennefer said, “Grab his tail.” It worked because Yennefer knew Renfri was stronger than her and that tail had to be pure muscle.

It was not a very dignified trudge down towards the water, carrying a full grown merman, but they eventually made it down to the water and lowered the merman into the shallows. Once the water relieved them of some of his weight they were able to drag him deeper into the water where his body was submerged.

Yennefer’s instinct was to keep his head above water before remembering that he is of course merman and his head underwater would probably be beneficial. Yennefer lowered his head under the waves once Renfri nodded that she had a grip on his body and wouldn’t let him sink.    

Yennefer felt her breathing return to normal and could only hope that they had made it in time to help the meman. She wasn’t a religious person, but as a pirate she was a superstitious one, so she prayed to every god and goddess she could think of with hopes that one of them would hear her. She looked over at Renfri, “Thank you for wanting to help him as well.”

“You don’t need to thank me Yenn, it was the right thing to do. I just hope he comes to soon.”

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

A few moments later, the merman’s tail started thrashing and Renfri lost her hold on it, but the merman must have still been weak because he didn’t or couldn’t swim away and almost clung to Yennefer where her arms were still around him. His head then emerged from the water with a splash. He gasped and Yenenfer wasn’t sure if it was just from surprise or if he was gasping for breath. From her limited knowledge of merfolk, she knew that they needed water to breathe but could get oxygen through the air the way humans and other land creatures did.

“Oh goddess, is this the afterlife?” the merman asked. “It must be since I am being held by two goddesses themselves.” He answered his own question. Renfri snorted a laugh. The noise made the maerman turn his head to look at her.  

“At least he’s conscious now.” Renfri said, mostly to Yennefer. Yennefer hummed in agreement, glad that their rescue attempt wasn’t for naught.

“So this isn’t the after life or a dream, huh?” the merman asked.

“Nope, you are thankfully very much alive.” Yennefer said.

“Thankfully? You don’t even know me, why would you be thankful I’m alive?”

“Because I care for the wellbeing of others?” Yennefer said, in a questioning tone. “Is that so foreign to you?”

“Well, no, not fully, but I had given up hope of being rescued before I fell unconscious.” He paused, “Would you lovely ladies like to get out of the water? I can imagine it might not be comfortable for you to stay in it for so long.”

“Can you swim on your own?”

“I believe so. Though I will admit it is lovely being wrapped in your arms. But I usually at least know the names of women before I embrace them. I am Jaskier by the way.”

“Yennefer, and my partner is Renfri.”

“It is wonderful to meet you both, I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“We do as well,” Renfri said with a smile.

Yennefer let go of Jaskier and was happy to see he was able to hold up his body weight in the water and his skin no longer looked parched and sun-dried.

Yennefer and Renfri trudged out of the water, their clothes clinging to their bodies. They both sprawled out on the rocks that had  been their destination earlier and Jaskier followed them at a sedate pace, leaning his crossed forearms on the rock while keeping his body from the chest down submerged in the water.

“So what brought you lovely ladies down to the beach?”

“Our ship is in port and I figured this one,” Renfri pointed to Yennefer, “needed a chance to relax and the beach was the perfect place.”

“Oh no and I interrupted your relaxing beach day, I’m dreadfully sorry.  But I can’t thank you enough for saving me.”

“You mean no one else came along before us?”

“If you hadn’t noticed this is a fairly quiet stretch of beach. Not many humans frequent it, it’s one of the reasons that I swim near here so often. I do love watching humans, but they don’t really like the sight of me. Must be the sirens giving us a bad name still. But it’s not my fault that my kind also enjoys singing. I had hoped that my singing might attract someone more than yelling for help. Most humans around here tend to run in the opposite direction of someone in need of help. But then I was too parched to even sing anymore.”

“Lucky for you we aren’t like most humans,” Renfri said. “Yenn’s not even fully human and people are often weary of me being born under a bad omen and all.”

“We tend to have differing opinions than most who share our profession. We might be pirates, but we are also women, so I have always found merfolk to be good luck. Ask almost any male sailor and they’ll tell you that having a woman on a ship is a bad omen, let alone having her captain on,” Yennefer said with a bit of a smirk. She knew she was a better captain and a more skilled sailor than a majority of the men she ran into.

“So you’re pirates!? Oh that is so exciting. You must tell me stories of all your adventures.” Jaskier said excitedly, his tail flicking out of the water to further emphasize his excitement. A few drops of water splashed them when his tail entered the water again. “Oops, sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly.

Yennefer and Renfri shared a look. A look which Jaskier must have read the wrong way if what he said next was anything to go by.

“I mean—I’m sorry. I am interrupting your relaxing time together and the sun is going to be setting any minute now. I’ll just go and maybe I will see you lovely ladies again some day.” He flashed them a small smile, though it was wide enough to show his pointed eye teeth.

Jaskier made to swim away from the rock, but Yennefer crawled forward and reached out to grab his hand. “Stay. Please.” She laced her fingers with Jaskier’s slightly webbed ones.

Jaskier looked up at Yennefer with his blue eyes that mirrored the color of the sea and Renfri gently grabbed his other hand, “What Yenn said. We would like it if you stayed. I have a boatload of stories to tell you.”

“I would love that. So much.” Jaksier smiled, flicking his tail again and chirping a bit. His face flushed a bit, the fins, where a human’s ears would be, flattened to his head as if in embarrassment. He pulled his hands out of both of theirs, but otherwise only moved a short distance away. At least it seemed they convinced him not to dive into the ocean to never be seen by them again.

Yennefer moved down the rock a bit to sit with her feet dangling in the water and put her hands out for Jaskier, beckoning him towards her. He propelled himself forward with his tail and stopped when he was floating between her calves dangling in the water. He gently place his webbed hands onto her knees and smiled up at her.

She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. It felt terribly forward, but there was something about the merman that was luring her in. And she had enough knowledge of merfolk to know it wasn’t some sort of magic taking hold. She pulled away to see a smile on Jaskier’s handsome face.

Renfri moved closer and wrapped an arm around Yennefer. She addressed Jaskier, “Just letting you, you want one of us, you better be okay with getting both of us.” Jaskier’s smile grew even wider if that was even possible.

Yennefer sat on that rock until well after the sunset. They told Jaskier stories of their swashbuckling adventures, as well as some tales of the more mundane things they got up to. In turn Jaskier rather theatrically regaled them with stories of his own. It was well into the night that they finally made to leave.

“Promise you won’t set sail without saying goodbye.”

“We promise,” Renfri said with conviction. “But maybe us leaving doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“Oh, meaning?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I have an idea. Just have to see if it’ll work. I’ll tell you about it either way before we are set to depart in a few days.”

“Alright.” Jaskier said. “I will see you soon then. Have a safe journey back to your lodgings.” He then leaned forward from where he had been lounging with his upper body out of the water and on the rock to lift Renfri’s hand and bestow a kiss upon it. If the light was better, Yennefer swore she would be able to see Renfri blushing.

Jaskier then repeated the action with Yennefer and she returned his affection by placing another kiss on his forehead.

They said their goodbyes and Renfri and Yennefer gathered up their belongings before picking their way across the beach by the light of the waxing moon.

Subtle splashes accompanied their journey. If Yenenfer turned towards the water, she could see the shine of scales in the moonlight: Jaskier following to make sure they made it across the beach. She huffed a laugh, “You silly merman.”

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

It turned out that Renfri’s idea was to scour the town for the biggest bathtub that she could buy. Yennefer found the thought to be sweet, but didn’t say so since Renfri didn’t like too much attention drawn to the nice things she did for those she cared about.

Which is how Yennefer and Renfri ended up hauling a spacious copper tub, that Renfri bought from an innkeeper after haggling, back to the ship. Yennefer had two of her men help them get it up the gangplank and situated in Yennefer’s quarters.

Renfri smiled with accomplishment and Yennefer couldn’t help but show her just how much she loved her and how thoughtful she really was. They made love in the bed they shared with feeling even more at home with the smell of the salty sea air around them.

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

Yennefer and Renfri went back to the beach everyday that they were still on land. Each time, Jaskier was excitedly waiting for them near the rock where they spent the first evening talking. Renfri didn’t mention the bathtub yet, wanting it to be a surprise. But Yennefer knew she was apprehensive, just as Yennefer was herself.

What if despite all of his proclamations that he wanted to follow them and go on adventures, Jaskier wanted to stay where he was in his little corner of the ocean? They would both be a bit devastated even if they would get over it in time and still be able to visit Jaskier when they came into port.

Of course they had nothing to worry about. On their last day in Kerack’s port, Yennefer and Renfri once again went down to the beach, they now knew the way to the rocks like they knew the layout of their ship.

Once they reached Jaskier, he immediately exclaimed, “Please take me with you. I don’t think I will survive not seeing you for months at a time. Please, we can figure something out. I will swim behind the ship if I have to. I want to go on adventures and I want to keep seeing you both. And I can compose songs about your, or well our, adventures. I will sing so many songs about pirates, just you wait.”

Yennefer chuckled. “Well that’s good to hear since we were going to ask if you wanted to join us on our newest voyage. You won’t even need to swim alongside the ship, that is unless you want to be in the ocean. Renfri found a spacious bathing tub for us to fill with sea water for you.”

“That is immensely kind of you. And I promise I can earn my keep if need be. I can catch you fresh fish whenever you want and I think I know my way around the ocean better than any land creature.”

“Don’t let our navigator hear you say that.” Renfri said.

“You know your way to the harbor so meet us there, we won’t leave until you are aboard.” Yennefer said as she knelt down to caress the side of Jaskier’s face.

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

Two hours later they were untying the ropes tethering the ship to the dock, raising anchor, and steering the ship out of the harbor and into open waters.

Jaskier had insisted on his bathtub—because it was his now—being placed on the deck at least for the first stretch of the journey so that he could observe the way a ship was run. He wanted to witness it all and write down all of his initial reactions.

It was funny that one of his first requests was for paper and a writing utensil. Yennefer gave him one of her own bound journals that had yet to be written in along with a quill and a pot of ink. Apparently merfolk had their own written language. While Jaskier was able to speak Common as well as Elder, he only knew how to write in the language exclusive to his kind, although Renfri promised she would teach him how to write in Common.

Once the sun went down and it was time for the crew to retreat to their cabins or hammocks, Renfri and Yennefer dragged the bathtub plus Jaskier into the captain’s cabin they shared. Jaskier was excited to look around. He asked questions about everything and could already tell which items belonged to Yennefer and which belonged to Renfri.

Jaskier’s tub was positioned so it was near the bed, allowing Yennefer and Renfri to lounge on it while they all talked, enjoying each other’s presence. And Renfri made sure to move one of the smaller trunks near one side of the tub so that Jaskier would have a place to stash his notebook and writing supplies.

They spoke late into the night about everything and nothing as was becoming a habit for the three of them. Yennefer wasn’t sure when she finally succumbed to sleep, but she awoke to Jaskier quietly singing about pirates and mermen, with the sun shining off of the ocean waves.

[brattyfics]

Beach Bums

Summary: Used a few prompt lines including: “I like this outfit. Easy access.” and “I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.” “We’re in public, you know?”

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Black!OC

Warnings: Public sex, sandy beach sex, unsanitary sex (cause of the sand), exhibitionism, a little angst.

Word Count: 3.2K (I hate that I’m so long-winded)

Lena listened to waves lap at the shore of the beach with a relaxed smile on her face. The smell of saltwater tickled her nose while sand tickled her toes with each step. The chilly California night made it so she wore a flannel over her loose-fitting, flowy dress. 

To her right stood her Knight in a Kutte, AKA EZ Reyes. A rare, genuine smile graced his own face. She couldn’t remember the last time they were together and he wasn’t on guard. There at the beach, none of the club bullshit mattered.

For that reason alone, she was happy she accepted his invitation for a one-day getaway. She had work she should be doing, and she was sure he had club business to attend to, but they were together in spite of it all. 

EZ and Lena were on and off again high school sweethearts. The two of them didn’t see each other often anymore— Lena moved a few cities over to begin the next chapter in her life while he rebuilt his life in Santo Padre.

“What you thinking ‘bout, mamita?”

She found herself admiring his dimples. “You.”

“Yeah?” They deepened even further, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “What about me?” 

She rolled her eyes and decided to mess with him. “I was thinking your head is kind of funny shaped.”

“What?” He asked, eyebrows shooting up. He jumped at her causing her to shriek and take off. 

He chased her a few yards before reaching to grab her up by the waist. She side-stepped him and pushed, giggling even though her heart was racing as if she was really running from danger.

Lena’s mouth fell open as she watched EZ tip over in slow motion like a cow. Her hands reached out to steady him but it was too late, his big ass landed with an ungraceful plop in the sand. He looked just as shocked as she felt. She was stuck somewhere between being speechless and wanting to apologize. When their eyes met, the only thing they could do was laugh. 

She clumsily sat down beside him, grabbing a hold of one of his big arms. She couldn’t get an apology out because she was laughing so hard. 

“You’re cold blooded! You just tried to kill me!” 

“I didn't expect for you to fall like that!” She managed to wheeze out in between laughter. “It’s not even all my fault. It’s all that damn wine you had at dinner. I tried to tell you, it sneaks up on you!” 

A few fellow beach goers eyed them with amusement. EZ straightened when he saw the attention they garnered, face flushing at the attention. She tried to quiet down for his benefit but when he began dusting his sand-covered side, she fell into another fit of giggles.Soon enough, everyone went back to what they were doing. 

To their left, a group of teenagers burned what she was certain was an illegal bonfire. To their right, people were scattered loosely, sitting on beach towels while watching the stars or walking the shore. Almost no one was left in the water. It was too late and too dark for a swim. 

She crawled over to sit directly in front of him, her back against his chest, his arms holding her tightly to him. They sat in silence watching neon city lights dance across the dark water, enjoying the warmth the other provided in spite of the cool night.

EZ let his hands roam, lighting her body up with each stroke of his fingers. The two of them had many risky sexcapades back in high school. He could never wait until a party was over before he was trying to sneak them off somewhere. Then there was the time they missed half of senior prom.

“Can I ask you something?” Lena asked, gazing at the night sky.

He let out a fake sigh. “If you must.”

“Do you miss me?” Her eyes focused on him, ready to hyper analyze his response as she often did.

“How can I miss you when you’re right here?” He joked, trying to keep the mood light.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He seemed to consider it, avoiding her eyes. Finally, he decided on a response. 

“Of course I miss you.”

“Like a lot?” She hated how needy she sounded.

He smiled. She wasn’t always forthcoming with her real thoughts and emotions, especially since she had been disappointed by him before. His eight-year stint in jail wasn’t just hard on him. He liked when he saw flashes of the old her, the her he knew when they first met, before he hurt her. 

“A whole lot, chula. You know that.”

She wanted to ask him how she was supposed to know that. He had been different since they reconnected. He could be distant, avoidant at times. She understood he lived a complicated life, but she wanted him to want her enough to fight for a future.

Her chest tightened every time she thought about the fact their love was fleeting. She snuggled further back into him, choosing to let it go. There was no sense in ruining a good night, one she could remember long after they were done. 

EZ worried about them too. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she had no room for him in the new life she was building. He thought about her more than she would ever know. All around Santo Padre there were reminders, memories of her. Every day he passed the high school he remembered the day they met. 

They both felt the tension of the unspoken words between them. When he could no longer stand it, EZ defaulted to sex. It was the one thing that was never wrong between them.

“I like this outfit, easy access.” He joked, pulling at his flannel until he could see the thin straps of her dress. He tugged at one of them until it fell, nibbling on her bare shoulder.

“I can tell.” She grinned naughtily, grinding her ass against him. Like him, she just wanted to forget all the bad stuff. 

“I can’t wait til’ we’re alone.” He noticed there were only a few stragglers left on the beach. It had thinned out for the most part, the bonfire now an abandoned pit of soot. “There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

She eyed their fellow beach goers, calculating the risk. “You know, you don’t have to wait until we’re alone.” She wanted him bad. Her heart lurched. She knew she was being driven by insecurity but she couldn’t help herself. Even if they didn’t last, she wanted to hold a place in his heart forever. She wanted him to remember she was his best and dirtiest fuck. 

She turned to look him directly in the eyes. “I wanna fuck you right here.”

“I don’t think---”

“Are you kidding? You’ve been teasing me all night.” She pouted. His hand had been under her dress all night, pinching her thighs, tickling her legs, but never touching her where she needed.

“You’re trying to kill me.” 

He’s one to talk.

“No I’m not.” She said in faux innocence. “I'm just trying to make you feel good, baby.”

“We’re in public, chula.”

“When has that ever stopped us before?” 

He snorted. Points were made, so he wasted no more time, his resolve gone.

“You gotta relax though.” He hissed when she grabbed a hold of his dick. “Turn back around.” He instructed, pulling the big flannel from her shoulders so that he could use it as a makeshift blanket to hide their activities. She held it close to her chest while he went to work at unbuckling his pants. She kept turning around to peek at him.

“But I wanna see.” She hummed impatiently, stretching her legs out. “Have I ever told you how pretty your dick is?”

“You tell me that every time.” He tried to sound unimpressed, but it came out more strangled than anything. She knew all his tells. He was as desperate as she was. 

She watched with open fascination as he stroked his dick. She sucked on her bottom lip as she watched it fatten up under her gaze. Fuck, he’s going to stretch me out. He leaned forward to kiss her, thinking about how he wanted to use her lips for other things. 

After a long kiss, he pulled back with a groan, looking to see if they had gained any admirers. Once he deemed it safe he leaned in to kiss her again. He sucked on her lip this time, hands tugging her loose-fitting dress up until it rested underneath her breasts. Their legs were the only bare skin touching and he wanted more. He wanted her naked and underneath him where they could be as loud as they wanted for as long as they wanted, but a quickie would have to do. 

When he pulled away from the kiss again, her eyes bore into his. He froze. 

Her eyes were so expressive-- he knew when she was disappointed, angry, turned on. In that moment, she looked at him like he hung the stars and the moon just for her. He felt the same about her, taking her beautiful features under the moonlight. 

Her thick hair blew over her shoulders in the breeze, the smell of mango invading his nose. He loved her smell. He leaned in to rub his nose against hers, giving her an eskimo kiss because he knew it would make her smile. Her lips parted slightly, her pink tongue wagging at him in a teasing manner. He shook his head, smirking. As much as he found ways to make her smile, she did the same. 

“Come here.” He lifted her so she hovered just above his crotch. The flannel slipped down slightly.

She reached for his dick anyway, gasping at how hot and heavy it felt in her hands. She probed at her wet slit with his tip. Lena wanted to ride him the right way, chest to chest where they could kiss and hold each other. She held in a whine, doing her best to look normal as if nothing was happening. Underneath her, his hips surged forward, desperate to get inside her.

“Stop moving.” She bossed him the way he sometimes liked. The club looked to him to fix and handle everything as their prospect. He looked to her for grounding. She reminded him he wasn’t invincible, humbled him. 

Her stalling wasn’t just for his benefit. It had been months since they were together. If she didn’t mentally prepare herself first, she’d be shouting his name for everyone at the beach to hear. 

“Hurry up.” She could hear the frustration in his voice. The awkward position they were in, the contrast between the cool night air and her warm center on his dick, the strain of holding her hips up, and his flannel slipping down had him nervous and impatient.

“Be still, baby.” She whispered sweetly. She used the mushroom tip to tap her clit and though she had been expecting it, she jumped up moaning. 

His fingers dug into her hips as a warning, head on a swivel for any peeping Tom’s. 

“Fuck. Me.” She listened to him, lining his cock up with her entrance. His hips lifted as best they could in his position, pushing past tight resistance until he was inside her. 

They did their best to be quiet. She bit down on her lip and pinched one of his thighs. He closed his eyes, holding her as he tried to adjust. It had been too long since they were together. 

Lena was as wet and warm as he remembered. Even tighter than he remembered due to not being stretched out first by his fingers or his tongue. He loved playing with her pussy, watching the way she would tremble and try to hold her moans in. 

“You feel so good.” He buried his face in her hair momentarily. 

“Mhmmm…” She was having a hard time forming words. She used her hands on his thighs for leverage to ride. “...you too.” She couldn’t ride him the way she wanted, but she did her best, squirming in his lap at the slight discomfort. “You’re too deep.” She pouted.

“Relax.” He moaned into her hair, burying himself to the hilt. She let him work, lifting her up and down on his dick as best he could without causing a scene. Each time he hammered her hard and deep. The slow, but bruising pace made the filthy act that much more intense. 

“Fuck, nena.” He grunted as his forearms burned. “Take that dick.” And she did. Sans a few escaped mewls, she took all of him with no complaints, letting him use her in the best way possible. 

As much as he hated himself for it and wished he could focus, all EZ could think about was her being with other people when they were apart. It was hypocritical of him he knew--he had gone on a sex binge with Vicki’s girls as soon as he got out, but it didn’t change the way he felt. 

“I love this dick, baby.” She purred, looking over her shoulder into his eyes. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, daddy. It’s my favorite.”

He pounded her harder, angry at the admission. 

“You fuck other guys like this?” 

Lena moaned to avoid the answer. She had definitely tried to get over him while under other men. Eight years was a long time. One of his hands left her hips to tug her hair. She was forced to take over the majority of the grunt work, bouncing in his lap despite the awkward angle. 

“Do you?” She winced as he got aggressive, knowing her scalp would be tender the next day. 

“No.” She finally moaned, sounding defeated.

“They don’t fuck you like I do, mami?”

“No!” It came out louder than intended, catching the attention of another couple on the beach. Neither Lena or EZ let it bother them. 

“Be quiet.” He gritted out, continuing to pound her out. Her walls constructed around him, sucking him in deeper. He could feel her wetness dripping down his shaft onto his balls. 

“Wait—“ Movement to their right caught her attention. The couple had risen from their spot. One of the girls gathered their things into a tote bag while the other rolled their towels up. 

“Baby—“ she tried to warn him, pushing at his thighs. She felt like she was going crazy. Overwhelmed was an understatement. At that point, holding her breath was the only way to keep from yelling his name out. 

His hand left her hair to press against her tummy. “You feel that shit?” He was being mean, holding her in place so she couldn’t do anything but take it. 

“Babyyyy.” she whined. 

“What mami?” His face was buried in her neck and she could feel him leaving what would be hickeys on her brown skin. He couldn’t keep her with him forever, but he could scare his competition away for a few weeks if he marked her good enough.

“I think they’re watching us.”

His head lifted from her neck, dark eyes searching for bodies in the night. He saw them. The two girls were still several yards away from them, but headed their way. They spoke quietly to each other, giggling every few seconds. 

He made a decision. They were too far gone to stop, potential audience be damned. 

“Then you better hurry up and come.” Her stomach tightened at his words. “Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t.” She sobbed, concentrating on her hardest on being quiet. 

“You better not. Fuck that dick until we both come.” His fingers dug into her hips painfully as their skin loudly slapped together. “I don’t give a fuck about some gringos watching.”

The combination of the time they spent apart, the fact they could be caught, and his dirty words were too much for her. She came so hard tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, needy moans spilling from her lips. If EZ could see her face, she’d be embarrassed at the way she went cross-eyed. 

The flannel slipped down to their legs where it barely covered anything. Lena silently thanked gravity that her dress had also slipped down so she wasn’t completely exposed. That didn’t mean she didn’t look the part of a desperate slut. 

Tears fell freely from her eyes, leaving a trail of mascara in their wake. Judging by the looks on the girls’ faces, they were concerned. She flushed at the attention, but was too overstimulated to disguise her dick-drunk state. 

EZ showed her no mercy, drilling her like she hadn’t already come. He didn’t give a fuck about the two curious set of eyes on them. 

Picturing her with other men had his mind racing and it made it hard for him to concentrate on his release. “Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s yours.” She panted immediately, eyes wide and pupils blown. She couldn’t believe what they were doing. He didn’t show any signs of stopping so she talked him through it. 

“It’s always been yours, daddy.” He hammered into her. 

“I love that dick.” In. 

“I miss it so much.” Out.

