#he’s at the little place in between the grass and the sand

[employee1618152017]

we don't know anything you don't tell us, so no

How did you know I was going here then?

> [28/30]

[fairqves]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────I’LL WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE.

(🧺) ── 𝓙EONG JAEHYUN﹙정재현﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ f2l ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ lovesick jae❞ best friend! jaehyun x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 2.7K ꒱ SYPNoSiS 𐙚 year by year, moment by moment, growing up with jaehyun has led to the love you’ve been waiting for all along .ᐟ ── LiBRARY

─2005

THE FIRST TIME YOU MEET JEONG JAEHYUN,

you’re both eight years old, and it’s the last day of second grade—it’s one of those annoyingly hot afternoons where the sun is brighter than ever, stretching shadows across the playground.

you’re sitting on the swings, your feet barely brushing the sand, when you notice a boy standing nearby, hesitating, as if unsure whether to approach.

he’s holding a small toy in his hands, a little red car with chipped paint, and he’s staring at it with a furrowed brow.

he finally looks up and meets your gaze, and there’s something curious and open in his eyes.

“hi,” he says, his voice nervous but steady. “i’m jaehyun.”

you tilt your head, watching him, and he gestures to the empty swing beside you. “can i sit?” ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you nod, and he sits down, gripping the rusty chains of the swing and kicking his feet off the ground in a way that feels awkward, like he’s too big for it already.

for a while, the two of you just sit, listening to the squeak of the swings and the lively chatter of the kids around you.

“i like the swings,” he finally says, his voice quiet. “it feels like i’m flying, like superman.”

you smile, feeling an instant connection to this boy with his shy smile and big dreams. “me too, but batman’s better than superman.”

from that day on, jaehyun becomes a constant in your life.

every day after school, he finds you on the playground, and together, you make up games, share secrets, and talk about everything from your favorite snacks to the names you’d give your future pets.

he tells you he wants to be a singer someday, his face lighting up with excitement, and you tell him that you think he’ll be amazing at it.

─2010

MIDDLE SCHOOL ARRIVES, BRINGING A LOAD OF CHANGE.

suddenly, jaehyun is taller, his voice has deepened, and he’s taken up basketball.

you notice the way people seem to watch him now, like he’s someone worth paying attention to.

but even though he’s growing into himself, becoming the kind of boy who can light up a room, he’s still your best friend.

one autumn afternoon, the two of you are sitting on the grass behind the school, sharing a pack of chips after practice.

the leaves are a vibrant mix of orange and red around you, and the air is crisp, the kind that makes you feel alive.

as you talk, he reaches over and plucks a small wildflower growing in the grass, examining it with a thoughtful expression—without a word, he hands it to you, his cheeks turning pink.

“it reminded me of you,” he says, a little shyly. “small but… strong.”

you take the flower, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest that you can’t quite place your finger on.

you press it between the pages of your notebook that night, letting it dry as a quiet reminder of that moment, a memory of a shift between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

─2014

BY HIGH SCHOOL, JAEHYUN IS SOMEONE EVERYONE NOTICES.

he’s joined the basketball team and fills out his uniform in a way that turns heads—girls pass him notes in class, and he’s always surrounded by people who want to be near him, to bask in his warmth.

but even with all the attention, he never changes around you.

he’s still the boy who waits for you outside your classroom, who finds you in the crowded hallways with an easy smile.

one friday night, there’s a big party, and he convinces you to go with him—the house is filled with people, the music loud and the lights dim.

you feel a little out of place, but jaehyun stays by your side, his arm slung over your shoulder as he introduces you to his friends, laughing and making sure you’re comfortable.

at some point, the noise becomes too much, and you slip outside for a moment to catch your breath.

you’re leaning against the porch railing, looking up at the stars, when you hear footsteps behind you.

“hey,” jaehyun’s voice is soft, and he’s smiling as he joins you, leaning beside you on the railing. “you okay?”

you nod, grateful for the quiet moment away from the crowd. “just needed some air.”

he watches you, his gaze warm. “thanks for coming with me. i know parties aren’t really your thing.”

his words make you feel seen in a way that goes deeper than friendship, and you wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in the stillness.

for a moment, you’re both quiet, the night stretching around you, and you feel a longing settle deep in your chest—a quiet, insistent feeling that you’re almost afraid to acknowledge.