“It’s too good.” Her voice got progressively lower as the girls got closer. They seemed to have figured it out, their footsteps purposely slow. She was embarrassed, but couldn’t stop until he joined her in bliss.

“I want your cum! I want it so bad. I don’t care who knows.” 

Her eyes met one of the stranger’s. One the girl’s mouth split into a sly grin. They definitely knew what was going on.

“I don’t care about anything when your dick is in me.” She mewled loudly, locking eyes with one of them. 

“I’ll fuck you anywhere you want, whenever you--” He bit down hard on her shoulder, an animalistic growl rumbling out of his chest. She winced at the sting, knowing he’d left yet another mark. The other girl tugged her along, clearly scandalized.

His dick pulsed inside her, massaging her insides. If she hadn’t already come, that sensation would have done it. She collapsed against him, lazy, and too fucked out to care anymore. 

He seemed to share that sentiment, assaulting her neck without a care in the world, sloppily tonguing it down as if it were her pussy. Each lash of his tongue was a promise for later. He would eat her alive when they were in the comfort of their hotel room. 

They both huffed and puffed, trying to catch their breath. Sweat and sand covered their skin, the smell of sex mingling with the night air. Neither of them knew how they would muster the energy to make it back to the car, let alone the hotel room.

“I love you.” He murmured softly, placing one final kiss against her neck.

[one-piece-drabbles]

Can you please do one with Rodger knowing about ace's execution and maybe ace being saved by luffy and reacting idk alive or dead. This doesn't even makes sense but anything like this will work.

Y’know, it’s not really what you’re looking for, but I figured an answer to this ask was better than no answer at all. Between rewriting an old Ace time-travel fic of mine, I’ve been working on a new Ace time-travel fic with...different goals. If you don’t mind, I’ll be using your ask an excuse to post about it.

So if any of y’all out there have facts about Roger and/or his crew (I’ll take headcanons too), send them my way! I could use some inspiration. Read on if you want a taste of what I’ve been up to with all of this.

“This will be my final order as your captain!”

Ace slowed to a stop. Final?

“It’s time for us to part ways! You must all survive and return to the new world!”

Someone was yelling, begging Whitebeard to say he wasn’t planning on dying here, but it was plain on the old man’s face: he was making himself the last sacrifice.

“I’m a relic of a bygone era!” Whitebeard declared, silencing the complaints. “No ship can carry me into the new age! Get away from here, my sons!”

His next quake rocked Marineford, nearly throwing Ace off his feet. Luffy was still tugging him along towards the ships, but Ace couldn’t tear his eyes from his father.

“Pops!” One last word. One last look. One last something.

Whitebeard grinned in the face of the entire navy bearing down on him. “It’s been a long journey. Let’s finish this once and for all!”

All of Marineford was crumbling, the massive structures little more than paper in the face of Whitebeard’s power. The ground rumbled like the sea in a storm, but through all of it, Whitebeard was an unshakeable pillar of destruction.

Haruta broke rank. “We can’t leave you behind, Pops!”

Whitebeard’s response was swift and catastrophic, stopping Haruta in his tracks. “Can’t you follow your captain’s orders?” he roared. “Get away from here, you lousy brats!”

The tide of pirates began to retreat. It pulled at Ace, but he remained rooted to the spot, that pounding need for just one more look crystallizing into its true shape. He broke from Luffy’s grip and took one step towards his father. His only father.

“Ace!” Luffy cried. “We gotta go!” And then, words that cut like knives: “Don’t let the old man’s sacrifice go to waste!”

That was exactly the problem. Ace glanced back at his brother. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” He turned back to the horde of marines closing in on Whitebeard, the heat of his own flames swirling around his fist. It would have to be enough.

“Out of the way!” His hiken tore through their ranks like a torrent. As the flames died down, so did he, dropping to his knees and bowing his forehead nearly to the ground. Tears built in his eyes and he squeezed them shut.

Somehow, impossibly, Whitebeard’s words carried across the distance between them. “I have little use for soft words…but tell me one thing, Ace.” The tears threatened to break through. “Was I good father?”

The damn broke. “Of course!” he cried, his whole body shaking as his voice cracked.

Whitebeard just laughed. Ace, bowing even lower, swallowed and climbed back to his feet, finally heeding Jinbe’s order to get to the front, only for a new voice to cut through all the noise.

“You free Ace and then turn tail and run, huh? The Whitebeard Pirates are a pack of cowards.” Time slowed. “But considering who your leader is, that’s no surprise! After all, Whitebeard is nothing but a loser from a bygone era!”

And suddenly, he wasn’t heeding Jinbe at all. Rage flared high in his chest and his tears burned up. He turned to face the admiral—

But Akainu wasn’t there. Uncomprehending, Ace stared at the tropical forest where Marineford had been. Five distant peaks stretched into the sky like fingers, but there were no buildings, no fortifications. Instead of walls bearing down, palm fronds rustled in the calm breeze while waves gently rolled onto shore behind him.

Even the air had changed. There was no smoke, no gunpowder, only salt. The fallen marines and pirates were gone. He turned around again, but Luffy and all of his crewmates were gone too. No ships sat on the glimmering waves. No ice held fast the sea.

“P-Pops?” His voice sounded strange to his ears. The breeze came again. A coconut broke free and tumbled the long way to the ground, only for it to get stuck in the sand. “Luffy?”

Another spin didn’t change anything. There was no one around. The sun wasn’t even in the right place. It hung high in the sky, dead at its zenith.

His balance rocked and he sank to his knees. Was this a joke? A Devil Fruit? He brought his arms up to hug himself, only to notice something odd about his left. There was no ink in his skin; his ASCE tattoo had disappeared. Yanking off the tank top that had materialized on his torso and tossing it aside, he craned his neck, fingers pulling on his skin to bring more of it into view, but no matter how he looked—over his left shoulder, over his right shoulder, around his sides—his Whitebeard tattoo was nowhere in sight. It was like it had never been there at all. Even his necklace was gone.

He held out his shaking hands, only then realizing just how small they were. His gaze drifted back to the trees. Were they really that big, or was he…

He was. Shaking harder, he tried to summon some fire, any fire, but nothing happened. There was no response at all. When he dug his nails into his palms, though he could feel it just fine. He could feel everything—the breeze tousling his hair, the sand shifting under his feet, the sun warming his skin. The odds that this was a dream or a nightmare were dwindling with every second that Ace spent hoping this wasn’t real.

Something crashed through the underbrush just past the tree line. Ace froze, then scooped up his shirt and gave chase. Branches lashed at his skin, but even though he hadn’t been this small in years, he still remembered all those days crashing around Goa Island. This place didn’t hold a candle to those wild forests.

The shadow darted left. Ace hooked a hand around a tree’s narrow trunk and swung after it, but he overestimated his reach and fell comically short. He tumbled to a stop, backside stinging, pride bruised.

As he raised his eyes from the ground, he met the gaze of a wild boar. It blinked at him, then, with a huff and a snort, turned and walked away.

That was what he’d been chasing? Ace let his head fall and scrubbed a hand through his hair. What was going on?

“And why am I a kid?” he mumbled. Sure enough, his voice came out way higher pitched than he was used to. Letting his hand fall, he tipped onto his back and stared up through the canopy. He hoped Luffy was okay. His sworn family, too. If they’d come all that way to save him only for him to disappear in the middle of it…Well, Pops would probably keep everyone in line. Marco, too.

He squinted as the sun came out from behind a cloud. What did he know? He was a kid again, for some reason. He was on some island he’d never seen before, for some reason. And, of course, he didn’t have his powers anymore, for some reason. The strategy he’d used to escape that island with Deuce wouldn’t fly here.

As the edge of another cloud took the edge off the sun’s glare, Ace’s skyward gaze fell on the mountains punching over the horizon.

Any kind of vantage point was better than nothing, right? At least he could see if there were any other islands nearby. If this was an archipelago, there were probably people on one of them, and where there were people there were ships.

Getting to the mountain was the easy part. As small as he was, and without being able to rocket himself upwards with his devil fruit, he found himself struggling to actually get up the mountain. Strength wasn’t the problem, but something as simple as a handhold being a couple feet out of reach was enough to stymie him until he found another way up.

By the time he got to the top, he was sweaty, dirty, and tired. He���d scraped his knees and bloodied his fingers before he’d realized that he could still use haki to protect himself from the damage he’d been able to ignore as a logia user.

He sat down hard, drawing in deep breaths. That had unequivocally sucked, but at least he was at the top now. He’d picked the shortest and closest mountain, figuring that anything out of sight from its peak would be out of his reach anyway. Once he had his breath back, he pushed himself to his feet and peered out over the ocean. The wind was much harsher up here, and he had to use a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. The light bouncing off the cresting waves was still bright enough to hurt.

No matter how long he looked, he only saw those waves. It was ocean as far as the eye could see. No other islands, no chain, and no people. Even though he’d kind of expected it, frustration still curled his lips into a frustrated scowl.

What was the point? Why was he here?

Releasing his irritation in a huff, he turned to start the long climb down. It would probably be easier than coming up, since he could use his haki to absorb some of the longer drops from ledge to ledge.

A blurry smudge near the horizon gave him pause. He stopped and peered out at it. Was it a cloud? No, it was getting closer. It was on the water.

His heart lifted. It was a ship.

He threw caution to the wind as he scrambled down the mountainside. His rushed haki didn’t save him from everything, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins numbed the pain. He landed hard on the forest floor, rolled to his feet, and then tore through the trees. He needed to give that ship a reason to stop at this island in case it was just sailing by. A kid waving from the beach would catch anyone’s eye, right?

Panting, bruised, and bleeding, he broke through the tree line, stumbled on the sand, and limped up to the water’s edge.

“Hey,” he croaked at the approaching ship. “Hey!”

He drew breath to yell a third time, but as he did, the wind changed. The ship’s crimson sails filled out, its flags snapped out horizontal, and Ace got a good look at the symbol emblazoned upon them all. His voice died.

A mustached skull and crossbones.

The Roger Pirates.

[luca-moreno]

void

Luca word vomit idk

--

“You’re so fucking weird, Moreno,” one of the squad laughs as they haul on their packs.  

Earth isn’t at all what he expected.

Bootcamp isn’t either.

The hills in the distance look far away and the day is already hot. Luca feels sweat beading on the back of his neck, runs a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. He used to be so pale, now his skin turns darker shades he never realized could belong to him. He hates this harsh sun, the way its rays bite into his skin like tiny needles. It’s burning him, he thinks. He’ll wake up tomorrow red and sore. How did humans survive this long, on a planet trying to kill them daily?

He flashes the others a tight grin and a shrug and tries not to show on his face how the words bother him. “Yeah, I know.”

--

The wards weren’t friendly but neither was Earth or the Alliance.

But Luca puts his head down and he works. He runs the tracks, he climbs the walls, he shoots and swears and rolls and he keeps his head down and he’s just another inductee that his barely sixteen sol years flies under the radar to their eighteen. He’s baby faced and green and alone.

Nobody notices.

--

Wide hands gripped his shoulders and a smile flashed. “It’s not that long, Luca. You just gotta survive two more years. You can do it, I know you can.”

It was hard to hear over the din of the departure lounge. Luca’s throat grew tight as something akin to panic crawled its way up his throat. “I don’t... I know if I can. Not without you.”

Kiosho grins, mismatched eyes under a messy mop of blue trimmed hair. “Sure you can. Just don’t let them give you any shit. And Luca… even if you don’t feel it, bluff. They can’t tell the fucking difference anyway.”

--

He didn’t make the two years. He barely made it to one.

Code skittered across the screen of the terminal. His heart thumped so hard he could feel it in his ears. He cracked the firewalls like they’re nothing, swooped in and manifested a whole new reality and hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

It was… and it wasn’t and it still didn’t get him what he wanted.

--

The other boy notices Luca long before Luca notices him.

And why would he? He was just another tenderfoot, another one of the crowd, another pair of boots falling into line and pounding the pavement, another body in the mess hall trying to dig their way through the slop that’s considered to be their meals. Luca listens with half an ear as the gaggle of recruits around him bitch and moan about the food, picking at it unhappily but Luca remembers what it’s like to be hungry. He never protests.

The boy slides into the seat opposite him but Luca doesn’t look up.

“It’s your accent, you know,” the other boy tells him conversationally.

It takes a long moment before Luca realizes he’s talking to him. He looks up. “What?”

“Your accent. You probably don’t even realize it, but you do this weird little burr thing with all your words. Like drell and turians do.”

Luca lowers his fork slowly. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to say it now. “I didn’t grow up here.”

“I know,” the other boy smiles. He has blonde hair, and eyes the colour of earth’s skies when they’re running drills in the daylight. “Neither did I.”

It’s hardly unusual, lots of the recruits where from all over the terminus systems, most shuttled back to Earth for training. Luca holds himself short of leaning into a kindred spirit, if that’s what he even was. He takes a closer look at the boy in front of him - pale skin, long fingers, lean limbed.

His mouth clocks it before his mind does. “Spacer.”

“Yep. I’m Saxon, by the way.”

“Um. I’m… I’m Luca.”

Saxon picks something off his tray and eyes it critically. He glances around before he shrugs and pops it into his mouth. “Sure beats keleven nutripaste, huh?”

Some of the tension around his shoulders seems to ease. “Yeah, it does.”

--

There’s a lot Luca finds he likes about Saxon, and some he doesn’t.

But mostly it’s how he doesn’t feel so… alien… when he’s with him.

Music croons in the background, some old earth song Saxon had dug up from the archives and Luca strums along on the battered guitar he’d scraped all his meagre credits together to buy. Smoke curls around them, a dusty tobacco that makes Luca’s nose itch and his limbs feel weak. Don't you want to be free? Do you like girls or boys?

“So, do you?” Saxon asks one night, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands. The clouds are rolling in, Luca can taste something in the air that leaves him shivering. The rooftop is his sanctuary.

“Uh, do I what?”

Saxon looms closer. “Do you like boys or girls, Luca?”

Luca’s skin prickles in awareness. In heat. “Boys,” he whispers.

Saxon’s teeth flash in the darkness, and he pulls Luca in.

--

Luca wakes up alone, head throbbing and thick with something that was once sweet now turned bitter. His body aches, sore in places that he didn’t want to acknowledge and marked with splotches that make him double take when he sees his refection in the mirror.

He runs a hand over the marks and smiles to himself.

The smile doesn’t last.

“Saxon, wait up!”

The gaggle of recruits don’t stop but Luca only focuses on one blonde head. He jogs to catch up, still calling out. “Saxon!”

Finally they stop and Luca can feel their eyes on him. “Uh. Wait, so. I just wanted to-“

“Hey, it’s the duct rat,” one of the men laugh. Barely a man, but solid enough to pass. “That’s what they call ‘em, isn’t it?”

Luca’s gaze swings to Saxon, willing him to look at him. He doesn’t.

“Sax-“

“Give it a rest, Luca,” Saxon shifts on his feet. A glance over his shoulder, a shared laugh and almost an apology but not directed at him. Luca isn’t always great with signals but he can feel the sudden unfriendly prickle in the air, the hostility.

You’re so fucking weird, Moreno.

He opens his mouth.

Saxon walk off.

--

It happens more than once.

--

It’s confusing, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through his fingers, up until it isn’t. He finds his space, amongst the twisted wires and loose threads, in the circuitry and flow of an electrical current. He always had an affinity for machines, for tech and code. There were no nuances to wade through. 

On or off, I or O. Luca always knew where he stood with his tech.

He chose a path and followed it to the end.

“Hey, Luca.”

Luca’s head snaps up. Saxon is a black shape blocking out the stars in his quiet place. He tenses as Saxon steps into the paltry ring of light thrown off his datapad and sits beside him on the threadbare rug.

“What do you want?” Luca asks flatly. His face still burns from being rebuffed. His ears still ring with the sound of their laughter.

Maybe the first time he might have been able to convince himself it didn’t mean much. A misunderstanding. A misstep. He’s had so many of those here. But by the second and the third it wasn’t possible to kid himself anymore. And Luca didn’t know what else to do, kept going back, pinging like a moth against the light. 

On or off. On. On. On.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Luc.” Saxon leans close. He smells like dried sweat and beer, smoky and apologetic as he nuzzles against Luca’s neck.

Luca tries to lean away. “What, so you suddenly remembered I exist?”

“Aw, like I could forget.”

“You tried pretty hard.” Luca tries to climb to his feet but Saxon’s hand snaps out to curl around his wrist. He grips tight.

“Luca, wait.”

“Let go, Saxon.”

“No, Luca. Come on, I’m… sorry, ok? Jesus, just… wait.”

The inside of Luca’s chest is desolate enough not to shove him away. Not yet. He hesitates, allows Saxon to draw him back down onto the rug. Stars slide overhead, a sparkle in the sky that leaves Luca homesick. He wants to curl into himself but he draws his knees up instead.

“You know, you’re kind of a dick, Saxon.”

“And you’re too much, Luca,” Saxon sighs. He slides closer, hands on Luca’s face. Heavy hands that Luca can’t twist away from. “You’re like a puppy trying to hump my leg whenever I turn around. You’re… loud.”

“I am not loud.”

“No, I mean,” Saxon rocks back and waves his hands over Luca, his face twisted into something pained. “This. You. Loud. You can be… suffocating.”

That stings. Luca scrambles back and Saxon lets him go. “You gotta give people a chance to breathe, Luca.”

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

Off.

--

His messages scattered to the four corners go unanswered for months. He doesn’t understand. He came all this way, sold his soul to get here and Kiosho was nowhere to be found.

Luca hunches over the terminal. Frustration squeezes his throat. He’s starting to unravel when he’s never been together in the first place.

“Hey, are you okay over there?”

The sob gets stuck as he sucks in a breath. Blue eyes skim him, kind and warm and more than he probably deserves.

“Sure,” he forces out brightly. Happy face, he tells himself. Squeezes away the dampness. Don’t let them see. “Guess I’ll try again tomorrow.”

--

Tommorow.

[No new messages]

And so on, and so forth.

--

Sand shifts under his feet. It doesn’t do that on the Citadel. The walls might shift, but the ground was never knocked out from beneath him.

He wheezes painfully as the screams echo. Dust, that every present choking dust billows up around him and there’s pressure and pain and something wet at the back of his throat. He tries to sit up but his body won’t listen to the signals his brain sends. There’s another boom, another shower of debris and screams and Luca’s world goes dark.

--

When he wakes up, it’s to silence.

The nurses lean over him, lights shine into his eyes, their mouths move but there’s no sound. No hum of the recycled air, no rustle of leaves as the wind brushes them, no stomp of feet on the sealed paths.

Just horrifying, terrible silence and Luca’s own thoughts and the desperate, sudden urge to claw his way out of his own skin.

He doesn’t realize he might be screaming until the prick of the needle slides through his skin.

Then he doesn’t feel much at all.

--

It takes him three months to heal his leg and adjust to his new ears. Some days are better than others and the headaches are somehow the worst part. He gets fast at signing to the OT’s and the doctor’s although they’re unimpressed at his mastery of signed curse words and not much else. For a while he’s angry but that takes too much energy and he can’t maintain it for long.

And stupidly, he waits.

The day they tell him they’re going to release him, he finally plucks up the courage to ask. “Did… did anyone visit?”

Where there any messages?

The nurse is sweet, green eyed, red hair and freckled all over her nose like stars in the black. She shakes her head, a smile that smacks too much of pity on her mouth. “No, I’m sorry, honey.”

“Oh.” Luca sinks back against the pillows. “Okay.”

--

The Alliance took his hearing and replaced it with something half baked, but it’s better than the silence so he doesn’t fuss. They haul him in front of the brass where the truth comes out in incriminating shades of glowing orange and textured lines. A deep dive that wasn’t deep enough, or too deep, depending on how you looked at it.

“Your ID is fake,” they tell him and Luca wants to protest because no, not really. He’s still him. He’s still Luca, some kid from the wards, too loud, too much to hold everything that vibrates inside his bones. It had taken the ride to Earth to be noticed and then the spat in the medical wing to be diagnosed. The meds helped. For the first time Luca’s world evened out.

“Altered,” he’s brave enough to say. “Sir.”

There’s a snap of brows over the datapad. Another officer with a chest full of medals coughs nearby.

“He’s two years in on his training. He’s the legally the right age now.”

“There has to be a consequence. What he did-“

“We’re short on bodies as it is. And with what’s coming... Well, this kid was determined enough to get here all on his own. We should use that.”

All eyes turn on him. “Is that true?”

Luca swallows. “Uh. Yes, sir.”

“Why? Why not just wait until you were of age?”

“I was trying to find my brother, sir.” I was trying to find home.

“And did you? Find him?

“No, sir.” Not yet.

There’s a rolling beat of silence that has Luca’s throat feeling thick. His stomach churns.

“Verdict?”

If they send him away, he has nowhere to go. The Alliance wasn’t home, but it was a purpose.

“Let him stay, but hold back that promotion.”

--

They send him to the edges of Council space. Too human for the wards, too alien for earth. The things that made him stand out under Sol’s light become useful out here. Batarian, Turian, Drell, even Krogan, familiar to his tongue, to his hands.

He’d almost laugh about it, if it didn’t fucking hurt.

--

It’s not the glory the recruitment posters promise them. Its blood and guts and screaming and the desperate search for the quiet space in his mind to give himself a moment to just think-

But bullets spray, shields go down, the turret jams.

They die.

They save the colony, but they die.

“Did you see that?” Checo wheezes from beside him. In the distance there’s the booms of biotic explosions and the flash of figures in armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re not alliance, he knows that much. He presses down on the hole in his side and wonders why it doesn’t hurt. It should hurt, right? The bullet tore right through him and blood leaks through his fingers.

He doesn’t know if he’s cut out for this.

--

Funny how the fates shift. How time and circumstance and one insignificant little moment can set him onto a path he has no comprehension of where it will lead. One second of hesitation, one shred through his flimsy armor that knocks him down but doesn’t kill him and leads him to this.

He’s shuffled into a new squad. Sometimes he’s loud, but they’re louder and Luca doesn’t need to squeeze into the places left behind because they make room for him. Fold around him like he matters. His commander even kisses his forehead like the mother he never had never did.

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

On.

--

The reapers wipe out so much of the fleet. Names of those lost scroll endlessly over terminal screens. A memorial wall crops up in the docking bay and in the ship. Thousands and millions gone.

Two names typed into a search, one the name that had started it all, the other he wonders why.

Too much, too loud.

He was never very good at letting go.

The terminal blinks.

[Personnel unknown]

But unknown was better than dead, right?

 --

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 4

Skies and Timothy spend the day at Sanctuary.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Chapter 3

           It’s a long drive from Old Haven to Sanctuary, but it’s a good one. Skies sticks her head out of the technical, letting the wind blow through her long, messy brown hair as they drive through the Arid Nexus. When they reach the highway connecting to the Eridium Blight, Timothy makes her sit back down.

           Things have quieted down recently in these parts. Since Jack’s death and the fall of Helios, most Hyperion facilities in Pandora have shut down because nobody cares enough to keep them up anymore. So with no turrets, the only threats in the Eridium Blight are swooping rakks and the slag ash in the air- really not much different from anywhere else on Pandora.

           Skies is in a far better mood by the time they reach the Dust, as she and Timothy dance to the music playing over the radio. The desert sun beats down on them as they tear through the sand, not a care in the world.

           They reach the Highlands within a couple hours and soon Overlook, the only connection to the flying city of Sanctuary. Timothy parks the car and they head through the quiet town to the fast travel station. One by one, they teleport to the city.

           Timothy and Skies exit Pierce Station, chatting happily, but they’re quickly cut off when they bump into the Vault Hunters: Maya, Axton, Salvador, Zer0, Krieg, and Gaige.

           “Ugh, great,” Axton says with visible disgust.

           “Hi, Zer0,” Skies waves happily then adds with disdain, “and not Zer0s.”

           “Hi, Skies,” Zer0 chimes.

           “What are you guys doing here?” Gaige asks accusingly.

           “Just here to chill at Moxxxi’s,” she replies, “play some slots, maybe eat some pizza- or at least what Moxxi calls pizza. I’m pretty sure the crust is cardboard. But hey, it’s edible.”

           “Alright,” Maya grunts suspiciously, “just stay out of trouble; and away from the Vault Key.”

           “Like we care about your damn Vaults,” Skies snorts.

           “Yeah, get over yourselves,” Timothy scoffs, rolling his eyes. Skies laughs as the two of them slip past the group and head to Moxxxi’s.

           “Heya, Moxx,” Skies chimes as they sit at the bar and sticks a wad of cash into her tip jar. “Tell me something good.”

           Moxxi smirks with amusement. “You’re both a lot cuter now that you have a bunch of cash to flash around.”

           Timothy chokes on his spit, turning away as he coughs into his fist. Skies grins at him then faces Moxxi. “Two drinks and pizza please.”

           “Coming up,” she replies.

           Skies and Timothy spend the afternoon lazing about at the bar, nursing their drinks and munching on the pizza. The lounge is about as busy as usual, with Sanctuary citizens relaxing in the booths, playing the slot machines, or dancing to the music.

           Skies gazes at Timothy for a while, almost mesmerised. He notices and grins, “what?”

           “Your hair is fascinating,” she comments.

           “Oh, yeah, I know,” he nods as he smooths back his messy Handsome Jack coif. “It always stays in this like general shape. It doesn’t seem to grow and I can’t cut it.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah. Did you know he had a soul patch?”

           “Yeah, I’ve seen old pictures.”

             “Well, it took me forever to get rid of it,” Timothy explains as he rubs his chin. “Lots of struggling with a knife. Almost took my lip off.”

           “I could try cutting your hair for you,” Skies suggests as she draws her large machete.

           “Ah, no thanks,” he replies nervously. “I don’t wanna risk getting scalped.”

           They both laugh, but they’re cut off by a loud, slurred voice. “I tol’ you- I’m tha king of darts!”

           Skies scoffs with disgust as she glares at the drunk man by the darts board. He’s been bragging about his skill and forcing people into dart games for the last hour.            “This asshole won’t shut up.”      

           “He’s got some skill,” Timothy comments, “but I bet if he went up against someone who’s a trained shot, he wouldn’t be so cocky.”

           “Yeah,” she grins and stands up. “I’ma knock him down a peg.”

           “Hey, douche canoe,” she says as she walks up to him. “I’ll face you in darts. But if I win, you gotta leave.”

           The man snorts, “no way. Wouldn’t be fair. You’re like part robot.”

           “Okay, alright, fair enough,” Skies nods agreeably and looks around. She spots someone passed out in a nearby booth, wearing a scarf. After swiping it and ripping it in half, she uses one piece to cover her robotic eye and gestures to Timothy with the other. “Tim, tie my arm behind my back, would ya?”

           Timothy obliges, smiling with amusement as he ties back her robot arm. Then Skies faces the darts man. “Enough of a handicap?”

           The man nods, grinning. “Alright. Le’s play.”

           “Okay, you go first.”

           He picks up his three darts and carefully throws them. Despite being wasted, each one gets fairly close to the bullseye.

           “Beat that, lil’ lady,” he purrs.

           Skies picks up all three of her darts with her left hand. Moving them dextrously between her fingers, she throws them one at a time. The first one hits dead center; the second one lodges in right next to it.

           Skies pauses for a second with the third, taking a deep breath, then whips it. It rockets through the air, cracking the board as it hits the bullseye and knocking all of the other darts to the floor.

           “Yeah!” Timothy cheers while the rest of the onlookers are speechless.

           “Whoa,” the man croaks.

           Skies grins at him, fist resting on her hip. “Beat ya. Now you gotta leave.”

           He stares at her, stunned for a second, then scoffs. “Fine, whatever. Who needs this stupid bar anyway.”

           “Hey, don’t take it out on Moxxxi’s,” Skies scolds as he stumbles by. “It’s a lovely bar…kind of.”

           After untying her arm and eye, Skies and Timothy sit back down at the bar, where Moxxi gives them two more drinks.

           “On the house,” she says, “for that display.”

           “Aw, you’re a treasure, Moxx,” Skies comments. She and Timothy cheers and continue drinking.

           With all of Skies’ troubles washed away by drink, pizza, and chill times, the day seems to be wrapping up into a good one. Then a sudden shudder runs through the ground, making everyone stumble.

           “What was that?” Timothy asks worriedly.

           “Ah, don’t worry about it,” Moxxi replies, “probably just the city’s engines. This place ain’t exactly the safest flying city.”

           Everyone starts to settle back down when screaming erupts outside.

           “There are ships!” somebody shouts as civilians are seen scattering around.

           “Ships?” Skies questions and she and Timothy quickly stand up and look outside. They catch a glimpse of two large ships lowering past the buildings into the town square.

           Before they are able to check it out, they hear a mass of rapid footsteps and turn to see a group of armed soldiers coming into the bar’s front entrance. Civilians start screaming as they point their guns around.

           “What the hell is this?” Moxxi barks.

           None of the soldiers respond, but she’s answered by Lilith’s voice playing over an intercom speaker.

           “This is Lilith. Sanctuary is under attack. All civilians, evacuate the city immediately. Crimson Raiders, to me!”

           “Shit,” Skies sighs and draws her pistol.

[tw-anchor]

25. Bizarre and Supernatural

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x01; Tattoo

Word Count: 10,258

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, sexual themes

Author’s Note: Here’s to season three! I’m really excited about 3A and 3B because they are my personal favorites. This season we’ll see more of what Olivia is capable of, as well as her relationship with Stiles. Hope you enjoy! Reblog and like!

Masterlink is in Profile Description!

May 4, 2011

Stiles breathed heavily as he squirted some water into his mouth, finding relief from the cool liquid. The heat felt unbearable, but he kept practicing, determined to make first line for the lacrosse season next spring. Sure, it wasn't officially summer yet, but school was out, and they had time. Winning the championship game wasn't all fun and games—now he had a reputation to uphold.

Scott was certainly working him for it, too. They had already run one of the shorter cross-country tracks before heading to the practice lacrosse field, where they started doing dribbles. They were taking a quick break for water now, and then they'd start on scoring practice.

His phone beeped from his gym bag. A smile bloomed on his face when he saw that it was Olivia. She had sent some Star Wars meme with Anakin holding sand art followed by a bunch of crying emojis. How did anyone think his girl had a heart of stone?

Sweetcheeks: LOL we're still on for tonight, right?

Livvy: Yup. Dress code?

Sweetcheeks: Casual. One word—drive-in.

Livvy: Got it. I'll be ready at 4. 😊

"You're texting Liv, aren't you?" Stiles looked away from his phone at Scott's voice; he grinned guiltily.

"Sorry," he tossed the phone back into his bag.

"It's fine," Scott chuckled. "You're still taking her out for her birthday, right?"

Stiles grinned. "Do you know how wonderfully ironic it is that her birthday is on Star Wars day?"

"No."

"Of course, you wouldn't," Stiles rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm taking her to the drive-in. The original trilogy is starting at five, so we'll have time to pick up some food and head there."

Scott hummed and grinned at his best friend. Even though his relationship with Allison hadn't worked out, he was happy that Stiles and Olivia were getting theirs going. He wasn't shocked when he first saw them together the Monday back at school after everything went down, hands gripped together as they walked the hallways, but it was a great surprise. For a while there, he thought that Olivia wasn't going to acknowledge her feelings for Stiles. He was just glad she did.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Stiles eyed him warily.

"I'm happy for you, dude," he clapped Stiles' shoulder. "Your girlfriend is Olivia Martin."

"Yeah, she is," Stiles smiled goofily and took another sip of water. He set the bottle down and picked up his lacrosse stick, ready to go again. "Come on, I gotta pick Livvy up at four. Why don't you get in the goal and help me make team captain like you promised?"

Scott laughed and rolled his eyes, picking up his own stick. "Hey, you know what I just realized?" he paused, looking at Stiles thoughtfully. "I'm right back where I started."

Stiles gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean no lacrosse, no popularity, no girlfriend. Nothing."

"Dude," Stiles pushed his shoulder, causing him to stumble back. "you still got me."

"I had you before!" Scott exclaimed, using the momentum of Stiles' push to run over to the goal.

"Yeah and you still got me, so your life is fulfilled," Stiles retorted, making his way to an appropriate distance from the goal. He used his net to scoop up a lacrosse ball and got ready to try to get it past Scott. "Now remember, no wolf powers."

Scott nodded and grinned mischievously. "Got it."

"No, I mean it," Stiles pointed at him. "No super-fast reflexes, no super eyesight, no hearing—none of that shit, okay?"

"Okay!" Scott agreed loudly. "Just come on."

"You promise?"

"Would you just take the shot already?"

Stiles bit his lip and steadied his net before winding back at whipping the ball toward the goal. Just as the ball left his net, he saw Scott's eyes flash gold, so he wasn't surprised when Scott easily caught the ball.

"I said no wolf powers!"

-

"Allison, do you see what she's wearing?" Lydia complained to a very tired Allison over Facetime, flashing her phone's camera at Olivia's flowy shorts and white camisole. "She's wearing that for her first date."

Olivia scowled and grabbed the phone from Lydia so she could talk to Allison herself. "We're going to see a movie at the drive-in."

Allison yawned and apologized softly. "It looks fine," she agreed with Olivia. "What movie?"

It was late at night in France where Allison was currently living. After everything was said and done and Jackson was okay, she and Mr. Argent only stayed long enough for Allison to take her finals. They took off to France right after she turned her last test in, leaving barely enough time for Olivia and Allison to talk about their friendship.

Since Allison still didn't know that Derek bit her mom to protect Scott, the youngest Argent didn't offer an apology for hurting Derek. While it annoyed Olivia a little, she understood that Allison didn't know the whole story and could only base her feelings on what she knew. What she knew was that Derek bit her mom and her mom killed herself soon after. So, Olivia brushed it off and Allison apologized for the way she acted.

Their friendship was mended but the two of them and Lydia were disappointed that Allison would be in France the whole summer. They promised to keep in contact and Facetime, so, of course, Lydia thought it was appropriate to call and wake up Allison when she learned that Stiles was taking Olivia out for her birthday.

"Star Wars," Olivia informed her. "It's a special viewing."

"By special, she means Stiles is gonna get into her panties—"

"Lydia Grace Martin!" Olivia grabbed one of the throw pillows off her bed and whipped it at her cousin; Sirius yipped excitedly, thinking they were playing catch. Lydia laughed and Allison joined her. "I am not having sex with Stiles."

"Tonight, anyway," Allison commented slyly as Lydia crowed, "Uh-huh, sure!"

"It's my birthday and you guys are being so mean to me," Olivia whined dramatically, falling back on her bed. Sirius scrambled over to her, giving her face sweet little kisses. "Thanks, Siri, You're my best bud."

"I wanted to have a party for you," Lydia tugged her phone out of her hands. "Did you meet any cute boys yet, Allison?"

"I've been here for a week," Allison said flatly.

"I'm guessing that's a no."

"Leave her alone, Lyds," Olivia nudged the redhead as she sat back up and smushed her head against Lydia's so Allison could see them both. "Take time for yourself, Al. Be an independent woman who doesn't need a man to—"

"All right, Susan B. Anthony," Lydia cut her off, earning herself laughter from Olivia and Allison. "I'm not saying you need a man. I'm saying you want a man."

Allison laughed awkwardly. "I'm changing the subject now. What time is Stiles picking you up, Liv?"

As soon as the question was out of her mouth, they heard Natalie calling up to them. "Olivia, Stiles is here!"

"Now, I guess," Olivia told Allison, checking the time on her phone. It was 3:55; he was five minutes early. "I'll talk to you later, Al."

"Have fun, Liv! Happy birthday!"

Olivia thanked her and Lydia bid her own goodbyes to Allison before ending the call. Olivia dashed into the bathroom she shared with Lydia to check the braid that Lydia put it in while her cousin waited impatiently by her bedroom door.

"Come on, Liv."

"I'm coming," she huffed, walking out of the bathroom and to her door. When she opened it, Sirius zoomed out of the room, too excited to see Stiles. "Why does he love Stiles more than me?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Lydia shook her head in agreement. She had been so pissed off when she learned that Sirius adored Stiles more than any of his owners. Stiles made it worse when he came over, talking to Sirius in the same voice that Lydia used on him.

By the time they made it downstairs, Sirius was on his back in front of Stiles while Stiles happily petted his belly, making cure little cooing noises. Olivia would never admit it to him, but her heart melted every damn time he and Sirius were together.

"Hey!" Stiles greeted her enthusiastically when he noticed her in front of him. "Happy birthday!"

Olivia smiled at him, her cheeks flushing when he gave her a quick kiss. Usually she wasn't a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, but this was Lydia. Lydia, who would tease the hell out of her later...

"Thanks, Stiles. Are you ready to go?"

"Wait, wait," Lydia cut in, holding up her phone. "I need pictures."

Olivia sighed heavily while Stiles agreed with a smile. "You're worse than your mom, Lyds."

"Shush now," Lydia waved her off. She paused, allowing for Stiles and Olivia to arrange themselves into a picture-appropriate pose and then cheered, "Say cheese!"

"Cheese!"

Olivia's mood brightened as soon as they left her house. They chatted lightly when they went to pick up the pizza they were going to bring to the drive-in and Olivia had told him what she'd had done for her birthday. Derek had taken her and Isaac out for breakfast and then he and Peter took her out to buy her first car and presented her with a new MacBook, while Lydia and Natalie took her shopping when she got home, each of them getting some new clothes.

"How was practicing with Scott?" she asked when she was done telling him about her day and they were settled at the drive-in, waiting for the movie to start.

"It was okay," Stiles shrugged and bit into his pepperoni pizza. "I got a lot of work to do."

"You already did great at the game, so I'm sure Scott will be able to whip you into shape in no time," Olivia assured him.

"Hopefully," Stiles allowed a grin to slip onto his lips. "Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome, sweetcheeks."

They pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss, tasting pizza on each other's lips. Olivia gasped lightly as Stiles swept his tongue along the seam in her lips, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth and caress hers.

The loud billowing of the Star Wars theme made them jump away from each other. They turned to the dark screen, the light from the bright yellow scrawl illuminating their flushed faces. Olivia glanced over at Stiles as the opening theme ended, giving way to warships flying through space. She wasn't surprised to see him looking back at her.

-

-

"Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture."

The sarcastic tone seeping into Jimmy's statement made Stiles snort quietly and grin to himself. He was glad that his back was turned away from Scott as he looked at the various books full of tattoos that Jimmy had drawn up. Picturing Scott's innocent smile made him snort again as he flipped through pages of plastic sleeves, searching for anything that interested him.

The last night of summer and of course, Scott wanted to get a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, though. Scott wanted two black bands curled around his bicep. To be honest, Stiles didn't like the design but it wasn't his body so he wasn't going to say anything—but if the tattoo was as ugly as he thought it was going to be, he would probably have a hard time holding back.

Holy shit, he thought as he turned to another page.

The design took up most of the page but it wasn't the size that was shocking. It was the fact that the drawing looked exactly like the kanima that wreaked havoc around Beacon Hills the previous spring. Jimmy must have seen the kanima because he had all the details down, from the venomous claws to the long tail.

"Hey, Scott," he caught his best friend's attention as he turned to face the chair where he was seated. "you sure you don't want something like this?"

He showed Scott the kanima tattoo with flourish, amusement light his features. Scott wasn't nearly amused as he was; his excited face turned into a frown before he gave Stiles an are-you-serious look.

"Too soon?" Stiles asked needlessly as he closed the tattoo book and placed it back on the shelf it was sitting previously. "I don't know, man, are you sure about this?" he turned back to Scott. "I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"

As Jimmy started getting the ink ready to go, Scott answered, "I'm not changing my mind."

"Okay, but why two bands?"

Scott shrugged. "I just like it."

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something."

Stiles scoffed. "I don't think that's—"

"He's right," Jimmy interrupted him; Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and looked to him curiously. "Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark'. Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see?" Scott grinned smugly at Stiles, making him bristle." He gets it."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. "He's covered in tattoos, Scott. Literally."

Jimmy gave him a deadpan look before turning to Scott. "Okay, you ready? You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Nope."

As the needle in Jimmy's hand started buzzing, Stiles slowly walked over to get a better look of what was going on to Scott's arm. His stomach flipped when the needle quickly entered Scott's skin. "I tend to get a little squeamish, though, so..."

He trailed off as his vision went blurry and his limbs felt like jelly. He was out before he even hit the floor.

When he woke up, Scott's tattoo was done and he was paying Jimmy for the work. Stiles winced as he craned his neck to look around; they left him on the floor but at least they gave him a cold pack to put against his head. He groaned as he sat up, pressing the cold pack firmer against the back of his aching head. Three minutes later, they were getting into his Jeep.

Stiles blinked at his steering wheel, wondering if he should be driving right after hitting his head but was distracted by Scott's quiet groan of pain. He turned to his best friend while throwing the soppy ice pack in the backseat. "You okay?"

Scott squirmed uncomfortably and grimaced at his wrapped arm. "It kinda burns."

"Yes," Stiles couldn't believe that Scott didn't expect some pain. "you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred thousand times with a needle."

"Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this," Scott looked to Stiles for an answer; Stiles shrugged just as Scott jumped and grunted in pain. 'No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this."

"Oh, God."

Scott groaned again and reached for the gauze on his arm. "Oh, I gotta take this thing off."

"No, no, no, no, Scott," Stiles immediately protested, his stomach flipping. He gagged a little as Scott started unwrapping his arm. "Scott, please stop! Oh, gross—" he paused when he saw Scott's arm. "Woah."

The solid black bands of ink wrapping themselves around Scott's bicep were fading into angry red skin. Within seconds, Scott's arm was back to normal, like he had never even entered the little tattoo shop.

"What, come on!" Scott gasped before looking at Stiles. "It healed."

Stiles was just glad that nothing gruesome happened—and that Scott wouldn't have that ugly thing on his body for the rest of his life. "Ah, thank God. I hated it," when Scott gave him an affronted look, Stiles winced and gave a flat apology. "Sorry."

-

"You're sure that Scott won't be at Stiles' house?" Allison looked over at Olivia anxiously.

Olivia flipped on her right blinker and turned onto the highway. "I'm positive," she reassured her friend. "Stiles said that Scott was leaving at five."

"Yeah but it's Stiles and Scott," Lydia piped up from the backseat, leaning forward so she could talk to Olivia and Allison easier. "Since when do they spend a minute apart?"

"When I ask," Olivia smiled playfully, earning laughs from Allison and Lydia. "I told Stiles that we were going out with you guys tonight, so..."

"Stiles has a brain in that big head of his," Lydia said. "I'm sure that he's smart enough not to tell Scott that he's going on a group date with his ex-girlfriend."

Eh.

"Wait, wait," Allison gave them both an alarmed look. "It's not a date, right? Please tell me it's not a date."

Olivia glared at Lydia through the rearview mirror, wishing that her cousin could have kept her mouth shut because Allison wasn't ready to start dating again. Of course it was a date, though; one of Lydia's summer hook-ups had a cousin who was very hot—according to Lydia—and was interested in getting to know Allison. Olivia and Stiles had gone on double dates with Lydia and whatever guy she was into that day before so it was a natural segway into inviting them, too. Stiles hadn't wanted to go on the group date, explaining that it felt like he was betraying Scott, but Olivia had begged him. She felt bad for Scott about the break-up, but from the conversations she had with Allison over the summer, it didn't seem like Allison was going to be able to reenter a relationship with Scott. It wasn't that she didn't love him—because she really did—but it was hard for her to move on from everything that happened before.

"It's not a group date," Olivia promised Allison. "It's more of a group thing."

"Does this guy know it's a group thing?" Allison looked to Lydia for an answer now, considering she was the one who planned the whole night. "I told you guys that I'm not ready to get back out there."

"Ugh," Lydia groaned and Olivia smiled at her dramatics. "I can't believe you were in France for four months and you didn't date a single guy."

Allison shrugged awkwardly and changed the subject. "Just because you were ready after—"

"Don't say his name!" Lydia exclaimed, cutting her off.

"Jackson is a subject that's off limits," Olivia told Allison with a smile that told the taller brunette she knew that Lydia was gonna have a fit.

"You said his name," Lydia reached toward Olivia's ear and flicked it, earning herself a pained squeal.

Jackson Whittemore was a sensitive subject when it came to Lydia Martin. Despite the fact that Lydia saved him and they declared their love for one another, there were no moves on either side to enter a relationship again. After learning control with Derek and Olivia, Jackson and his family moved to England to start over. Olivia missed him but they still exchanged emails once a week—something that she wouldn't mention to Lydia until the time was right.

"Is he okay?" since Lydia and Olivia didn't speak about Jackson in their calls to Allison, she didn't know what was going on with him. "I mean, did everything work out?"

"Well, you saw how it was when it turned up that he was alive," Olivia reminded her. It had been a whole thing with the hospital and the doctors and the research that annoyed and angered Jackson so much that Olivia had to be by his side every hour so he wouldn't lose control. "but eventually, everyone got over it."

"And yes, Derek and Liv taught him the werewolf 101," Lydia reported. "like how not to randomly kill people during a full moon."

Allison grinned at her. "So, then, you've talked to him?"

Lydia shook her head. "Not since he left for London."

"You mean since his dad moved him to London," Olivia objected; Lydia liked to act that Jackson went to England willingly when he was actually really upset that he had to move.

Lydia waved her off. "Whatever, he left," she said sharply. "And seriously, an American werewolf in London? Like that's not gonna be a disaster."

"So, you're totally over him?" Allison challenged the redhead.

"Would I be going on a group date if I wasn't?" Lydia said quickly, once again blurting out the truth. Olivia and Allison laughed and she sighed. "Yes, it's a group date. It's not an orgy so I think you'll live."

Olivia chuckled as she pulled to a stop at a red light. "I vetoed the orgy," she informed Allison jokingly. She was in a happy mood tonight; it was the last night of summer, Allison was back, and she'd get to see Stiles. "and the club."

"She's a buzzkill."

Olivia scoffed and quickly turned back to Lydia for a moment. "I don't want to be hungover on our first day of junior year. Besides," she turned to Allison for back-up. "don't you like pizza and laser tag?"

Allison went to agree but Lydia cut her off. "That's because she'll win!"

"Ha-ha," Allison pushed Lydia back into her seat, all three of them laughing. "I guess you'll have to take some pointers—oh, my God!"

At Allison's exclamation, Olivia turned to her left to see what had her freaking out. She hadn't noticed that a vehicle had pulled up next to her at the stoplight—which she cursed herself for because she was usually a great driver—and she also hadn't noticed that it was her boyfriend's vehicle.

"What the hell?" Olivia narrowed her eyes at the jeep while Allison freaked out in the passenger seat and tried not to look at Scott—who was with Stiles, trying to avoid eye contact with any of them. "He's supposed to be at his house."

Stiles waved at her enthusiastically and her annoyance flooded away. She could never be anything but in love with that boy. He just knew how to relax her and make her happy in ways that no one else could.

"Oh, my God, I can't see him," Allison whimpered. "Not now."

"Liv, go," Lydia urged, slapped the shoulder of Olivia's seat. "Go!"

"But it's a red light," Olivia winced, looking from Allison—who was still freaking out—to the red light, and then to Stiles, who was rolling down Scott's window. "All right."

She pressed on the gas pedal and drove through the intersection, grateful that the road wasn't busy and they were safe to cross. Allison sighed in relief when Stiles stayed back at the light and Olivia put some distance between them.

"Are you all right?" Lydia asked Allison while Olivia gave her a worried look.

"I'm okay," it looked more like Allison was assuring herself of that than Lydia and Olivia. "I'm fine."

Olivia and Lydia didn't argue or try to coax her to open up. They weren't the epitome of sharing feelings either, especially Olivia, so they didn't want to pry. If Allison didn't want to talk about Scott, they wouldn't.

It was only a minute or so after they left the stoplight that Allison spoke up again, her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Liv, stop. We should go back and talk to them."

Olivia switched her foot to the break pedal. "We're almost to Stiles' house..." when they came to a complete stop, she saw that Stiles had stopped too. "Why did they stop?"