─2016

SENIOR YEAR IS A BITTERSWEET TIME.

the two of you are talking about colleges, dreams, and the future—you’ve applied to different universities, and the thought of not seeing jaehyun every day makes your heart ache.

one afternoon, you’re sitting in the school gym, watching as he practices with the basketball team.

he’s focused, his movements graceful and sure, and you find yourself lost in the sight of him—when practice ends, he jogs over, grinning, his hair damp with sweat.

“thanks for waiting,” he says, a little breathless, he tosses his towel over his shoulder, his smile softening as he looks at you.

“can we go somewhere?” he asks after a moment, his voice quiet.

there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that you rarely see, and you nod, letting him lead you outside.

you end up at the park, the same one where you met years ago.

sitting on the swings, just like you did when you were kids, there’s a feeling of nostalgia between you, a sense that something is ending.

“i’m going to miss this,” he murmurs, his voice soft. he looks at you, his eyes reflecting the sadness in your own.

for a moment, you feel a surge of courage, the desire to tell him everything that’s been building in your heart over the years.

but the words catch in your throat, and instead, you reach over, slipping your hand into his.

“me too,” you whisper.

─2018

UNIVERSITY IS A STRANGE AND LONELY PLACE WITHOUT JAEHYUN.

you both try to stay in touch, texting and calling when you can, but the distance is hard, the busy schedules and new friendships creating gaps that you can’t always bridge.

but you still make time for each other, clinging to the friendship that has been your constant for so long.

one weekend, he comes to visit you—the moment you see him standing outside your dorm, that familiar, warm smile lighting up his face, it feels like coming home.

you spend the day exploring the city, eating at food stalls, wandering through bookstores, laughing and talking like no time has passed at all.

that night, you’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

jaehyun is beside you, his breathing steady and soft—you can feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence, and you wonder if he knows how much he means to you.

in the quiet darkness, he reaches over, his hand finding yours. “you’re still my favorite person,” he whispers, his voice carrying a vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

you squeeze his hand, the words catching in your throat. “you’re mine too, jaehyun.”

─2021

NOW TWENTY-FOUR,

you’re both navigating the chaos of post-college life, juggling work, bills, and responsibilities.

jaehyun’s career is taking off, his life filled with new challenges, new dreams.

and though your paths have diverged, you still find time for each other, the bond between you as strong as ever.

one evening, he shows up at your apartment, looking exhausted and worn, the weight of his schedule pressing heavily on his shoulders.

without a word, you pull him inside, letting him sink onto the couch.

you make him tea, sitting beside him as he sips it slowly, his eyes closed in relief. “thanks for this,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “i just… needed a break.”

you reach over, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “you don’t have to do everything alone, jaehyun. i’m here.”

his eyes open, meeting yours, and there’s something deep and raw in his gaze, a quiet acknowledgment of everything you’ve shared over the years.

he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels intimate, grounding.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

and in that moment, you know that no matter where life takes you, he’ll always be a part of your story.

─2023

NOW AT TWENTY-SIX,

you’re both a little older, a little wiser, but still tethered by that bond that has carried you through every stage of life.

you’ve shared dreams, heartaches, and countless memories, and through it all, your feelings for jaehyun have only grown, a quiet love that’s been there all along.

one summer evening, you’re at his apartment, cooking dinner together.

the kitchen is a mess, there’s sauce spilled on the counter, the scent of garlic filling the air.

you’re laughing, both of you a little tipsy, the warmth of the wine making you feel bold.

as you sit down to eat, jaehyun looks at you, his expression serious, his gaze soft and steady.

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you, i’ve been putting it off for about a decade though,” he says jokingly, but you could hear the weight behind his words.

your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, feeling the seriousness of the mood.

“i think… i think i’ve been in love with you for a long time,” he confesses, his voice trembling anxiously. “i didn’t know how to tell you, or even if i should. but i can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

tears fill your eyes as you reach for his hand, your fingers entwining. “i’ve been waiting for you to say that for so so long,” you whisper, your voice heavy with emotion. “i love you too, jaehyun.”

in that moment, every doubt, every fear melts away, leaving only the truth that’s been there all along—he’s the love you’ve been waiting for.

and as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you know that you’ve finally made it where you were always meant to be.

─PRESENT DAY

NOW, LYING BESIDE JAEHYUN IN THE EARLY MORNING LIGHT,

you feel the quiet peace that comes from being right where you’re meant to be.

the sunlight filters softly through the blinds, gentle rays fill the room and paints jaehyun’s face in warm, golden light.

his arm is draped over your waist, and you can feel his slow, steady breathing, his warmth seeping into you as he stirs slightly, eyes fluttering open.

he blinks, looking at you with a sleepy smile, the kind that’s just for you, a little private thing that makes your heart swell.

his hair is tousled, his face soft with sleep, and you can’t help but reach up, brushing a strand away from his forehead.

“morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick and a little raspy, but filled with a tenderness that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“morning,” you reply, your voice just as soft.

for a moment, you both lie there in comfortable silence, simply watching each other, basking in the warmth of the morning and the quiet intimacy that fills the room.

jaehyun lifts his hand, gently running his thumb over your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours.

“what’s on your mind?” he asks quietly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you, a joy that’s almost too big for words. “you,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks heat up, even after all these years of knowing him.

his smile widens, a small chuckle escaping as he leans closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss that feels like a promise.

he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with that familiar, deep affection that has only grown with time.

“i really like that answer,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle murmur that echoes the countless quiet moments you’ve shared over the years.

as you lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, you think of everything you’ve been through, every stage of life you’ve faced side by side.

from playgrounds to high school hallways, from late-night calls in college to quiet evenings in the kitchen, your lives have been woven together in a bundle of shared moments, small joys, and unspoken promises.

jaehyun sighs, a contented, happy sound as he pulls you closer, his hand trailing up and down your back in a slow, comforting rhythm.

“i don’t think i ever told you this,” he says, his voice a quiet murmur. “but there was always something about you… from the very beginning. even as kids, i knew that you were going to be someone special to me. someone i couldn’t live without.”

you smile, feeling a lump form in your throat as his words sink in—you reach up, cupping his cheek, brushing your thumb along his jawline.

“i think i always knew, too,” you say softly. “you’ve been my best friend, my constant… and now my love.”

a warmth blooms between you, filling the room with a quiet kind of joy that feels both old and new, a love that’s grown through years of friendship and shared memories.

jaehyun presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he whispers, “thank you for waiting for me. for always being there.”

you close your eyes, leaning into his touch, your heart swelling with a happiness that feels almost overwhelming.

“you were worth the wait, jaehyun,” you murmur, feeling the truth of those words settle around you like a warm blanket.

the two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, letting the quiet morning stretch around you.

it’s a moment that feels suspended in time, a snapshot of a love that’s been years in the making, built on a foundation of trust and friendship.

eventually, he shifts, pulling you closer, his gaze soft as he studies your face.

“what do you say we make breakfast?” he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at the familiar suggestion. “as long as you don’t burn the food this time,” you tease, poking his side.

jaehyun grins, a playful light in his eyes as he sits up, pulling you with him. “no promises,” he says, his laughter filling the room as he pulls you out of bed and leads you to the kitchen, your hands still intertwined.

as you sit down together, sharing a simple breakfast, you realize that this—these quiet, everyday moments—are the ones you’ll cherish the most.

because after all the years of waiting, all the moments of longing and uncertainty, you’ve finally found your way to each other after all your years of knowing him.

jaehyun reaches across the table, his hand finding yours, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, enduring love that speaks of all the years you’ve shared, all the small moments that have led you here.

and in that moment, with his hand in yours and his smile lighting up the room, you know that every second of waiting was worth it.

every second of waiting for his love was worth it.

© FAIRQVES 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. i genuinely enjoyed writing this sm !! i miss my husband already guys this is so horrendous T-T i was listening to we can’t be friends string ver while writing this i’m literally sobbing ☹️

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[fee224]

When loosing feels like winning

Rafe Cameron x overlooked!reader

“Cmon” you giggled, leading rafe away from midsummers and through the long sand path parted in between long grass that lead to the cove.

Rafe was chuckling behind you, holding onto your hand out of fear of losing you. The air getting colder and darker with each step as rafe helped you climb up the sand dune. “Be careful baby.” He was still chuckling at your rash movements, pulling him from the balcony with his friends and hauling him away from the country club.

You were far passed tipsy, this might be the drunkest you’ve ever been. You couldn’t tell if rafe was drunk. His smile was more messy and his cheeks were a little tinted.

You kicked your heels off, leaving you in your pretty midsummers dress, it was pale and matched your nails. Your feet met the sand as rafe picked up your shoes behind you.

The feeling of the soft sand, summer evening air and rafes hands on your hips, you felt dizzy. There was a faint echo of music from the club, you tried listening but the sound of your heart was beating faster and stronger.

“Where are you taking us princess” his arms enveloped your stomach pulling you against his chest and stopping you in your tracks. Kissing your neck, you turned around, standing stiff in front of him, giggling as his lips worked all the way up to your lips.