Lydia shrugged. "It's Stiles and Scott. Do you really wanna try applying logic to those two?"

Allison said something in return but Olivia didn't hear; she was too busy focusing on the abrupt tingling traveling through her body. The whispering of her name, along with Allison and Lydia's, flittered through her head and then...

Turn around, Olivia

Olivia didn't waste time; she whipped around, facing the front of her car. Her eyes widened when she saw a huge deer heading straight toward them. "GET DOWN!"

She barely had time to grab Allison's shoulder, force her down, duck behind the steering wheel, and hope that Lydia was safe before the deer was crashing into the windshield. Lydia and Allison screamed as heavy glass flew around the enclosed space.

Olivia inhaled deeply as the deer's body settled on the dashboard in front of her, eyes glazed over with death. She shakily reached for her door handle with one hand and her seatbelt with the other before pushing herself out of the car. She fell on her ass but she hopped up, still staring at the deer with wide eyes.

"Oh, my God."

"Livvy," Stiles was there, gently taking her arm and leading her away from the car. "Are you okay? Babe?"

Olivia inhaled once again and turned her attention to Stiles, who was rubbing her arms soothingly. "I'm okay," she told him, allowing him to pull her into a warm hug. "I'm fine."

She wasn't lying. She was shocked, yeah, but she was okay. She was glad that her abilities were able to tell her that she, Allison, and Lydia were in danger and that she was able to stop any injuries that may have happened. Mostly, though, she was confused. Why would a deer charge right down the middle of the road and crash into them?

It was like it was committing suicide.

As Stiles kissed the top of Olivia's head, Lydia dragged her out of her thoughts when she shrieked, "Well, I am not okay! I am totally freaking out!" Olivia slipped out of Stiles' embrace to grab Lydia's hand. "How the fuck does that thing just run into us?"

"It was weird," Olivia agreed, her eyes following Scott as he moved away from Allison to the deer's body. "and it came down right in the middle of the road. It's like it was crazy."

"It was scared," Scott spoke up; he put his hand on the body and looked back at them, a solemn look on his face. "Actually, it was terrified."

-

-

Olivia had woken up with Isaac on her mind. The dream she had of him and the unknown girl trying to outrace that huge alpha werewolf was permanently printed into her memory as she mechanically got ready for school, dressing in a summer dress and sandals.

While she curled her hair with one hand, she dialed Derek's number on her phone with the other. It was Isaac's turn to look for Erica and Boyd the night before and with how she was feeling, the warnings she was getting, and the dream she had, it was obvious that something went wrong.

"Morning," Derek greeted her groggily. "Ready for your first day?"

"I'm worried about Isaac," she told him.

"What? What do you mean?" his voice was alert and strict, the tone of a worried alpha.

"I mean that Isaac is who God knows where and he's in trouble," Olivia explained impatiently. Over the summer, she and Isaac's friendship grew stronger since they were the only ones left in the Hale pack, other than Derek. She considered him a brother and she knew he saw her as a sister. "Derek, we need to find him."

"I'll find him but you need to go to school," Derek told her; there was rustling over the phone and then a metallic clinking which she figured were his keys. "I'll check out the Iron Works. I'm pretty sure that's where he told me he was going last night."

"Okay," Olivia sighed. "be careful."

Who knew where the alpha pack was lurking?

"Have a good day at school."

Olivia ended the call. Since when did Derek get so paternal? She thought to herself. Right, ever since you were stuck with a psychotic dad and got yourself a boyfriend.

She slipped a headband into her hair and grabbed her purse, heading downstairs. When Sirius yipped in greeting at her as she made it to the kitchen, she crouched down in order to give him a hug and kiss.

"Hi, Siri," she cooed, snuggling her nose into the soft fur of his head. "Did you sleep well? Hmm?"

Sirius nudged her with his paw and when she went to pat him between his ears, he bit her on the wrist. "Ouch!" he struggled out of her grip and ran away. "What'd you do that for?"

Olivia rose to her full height and stared at her dog where he shuffled on his bed, digging into his blanket and stuffed toy. He had never bit her before, not like that. Yeah, he nipped while playing when he was a baby but this was a full-on bite that drew blood.

She heard Lydia's heels against their hardwood floors before she saw her. "What happened to you?"

Olivia frowned at her. "Siri bit me."

Lydia quirked an eyebrow. "Sirius bit you."

"Yes."

"He doesn't bite."

"Wow, I had no idea!" Olivia rolled her eyes and entered the kitchen, heading straight to the sink. "Can you get me a bandage?"

Lydia quickly went to their medicine cabinet and pulled out some disinfectant cream and a large bandage to cover up the bite. She helped Olivia with dressing the wound before looking over at Sirius in disbelief.

"Why would he bite you?"

Olivia sighed, watching as Sirius buried his head into his blanket. "I have no idea."

-

Sheriff Stilinski sighed in relief when he saw her on the other side of his front door. "Olivia, I'm glad you're here," he ushered her into the house. "How are you doing this morning?"

"I'm good, Sheriff, thank you," Olivia had expected Stiles to be downstairs eating breakfast but the lower level was empty of his presence.

"I thought I told you to call me Noah," she smiled sheepishly when he pointed at her. "Anyway, Stiles is...well, he's been up since four-thirty."

Olivia raised her eyebrows in shock. Stiles loved to sleep in and if he didn't get enough sleep, he was like a freaking toddler who skipped out on their nap. "Four-thirty?"

"Come on," he gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. "He was pretty upset about your accident. I think he's been researching nonstop."

Oh, God. Olivia loved Stiles to death but when he was obsessed with something, he was obsessed. She didn't know if it was his ADHD or his need to know anything and everything but if he needed to know something, he was going to look until he found it. There had been numerous times over the summer that she had found him in front of his MacBook, a couple of Adderall in his system as he searched through whatever database he had broken into.

Stiles didn't even look away from his laptop as she and Noah entered his bedroom. "You know how many vehicle collisions last year involved deer?" he asked, though he knew the answer. "247,000."

"Oh, God, please go to school," Noah groaned.

"But that's crossing the road," Stiles continued on like his father hadn't spoken. "This one last night came right down the middle."

Noah stepped over to Stiles' chair, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not gonna beg you."

"Good, I'm impervious to your influence anyway," Stiles mumbled, switching to another tab of research.

Olivia rolled her eyes; who the hell used the word impervious?

"Would you consider a bribe?"

"You couldn't meet my price."

"Extortion?"

"You got nothing on me."

Olivia crossed her arms in amusement as Noah grabbed the back of Stiles' chair and started pulling him away from his desk.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Stiles reached for his laptop as he fought to stay in control of his chair. "Dad!"

Olivia walked over to the desk and shut the laptop, grinning when Stiles' eyes darted up to her. "Morning."

A happy glint appeared in his eyes as he hopped from his chair and then faltered. "Livvy, what—what are you doing here?" he scratched the back of his neck and then gestured around his semi-messy room. "Uh, yeah, so this is my room."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek in amusement. Watching Stiles act like she hadn't been in his room before was so funny to her. Especially when Noah was behind him, rolling his eyes so forcefully it looked like they'd disappear into his skull.

"Don't be an idiot, Stiles," Noah sighed as he went to leave the room. "Get to school."

Olivia gave Stiles a pointed look. "You do know your dad has let me up here before, right?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked over to his door, shutting it firmly. "Well, that was before we did this," he quickly grabbed her, grinning at her excited squeal, and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet peck. "and this," he fell onto his bed with her underneath him, hitching one of her legs up over his hip before returning back to her mouth.

Butterflies attacked Olivia's stomach as she returned his kiss, savoring the soft feel of his lips, the firm lines of his stomach, and the ever-growing hardness between his legs that was pressing against her belly. Her fingers dug themselves into his newly grown hair, moaning softly when his lips drifted from her lips to her jaw.

Contrary to what Lydia believed, Olivia and Stiles hadn't had sex yet. They did almost everything else—there was that time at the drive-in when things got steamy and he ended up fingering her, the night when he slept over and it was the first time she ever gave a guy a hand job, oh, and the time they both went down on each other after their trip to their fourth date. But other than that? No penetration—from Stiles' dick, anyway.

Olivia was ready to take that step with Stiles and have sex. She knew that he was, too, because he was a goddamn horndog when they were by themselves and his awkwardness melted away like ice cream on a hot summer day. The spaz was more self-confident at sex than most of the things in his life, which baffled her—and turned her on at the same time—but he was the one pausing things. He insisted that their first time had to be special. That was nice and all but Olivia wasn't naïve; she knew that the first time was a disaster and what really made the whole thing special was who you did it with. To her, they could have hurried sex in his jeep and it would be special to her because it was Stiles.

But Stiles was serious about it so she would wait. It was sweet but oh-so frustrating—for the both of them.

Just as Stiles' finger started to slip their way past the hem of her dress, she pushed him away from her. "We have school," Stiles pouted and rolled off of her, his head bouncing on the mattress. "and I don't want to be late."

"We have an hour."

Olivia hopped off the bed and straightened her sundress, hiding a bemused smile as she turned back to him, hands on her hips. "I thought you said you wanted our first time to be special?"

"Hey?" Stiles sat up and grinned at her. "I didn't say anything about sex. That was all you, baby."

Baby, she scoffed mentally; she wasn't a big fan of sappy pet names. It was worse than Livvy. Only Stiles would be able to get away with calling her anything like that.

"Yeah, that was all me," she agreed sarcastically. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't control myself."

"It's okay, I understand," Stiles chuckled, getting to his feet and grabbing his backpack from the floor. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Didn't have the time," she plucked his keys from his desk and tossed them to him. "Allison picked Lydia up pretty early. She's nervous."

"Let's get Dunkin, then," they walked out of the bedroom, Stiles shutting the door behind them. "What's she nervous about?"

"Seeing Scott again, maybe?" Olivia shrugged as they descended the stairs; Noah was already gone for work. "It could be that it's just hard to go back to school without your mom. It was for me."

As they left the house and locked up, Stiles nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too."

When they arrived at the brand-new school—it had been in progress for over two years and this was the first semester it was going to be used—they had already finished their breakfast and were ready for the day. First, before they could leave the jeep, they had to go over some rules.

"Rules?" Stiles groaned, leaning his head back against his seat. "Rules for what?"

"You know what," they'd gone over Olivia's rules for school before. "No kissing, no hugging, no touchy-feely of any kind."

Stiles rolled his eyes, equal parts exasperated and endeared with his girlfriend. "Can I at least hold your hand?"

Olivia pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "I guess that's fine."

"What about if I put my arm around you?"

"Let's not push it," Olivia smiled lightly when he made a loud but joking sigh. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Stiles leaned into her, lips pursed as he blinked rapidly at her. "Can I at least have a kiss?"

Olivia didn't hesitate to kiss him. It only lasted for a second and it wouldn't be enough to last the whole day but it was still special and it still made Stiles' lungs cease and his heart race.

The two of them separated to find their lockers and their friends. Stiles watched Olivia go with a smile on his face, unable to believe that he was starting his junior year of high school with her by his side. He loved her so damn much and she actually loved him back.

It turned out that his locker was only down the hallway from Scott's. It was very convenient. Scott had already arrived on his new bike when Stiles got to his locker, which made it easier for them to find each other before the bell rang and they had to get to class.

"You wanna ask Derek for help?" Stiles complained, looking over at Scott to see if he was serious; he was. "Why?"

Sure, Stiles was more comfortable with Derek now that he and Olivia were dating but it also made the alpha scarier. When Derek gave him the be-careful-with-my-cousin talk—the night that he and Olivia went on their second date—Stiles had almost passed out. Honestly, he was just glad that it was Derek and not Peter. In general, Olivia was really the only Hale family member that Stiles liked to spend time with.

"He's got the triskele tattooed on his back," Scott reminded him as they walked through the hallways, maps in hand to navigate the new school. "There has to be a way to do it without healing, right?"

Stiles wished that Scott would stop talking about his ugly tattoo. Personally, he thought it was a blessing that it healed.

"Okay, yeah," Stiles conceded but stopped walking as they came across a bulletin board with Boyd and Erica's faces stapled to it; he gestured to them as he continued, "still, doesn't he have his hands a little full?"

Boyd and Erica had been missing since the night that everything went down with Gerard and Jackson. Stiles was worried for them but it mostly stemmed from the fact that Olivia was really upset about their disappearance. She kept having nightmares about her pack members and always had the constant feeling that something was wrong with them.

Scott stared at the missing posters and sighed. He went to say something but both boys were distracted by the familiar British accent of their formal principal—the one that the Argents threatened to kill if he didn't give his job to Gerard.

"Look, these are the applications for the career advisor, I need them sorted," they walked toward the wiry-glass walls that held the main office where the principal was speaking to the secretary. "And what the hell is this?"

Stiles choked on his saliva as the principal held up one of Gerard's broad swords. He pushed Scott's shoulder, ready to get out of there. "Go, go, go!"

Two hallways over, Olivia and Lydia were leaning against the lockers next to Allison's, waiting as the taller brunette organized her newly bough school supplies. Olivia settled on people watching, eyeing the new students and the ones that she recognized from years before. Lydia, on the other hand, was scouting for new hook-ups.

"Freshmen," she sighed wistfully. "Tons and tons of fresh men."

Olivia grimaced while Allison gave her a look of disbelief. "You mean fresh boys, right?" she asked. "Lydia, they're fourteen."

"You might as well be dating a middle-schooler," Olivia tagged on, giving her cousin disapproving eyes.

Lydia shrugged. "Eh, some are more mature than others."

Olivia scoffed. "Gross."

"You know it's okay to be single," Allison pointed out to Lydia. "work on becoming a better person."

Olivia and Lydia exchanged a look; it was very obvious to them that Allison was talking about herself and not Lydia.

"Allison, we love you," Lydia took Allison's arms and turned her so that she was facing them; Olivia gave a supportive nod. "so, if you need to do that thing where we talk about one of us and pretend like we're not actually talking about you, that's fine."

"Totally fine," Olivia added.

Lydia pointed at her cousin before leaning back against the lockers, once again, checking out every guy that passed them. "but I don't want a boyfriend," she continued. "I want a distraction."

Olivia shook her head in amusement and turned away from Lydia, pausing when she saw two guys that she hadn't seen before. There was no way they weren't brothers because they looked nearly identical; they had to be twins. Either way, they were handsome and definitely Lydia's type; brooding bad boys.

"Oh, my God," Lydia had spotted the twins, causing Allison to look their way.

"Brothers?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow at Allison. "Are we seeing the same people, Al?" she scoffed. "They have to be twins."

Lydia hummed, green eyes studying the new kids. "Twins."

The new kids turned down the hallway that headed to the main office just as the first bell rang. Lydia watched them leave, a mischievous look on her face. Olivia rolled her eyes and nudged her to get her attention so they could get going to class.

Because the three of them all had the same English class, they walked through the hallways side-by-side to the section of the school that housed the English department. Stiles and Scott also had the same class as them, which Olivia considered pretty lucky. Out of the two hundred kids in their grade, the five of them all had the first class of the day together.

The classroom was pretty much full by the time that Olivia, Lydia, and Allison entered. Stiles got her attention right away, waving his hand in the air and then pointing to three empty seats next to him that he saved for them. Olivia cracked a smile at him and wandered over to the row of desks closest to the window, sitting in the seat next to him. Lydia scored the seat in front of Stiles but Allison was the unlucky one; the empty seat in front of Olivia had been filled by one of their other classmates.

Olivia grimaced at Allison, her eyes darting over to Scott, who was sitting on the other side of Stiles. "Sorry."

The last empty seat was in front of Scott, the one specific person she was trying to avoid.

"This ought to be good," Stiles muttered under his breath as he, Olivia, and Lydia watched as Allison approached Scott.

Allison smiled shyly—and awkwardly—at Scott, gesturing to the desk. "Is someone...?"

"No, no, no," Scott was quick to respond. "No, it's all you, all yours...Uh, it's totally vacant."

Olivia snickered as Scott looked at Stiles with a miserable face and her amusement definitely heightened when Stiles sent Scott a sarcastic thumbs-up in response.

As soon as Stiles put his hand down, every phone in the classroom started going off. Olivia furrowed her eyebrows as she quickly looked around the classroom and then focused on her purse, pulling out her phone; it was a text message from an unknown number.

Everyone in the class got a text message at the same time? How?

"The offing was barred by a black blank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth, flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness," a tall brunette who had to be their teacher, Ms. Blake, walked into the classroom, reading off her own cellphone. She leaned against her desk when she finished reading and looked out over her students to address them. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read...It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

Olivia pressed her lips together, impressed by Ms. Blake's entrance. It wasn't bad for a new teacher. She put her phone on silent but she didn't turn it off; if she needed to reach Derek, just in case something happened, she'd have to keep it on.

"All right, everyone," Ms. Blake crossed to the back of her desk. "If you didn't already know from your schedule, I'm Ms. Blake. Right now, while I pass out your syllabi, I want you to get into your textbooks and start reading Heart of Darkness. Make sure you're annotating as you read; write down any thought that you have. I want to know them all."

Like the rest of her classmates, Olivia opened her textbook to start reading Heart of Darkness. Her brand-new notebook was opened to its first page, carefully labeled with the date and what they were doing. Now, Olivia had always received great grades in her English classes but that didn't mean she enjoyed them. English was actually her least favorite class and it bored her to death; there was nothing she hated more than reading old literature and taking notes about what she thought. She thought that it was boring and outdated and she didn't like it—somehow, she didn't think that Ms. Blake would appreciate those annotations.

She was only through half of the first chapter when the classroom door opened and their new principal—well, he was actually the one they had before Gerard Argent—walked into the room. All eyes were on him as he whispered into Ms. Blake's ear before leaving. Ms. Blake's gaze wandered the room before settling on Scott.

"Mr. McCall?" she gestured to the door.

Olivia took the opportunity of Ms. Blake talking to Scott in the hallway to message Derek about Isaac. She was still getting those warning signals in her head and if Scott was being pulled out of class—she wasn't stupid, she knew what was happening—then something worse was going on than they thought.

Ollie: Scott got pulled out of class, I'm guessing it's his mom

Ollie: I think it's because of Isaac

Derek: I'll check it out

Satisfied with her cousin's promise, Olivia slipped her phone back into her purse. She was back to writing notes when Ms. Blake walked into the classroom and continued to write their assignment on the board. They had to read four chapters by Friday—yay.

"Livvy."

Olivia heard the whisper that came from Stiles but ignored it; it was dead silent in the classroom and she was not about to get into trouble for talking when they weren't supposed to.

"Psst," she heard him hiss at her. "Livvy."

Olivia finally turned to him, an annoyed look on her face. "What?"

"What is that?" Stiles used his pencil to poke at her wrist where a flesh-colored bandage was covering Sirius' bite from that morning. "Is that from the accident?"

"No," Olivia pushed his pencil away from her. "Sirius bit me."

"Siri bit you," Stiles immediately furrowed his eyebrows. "No way."

"Well, I didn't bite myself, Stiles."

Stiles huffed and gave her an annoyed look. "Sirius hasn't bitten anyone before."

"Yeah, we had no idea," Lydia, having heard their conversation, bit in. "It isn't like he's our dog or anything."

Stiles' mind raced as he eyed the bandage on Olivia's arm. Sirius didn't bite people; he was one of the most playful and sweetest dogs in the world—and Stiles would die for him but that was beside the point—but he still bit Olivia. And the deer, there had never been any accidents reported where it came straight down the road like that. It's like the animals were going crazy or something.

"Hey," he whispered, hoping to get Olivia's and Lydia's attention again; it worked. "What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully as Lydia quirked an eyebrow at him. "Meaning what?" she asked. "There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something," Stiles insisted. "I just...maybe it means something's coming something bad."

While Stiles and Lydia conferred, Olivia was deep in her head, overwhelmed by her abilities. Her whole body was vibrating and she was rapidly hearing names—Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison—from the classroom but it wasn't just that, either. There was something pulling her consciousness away from her, like she was needed elsewhere.

Scott. Isaac. Derek.

Olivia, they're coming, something whispered to her. They're coming. Olivia, look out the window. LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!

"Olivia!" she startled when someone grabbed her wrist, breathing in quickly. Her eyes locked with Lydia's, who was worried. "Your eyes are purple."

Olivia couldn't respond, she needed to look out the window. When she did, she inhaled deeply; a black bird was flying right toward her and then it was there, slamming into the glass and leaving a gross smudge of blood behind.

More birds were coming; maybe a hundred black birds were flying in the direction of the classroom and it didn't look like they were going to stop. They didn't; the first few birds hit the window as Ms. Blake walked over to see what was going on. And then the fourth bird hit the window, breaking through, and everything was chaos.

Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison. Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison. Olivia, Stiles, Lydia, Allison.

Over and over Olivia heard her and her friends' names, paralyzing her to her seat. She hardly noticed the numerous birds flying around the classroom, terrorizing her classmates. She didn't even notice when a bird started attacking her, too busy caught up in the fact that something was going on with Isaac, Scott, and Derek, too.

It was too much for her at once.

The birds were making Stiles nervous but the fact that Olivia was just sitting there was panic inducing. He cursed himself as he tore out from under his desk, wishing that he had seen her struggling before, and lunged toward her. He wasn't very careful as he pulled her from her seat and covered her with his own body, inching back toward to where Lydia and Allison were huddled together, but he could apologize later. Her eyes were wide and purple and he figured she wouldn't remember much of what was going on, anyway.

The attack of the birds only lasted around ten minutes but a lot of damage was done. Torn textbooks and notebook paper were all over the room, along with pieces of clothing and dead birds. There were a lot of injured people—there was nothing serious but it was birds that attacked them so antibiotics were probably needed—so paramedics and the police were called.

Olivia's eyes were still purple and that could have been the most worrying thing about it all if it wasn't for the fact that she was currently trying to get out of his grasp and head toward the classroom door like her life depended on it.

"Hey, Livvy, what are you doing?" Stiles grabbed her uninjured wrist to stop her from leaving. "You have to wait for the paramedics."

"Scott, Isaac, and Derek...they're in trouble," her voice was hers but it wasn't. It was dazed and almost robotic.

He furrowed his eyebrows worriedly but focused on Olivia; he could help her at the moment, not Scott or Derek. "I'm sure they have it handled. Are you okay," he cupped her face; her purple eyes were blank. "Olivia, come on. Come back to me."

"We're gonna have to get her out of here," Allison stated as she and Lydia walked over to them. Her eyes searched the room; their classmates were still pulling themselves together but soon it would be obvious that something was wrong with Olivia. "Someone's gonna notice."

"Scott."

Lydia bit her lip as her cousin whispered their friend's name. "I'll take her to the bathroom," she volunteered, eyeing Stiles before he could protest. "You need to tell your dad what happened."

"Fine," Stiles agreed with a mumble.

Allison helped Lydia sneak Olivia out of the classroom while Ms. Blake was occupied, trying to round up her injured students. By the time she got back, Noah and some of his deputies had rolled up, as well as a couple of paramedics. Even Mr. Argent had come to the school to see his daughter, worried about how her first day had completely flopped within the first class period.

Stiles quickly explained to his dad what had went on and then looked for his and Olivia's things. Once their school supplies and bags were gathered on his desk, he took his phone from his pants and messaged Derek.

Stilinski: Olivia's freaking out about you guys. What's going on?

Sourwolf: I have Isaac and Scott. We're fine.

If Scott, Isaac, and Derek were out of danger, that probably meant that Olivia was okay. Hopefully she and Lydia were being attended to for their injuries, which were just a few scratches.

Stiles' gaze found Ms. Blake; she was sitting on her desk with bird feathers in her hair, her eyes blank as he started ahead. He felt sorry for the woman. It was her first day of teaching at Beacon High and this was what she got. Why on earth did people even want to work in Beacon Hills? There were disasters all the fucking time.

"Ms. Blake, are you okay?" Stiles reached for one of the feathers in her hair, pulling it out as she flinched away. "Sorry, just...that," he showed her the feather and hastily dropped it to the floor.

He needed hand sanitizer.

"Mr. Argent," his dad's voice caught his attention; he looked to see that Noah was now talking to Mr. Argent, his arms crossed over his chest. "you wouldn't have any insight into this would you?"

Stiles sat on the desk next to his, watching the exchange curiously.

"Me?" Mr. Argent was taken aback.

"Yeah," Noah nodded. "all this bizarre animal behavior, it's...You must have seen something like this before, right?"

"I'm not sure why I would or why you would think I would," Mr. Argent was uncharacteristically flustered as he spoke to Noah.

Noah paused for a second. "I'm sorry, I could have sworn I overheard my son talking about how you were an experienced hunter."

Shit, shit, shit. Stiles quickly ducked his head, burying his face into his phone so he looked busy.

"Ah, right," Mr. Argent replied. "Well, not anymore."

Stiles only looked away from his phone when Noah left the Argents, throwing his dad an accusing look. "You listen to my phone calls now?"

"No, you just happen to be loud," Noah retorted, passing his son to speak to the deputies he brought onto the scene.

Stiles was pretty sure he was dismissed, so he took his and Olivia's things and left the classroom. He and his classmates had been excused for the rest of the day, so he'd be able to find Olivia and Lydia without a problem before they left school.

As he walked through the hallway, making his way to the girl's bathroom, he called Scott. "We got a serious problem at school," he reported when Scott answered, not taking the time to greet his best friend. "Ms. Blake's class—"

"Hey, can you tell me about it later?" Scott interrupted him.

Stiles frowned. "Well, no, I'm pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion."

Scott sighed. "Okay, then meet me at Derek's."

"His loft?"

"No, his old house."

"What the fuck are you doing at his old house?" last Stiles knew, the old Hale house had been taken over by the county. Olivia had been really upset about it but relieved at the same time.

"Just meet us here, okay," Scott said hurriedly. "Bye."

Stiles groaned; he seriously hoped he wasn't going to that house for no reason. Derek had said that he, Scott, and Isaac were fine, so why did they need to wait around in the rundown mansion? What was so important that he had to meet them there?

He put his phone back in his pants just as Olivia and Lydia left the bathroom. He was very much relieved to see that Olivia looked like herself again, fully aware and in charge of her body. She was a little ruffled but so were he and Lydia and the rest of their classmates.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, ignoring her PDA rules to pull her into a tight hug. He was relieved to feel her return his affection. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Olivia assured him as she pulled away. "Sorry about that. I don't know what happened."

"We need to figure out what it was," Lydia spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest. "If that happens again..."

"Someone might notice, yeah," Olivia nodded and then focused back on Stiles, reaching up to carefully prod at the scratch near his temple. "Did you get that cleaned?"

"Yes, ma'am," Stiles confirmed with a grin. "Oh, I talked to Derek and he, Scott, and Isaac are fine."

Olivia sighed in relief. "Good."

"And Scott wants us to meet them at the old Hale house."

Immediately, Olivia clammed up, giving him a tight smile. "You go ahead," she told him, not wanting to go back to the place where her mother had died. "I'll stay with Lydia and get a ride home from Allison."

Stiles frowned. "Are you sure?"

He knew that she hated to be around the old Hale house but he was worried about her being in a small space with Mr. Argent. They weren't the ones that fought and Argent had actually helped her get Stiles out of his house that spring but Stiles was still cautious. Despite her last name being something different, Olivia was still a Hale and Argent was still an Argent.

"Yeah," surprisingly, Olivia stood on her tiptoes to give Stiles a light peck on the lips. "Lyds and I have that party to go to anyway. It's gonna be fun."

Lydia rolled her eyes at her cousin's sarcasm. "Would you stop being a party pooper?"

"No," Olivia turned her gaze back to Stiles once again. "I love you."

Stiles beamed at her. "Love you, too. Be careful."

-

After getting her things from Stiles, it was just Olivia who went with Lydia to her locker. Allison joined them as Lydia started touching up her lipstick but they stayed silent. All three of them were still bewildered with what had happened in their english class.

Finally, Lydia spoke up, "Is it me or is Beacon Hills turning into more like a beacon for the totally bizarre and supernatural?"

Allison laughed and Olivia rolled her eyes as Lydia shut her locker. They were just about to walk away to head to Allison's car when they came across an older woman. She couldn't have been more than five or six years older than them but she looked a little haggard.

"Where's Scott McCall?" the woman asked them.

Olivia, Lydia, and Allison exchanged looks but it was Olivia who spoke up. "How you do—"

"You're the Anchor," the woman breathed and grabbed Olivia's arm; Olivia's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Hey, how do you know..." Allison spoke up angrily, only for her arm to be grabbed by the woman, too.

Both Olivia and Allison winced in pain as the woman squeezed their arms carefully, her eyes looking at something past them.

"Easy on the physicality, sweetheart," Lydia sneered, forcefully pulling the woman's grip away from Olivia and Allison.

The woman let go and started to run away; Olivia looked back at where the woman had been staring at and saw that the twins that Lydia was lusting after were fleeing the hallway, too. "What the hell?" she muttered and looked down at her arm, which was still aching. "She bruised me."

Allison looked at her arm. "Huh, me too."

"What a psycho," Lydia glowered at the end of the hallway where the woman disappeared to.

"Come on," all three of them turned to Mr. Argent, who had walked up to them. "Let's get you girls out of here."

Olivia exchanged a nod with Lydia. After the strange day she had—which only lasted one class period, by the way—she was more than ready to get out of that school. She and Lydia ducked away from the Argents and walked down the hallway side-by-side.

(Gif is not mine)

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

How do you like NaNo so far?

Okay tea! It’s going okay! Honestly, it’s not going as well as I expected but also going... better than I expected (simultaneously lol)!

I’ve been tracking a LOT of things, so on my MyWriteClub, I track if I’ve written that day (I’ve written 12/19 days of the month so far), and I’ve also been tracking on NaNoWriMo’s website (I’ve written just over 4300 words this month). This is a pretty solid streak, and I’ve definitely been writing WAY more often than I usually do, and enjoying it WAY more because of where I’m at in the book.

Y’all, I gotta say it... I love Feeding Habits. I’ve got a huge, huge problem with writing a book, loving it, then feeling embarrassed by it after a few weeks of finishing it, and with Feeding Habits, I’ve been extra hard on it. It’s not that I feel embarrassed by it like I do Moth Work (this is a whole other issue), it’s just been two moods: grueling to write, or magnificent. Most of the time, it’s been grueling, and I have a really hard time not enjoying drafting because it’s my favourite thing about writing and so that affects my mental health, etc, etc. So when I, in this moment, am saying I love Feeding Habits, I just want myself to fully, 100% feel this way, because I know, with the last few books I’ve written, it doesn’t last (not to be pessimistic, but to be grateful for where I am).

NaNo is actually not all that different to me usually writing proces. I actually always think about writing every day, it’s just about 1/7 days a week I may actually do it, more if I’m in a good patch. I can’t give NaNo full credit for my productivity, however. I am in a really great place in Feeding Habits right now, and NaNo occurred right at the start of that, so it was really coincidence and timing that I’m currently doing okay in the book, and therefore, able to produce. I’ve mentioned that I just can’t write when I’m mentally unwell, and that not writing furthers that mental unwellness and so I’m really, really happy with how this month is going with writing right now. I don’t feel heavy, I feel I’ve written a lot of great (and very gay <3) stuff, and I’m so pleased.

I am only tracking NaNo progress for Feeding Habits specifically because I wanted to put more attention on it, and I definitely think it has been successful in that regard! I’ve been doing tons of other writing though, either for classes, or personal stuff (do not ask me how submitting a poem at 11:59pm on the day of the deadline went hahaha), so I feel like I’m... thriving??

Excerpts from Feeding Habits stuff I’ve been working on recently under the cut!

This is the boys’ first ever conversation in months and in the book:

A canoe-rental kiosk ruching the Hudson River. Harrison pays for a two-hour time slot with the last of his savings and lugs it to the shoreline by himself. It is nearly midnight, the sky clogged with fog and moonlight.

Lonan will not enter the water. Back near the kiosk, he fiddles with a beachstone, bathing in tungsten from the streetlamp above him. He gave no reason for his rejection, just picked stones as they walked along the boardwalk, through the parking lot, to the kiosk. As if he’d polish them, feed them through a rock tumbler as if he has patience for that, tend to them like infants, shape, polish, burnish, sell them for thirty dollars a piece and donate the money, as if has the mind to.

Harrison shifts the canoe perpendicular to the water and steps in. The boat cranks under his weight, its coldness seeping through his jeans.

Lonan stoops for more stones. His knees luminescing in white sand. His hair oilslick, cropped to his scalp like blunt grass. His fingers arrowing through sand, a raven filching seed. He unearths the stones with urgency, a paleontologist, a gravedigger.

“You’ll never make a sale on those,” Harrison shouts from the canoe. His voice splinters the night and puffs with the sand.

Lonan nearly drops his handful of stones. It takes him a moment to look up, and when he does, he searches the treeline first, the windows of a parked SUV, the gaps between a thicket of lifejackets before reaching Harrison, and he’s so deerlike, Harrison thinks, he’s so limp, so feeble, so susceptible. His hair jutting briefly from his scalp like an accordion, badly cut probably because Eliza likes it that way. His skin nearly lilac in places, a gauntness in his face, a hunger.

“My mother tells me you like her cooking,” he continues. “That you’re here for your sister. That you’re here alone.”

Lonan reaches for another stone.

“Eliza wants you to look like a deacon.” Harrison frills a hand toward his hair, snaps his fingers like scissors. “So holy. I could ordain you right now. Make you born-again. There’s so much water.”

“I don’t swim,” Lonan says. He reaches for another stone, then another so his palms turn into one.

“You don’t? You’re a land mammal. Rhinoceros. Hippopotamus. Is it the stones? You’re afraid they’ll sink you?”

CANOE SHENANIGANS (#BOYSINABOAT):

Harrison shuffles forward until their knees touch. He reaches. He makes contact. He touches his skin. He touches his ear. He touches cheek. He touches eyes, fingerprints his irises, wrings the tears from his eyelashes, pulls his face by the jaw, cradling his land mammal. He is crying. They should both cry. They are both crying. Their own lake puddling in Harrison’s palm. Theirs as Harrison dips his free hand into the water. Theirs as he hushes Lonan’s writhing. Theirs as he christens him, the water gorging his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Theirs as he promises it will be okay. Theirs as he says he will get to know this stranger. Theirs as they promise to both regrow. Theirs as Harrison jerks the canoe. Theirs as they capsize. Theirs as they reunite in fizzing tide, caught in the river, both animals trapped in amber.

Some context for this next excerpt: Lonan and Harrison get into shenanigans the night before, Harrison ~robs Lonan, abandons him, and yeets himself to the barn mentioned in chapter six where he falls asleep for the night. Here, he wakes up at dawn and is coming up with an excuse to explain why he’s there early to the homeowners. He decides, since they hired him to fix up their barn, he’ll just say he was trying to be a good worker:

Harrison fixes himself in the reflection of an overturned wheelbarrow, its silver belly clouded with rust. He exists the barn dry, well-rested, a richer, more fashionable man.

Before he even finishes ascending the veranda of the Harvey house, Sharleen opens the door. Her white hair is pearled into a bun. She wears a paisley patterned apron, chartreuse.

“Raspberry danishes,” Harrison says. “All I wanted was to bring you some fresh raspberry danishes, but all the bakeries were closed.”

Sharleen rolls up her sleeves. Her hands are caked with flour and fat.

“I considered tulips, but realized I’ve never asked for your favourite flower. Is it tulips? Hydrangeas? Chrysanthemums?”

Sharleen juts open the screen door and holds it open for him. He enters the foyer, and it smells like cinnamon, like sugar.

“I’ve heard marigolds are helpful for warding off squirrels,” he says, taking the hand she offers for his jacket. Sharleen doesn’t jump when he runs his finger across her wedding band and pecks her knuckles with his mouth. She doesn’t even speak. “Is that true?” as they usher toward the kitchen. “Pretty and purposeful. Sounds fake.”

Sharleen dusts her hands on her apron and jars open the kitchen door.

“Could be a double whammy. Or a scam. Or an old wives’ tale,” Harrison says as they walk into the kitchen, so occupied with the marigolds he does not notice when Sharleen returns to the stove to flip a pancake, so occupied, when he turns to the kitchen table, expecting only Harvey but seeing Lonan, all he says is, “Sounds too good to be true.”

The embarrassing aftermath of that lmfao :)

Harrison eats his pancakes on the porch. The Harveys’ dog joins him, a golden retriever named Leila. He cuts her a rift of cake and slots it into her mouth when she whines. One bite for him, another for Leila. Him, Leila, him, Leila. The good news is since he fixed their coffee machine, he now drinks drip.

It does not take long for Lonan to follow him outside. Harrison’s known this was inevitable and has dreaded the last five minutes because of it. He slits another triangle of pancake and feeds it to the dog.

It’s too cold to be out without a jacket. Wind nips Harrison’s ears and icicles his fingertips. Lonan’s shirt, the pale blue button-up he nabbed knowing he’d have cash, brays under the breeze, barely denser than a tissue.

So, after Harrison knocks them into the water (lol), this happens. My favourite description of Lonan: grass, and speck. (TW murder-y??):

“Pull me under,” Lonan said, spitting water, his voice grating under pressure. He trembled, his limbs his betrayal, tremoloing in the waves.

And Harrison did. Dousing him by the shoulders and holding him under so only he floated in the miniscule gap of air, Lonan a sunken, thrashing speck. It was thrilling, holding a body in his hands, determining its fate. And equally as thrilling to hold it as he lulled Lonan back up and over his shoulder where he deflated, gasping. At first Lonan coughed, once twice, heaving saltwater and saliva. But then a birdlike sound, compact but jittering, the wisp of a laugh, and Harrison couldn’t help but wonder if he was thrilled, too

“Do you feel accomplished, Harrison?” Lonan asked, his teeth prattling like an accordion. His hand trailed up the tail of his jacket, scrawling along the soaked leather. Lonan shifted, his body dead weight nearly drowned. And there was the sound again, chirping, “You’re not the first person who’s tried to kill me this year. Congratulations.”

So the tea is that Harrison robs Lonan by swapping shirts with him (tea tea tea), so here’s that scene where they re-swap and Harrison pesters Lonan about not marrying Eliza:

“Why won’t you marry her?” Harrison asks. “You could have children. A honeymoon.”

Lonan stuffs his free hand into his pocket. His breath fogs with every exhale, his nose pinkish with cold. Harrison doesn’t feel any of it, the breath, the cold, his hands. He doesn’t move to button up his flannel. He doesn’t want to move.

“You’re going back to her. You’re here to check on Reeve, and then you’re going back. To get married. To have children. To honeymoon forever.”

Lonan’s hair is awful. Spoking from his scalp like a raven’s wings, some sections ragged, uneven. Not a haircut, but punishment.

“You’re perfect,” Harrison says. He should being shivering, be freezing, but he feels nothing. “Why can’t you say you’re perfect?”

Lonan moves first. They could reabsorb. Go back to blue. But he only reaches for the flannel with his free hand and drapes it around Harrison’s shoulders. Arm by arm, slotting them through the sleeves. Button by button, securing it up his abdomen, his chest, right up to his throat. If Harrison looks closely, one of his eyes is rimmed with scarlet, like a vessel there popped, and a pool of lilac simmers, almost undetectable, across his temple.

“You could’ve married her,” Harrison says. His voice has dropped to a whisper. Lonan swings his jacket around his shoulders, securing his arms through each loop of leather, one, two. Zipping so his exposed skin may rewarm.

“I need to take you home,” Lonan says. Lonan with the broken eye. Lonan with the blackberry skin. Lonan with the teeth-shorn shirt. Lonan with the mowed hair. Lonan with the burned palms. Lonan with the wedding ring that was never really a wedding ring. Lonan who looks as if he’s always prepared to blink, just in case something comes out to get him.

(lonan’s dialogue IS SO SOFT gay PINING said WHOMST i did i am whomst)

god i want to share more but I need to save stuff for the writing update, here’s one MORE THEN I AM GONE:

Harrison sleeps in the car on his way back and doesn’t wake until the next day. In that time, Suzanna slots takeout boxes through the unrolled window, three full meals: sweet corn and tomato fusilli, beef stifado, meatless cassoulet. What she doesn’t know is they sit, untouched, under the passenger’s seat, not because Lonan is averted by her cooking, but because he’s saving them to share, just in case. She brings a vacuum sealed bag of extra comforters the first evening when flurries dot the windshield, Harrison is swathed in them all by the time the snow reaches half an inch. One lined with Sherpa closest to his skin when he stirs, the bulbs of fabric like cottage cheese. In the time he’s in the car he dreams. Of driving into the ocean. Of haircuts. Marriage.

OK BYE

[dzamie-oc]

Smaugust 15 - Forge

Hiccup has a new idea: flying UNDER a dragon. This needs a new harness. It also needs Gobber to know when to stop talking. Toothcup all but outright stated. (1722 words)

cw: Toothcup, sexual references (nothing explicit)

Hiccup looked at the night fury sprawled out on his floor, then back at the sketch he was working on. It showed Toothless, but with the addition of a new harness, sketched out to allow Hiccup to strap himself in underneath the dragon. It was an idea Hiccup had come up with after a long night of playing with Toothless and waking up in his scaly embrace, though what originally started as merely a few straps to keep him slung under his partner soon got the Hiccup Touch and bloomed into a full harness, designed to keep dragon and rider comfortable in a few different orientations, and even lock Hiccup in for Toothless to go flying with him. Hiccup sat back and appreciated his efforts; he had improved a lot since that very first saddle he had slipped onto Toothless so long ago.

"Alright, bud, what do you think of this?" He turned the paper towards Toothless, who rolled back onto his feet and plodded over. The night fury stared at his creation, occasionally turning his head to look at Hiccup or lifting a leg or wing to match himself against the drawing. After a minute or two, he thumped his tail on the floor, turned, and walked over to Hiccup's flight suit before pressing his snout against it and burbling.

Hiccup snapped his fingers and grinned brightly, scribbling a few more shapes on the plan. "Quick-release clasps to let me drop away and glide, great idea, Toothless." He tapped the end of his charcoal pencil to his mouth, searching for flaws they would introduce, but came up short. A good sign. "Oh, but I'll have to switch to your back after we use that; I don't think I'll be able to get back into the straps mid-air," he pointed out, then grinned and walked over to his dragon to scratch under his chin. "And I don't think this design supports a saddle. You don't mind me riding you bareback, do you, bud?" Toothless growled affectionately and nuzzled the human, pushing him back a bit.

Hiccup took a few steps backward, laughing, and picked up a measuring string. "That's what I thought. Alright, let's find out how big these things have to be. Could you rear back, bud?"

Toothless pushed back off his front legs, flapping his wings to stay steady. Hiccup walked up, string in hand, and pressed it against his scaly chest, then belly, taking note of how long each segment was. As he moved from one position to the next, he started to keep his hands on Toothless, enjoying the dragon's natural warmth and the pleasant texture of his scales. This drew out a low purr from the night fury, who placed his forepaws on Hiccup's shoulders. "Uh, Toothless? What are you doing?" the viking asked, only to be pushed down, a heavy dragon landing over him. Toothless felt him wince under his scaly body, and made sure to only lightly rest his belly on Hiccup's back, purring from the friendly contact. Hiccup laughed. "Oh, prototyping a use of the harness already, huh, bud?" Toothless growled in the affirmative, which got him a very pleasant rub from his rider. "Alright, then, but we're finishing up as soon as we're done with this."

Hiccup did finish the measurements after they were done. What he didn't count on, however, was the few hours between Toothless initiating and Hiccup getting his specs. They both fell into a satisfied, restful sleep at the end of the night, Hiccup in Toothless's hold, like when they fell into the demise of the Red Death.

---

"Mornin', Hiccup!" Gobber called into the forge, "yer up early. Oh, hello Toothless. Helped him start the fire, did ye?" He got a happy burble in response.

"Hey, Gobber," Hiccup called back, a little less enthusiastic. He had been hoping to be in and out before the experienced smith came in. Unfortunately, after an incident with a Deadly Nadder, two Gronkles, and Hookfang a week back, a lot of the pre-made inventory had become slag, at best. "I just figured I'd... help with the restocking a little!" Hiccup lied, "plus, there's just nothing like hammering a metal ring into place to work out some tension, am I right?"

The older viking waddled up to the workbench and eyed the work Hiccup had done. "No, ye didn't," he said bluntly, "and that means you have a project! Now come on, let ol' Gobber see what yer up tae."

There was a soft 'whoomf' from the furnace as Toothless reached in and stoked the fire some more. Hiccup sighed, and passed him the sketch from last night. "It's a harness for riding Toothless," he explained as his hammer fell on the softened metal, "it'll let me drop in my flight suit without having me jump off his back or Toothless invert." The young viking held the piece of metal he was working on up in his tongs, nodded, tapped a few more times, and then quenched it. "It uses my standard dual-controlled tailfin design to let Toothless fly along with me without risking losing control if my flight suit doesn't work quite right." Another batch of molten metal was poured into a mold.

Gobber picked up the design, turned it around a little, then put it back down. "And I notice you've put several places for the leg braces and stirrups," he mentioned.

Hiccup tensed. "Yeah, it's for... it lets me easily disengage and reengage if Toothless and I want him to steer solo for a while."

"Mm." The older blacksmith was not impressed. "And the one on the other side?"

"Uhh... for dropping off into a dive more easily?"

"Hiccup." Gobber took him by the shoulders and turned the young man to face him. "I'm not stupid. This isn't just for having fun with your flight suit, is it?"

Hiccup shook his head. Gobber picked up one of the finished pieces of metal, to be used to support the viking, and turned it over in his hands. "Well, for starters, you'll want two of these. One of them nice and sturdy, for flying over water in your flight suit, and the other to cover in something much more comfortable. Probably goat down. Ye won't get as haunted that way."

Hiccup gawked at him; Gobber shrugged. "Ye act like yer the first boy t'ever go through puberty. You should see what I made way back when I was a wee lad. Took me two days to assemble." He cringed and stared off at the memory, muttering, "nearly clean tore off me-"

"OKAY that's enough," Hiccup loudly interrupted, "that's... that's okay, I don't think I need to know that. Ever. Wow. Um..." he rambled, running his hand through his hair, "so, I think I'll just get one design done today and go flying with Toothless." He picked up the latest cooling metal and started to work it into shape.

The blacksmith laughed and clapped him on the back. Hiccup managed to keep a solid grip on the metal and also not burn himself on it, a skill he picked up during his years working with Gobber. "Well, good luck with yer 'project.' Before you two leave, could ye get Toothless to light up the rest o' the furnaces? We lost a lot of good axeheads and knives last week."

Hiccup looked over to Toothless, who was staring at a trio of Terrible Terrors across the street. "You okay with that, bud? Mind starting up the rest of the furnaces for Gobber?" he asked. The night fury turned towards him, nodded and rumbled, and then got up to spit a shot of plasma into each cold furnace as Gobber walked over to start melting down some buckets of metal in them. Hiccup finished shaping and cooling the last piece for the harness's basic configuration, then set the tools down to start sanding the metal. "So, uh, goat down?"

"Aye, goat down. Wool can be soft, but boy does it itch! And so hot, too; you should have seen the SIZE of the rash I got when I-"

"THANK YOU, Gobber, thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Hiccup said as he desperately tried to forget what Gobber had just said. "Do you do that on purpose?"

In between the clangs of Gobber's hammer-hand on metal, his laughter was clearly audible. "Ah, Hiccup, yer some o' the most fun I have around the smithy some days." This earned a groan from the dragon rider.

Once Hiccup had finished the metalwork, he and Toothless left the forge, confident that the leatherwork could be finished back at his workshop. Before they left, of course, Toothless helpfully batted at the coals burning in the furnaces, keeping the heat up for longer.

---

A few hours later, it was done. The harness had come together, Toothless had been fitted, and Hiccup verified he felt secure under Toothless's belly. With that, all that was left was to test it. Hiccup clung to his dragon's neck as the night fury flapped to carry them to the edge of the cove they had first met in. It was grassy, it had a pond... if something went wrong and Hiccup ended up face-down with a dragon on him, this was one of the safest places for it.