Your hands intertwined with the collar of his shirt pulling him further into you and towards the sand floor. He was groaning in your mouth, only confirming your strong feelings towards your boyfriend.

You fell onto your knees, facing each other as he gripped the fleshy part of your hips pulling you into his growing groin.

Your right leg reached higher, pushing him to the sand by his back as you straddled his hips, legs wrapping around his thighs. Trying to focus hard on kissing him instead of any other part of this whole thing.

As his arms surrounded your waist and placed you gently onto your back and nipped at the neck line of your dress. Pulling it down with his soft lips as your back arched and head engraved into the ground, trying to repress a moan and save the embarrassment.

His head lowered, kissing your chest, seeing it all for the first time as you played with his hair, the stars fuzzy above you.

“Baby you’re so… pretty and..” his face came back above you, talking to you directly as his hands stroked on your hips “I just- you’re so sweet and I need you to know that okay?” He kissed your lips, confirming his words as you smiled up at him, embracing his kind words as he cupped your face and kissed you hard.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to” you’re eyes shifted, to a more pleading look, you’re eyebrows raised slightly as he chuckled, kissing your lips again.

“Yeah me too” his lips wandered further again, sitting on his knees in between your legs as he slowly undressed you to your underwear, whispering sweet words as he did so. Complimenting everything in-front of him.

As you watched, lying on the sand, he took his dress jacket off and then the buttons on his shirt, you leaned up. Helping him starting from the bottom, your fingers met after the third button you undid, you’re eyes meeting too as you smiled shyly when he brung you back to the ground.

Nobody else around, the dark night and the sandy grass a few steps away, enclosing you and rafe in this moment.

You made a conscious effort to remember every feeling, every word. You hadn’t done this before, been this close to someone, emotionally or physically, platonically or romantically, you made sure to savour it because you weren’t sure how many moments like this you would get again in your life. With rafe. With a boy. With a boy like rafe who acted a lot like a man. More like a man then a lot of men.

Your underwear were being pulled gently down your legs as you attempted to stop shifting underneath him. You were physically trembling with nerves. You wanted it to happen, you just could hardly move with nerves.

His fingers traced your entrance, gently and slowly as you gasped. “Sorry” you giggled quietly, looking back up at the stars as rafes eyes remained staring at the beauty in front of him. “S’okay baby, don’t need to apologise”.

After warning you it might hurt, and holding your hand, he entered reluctantly slow. His body went lax as yours coiled and squeezed hard on his palm. You didn’t have to complain for rafe to pause for a moment and kiss your mouth gently.

“Tell me what to do sweetheart”

“Mmm please just keep kissing me” you inched your face up, bringing your lips to his as he kissed you back lovingly, smiling at your connection as he dropped into you lower.

Until it felt good, till you asked him to move. He was still slow and gentle, going at your pace forever if you asked him to. Little moans and mewls were coming from your mouth as you clawed at his neck.

“Rafe i- somethings happenin-” every thrust was leaving your insides closer to something that felt like maybe death.

Every deep thrust making you shiver until you were spasming to the brink of extinction, he slowed down as you came around his cock. You’re eyes shutting, as he pulled out, quickly wrapping you in his suit jacket as you laid quietly and sleeping on the sand. His hand moved to your heart to check your pulse.

He took a minute to look at you, and the situation he was so deep in. He had waited for this moment, and it was so much better than any past ride or wet dream.

He fucked you with real love and that was all he was ever going to do. Love you with his all real love. The way you peacefully lay, unconscious from the exhausting day.

He changed in a rush, trying to drag his eyes off you until he was done, picking you up like you were nothing and bringing you back to midsummers. A cigarettes after sex song playing and couples slow dancing on the floor, drinking on the balcony with women’s head leaning on man’s shoulder. He ignored it all but you, swiping your hair out of your face as he slipped past the beach house and into the car park where he tucked you into passenger, next to your dress and heels, underneath all the blankets he could find in his truck.

“M’gonna take care of you” he kissed your forehead, shutting the truck door and getting in alongside you.

- fee xxx

[sturniolohouse]

Anniversary in the Cape - M.S

A/N: hey so, i feel CRAZY after writing this. this is truly an example of the duality of my writing... also, i'm sorry if there's any typos, i've proofread a ton and even stuck this bitch in grammarly but i could have missed something. she's looonnnng, so get some wine (if legal) and some popcorn and enjoy!!!!!! ALSO, ALSO, minors!!! DNI!!!! pls and thank you. :)

summary: matt and reader take their relationship to the next level, going on an overdue vacation to the cape for their anniversary.