As Hiccup made one last check of the harness, Toothless playfully nipped at his shirt, tugging it up. Hiccup laughed and rubbed the night fury's snout. "Maybe next time, bud. Gotta make sure my outsides won't get rearranged as well." Toothless huffed, but his tail swished back and forth as he thought of a next time. Soon, Hiccup had strapped himself in, and dragon and rider approached the lip of the cove. Hiccup's heart was pounding, and he could feel Toothless's thundering against his back. All of a sudden, the grass below didn't look so soft. However, as he felt the night fury's body tense, ready to spring, he refocused on his feet against the tailfin pedals.

Toothless leapt, spread his wings, and dove for speed. His tailfin snapped out, and the pair pulled up. The dragon hugged his forelegs around his rider, and above the wind buffeting his face, Hiccup could feel and hear Toothless purring. He felt that, if he were able to, he'd be purring, too.

[eerythingisshaka]

That One Time...

[Yahya Abdul-Mateen II x Jason Momoa x Reader]

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings:  Issa threesome, so...

The sun warms your body as you may across your towel soaking up the evening rays.  Your energy is pulled out of you little by little as you lie there cooking, taking your sun hat off your face to fan it.  

"You gettin hot, baby?" Yahya asks, sitting next to you.

You nod, "Gettin?  I'm already there.  Its stupid humid out here."

Yahya has a bowl of cubed watermelon that you drowned in some moscato, hovering a piece above you mouth.

"Say ah."  

You open up, taking a bite at first.  The added sweetness of the moscato brought the natural watermelon flavor out even more. Yahya waits patiently until you're ready for the rest, with which you grab ahold of his fingers to suck the residuals juices off.

Yahya's eyes buck as your lips pull on his finger, giving his hand back.  

"See, thats why you running hot.  You in HEAT is what it is."  Yahya snorts.

You sit up to look over the waves crashing onto the beach, wiping your brow.  "Maybe so.  Any time I sweat profusely I get horny."

Yahya smacks on his share of the watermelon loudly.  "Well damn, I know you hell on wheels in the summer then.  And remind me to sign up as your workout buddy."

You look at his glistening arms with mountains and valleys of muscle, firm and pronounced chest, with abs you could play hopscotch on.

You scoff.  "Yeah like you need a workout buddy."

"Aloha brother!"  

You and yahya turn to see in the distance Jason Momoa walking across the sand, wind whipping his mane in front of his face.  He whips his hair back effortlessly as he puts his shirt over his shoulder.

Yahya holds his hand out, welcoming him. "My man, what's happening with you?"

Jason spreads his arms wide, showing off his wingspan in a royal fashion

"Enjoyin the surf, sand and sights!  Speaking of, who's your lady here?"

Yahya points to you.  "Yeah this is (y/n).  We've been hanging out for a bit."

You start to get up but Jason holds up his hands to stop you.

"Ah ah,  don't get those feet in the hot sand.  I'll come to you."  He high steps over to you, squatting down to hold out his hand.  "I'm Jason."

You give him your hand, catching your heart with your other as he firmly shakes it.  Strong manly hands, treating yours tenderly is a wonderful contrast you behold as you greet him.

"So I've heard.  Nice to meet you." 

Jason's eyes meet your body for a second before he continues, "You all been out here very long?  Its gonna start to get dark soon."

Yahya responds.  "I think we were about to head inside for some shade and A/C.  Miss Thing over here is starting to melt."  He teases you, running his hand down your sweaty arm.

"It's true, I'm turning into a puddle as is."  

Jason chuckles, pulling at his beard thoughtfully.  "Well we can't have that!  I was hoping to catch up with you though.  If I ain't cramping on you and your lady's style, maybe I'll come by, bring some beer?"

Yahya rubs his hands together.  "Sounds like a plan to me.   We not far, just in bungalow 3 up there."

Jason looks to where he points.  "No doubt.  I'm gonna take another quick dip and see you guys later, aight?"

Yahya gets up as Jason holds a hand out for you to use as he brings you to standing.  You almost fly forward but his grip is steady on your arms.  

"I'll see you in a bit."  Jason says to you, so low you felt your scalp tingle in response.  You nod, picking up your towel and watching as he walks towards the water, rising up his legs to the dip in his back until he is waist deep in it.  He has a solid torso, plentiful mass You can see yourself pushing against.  The heat must really be getting to you for such thoughts keep creeping in.  Yahya and you walk back to the bungalow as the cooler room temperature evaporates the moisture on your skin instantly.  

"Ohhhh that feels nice."  You moan, patting your scalp as you sit back on the couch.  Yahya plops down next to you, laying a hand on your thigh.

“This is better, right?”  He asks, leaning back next to you, sighing audibly.  You feel his fingers working your inner thigh as you relax with your eyes closed.

“Thank God for air conditioning.  I’m liable to go crazy without it.”  

As you become calm, you feel a tickling on your neck, making you crumble away from the sensation.  

“Come here…” Yahya begs as he leans further into you, reaching for the side of your face to hold you still.

“That tickles, Yahya!  Stop!” you laugh hard feeling his lips nibble from your earlobe to your neck.

“I just wanna eat you up.  I’m sorry.”  he says, but he doesn’t mean it.  He reaches his hand to palm the mound of your pussy over swimsuit, firmly feeling for center through it.

You grab his offending arm, holding tight.  “That’s dirty of you.”

You tongue runs circles around your neck, in rhythm with his fingers on your mound until he pulls the material to the side.  Yahya sits up to look at you opening up for him as his middle finger fiddles with your clit.

“I got all this good pussy in my hand and you think I ain’t finna get taste?”  he asks, looking at you as you grab ahold of the pillows behind you.  Your eyes lock with his  as he pushes two fingers into your depths.

He smiles as you gasp under his come hither motions inside of you, keeping your clit occupied with his thumb.

“Aloha!”  You hear a knock at the front door accompanying a familiar voice.  Yahya pulls his fingers out of you quick as you close your legs promptly, pulling a towel over you.  

“Fucking shit!”  You whisper into your hand.  Yahya heads to the front door to greet Jason.

“Hey man, I got the goods!”  Jason says cheerfully holding up a case of beer.  Yahya takes the box, smoothly licking his fingers like he just finished off a Krispy Kreme.

“Thanks dawg.  Come on in.”  Yahya takes the beer into the kitchen as Jason meets you on the couch.

“He pretty lady.  You ok?  Cooling off too fast?”  Jason looks over the towel covering your body up to you chin suspiciously.

You’re still trying to calm your pussy down as you answer.  “Sure, uh, yeah.  Just a little chilly now I think.”

Jason nods, looking away then back at you.  “So you and Yahya get along good then?”

“Swimmingly.”

Yahya comes out with three beers, tops popped and ready to go.  “So how long you out here for man?”

Jason takes a generous swig followed by a belch.  “Just a few more days, then I gotta head back to Hollywood City!”

Yahya nods, taking a sip of his beer, squinting at you nursing your drink.  He laughs under his breath.

Jason looks between the two of you.  “Did I interrupt something here?”

Yahya begins to nod before you say, “No!  I was just cooling off, and Yahya was about to fix me some ice cream to help, right?”

Yahya rolls his eyes.  “Ok, sure.  I’ll get you a spoon.”

“No, I want a bowl, not the carton.”

Yahya looks at Jason.  “You see this?”

Jason beams at you.  “Listen to her man, she means business.”

As Yahya goes to fix your ice cream, you and Jason sit silently.  You finally have some of your beer, setting the bottle on the coffee table.  Looking over at the bottle in his hand, you take a closer look at his arm.  

“I love your artwork.”  You pick up his arm studying the triangles varying in pattern from black ink to his skin.  

“Thanks.  They are supposed to resemble shark teeth.”  

“Aww, these are too pretty to be shark teeth.”  You say, tracing the shapes like you’re supposed to feel them but all you feel is his skin covered in soft hairs, kissed by the sun, protecting a beefy forearm.

“Sharks can be beautiful when people know to keep a safe distance.”

You feel Jason looking at you and put his arm back down when you start to feel hot again.  “I was thinking about a tattoo but I’m not sure what to get yet.”

Jason holds his arm where your hands were.  “Well, I’m sure you can get anything and it’ll look good on you.  Something that will bring attention to your body more than usual is just extra blessings for people like me, right?”

You glug down the beer almost choking on his compliment when you see him smiling wide at you, touching his knee with yours.  You couldn’t believe the blatant flirting as you start to fan yourself, calming yourself down again.

“Ice cream is served, your most high!”  Yahya declares, spinning with the bowl outstretched, giving a flourish with the spoon until he plops it into the bowl.  “Shall I feed you as well?”

You take the bowl from him, making a face.  “No thank you.  That will be all!”

You take a spoonful into your mouth, moaning with content.  The sugary coolness hit all your taste buds just right.

“Can I get a taste?”  Jason asks.

You look at Yahya then him.  “He can get you some.”

Jason shakes his head.  “I just want a little bite, not a lot.  Watching my figure.”  He pats his barely belly as he rests his arm behind you on the couch, sitting up expectantly.

You fix up a spoonful and turn it to his mouth.  He leans in slow until he opens wide, clamping down on the spoon. He holds tight onto it when you tug until it pops out, some ice cream getting on his beard.  You instinctively wipe away the drop off his chin and you notice how close he is to your face.  And you can’t stop stroking his beard.

“Should I give you all a room or…”  Yahya asks with furrowed brow.

Jason chuckles as you bury yourself in your bowl.  “I didn’t mean to.”

“Jason, how long you tryna be here man?”  Yahya asks defensively, taking a swig of beer.

Jason leans back, moving his knees back and forth.  “I mean, I was hoping for a while.  What do you think?”  He asks you. 

You shrug.  “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you to leave.  You’re Yahya’s friend.”

“Eh, we can be friends too I think.  Yahya, you good if I stay a while?”

Yahya scratches his head.  “To be honest, we were bout to fuck so if you not tryna be a part of that, you can go.”

Jason laughs out loud, holding his chest.  “I knew I was in on something.  You didn’t tell me you were about to get some, girl!”  You set the bowl down.

“Despite Yahya being too loud about it, he’s right.  We were kind of about to...yeah.”

Jason leans on his knees, setting his beer down.  “So…”

Yahya looks at you then Jason, and back again.  “(Y/N)...”  he gets up to sit next to you.  “You know how you had that thing you dreamt about once.”

You search your brain for this conversation he’s bringing up.  “I dream a lot, what do you mean?”

“Well it was me and you, and some other dude and we were…”  Yahya peers at you to finish the sentence.

You cover your mouth in surprise.  “Oh my God, are you serious.”  You look at Jason.  “Was this a plan?”

Jason shakes his head.  “Not at all.  Just chance.  Nice dream though.”

Yahya holds your hand.  “Look, I know him, and you both seem like you’re vibing.  So if you like him, I ain’t opposed.”

Jason leans back, turning further towards you.  “I just need an ok.”

You think about this for a second.  The thing about threesomes intrigued you but whenever you see them in porn you can tell it’s about male dominance and their pleasure and the woman is just a prop for their dicks.  You don’t wanna just get pummeled, if this happens, you’re the star.  You look at Jason, taking his beard in your hands once again, pulling it playfully.  He rubs it feigning injury as you then check out Yahya.  You already know he’s ready to rock you.  You sit up and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him with renewed zeal.  His hands snake up and down your back, pulling you into him as your intentions are translated with your tongue.  You pull away to face Jason.  “If we doin this, it’s gonna be about me.  Y’all getitn your dicks wet regardless but I will not be turned into a pulverized melon cuz y’all wanna drill me from both ends to kingdom come.”

“Goddamn!” Yahya gasps in shock.

“Jesus!”  Jason bursts out.  “That’s not what I’m here for anyway.  I only want to see you in your element, however we can bring that out.”

You feel yourself grow anxious as you settle back into the couch picking at your cuticle.  Jason looks cool as ever, eyes in a brooding squint, hair wild from the outdoors.  Yahya just stares at you legs like he’s standing in front of the microwave with 10 seconds left.

No longer wanting to feed the silence you say, "Well I don't know how to start this."  

Yahya smiles, teeth bright and inviting.  "I'll let myself do the honors on that.  Continue where I was before I got interrupted, you know."

Jason holds his hands up in surrender.  "By all means."

Yahya gets on his knees maneuvering himself in front of your knees, kneading the outside of your thighs.   You take a deep breath to control your heart rate, giving Jason a small smile as he sits idly by with his arm around the back of the couch.

You feel Yahya squeeze your legs to get your attention.  "You good?"

You start to massage your temples.  "Yeah, yeah, just nervous."

He leans up towards you, inches from your face.  "I got you.  I'll be here the whole time, you'll be great." He raises his eyebrows, to which you not as he plants a kiss on your lips.  You hold his face, allowing his lips to tenderize the kinks in your mind.  When he pulls back, he looks over at Jason.  "I know he looks like he was raised wild, but he a softie.  You'll wear him out before anything."

As Yahya cackles at him, Jason says, "Alright, that's the last time I wanna know your opinion.  This is her show, don't delay it."

Yahya reaches for the waist of you swimsuit bottoms tugging them past your hips.  You lift up to allow him to expose your privacy, taking his hands to lift one leg up, then the other.  You look at Jason who glances down at you, tucking his lips.

Yahya keeps your thighs in his hands before asking, “You ready?”

You exhale, adjusting your seated stance before affirming.  Yahya dips his head closer to your you center, looking up at you as he opens his mouth.  His soft pink tongue unfurls slowly towards your aching core before finally making contact.  You hiss with pleasure under his gaze.  Yahya studies your reaction as he works his neck, surfing his tongue back and forth between your labia.  He takes one hand to spread your lips further, allowing better exposure of your clit to the tip of his tongue.

His eyes on you the whole time feels invasive but shame does not stop you.  His leer only fuels your inner passions.  You squirm under his mouth work as Jason enjoys the show, adjusting himself from time to time.

“Look at you go, girl.”  Jason mutters with a smile.

You cover your face for a second with embarrassment, forgetting almost that it wasn’t just you and Yahya.  You feel the concentrated suction of your clit, bringing your attention back to the man between your legs.  Yahya hollows out his cheeks, giving your pussy prime attention.  You grip the top of his head to keep him in your right spot, curling your body up as your mouth slacks open in the sudden crash of orgasm ravaging your body.  Your whimpers subside when Yahya finally turns your clit loose, kissing your mound and inner thighs.

“Let me try that.”  Jason offers, giving your inner thigh a squeeze.  

You don’t feel so anxious as before, but the shift in partners makes your mind race.  Yahya sits beside you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling your face to look at him.

“I’m good, if you’re good, right?”  Yahya’s eyes have a sparkle to them that you adore.  His look of honesty is so adorable to you, you forget what’s happening until it happens.  You feel the tickle of his hair on along your thighs before you feel his soft kiss on your vulva.  You watch Jason slowly pull on your inner lips  with hips, softly sucking your juices off little by little. 

“Just as good as I imagined.”  Jason growls, winking up at you as he thumbs your clit. 

You lay your head back, eyes glazing over the ceiling whilst enjoying the feel of his tongue dipping into your opening.  Yahya’s lips suck on your neck as his hand covers your breast.  You use your chin to push Yahya away from your neck and kiss him, twirling your tongue in circles with his.  As you kiss, your hand travels Yahya’s solid cobbled abs and reach into his shorts, gripping his already hardened dick.

Yahya grown into you mouth kissing you hard as you pull him out and begin to jerk him off.  You love the feel of his skin tightening as he grows under your touch.  Licking your hand, you work his tip fast as Yahya grips the hair at the nape of your neck, looking at you with agony.  You lick your lips breathing harder as Jason’s fingers stroke your walls, lapping up your clit as you baptize him.  Your other hand reaches his hair, gripping his tresses like reins as your hips buck toward him while you continue to squeeze the life outta Yahya’s dick.

“Shit, nah, Jason move out.  I gotta get me some of this pussy here.”  Yahya demands, pulling his shorts off.

Jason gets up, beard moistened.  “I could live in that.”

You sit up and give Jason a kiss, licking yourself from his lips greedily. 

“You did good.”  You say, smacking the side of his face playfully, making his whole face smile.  

“Why thank you.  Compliments to the chef.”  

As Jason stands up, Yahya takes a hold of your legs, pulling them to the side so you’re laid across the couch.  

“Turn over.  I want that ass on me.”  You oblige Yahya, turning on your belly and pulling your knees up under you.  As Yahya positions himself behind you, you tell Jason to take his shorts off.  Jason, does so hastily, getting comfortable on the couch again, tugging at his erection.  

“Arch that back for me girl.”  Yahya insists, pulling your hips back to him.  You look back, twisting your hips from side to side.  

“You tryna show off with all this ‘do this, do that’ shit in front of your friend?”  You say.

Yahya smacks your ass with a loud pop, making you straighten up.  Even Jason jumped from the noise.

“Shit!  My bad!”  You say, backing into him some more until you feel him poking.  Yahya’s body looked like carved stone, so solid with the right curves where it counts.  Yahya slides his dick up and down your center, stirring your wetness around and making you seethe.  Your pussy felt sensitive enough for him to just tease you some more.  He plants his hand on your lower back, pushing into you slowly.  You start to collapse under his girth, the pressure of him hitting your G spot makes you lose your cool.  

“Aye, don’t lose that arch on me.  Come on back here.”  Yahya warns you, gripping your hips tight as you feel him pushing deeper.  You sit up on your hands, arching again.  Jason kneels in front of you, taking your face in his hands.  

“You are so sexy,” Jason says, kissing your shoulder.  When you meet Jason’s eyes, your tongue meets his, lapping each other up as Yahya works you out.  

Yahya pulls out of you, and back in again, picking up the tempo as you’ve grown accustomed to his fit.

“That’s the pussy I like.  That’s that happy pussy.”  Yahya moans as he stroke your walls vigorously.  You writhe in Jason’s face, kissing him deeply between various curses as Yahya blows out your back.  Once your skins get to slapping, you feel your strength begin to build.  You don’t like Yahya to hold all the cards in this position for long, matching his pace to push your ass back on him.

“Shit, shit.  Chill for a second with that!”  Yahya warns, pushing you body down until it’s prone with the couch.  He hovers over the top of you, rolling his hips into your ass to his you from a ne angle and you feel every inch of that newness.  You break from Jason’s kiss to look up at Yahya hovering right above you.

“You don’t play fair baby.”  You pout.  

“And you play dirty.”  Yahya responds, cupping your jaw to bring your mouth to his as his hips snake himself in and out of you.  Your grip the cushions hard, feeling helpless to his pleasure.  When Yahya turns you loose, he lands kisses all over your ass peppering a smack or two in between.  

“Aight, your turn.”  Yahya lets Jason knows as he strokes himself, collapsing on the free section of couch.  Jason takes your hand, helping you to sit up.

“You think you can handle a ride?”  He says, slapping his thighs.  

You smile as you meander over to him.  “Question is can you?”

You bring your leg over him to straddle him.  Jason cradles your ass on his hands, smiling at you.  You break your cool for a second, almost laughing right in his face but recovering.  

“Cutie, you’re funny.  You’re having fun?”

You nod, looking over at Yahya, who looks amused by you straddling his friend and preparing to fuck him.

“You wanna put it in or should I?”  Jason asks.

You bite your lip, reaching between the two of you for his member.  He felt more than ready to go, moving himself further under you.

“Make sure your seat is fluffed nicely right.”  He says, putting his hand behind his head, stroking your leg with the other.  

Finally you line up his tip to you, inserting him before sitting down on his length.  It was easier this time but the new dick still made you curl your fingers into Jason’s chest.  You watch Jason’s face scrunch up as you slide up and down his dick.

“Fuck, that’s good.  Ah!”  

You roll your hips on top of him, keeping your face stern enjoying having his body underneath you.  His hands search his hair for stability, tweaking over the feeling you gave him.  You take his wrists and guide them to your breasts, inviting him to an additional stimulus for the both of you.

“Don’t be afraid to touch me.  Touch me…”  You moan as Jason filled you out just right to stimulate you, overrunning your ability to function.  Jason’s hands roll from your breasts to the meat of your hips, thrusting himself into you deeper.  He bites his lip as he holds firm to you, your hands hold on to the top of his, squeezing on tight as he smacks into you at full speed.  You collapse on top of him, nuzzling into his chest to catch your brain up with your body.  Jason locks his arms around you, slowly gyrating into you, you feel your clit becoming more aroused.  You moan together as he keeps you clamped down, taking advantage of your pleasure.

“Oh, Jason, I’m cumming, don’t stop!”  You shriek with each penetrative motion, tightening around him.  Your body naturally pushes against his hold but he doesn’t let go.

“Ah you’re so wild.  I’m almost done, you’re taking me there.”  Jason says, grabbing you as he sits up.  He holds your back as you lean away from him, rolling your hips on his lap, gripping him until he can’t take it anymore.  He stands up with you in his arms, plopping you back on the couch before he pulls out of you, spewing his seen along your belly.  You lay back, feet to the sky as he empties himself onto you.

“Wow, just wow.  This girl, man.”  Jason kisses you again, holding himself until he sits himself down by your head.  “You take it like a champ, girl.”

“Come here Yahya.  We not done.”  You say motioning for him to come over, teasing your clit for added temptation.

Yahya eagerly positions himself between your legs.

“You tryna make me jealous over there?”  He asks, running his length along the outside of your swollen pussy.

You shake your head.  “If you felt that way, that’s just cuz your hand’s not as good as me.”  

Yahya chuckles.  “You damn right about that.”  He says as he enters you.

You both moan in harmony giving into lust.  Yahya lifts one leg over his shoulder to dig deeper into you, driving you crazy.  You run your nails into his sides, squeezing tightly into hardened core for stability as his hips slap into you.  You feel his breath on you, tilting his face to yours to kiss him through his stroking, playing with yourself at the same time.  You grip his neck, feeling his heartbeat into your palm.  

“Fuck this pussy, harder baby.”  You say before another wave hits your pelvis, spreading throughout your body, causing you to lose control.  Your legs lock around him tightly, forcing all of him inside you as you scream his name like a pep rally cheer.  

“Ah that’s fucked up.  Locking me in like that.”  He rests his head into your shoulder as he lays his final strokes into you, grunting in your ear.  You feel an overwhelming accomplishment as you feel him spill onto you in the same spot as Jason had, mixing the two cums together on your stomach.

“Baby, you nasty as hell!”  Yahya exclaims, standing over you with a proud grin.  

“That’s a beast right here!”  Jason says with vigor, kissing you one final time where you lay.  “I can’t say enough how amazing you are.”  

You get up slowly with the help of Jason while feeling works it’s way back into your legs.

“You guys got paper towels?”  Jason asks as he pulls his shorts back on.

“Yeah, in the kitchen just take one of those.”  Yahya instructs, pulling his shorts on before planting another kiss on you.  “Did you like it?”

You laugh a little long, clutching your pearls.  “Enjoyed it?  That was a fucking blast, are you kidding?  I think you were trying to show Jason up but I didn’t mind it.”

Yahya sucks his teeth.  “I wasn’t worried about him.”

“‘Oh YoU TrYnA mAkE mE jEaLoUs?’”  you say mockingly.

“Think fast.”  Jason tosses the towel at Yahya.  

“There you go, smart ass.”  Yahya says, cleaning your stomach off.

“I gotta hit the road guys.  Thanks again for…” Jason takes your hand, kissing the back of it, “...an exceptional time.  Call me if you’re up for another round.”  Jason offer, shaking Yahya’s hand as he lets himself out.

Yahya lays across you, settling his face between your breasts.  “I am so tired.”

“My bad.”  You say, smiling when he gives you a look.

“Have you cooled off by now?”  He asks.

You shrug.  “I’m getting there.  But it’s supposed to be hot all week, so…”

A/N:  How many of y’all can tell I have had a horned up week, huh?  If this gets no notes, I deserve it.

[dusky-dancing]

The Prince and the Pirate - CH 5

For SoKai Week - Day 5

Story Summary: Sora finds himself far away from the walls of the Radiant Garden he's known his whole life, kidnapped by a rowdy group of pirates whose captain is as alluring as she is mysterious. What he thought was a simple hostage negotiation turns into an adventure that Sora couldn't have anticipated. He doesn't know which is worse, not knowing what's up ahead, or liking it that way.

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Adventure, Pirate AU

Length: ~ 2900 words

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Links for story navigation:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7

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The first sensation that hit Sora was just how cold he was.

No, it wasn't just cold, he was soaking wet in his clothes, his hair, everything. He tried to breathe in but only found himself choking.

Breathe.

I can't breathe!

Waking in a startle, his lungs forcefully coughed up sea water until air rushed into his lungs.

The lullaby of gently tossing waves almost tempted him to lay back down, but then his memories came flooding back to him. Specifically, his memories of the one who'd saved him from drowning.

"Kairi!"

He pushed himself onto his knees and glanced around. Besides the beach sand, whatever island they'd washed ashore was covered almost entirely in green, from the lush bushes to the tall palm trees.

Well, atleast it seems livable, he thought to himself.

Then his eyes caught a splash of pink, and he was on his feet not a moment later.

"Kairi!" He shouted over and over as his weakened legs carried him across the beach.

Besides the wind tossing her damp hair, she wasn't moving. His knees crashed into the sand beside her.

She lay on her back, breathing - thank the gods - but he knew the sight of a broken leg anywhere. His heart ached, like he'd just watched priceless porcelain shatter. She wasn't going to feel great when she woke up, and she wasn't going to like what he'd have to do.

The break was recent enough that there was still time to set it back into place. It wouldn't heal perfectly, but atleast she'd be able to walk normally again.

"Kairi." He lifted her torso and brushed the hair out of her face. "Please, wake up."

His only warning was a gurgling sound in the back of her throat before she began coughing sea water into the sand. Her eyes slowly opened, and for a moment relief washed across her face before it was replaced with a painful wince.

She glanced down by her leg, but he kept her down. "It's broken pretty bad," he said. "Probably best that you don't look before I… I have to…"

She nodded in understanding. "Just give me something to bite."

That part was easy. With the amount of plants and trees just in their vicinity, spare branches and sticks lay just beyond the shore. Sora picked one that was hard enough to do the trick, but soft enough to not damage her teeth. At the same time, he gathered sticks and vines sturdy enough to serve as a temporary splint.

He returned quickly, dusted it off, and silently handed it to her. No words could properly communicate how hard it would be for both of them, but the quicker it was over with, the better.

Kairi bit down on it and rested back on her elbows. Closing her eyes, she nodded in preparation.

Sora knelt by her leg. In any other circumstance the act would've felt much more intimate. Her legs were so smooth yet hardened from her life on the sea. Sora took several deep breaths before gently placing his hands above and below the break.

Just focus on putting it back in place.

Don't think about who it is.

Counting down would only make it worse, so he just went for it. After a final inhale, he flexed his hands and moved her bone back into place.

Even when muffled, the blood-curdling scream that followed made Sora shudder. In that moment, he felt like a worse monster than the Kraken that had caused this. Her back arched as she kicked and tore through the sand with her healthy limbs. After securing her leg with his improvised splint, He rushed back up to her upper half and pulled her close.

"The worst is over, Kairi," he tried to remain calm despite his accelerating heartbeat. "I'm so sorry."

She muffled more cries of pain in his chest, and he endured the punches to his torso. The stick finally fell from her teeth as her breathing steadied. Jabs turned into tight grips on his jacket.

"Thanks," she breathed.

Now that he knew she'd be okay, the reality of their proximity hit him. He'd barely done more than shake her hand before, and now she was lying in his arms. Even the chilled ocean breeze couldn't stop his face from warming. Afraid he'd crossed a line, he set her back down to support her own weight once she relaxed.

"I should be thanking you," he said. "You saved me."

She met his eyes for the first time since waking up, though her own were still wide and unfocussed from the pain.

"And you saved my crew," she smiled before turning her gaze away. "Besides, I worked hard to get you. I wasn't about to lose you to some sea monster."

Sora wasn't about to let her sincerity hide away again. "Oh, so you'll just toss me to the sea once we're done?"

She tensed up. "No, of course not! I-" her eyes narrowed once she noticed his smirk. "How mean, to tease a girl when she's down."

"Couldn't help it," he smiled. "Speaking of which, though, what do we do now?"

She sat up further and turned her gaze to the sea. "Now we wait. I told my crew to get the rescued to safety first, then circle back for us. It hopefully shouldn't take more than a few days."

"A few days is pretty fast."

"You're right. Plus, the Leviathan won't be as fast without my magic." She closed her eyes, but the growing anxiety showed itself all over her face. "Let's make it a week."

"Hey, on the bright side, this isn't the worst island to be stuck on," he smiled.

Careful of her leg, she turned around and took in the cliffs, waterfalls, and endless green that stretched all around the beach. The island was small, but not uninhabitable. Under different circumstances, it would've been a paradise. Some relief washed over her, and she relaxed again.

"First thing's first, though," he continued, "we gotta make you a better splint."

One thing neither of them could deny was that the island was beautiful. It transformed as the sun moved through the sky. The tide crept up the beach, but not too far or too violently. Salty air complimented the scent of life-filled trees and shrubbery.

But what caught their eyes the most was a small sub island just off the shore.

During their slow journey up the beach, with Sora practically needing to carry Kairi, they'd spotted food like mushrooms and coconuts - nothing as bright and yellow as the star-shaped fruit that rested on that tiny island. Sora laid her down within some nearby shade and stared out at it.

"I'm sorry," Kairi said after a moment.

He sat beside her. "It's okay, Kairi, but you'll have to get more specific," he cracked a smile in an attempt to lift her spirits.

"For not being entirely honest, from the beginning."

He lay back and laced his hands behind his head. "You were being vague for sure, but anything that pulled me from home was going to be exciting."

Her fingers traced random lines in the sand. "Remember the story from the other night?"

"The Leviathan one? That's the quest you're on, right?"

She nodded. "There's more to it. I'm not the only piece to the puzzle. Although the Kraken is powerful, he's not omnipotent. Remember how I said he had to lock away her heart?"

Sora sat up and regarded her curiously.

"Well, where there is a lock, there is also…"

His heart stopped. She'd paused to let him think, but Sora blurted the answer before he could stop himself.

"A key."

Besides the smile that graced her features, Sora couldn't pay attention to the rest of her explanation. Something about the same light creating a key and bestowing it upon a worthy heart. His mind was racing. It all made perfect sense why she needed him and why the Kraken had attacked him. But why had Kairi been so...forceful?

"You figured it out," her voice drew him back from the pit in his stomach.

"Why didn't you just ask?" he shook his head. "I would've gone with you still, without the kidnapping or anything."

She hummed. "Maybe you would've, but would your kingdom have let you?"

"What about your powers?" he asked. "They come from Leviathan. People would believe you in a heartbeat."

She laughed, "As always, you give people too much credit, Sora." Her gaze drifted out to sea. Though the evening had begun to darken their surroundings, she seemed focussed, possibly on the sound of tossing waves or the smell of the ocean breeze.

"In a world where the ocean is terrifying and monster-infested, what would people think of a girl with water-based magic?"

Her eyes were filled with sadness, and Sora wasn't sure if he wanted to know how many times she'd tried to win people over, only to be feared and tossed out.

"I suppose I've always been believed." His hand extended forward between them, and his Keyblade manifested before her. Her eyes grew wide, and she shuffled closer. "When my Keyblade appeared, my father took it as a sign of strength and heroism, and therefore that our family must be blessed. The irony is, I don't think I've done a single heroic deed with this blade. Fought some battles, sure, but nothing to actively help people." He chuckled, "If this whole time I'd been kept locked away, I was supposed to be helping people by ridding the ocean of those monsters, then my life's been a waste."

She reached a hand out and hovered it over the neck of the blade. Her eyes asked for permission, which he answered with a simple nod. She waited not a moment longer before touching the cold metal. Her fingers ran slowly from the hilt to the teeth a few times before she glanced up to him again.

"You're here now," she said, "that's not a waste." With her curiosity satisfied, she drew her hand back and regarded him fully. "It seems we're both missing something the other can provide. You need a heroic quest, and I need a hero to complete my quest."

The chilled night air suddenly grew warmer. Sora's chest tightened, but in a way that just made him want to sit closer to her. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned away.

"Well, we both need a way off of this island first."

——————————————————–

A day passed, and still Sora couldn't shake the island with the star-shaped fruit from his mind. Though it sat easily within swimming range, even at high tide, he found the rock and soil too slippery to climb.

It was a strange little sub-island, able to sustain a single tree that didn't grow anywhere else. He swam back to the main shore, bested again by the mysterious island.

"Still trying, huh?" Kairi giggled.

"It's killing me." He turned back to face it with his hands on his hips. It mocked him, standing just out of reach.

Kairi sat up and began unfastening her splint. "I have an idea," she said. "Take me with you."

"What? No! Kairi your leg-"

"Will be fine," she finished for him with that stubborn smirk of hers. "See, I'm taking the splint off so it doesn't get wet."

He was never given the chance to deny her again, for as soon as it was off she extended her hands out for assistance. He pulled her to her feet and supported her weight as they made their way back into the water. A hum of delight escaped her throat when the water hit her ankles. He hadn't thought of how much she must have missed the water. It probably pained her to be sitting a few feet from it all day yet unable to go in.

Once waist-deep, Kairi sighed and let her legs float. "Oh man, why didn't I think of this earlier?"

Sora chuckled. "Feel better?"

"Amazing." She closed her eyes and let her legs suspend in the gentle waves while Sora supported the rest of her weight.

If she hadn't been injured, this would've been the perfect moment to splash her while she'd been distracted. Later, Sora promised himself.

He shifted so they both floated on their backs, with her upper body weight supported on his chest. Through the blush spreading across his face, he told himself the position was necessary to get them to the small island. Gently, he began to kick his legs and guide them along. He half-expected Kairi to use her abilities to push them through the water, but she remained still in his grasp.

"Letting me do all the work, huh?" He teased.

Her torso shook as she laughed. "You'll see."

Sora's feet soon touched sand again as they neared the island.

"Stop here," she commanded, "and stand with me."

He did as she said. Using one hand for balance on him, she brought her other up in a familiar elegant motion. As expected, the water followed her lead and swelled around them. He suddenly felt less like he was in the water and more like the water was gripping him.

His instinct proved true when she raised her hand even further, and the water lifted them. Quickly, he was the one clinging to her for support as their roles reversed. In one smooth wave, they glided up and onto the raised sandy platform.

Even up close, it looked like any tropical tree that bore colorful fruit. Sora couldn't quite place what had drawn him so deeply to this tree, whether it was the fact that it only grew there or just his own stubbornness wanting to prove itself. Regardless, it felt anticlimactic as he stood beneath it.

"Well?" Kairi's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Only then did he notice she'd hopped herself over to the tree and pulled herself up to sit on its tilted trunk. "Are you gonna stand there, or are we gonna try this fruit?"

He joined her side and stood under the star-shaped fruit. "I was just thinking, how do we know it's not poisonous?"

She shrugged, "We don't, but something tells me it isn't." Without further hesitation, she reached back and plucked one from the leaves.

Sora winced, feeling a bubble of guilt for ridding this tree of half of its harvest. As she offered the fruit to him, however, the guilt subsided into a sense of peace. They knew this was a one-time trip, and surely the tree would grow more fruit soon in the perfect environment. He picked the final fruit, sat beside her on the trunk, and extended it to her in return. The fruit she'd picked was much larger than his, and she smiled victoriously.

Instead of taking the fruit from his hand, she leaned her head down and bit from it.

The sight sent Sora's mind spiraling, compounded by the pleased look on her face as she took in the flavor. His eyes glanced down at her own offering staring him in the face. With a move like that, how could he not respond in kind?

The flavor burst onto his tongue immediately, and he understood Kairi's expression. It was sweet, unbelievably so even for an island fruit. A bite of tang danced across his mouth just enough to purse his lips a little. The flavor only deepened with each second, and this was only the first bite.

A pleasant aftertaste lingered, enough to leave him happy for the day, but when he opened his eyes to the woman beside him, he found his heart stuttering.

He knew her appearance, understood her cause, and had seen her in both joy and pain, yet as he took her in again, he saw much deeper into her as a person. It wasn't only understanding her, but knowing her, feeling her emotions right alongside her. Not only appreciating her beauty, but cherishing every inch of her. Not only tagging along with her mission, but desiring nothing more than to see it through to the end and beyond.

And based on her wide eyes, she was experiencing something similar.

"Sora…" She dared to speak, with an affectionate hint in her voice that drew him in further.

Sora blinked and shook his head. This was the woman who had him kidnapped to use for his abilities. She was a pirate.

A pirate who was kind and hospitable. And only raided those who committed evil. And cared for her crew. And was drop-dead gorgeous even after washing ashore a deserted island.

Her hand touched his arm and startled him. "You felt it too, didn't you?" she asked.

He couldn't even parse what had happened in his own mind, so how was he supposed to articulate it to her, whatever "it" was?

"Yeah," he responded as calmly as he could, turning away.

Her hand retreated. "Must just be something in the fruit." her voice had returned to normal.

He nodded, trying to convince himself that was the case. Even when each subsequent bite hadn't caused the same reaction as the first. Even when the sensation hadn't subsided hours after they'd returned to the main island.

Up until the very moment he admitted it to himself:

He didn't want to leave her side…

Because he was in love with her.

——————————————————–

A/N: This whole fic began when I asked myself, "What if two pirates reluctantly working together were stranded on a pre-civilization Destiny Islands, unknowingly shared paopu fruits, and intertwined their destinies forever?". Then of course I answered myself, "Yes, and make it SoKai," and it just kept building from there! There's still much more to happen though, so I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading and leaving your feedback :)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Core Drive - Clean 1.01

A/N: I decided that this story is best told in three stages, each with multiple parts (the same way that Jigsaw was structured). So this is the first stage, and the true beginning of Logan’s journey. If you missed it, catch up with the series intro. 

Warning: this series will deal with drug use, depression, addiction, violence and other such topics. *please read responsibly*  

Word Count: 5,087

The vast expanse of orange desert stretched out beyond the horizon, nothing but the twisted trunks of shriveled, lifeless trees and scrubby bushes full of brambles dotting the landscape. Crisp husks of dried grasses poked up from the fiery sand as if to remind anyone who wandered this far that it was no place for living things, hostile territory. Without a single cloud in the sky there were no shadows, no relief from the sun, no way to track time. There’s gotta be… this isn’t… He rolled his head back against the knotty stump he’d managed to prop himself up on, splintered strips of bark digging into his back causing him to cry out, a mangled sound that matched the desolation of his surroundings. An illusion. This is an illusion, all of it there’s…A single tear dropped from his eye and onto his shoulder. Where’s the door? 

Reckless. Impetuous. 

The wind hissed cruelly, carrying William’s words with it. They echoed in the valley, taunting him as if they hadn’t been rattling around like tumbleweeds in his mind since they’d been spoken. 

I’ll be right here. 

Another pitiful sob clawed its way past his chapped lips. Squeezing his eyes shut against the sun’s glare, he saw your smile, saw your hair spread out on his sheets, saw his fingers tangled in it. No, she can’t be… she can’t be here… Eyes flying open and chest heaving with sudden panic, he saw that he was right- you weren’t there. No one was. This is wrong, I…

His thoughts were interrupted as the wind howled back, whipping up ribbons of sand and sending it swirling into the air to pelt the side of his body. Each infinitesimal grain hitting his raw, exposed, sun ravaged skin stung like a swarm of hornets, pain sweeping over him like a chemical fire. He tried to take cover by drawing his knees up and ducking into them, but the blistered soles of his feet only slid in the sand, legs too heavy and muscles too dehydrated to move them. Barely able to lift his arm, the most he could do was tuck his chin into his shoulder and wait for the dust devil to pass. 

Failure. Worthless. Junkie. 

The wispy funnel of hot wind and dry sand swirled around him, tossing his father’s accusations like rocks. No, I...not anymore I...I just gotta get out of here, there’s gotta be…

There is no damn door. You’re fucked. 

Logan weakly picked up his head as the devil spun away and vanished. Sand slipped from his hair and stuck to the bloody scrapes and gashes on his thigh and side from where he’d stumbled and fallen. Who said that? Grains of sand had penetrated his clamped eyelids, and they stung his eyes like miniscule shards of glass as he blinked to regain his vision. Heat rose from the ground in shimmering waves as a pair of shiny leather shoes stepped through the mirage. They were topped by long legs encased in black suit pants, the midnight color only getting deeper as the figure came closer. A dark blue button down shirt was tucked into the waistband beneath an expertly tailored jacket. What the… 

Did you hear me? I said- The man stooped down, creases forming in the material of his pants as he lowered himself to Logan’s level. Who… the stranger had one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a cut crystal glass filled with amber liquid. A solid gold ring caught the sunlight, blinding Logan as the man raised the glass to his lips to take a sip. -There is no door. Pulling the glass back down, he rested his elbow on his knee and set his sharp, umber eyes on Logan, who gasped in confused terror as he recognized the stranger; two buttons open at the collar, neatly trimmed beard the same chestnut color as his longish, loosely styled hair, and a small but undeniably identical birthmark hovering between his eye and cheekbone. It’s...me, it’s who I… He heaved a dry sob that came out as maniacal laughter. Who I used to be. There is no door, Logan, no one’s coming for you. He sucked air through his teeth and narrowed his eyes. You’re gonna die out here, Delos. Taking another swig of his drink, he raised his eyebrows and gestured in a toast. Might as well get it over with. 

No. Logan watched himself stand back up to his full height, brushing sand from his knee. “No, please you...please, help me…” 

Retreating back into the abyss, he shrugged at the dying man. I can’t. Another gust of wind kicked up and swept him away, leaving Logan alone again. No! No, no…

..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. ..

“No!” He thrashed awake, sweat soaked sheets stuck around his legs as he kicked at them. Eyes opening wide, he bolted upright, shaking and gasping for air. The sudden plunge into the waking world sent his head spinning and set every one of his joints on fire. Chills erupted all over his body as a violent wave of nausea rose in his stomach. Lurching over the edge of the bed, he gripped the night stand and was sick into the wastebasket beside it. He groaned in pain as he shriveled back into the twin size mattress. Fuck! Another rush of agony pulsed through his bones, pulling a broken whimper from his throat. “No, no, no,” he mumbled into his pillow as the light in the room flicked on and he clamped his eyes shut against the searing light.  

His roommate’s mattress springs creaked as he sat up and cleared his throat. “Yo man, you good over there?” The other man’s voice was thick with sleep but tinted with concern. Miguel was at least ten years younger, but this wasn’t his first rodeo and he knew exactly what Logan was going through. The only response was another groan, so Miguel pressed on. “Hey, man, come on, you good?” 

“The fuck do you think?” His voice, muffled by the pillow and weakened by the effects of the dream and the aggressive withdrawal, came out blunt but pathetic. “Can you turn the goddamn light off? Fuck…” He grumbled miserably.

Miguel clicked the light off and sat back against his headboard, a small, knowing chuckle leaving his lips. “I don’t have to think. I know you feel like you’re fuckin’ dying.” Logan crossed his arms over his abdomen as another bout of nausea seized him. Then why the fuck- “But you’re not fuckin’ dying, you’re gonna be alright, man, just gotta get through detox then you’ll see it ain’t bad.” 

I can’t. The two words followed him from the desert and into the dark room, echoing in his mind in the rich tone of his own voice. “Yeah? Well…” he groaned again, hugging his thin arms tightly around himself and grimacing  through gritted teeth. “Well maybe I should.” 

Will it help? 

Your tear tainted question overtook the cruelty of the words from his dream as the muscles in his aching arms remembered what it was like to hold you. 

“Nah man,” Miguel answered your question. “You shouldn’t.” The mattress creaked again as he laid back down, pressing his head into his pillow. “Look, you already did the hardest part. You’re here. Day One’s the worst and you got through it.” 

Logan slowly opened his eyes as Miguel closed his and went back to sleep. Is he right? Logan thought back on the previous 24 hours: waking up without you, a hole in his chest the size and shape of you that kept expanding at a steady rate, the emotional bottoming out, the inability to feel and then the fire as he felt every cell in his body start to ignite- this all before boarding a five hour flight to cross the country. By the time he landed his head was throbbing, the thin material of his tee shirt felt like a weighted vest, and he could hardly keep his eyes open even behind dark sunglasses. It was another couple hours from the airport to the facility, and had been exactly 3 days- down to the minute- since he’d been brought into the ER in cardiac arrest from an overdose of opiates and benzodiazepines. He spent two nights in the hospital before you brought him back to his empty apartment and he’d made it even emptier by telling you to leave, and one restless night in his own bed before getting to where he was now, the lesser symptoms giving way to the buckling joint pain, sharp sensitivity to light and finally staggering nausea. Dying would be easier.  

Logan? Is that… will it help? 

He stood on the sidewalk in front of the building, the sliding doors opening in a whoosh of compressed air, hitting his skin in a cool burst before automatically closing again. It would help not to feel like this… But the question and the way that you’d asked it had been so clear and honest that he knew it deserved an honest answer, no matter how hard it was to give. No. Dying wouldn’t help, and he wasn’t sure if this would either. He wasn’t sure if anything would help. But I have to try…  When the doors slid open again, he stepped through them. 

The intake process took longer than he thought it would despite not having a frame of reference to go on, and by the time he was seated in the exam room he was agitated, sore, sweaty and dizzy. Underweight. Brachycardia. Decreased oxygen levels. That had been the conclusion- common side effects, he’d been told, most of the words hitting and bouncing off instead of sticking. There was a hum in his head that made comprehension difficult, and his spine was on fire. He wanted nothing more than to turn it off; block all the pain receptors in his brain and fade to black. But the door opened and a young woman with tattoos running behind her ear and down one side of her neck appeared to take him to meet with his counselor to finish his intake. She smiled, spoke softly, walked slowly, and told Logan that she was happy to help him in any way that she could, nodding once before knocking on the office door that she’d led him to. 

“Come in!” a voice called from the other side and the woman placed her hand on the door knob. 

Before opening the door, she turned to Logan and looked up at him. “Zeke’s the best, you’re in good hands, Logan.” He didn’t say anything, in part because he was afraid that opening his mouth would lead to getting sick. She seemed to understand, opening the door and gesturing for him to enter the office before shutting it again. 

The room was small, one corner eclipsed by a desk and a shelf overflowing with books stacked both vertically and horizontally in order to maximize the capacity. Another corner had been completely taken over by a ficus and two hanging plants, their leafy vines curving and stretching for the light coming in through the window. Two mismatched chairs were placed in front of the desk which was lined with photo frames turned towards the man who was rising to greet him. “Logan.” The tall, lean man extended a hand out to Logan who took it, his clammy, pale hand in stark contrast to the man’s firm grip, his dark brown skin making Logan’s look translucent. He didn’t flinch as he shook hands with death, simply introduced himself. “Ezekiel Abrams. Call me Zeke.” He smiled and released Logan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, take a seat and we’ll get started. I know you had a long morning so I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting some rest.” 

Logan lowered himself into the purple armchair on the right, leaning back against the cushions, depending on them to keep him upright. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I just wanna sleep.” 

Ezekiel circled back around to sit behind his desk. “Sleep will help, for sure.” He nodded as he pushed his chair closer and plucked a red and orange striped pen from a cup, clicking it with his thumb as he opened a file and took out a few pages. “Just need to ask you a few questions as a baseline, or like an inventory. Helps us figure out a direction for your treatment.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Everyone’s different, what works for me might not work for you, and there’s no point in any of this if we’re not looking for the best path for you. So yeah, I know this is the last thing you want to do right now-” Yup. “-but it’s the first step to getting you out of here so bear with me, okay?” 

There was no bullshit, no cheerleader pep-talk in his tone, just a sense of efficiency and purpose that Logan, even in the state he was in, couldn’t help but recognize. He had long well-groomed dreadlocks corralled in a loose rubber band that hung down his back, and a short, neatly trimmed beard. His greenish brown eyes were patient and kind, framed in rectangular black glasses that highlighted the spark in them that told Logan that while he was there to help, he also took no shit. He was a well educated man, that was clear from his title and from the titles of the books that lined his shelves. But he also had an air of realism about him, the kind of knowledge that you only gain through experience. Logan nodded, despite the way it made his teeth hurt to move his head. 

“Alright. First one. How are you feeling today Logan?” 

Logan actually made a sound that could be interpreted as a laugh. “Like shit, Zeke.” 

Ezekiel made notes in his file and prompted Logan to go into more detail, separating physical descriptors like pain and exhaustion from how he was feeling about being there, about his substance abuse, about what he was going through. Doubtful. Ashamed. Out of control. Those had been his answers, and instead of trying to get him to answer differently, Ezekiel recorded Logan’s feelings word for word. 

He asked next about Logan’s health history. “I know that you had a pretty serious medical event a few months back.” He flipped through his paperwork to fact check. “Dehydration and sunburn, hypothermia.” Logan swallowed a lump, the dry heat of the desert coming back to him in excruciating realism. “Aside from that, any health problems?” 

He gave a minute shake of his head. “No.” The slight motion made him dizzy and he clamped his eyes shut. God fuckin’ damnit. He brought a shaking hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, dragging it over his forehead and through his hair as he exhaled slowly. 

“That’s great, that helps.” Sure. He had a few follow up questions that Logan answered in as few words as possible before moving on to the next topic- Substance abuse history. 

Logan revealed that this was his second shot at getting clean, having wrestled with addiction shortly after his mother’s death. “And was that also opiates and prescription drugs?” Logan nodded. “And how did you deal with that last time?” 

Deal with it? I didn’t. Logan shrugged. “I just...I locked myself in my room for a week and…” and waited. 

“You didn’t get professional help?” Ezekiel asked the question without judgement, seeking only answers. 

“Help’s not an option when you’re James Delos’ son.” His lip curled on his father’s name. “Not if you don’t wanna be written off.”  

“But it was an option this time?” Logan nodded, mouth watering as his stomach swam uneasily. “Why’s that?” 

“Because I’m done trying to be in his good graces.” 

“Doing this for yourself is the only real way to succeed, so that’s good to hear. So what about the rest of your family?” 

Logan flinched. “Jul...my sister, Juliet. We…” a sudden sting behind his eyes interrupted his words as he felt tears roll down his cheeks. “We used to be close but...shit happens, you know?” Zeke raised his eyebrows and muttered a ‘yeah’ under his breath. “She… her new husband he… he and I don’t see eye to eye, let’s put it that way.” That’s the lightest fucking way to put it. “And it...that and all this, it’s…” he sighed, shoulders slumping as low as his heart. “It fucked up our relationship and I...if I can fix it I want to.” I miss her. He wondered if Juliet missed him, too. She’d have come to visit if she did, and she hadn’t. 

“Mending, or trying to mend the relationships that got broken through addiction is part of the healing process. It helps you to come to terms with what you’ve lost or set aside while you’re in active addiction. How about any partners? Are you seeing anyone? Married or?” 

Your face filled his mind and the tears that had started when he mentioned Juliet’s name came back in full force when he spoke yours. “We weren’t...we’re not together or… but she’s…” he took a shuddering breath as a chill spread through his veins. “She’s the only person I can trust...the only one who believes in me and I…” The room melted as he recalled the last happy memory he had with you… 

..  .. ..  .. .. ..  ..

“Oh, shit,” There was a surprised note to your voice, the second word coming out almost as muffled laughter. His lips twitched up into a tired smile.You were stretched out across Logan’s body, his eyes drawn to the movement of your shoulder blade as you extended one arm to reach for your phone on the bedside table. “You know what time it is?” I have an idea… but I don’t care. His fingers traced the outline of your scapula as you drew your arm back onto the mattress. Hair cascading over your back, you turned slightly, your profile backlit by the low light of the lamp across the room. Palm settling in the curve of your spine, his lips parted as a breath slipped out. She’s beautiful. He’d known that from the moment he laid eyes on you, mesmerized by your movements, by the angles that your body made, the arch of your brow and the pillow of your lips. But it’s more than that now. You wrinkled your nose and turned onto your hip, still draped over him but propped up on your elbow. He raised his hand so that you could move, then let it drop to your bicep. “Logan?” His eyes were heavy but he kept them on you as you raked the hair away from them. “Did you hear me? It’s 3 am, I should,” you gave him a sleepy smile to match the one he was wearing. “I should get going.” 

“Stay.” His eyes narrowed as he spoke the word, almost shocked that it had come out of his mouth. Both hands found their way to your body, fingers flexing quickly, as though expressing their own unwillingness to let you go. You were clearly just as taken aback by his request as he was, and he understood. Logan Delos didn’t ask anyone to spend the night. Typically, he didn’t even ask his partners into his bedroom, instead using the pool house or one of the empty guest rooms. His space was his own, and he didn’t want it to become haunted by the misconstrued imaginings of the men and women that he took to bed. But with her it’s different. He suddenly realized that it had been for a while. 

For a few seconds you didn’t say anything, wide eyes searching his questioningly as though trying to make sure you’d heard him correctly. “Logan, you don’t…” you gave a small shake of your head, another tousled strand of hair falling into your eyes that you swept back into place, his eyes following the movement of your fingers. 

“I don’t what?” He tilted his head as he waited for you to finish your sentence. Don’t say I don’t want that. I do. He swallowed, hoping that you could feel the naked truth of how much he wanted you. 

“I-” You let out another near laugh, a look of guarded skepticism furrowing your forehead. You sighed. “You’re leaving early for your trip and I-” 

“Not leaving until ten,” he cut you off, not wanting to give you time to build your case. His touch trailed down your body until his hands found your waist, gripping you by the hips to turn you parallel to himself. Your thigh fell between his legs, forearms landing on either side of his ribs. “And the thing about owning your own jet is that it doesn’t take off until you’re ready to leave.” I don’t give a shit about being on time for this trip. He spoke your name, dragging his fingers up and down your back lazily. “Stay.”  

You laughed again, but he could see the questions still lingering in your eyes. “Logan,” you said his name softly then, your right hand curving around the slope of his neck where it met his shoulder. “That’s not…” His grip tightened on you again, but before he could say anything else you continued, voice small and vulnerable. “Are you sure?”

He knew why you were asking. You were protecting yourself, and he understood that. He knew he couldn’t promise you anything, not yet anyway. But she’s not asking me to. He reached for you, fingers curling under your chin and thumb brushing your lips. They opened beneath his touch, your breath warming his skin. Logan slid his palm up to cup your cheek, bringing your face closer to his own. “I’m sure.” The hand on your back pressed you the few inches closer that he needed to close the distance until his lips could cover yours. You sighed into the kiss and he felt you relax against him, felt the tension leave your muscles as you responded. I’m so fucking sure. His arms wound around you and he willed time to slow, to stop. I’ve never wanted to board a flight less than I do right now. If this trip wasn’t important to Juliet he’d blow it off without a second thought. If you stayed, he’d have a few hours of this, of you resting next to him, your quiet breathing syncing with his, your arm draped over his chest, limbs heavy as you slept. If you stayed, he could wake up to you in his arms and know what it was like to spend the first few minutes of morning with someone. Not with someone. With her.    

There were still questions in your eyes as you pulled back, and he knew that he’d put them there. Usually he wanted his partners to maintain their reservations about things becoming more serious. He wanted there to be obstacles and reasons to keep things meaningless. Trust was the last thing he needed from any of them, and he wasn’t looking for it when he first met you, either. But now… He’d told you that he’d made you his emergency contact at the park, but he hadn’t told you that it was because you were the only person who he felt completely comfortable with. Logan hadn’t told you, but it had been a month since he’d been with anyone but you. And since he hadn’t told you those things, you couldn’t possibly know that he was asking you to stay because for the first time in his life, he thought that maybe it was possible that someone could love him. Not someone… He kept his eyes on yours as he watched the questions ebb and flow until finally you answered. 

“Alright, Delos,” you leaned in to lay a soft kiss to his cheek, a light feeling filling his chest as he smiled. “But you better not snore,” you whispered against his skin. 

He laughed, a dizzy, sleepy happiness buzzing in his brain as he turned his face to capture your lips again. No problem. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, fueled by the little sigh you let out and the way that you tightened your grip on him. “No snoring, promise.” 

Logan didn’t make promises. He didn’t like being bound to anyone or anything because he knew that no matter how much effort he put into something, there were always going to be variables that were beyond his control, and he didn’t want to be responsible for mitigating them. But he had no problem making this promise, because he doubted he’d actually be doing much sleeping. He lifted his arm to let you situate yourself against his side, then dropped it down to tuck you even closer, reaching for the sheet with his free hand. You trailed your fingers through the thin smattering of hair that covered his chest as you slid one of your legs between his. He inhaled through his nose, the scent of your perfume and the tingling from your touch overwhelming him. “G’night, Logan,” you yawned as you pressed your palm over his heart. 

Almost automatically, he brought his hand up to cover yours on his sternum, keeping it in place as he buried his lips in your hair. “Night.” She stayed...she… He tilted his chin down, taking in the sight of you curled next to him. You closed your eyes and the second that you did he was caught off guard by the way it felt to have your trust in this way, to have you this way. As your breathing slowed, your weight settled and you gave yourself over to sleep, he nestled his lips in your hair once more, wispy strands getting caught in his beard as he kissed you again. “Thank you for saying yes,” he whispered, too quiet for you to ever hear. Thank you for saying yes to me.      

..  .. ..  .. .. ..  ..  

“Logan?” He snapped his head up too quickly, setting it spinning again, taking the walls with it. She’s the only one who ever said yes to me. “Logan?” He blinked and when the room came back into view, he met Ezekiel’s eyes, yours fading from his mind. “If you need to take a break, we can.” 

Will it help? 

“No, it’s-” he wiped at his eyes and sniffed, that hole in his heart, the one that he’d carved to look like you, filling with ice. “It’s...I wanna finish.” He blinked again and again, bleary eyes burning from the tears and the migraine and the lights in the room.

“Alright, good.” Zeke cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry that it didn’t...that things with this woman didn’t-” he sighed. “If she’s a good friend she’ll be there for you.” He left it at that, not making any wild promises or suggestions that Logan should reach back out to you, that the two of you could have a chance at happily ever after again. 

I’ll be here when you get back. 

That’s what you’d said. And I told her no. I- the pain behind his eyes reached a new high and he winced, gripping the top of his head and gritting his teeth.   

Zeke noticed Logan’s distress. He stood, clipboard in hand as he crossed to the door.  “Just a few more of these, Logan, almost done.” Flicking one set of light switches with the end of his pen, he turned and crossed back to his desk. The change in brightness helped immediately, the jackhammer behind his eyes easing to a dull throb. Fuck, that’s better. Logan swallowed and took a deep breath as Zeke sat back down, the nausea subsiding at least for the moment. The man flipped to the next page of questions without acknowledging the lights or the noticeable relief that his action had brought. His face showed no signs of pity; no sympathetic yet reassuring smile, no sad, pathetic furrowing of his brow- just understanding. He lifted his chin to look back up at Logan. “Two more, yeah?” 

Logan pushed his sweat dampened hair back with the bony fingers of his left hand meeting Ezekiel’s hazel eyes. Make ‘em quick. “Yeah.” 

“What would you say is your motivation for seeking treatment?”  

“I…” He felt something break inside himself then, which was odd because he didn’t know that there was anything left to break. “I don’t want to die.” Not really. “I don’t wanna feel like this. But I don’t want… I don’t want this to kill me.” 

Ezekiel had heard every answer imaginable to that question, Logan was sure, so he didn’t react with more than a nod and the scratch of his pen on paper. “Alright, Logan, you’ve done great. Last one.” He set his pen down and rested both forearms on his desk, reaching up to adjust the rim of his glasses. “What is your treatment goal?” 

Logan’s head was pounding, his nervous system overloaded with pain signals. Didn’t I just answer that? “I… I just said…” 

“No, you said you don’t want to die. That’s a motivation, not a goal. What do you want for yourself after this? What do you hope to change or learn about yourself?” 

After. Logan hadn’t thought that far, only making the decision to check into a treatment center two days prior to sitting where he sat now. “I… what do I want to change?” Ezekiel nodded, face set in an expression that showed that he wouldn’t budge on expecting an answer. “Everything.” 

Zeke shook his head, a quirk to his lips. “Nah, Logan, you don’t want to change everything. You’re a smart man, you got a lot of good in you. You don’t need to change everything. What do you want?” 

For the longest time all Logan could remember wanting was a spot in the Delos boardroom. If not that, then a hit of pleasure, an escape. But now? “I… I want to get better.” 

Ezekiel took a slow breath in through his nose, letting it out just as slowly, eyes on Logan the whole time. “That’s a good start, Logan.” Start? No that’s- “But I know you can do better than that. So I’m gonna ask you every day until you figure it out.” 

“What if I don’t?” Why isn’t that good enough? 

Zeke stood and came around to stand next to Logan as he slowly rose as well. “You will.” He clapped Logan gently on the shoulder. “I know you will.”

.

.

.

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[fanfoolishness]

a world for the birds (3/10)

Andy DeMayo took up birding years ago, but his favorite hobby takes on new meaning when shared with his nephew Steven.

A series of looks at Andy and Steven’s growing family relationship.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

***

Chapter 3: hard work

It was a few months before Andy found his way back to Beach City again.  He couldn’t say why.  Sometimes, it felt good to be back in Delmarva.  Other times, it felt like a pair of boots he’d outgrown, a place where ghosts and memories didn’t exactly fit with Gems strolling the countryside and alien buildings rising up above the landscape.  

He’d never liked change.  It galled him, the older it got, knowing how much it bothered him.  How hard it was for him.  Like there was something inside him digging his heels in, resisting anything different as hard as it could.  It’d always been like that.

But then people like Greg, they could wander off and change their name, their life, everything.  Steven was living proof of that.  He missed them, and Aunt Deb and her partner, and the other cousins, scattered to the winds, but sometimes, it was still easier to be on his own.

So he spent a few months flying around the Southern Hemisphere, places he’d visited before, places he’d never heard of.  He took odd delivery jobs for food and lodging, traded for field guides of local birds, sent the occasional text message to family in the rare occasions he got service.  He sent Steven a blurry picture of a marvellous spatuletail (a lifer!), a Peruvian thick-knee, a tiny dot that he swore was a waved albatross.  He was gratified when Steven sent him a few amateur photos of northern cardinals and a nice one of a blue grosbeak.  

And then there weren’t any messages for a few weeks, and Andy got worried.

***

There was a lot more change than he’d expected.  

Gems and humans roamed the boardwalk of Beach City, performing construction on storefronts that looked like they’d been through a hurricane.  The grass on the lighthouse hill was patchy and bare in many places like it had been burned.  And all along the beach were rocks and patches of sand with filmy pink residue on them, caution tape strung up around them, and Gems working feverishly to clean the areas.

Andy had to argue with one particular Gem before they’d let him pass to the beach house, a towering black and white person with a face that reminded him of the sun.  “Sorry, it’s not safe for humans,” she said.  “It’s snow joke, it’s seriously toxic.”  She winked.

“Uh, right,” he said. “But look, Steven’s my nephew and he lives just around the bend.  I’m just in town to visit.  What the heck happened here?”

“Uncle Andy!” Steven called, hurrying up to him across the sand, carefully avoiding the roped off pink-stained areas.  “Oh, man, I’m so sorry you had to see this.  We’re working as hard as we can to clean it up.”  He closed the distance and catapulted himself into a hug with Andy.

Andy patted him on the head.  Had he grown a little more?  He looked different, a black t-shirt today instead of a blue one, shadows under his eyes.  “You okay, kid?”

“Thanks, Snowflake,” said Steven.  “I’ll keep him safe.”

“You got it,” said Snowflake, leaving them alone.  Andy watched the massive Gem walk off, shaking his head.  Maybe this was one of the former monster Gems Steven had been talking about.  She certainly looked less like a normal hippie than the rest of Steven’s family.

“So what happened?  I stopped hearing from you and your dad for a while --”

Steven rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.  “Ugh.  Everything’s been a mess.  Basically it turns out that not everyone agreed the Gem war was over.  A Gem my mom hurt came to Earth to try to destroy it.  We stopped her, mostly, but she still did a lot of damage.”

“Looks like you and your people are fixing it, though.  That’s good, right?” Andy asked uncertainly.  He listened for the sound of gulls and terns on the air, but all he heard was the breeze and the waves.  He let out a long sigh.  

Steven yawned.  He really did look exhausted, his hair mussed, his clothes rumpled.  “The Gems are taking care of the areas where there’s still detectable bio-poison, but I can’t help with that part.  It hurts me, too.  But once an area’s clean --”  He spotted a patch of bare soil beside them.  He licked his hand, then knelt and pressed it to the dirt.

“Uh, Steven --”

The bare soil sprouted over with green and olive moss, shimmering in the sunlight as it grew before his eyes.  “Once it’s clean, that’s where I come in,” said Steven, sounding both proud and tired.  He straightened up, stretching as he did so.  “I’m the only one with healing powers, so, you know, it’s a lot of work.  I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” he said.

Andy crossed his arms, staring at the long stretch of beach, the patchy hillside.  “You gotta do all this?”

“Yeah,” said Steven blankly.

“But it wasn’t even your fault.”

“So?”

Andy tried to figure out the words. You’re just a kid probably wouldn’t go over well.  He tried a variation.  “Don’t you got your own stuff to do?  You shouldn’t have to do all this work.  Not at your age.”

“But I’m the only one who can fix it,” said Steven, a stubborn note creeping into his voice.

“How many hours a day are you doin’ this?  Healing the earth?” Andy asked, trying to sound casual.

“Pretty much as soon as I get up until it gets dark,” said Steven.  “There’s so much to do.  All the Gems are helping with reconstruction and removing the poison, and I have to do my part, too.”

“Didn’t you say once Gems don’t even sleep?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Steven defensively.  “Look, I said I would protect the Earth, and it almost got destroyed on my watch.  This is my duty as a Crystal Gem!”  He was flushed, his cheeks pink, one hand splayed over the star on his chest.

Andy opened his mouth, then closed it again.  Okay, sure, he had to believe him if the kid said he was the only one with this kind of magic, however it all worked.  But still.  It bugged him how much the kid looked like Greg right now.

Greg, who got more and more quiet during summers at the barn.  Greg, who’d been grim and resentful that last summer, constantly fighting with his parents.  Greg, who never came back.

There’d been a lot of reasons, he’d learned more recently, that Greg had left them all.  This wasn’t exactly the same.  But something about Steven’s pinched face and his narrowed eyes made him look so much like his dad, and Andy’s stomach clenched.

“Look, kid, I -- this is all over my head,” said Andy.  “Just try to be careful.  Okay?  You seem worn out.  Don’t forget you’re part of the Earth, too.”  

Steven’s face relaxed, then creased in a smile.  “I know, Uncle Andy.  Thanks.”  He sighed.  “I still have to do a lot of work today.  But my dad’s probably free if you want to hang.”

“I’ll go swing by and see if he wants to grab a bite,” said Andy.  “Maybe you can join us for dessert or something, huh?”

Steven stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.  “Um, maybe.  But the ice cream place has been closed down after… after all this happened.”

“Oh.  Right.”

“Don’t worry about me, seriously,” said Steven.  “Your next visit, everything’s gonna be back to normal.  I promise.”  He flashed him another grin, and headed back down the beach, his shoulders hunched.

***

Andy pushed his crab cake around on his plate, watching it crumble and flake.  Good chunks of crab in there, only the barest minimum of bread needed to keep it shaped.  It was decent stuff.  Too bad he was hardly hungry.  He took another drink of his beer, a crisp lager.  

“So this crazy Gem almost blew up your town?  And the Earth?” asked Andy.

Greg took a drink of his own pint, searching for words.  “Well, to hear Steven tell it, she wasn’t crazy.  Just in a lot of pain.  He had a lot of compassion for her.  It probably saved his life.”

“Well, hell,” said Andy.  “Does this kind of thing happen often?   I mean, he really could have died, it sounds like.”

Greg nodded, letting out a long breath.  “I got hit with that poison myself.  I think it actually killed my arm.  Thank goodness for Steven’s healing powers; it’s good as new.”  He flexed his fist.  “Gem stuff’s dangerous.  It always has been.”

“But how does Steven always get mixed up in it?  I mean, you and me, we ain’t got any magic powers to protect him with, but what about his Gem family?” Andy asked.  “You can’t tell me out of all them alien ladies that none of them can fight.”

Greg chuckled, taking a bite from his stuffed blue crab.  “Oh, they can fight. But sometimes they’re just plain outmatched.  Rose’s family, the Diamonds, they’re literally over fifty feet tall. Each.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Promise I’m not.  One of them picked me up like I was a toy in the palm of her hand, and kidnapped me to a human zoo in space,” said Greg, nonchalantly taking another drink.  “Steven and the Gems had to rescue me.  Good thing they did, too, since I accidentally started a riot because I wouldn’t say yes to an arranged marriage in the zoo.”

“Greg!  What the hell!”

Greg shrugged.  “I’ve seen a lot of weird shit, Andy.”

Andy laughed.  “Shoot, Greg, that’s what I always liked about you.  Always letting stuff roll right off your back.  Does anything ever bother you?”

He knew the answer, though.  Remembered Greg’s mom and dad, sweet like pie until he saw them chewing out Greg behind the barn, grinding him down with cruel calm words that weren’t even proper yelling.  He’d seen how those words stuck to Greg, a corrosive poison all its own.

He remembered it, but didn’t mention it.

Greg answered him. “What can I say?  It’s a gift.  So what’s been going on with you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.  Flyin’ around wherever the wind takes me.  Spent some time in South America for a couple months.  Chilly this time of year south of the Equator, but that’s okay.  I like the winter weather.  It’s quiet, except when it’s fierce as hell,” said Andy.  “Sometimes I just need time to myself, you know?”

“I know,” said Greg.  He smiled, taking another drink.  “You were always like that as a kid.  We’d be playing some loud crazy game and you’d be off by yourself, grumping about how loud our made-up songs were.”

“Did not,” protested Andy.

“Nah, you did.”

“Well, so what?  Nothing wrong with alone time.”

“C’mon, like I can talk,” said Greg.  “I’m the one who ran off and changed my name, aren’t I?  Guess I really needed some alone time.”  He leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.  “I’m really glad we reconnected, Andy.  I just wish I’d looked for you after Steven was born.  I tried writing my folks, but…. They never wrote back. I kinda assumed the rest of the family didn’t want anything to do with us, either.”

“Your folks are stuck-up snobs, though,” said Andy, taking a bite of his crab cake, some of his appetite returning.  “It always surprised me, how they had a kid like you.  Not that you were a bad kid.  Just different.  My mom and dad never really got on with them, but they always made the effort because they thought maybe you and me could be friends.”

“Heh.  Thanks, Andy.  I used to wish sometimes I could’ve had your folks for parents instead.  They were good people.  At least they would have wanted to meet their grandson.”  Greg finished his ale, gazing at the waves behind Andy.  

“Your folks are missin’ out,” said Andy.  “You got a good kid, Greg.  Though I worry about him a little.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.  I mean, maybe it’s nothing,” said Andy hastily, not wanting to step on any toes.  “Like I said, he’s a good kid.  He puts up with me and my birds and all.  I think he’s even birding on his own sometimes.  How neat is that?  But I saw him at the beach today and it seems like he’s runnin’ himself ragged.”

“I know,” said Greg, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands.  “I’m so proud of him, Andy.  Like I said, if it wasn’t for his compassion, I think the Earth would have been toast.  He’s so kindhearted.  But on the other hand, he works so hard.  Harder than I’ve ever worked at anything, except maybe raising him.  I know he didn’t have a normal childhood, and I didn’t want him to, but… I do wonder sometimes, how does he do it?”

“How does he?”

“I don’t know,” said Greg, and they fell into a silence, the waves soft and distant in the background.