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected do not recommend), spanking, choking, matt being hot, uhhh idk

word count: 5.8k

song: stargazing - the neighborhood

'started with a spark, now we're on fire'

"And you're sure your parents were okay with us using the car and the house?" I ask looking at him focus on the road in front of him.

"Yes, baby. For the one-hundredth time, they don't mind. Quit worrying, this is our vacation," He looks at me quickly, taking a hand off the wheel to meet my thigh and squeeze it lightly.

"I know, I'm just nervous," I admit softly and he turns to me with wide playful eyes.

"Nervous! Why the hell are you nervous?" He laughs in bewilderment, and I roll my eyes, shrugging slightly.

"I mean, obviously we've been alone before, but we've never been away just the two of us," I explain.

"Yeah, and I'm fucking ecstatic about it. Like you said, no interruptions, quiet house, on the cape...possibilities are endless." He says looking at me with a small suggestive smile growing on his face.

Of course, Matt and I get alone time. Do we get as much as we would like? No.

It's difficult finding time for ourselves when Matt lives with his brothers and my roommates are hermits.

Which I never saw as an issue, because I honestly don't mind spending time with Chris and Nick whenever I'm by their place–which is often. I was actually friends with all of them way before Matt and I began dating. 

But when Matt brought up the last time we had gone on a real date, it had been months.

"No, I know. I'm excited too, it's just a new step in our relationship and it feels very...adult? I don't know, I sound silly," I shake my head and he squeezes my thigh again before grabbing my hand.

"Hey, I know what you mean, and you don't sound silly." He softens a bit to reassure me before kissing the back of my hand. My heart warms at his gesture and I squeeze his hand. 

"I'm excited to show you one of my favorite places, I still can't believe you've never been. I literally grew up here." He changes the subject as he switches lanes and I see the sign indicating Cape Cod is less than a mile away.

We flew into Boston by ourselves yesterday afternoon and spent the night at his parent's house. It was Matt's idea, saying he didn't mind taking the drive as it wasn't too far from his house in Somerville. 

"Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing?" I rub circles into the back of his hand with my thumb.

His mouth quirks to one side pensively but he laughs as soon as he hears me sigh impatiently. 

"Okay, okay, you really wanna know?" He drawls out, turning to glance at me for a moment then turning back to the road. 

"You know I wanna know," I lean over the divider and stare into the side of his face. He smirks a bit, side-eyeing me a few times before humming. 

"Hmm, I think I'll leave you squirming a little longer," He says after a moment.

He exits the highway and I huff, slumping back into my seat.

This place looks like something straight out of a storybook.  

The green, hilly scenery takes my breath away. Matt shows me the main street, driving past the historic houses and buildings as families and couples walk down the street. When we round the bend, the dense trees become few and far between and the lush green landscape dissolves into tall grass, sand, and rock as the ocean comes into view.

We drive along the coast the rest of the way and I just stare in awe at the cozy beach town as Matt tells stories of growing up here in the summer. 

"That house at the end is the family house," He points to the one on the left.

Pulling into the driveway, Matt puts the car in park before cutting the engine. I go to open my door but he stops me, putting a finger up and getting out of the car himself.

I give him a questioning look before I see him jog to the other side of the car to open my door for me.

"And they say chivalry is dead," I shake my head jokingly and he shrugs with a smirk.

I get out of the car and lean up to give him a quick kiss, we're smiley and giddy when we pull apart. He gives me another kiss before handing me a key.

"Go head inside, I'll grab our bags," He says softly against my lips and I nod quickly.

As I walk past him to make my way to the front door, I feel a light slap to my ass. I go to give him a playful disapproving look, but he's already opening the trunk to grab our stuff and acting like nothing happened.

The house is small and charming.

It belongs to their grandparents and has been the family vacation home for decades. The colorful wind chimes on the front porch sing with the soft breeze. I breathe in the salty air and walk towards the steps leading to the front door.

I twist the key to open the door and I'm engulfed with a warm, inviting scent. There are tons of family pictures on the walls and my heart swells at the baby pictures of the triplets.

I can easily spot Matt in a picture of the three of them on the beach, probably around four or five years old.

Seeing photos of them as children always blows my mind because of how identical they looked.

Matt comes in with our bags, noticing me looking at the photos on the wall.

"You were so fucking cute as a kid," I say going to grab my duffel from him but he takes my hand instead, leading me down the hall to the bedroom.

"Am I not cute now?" He pretends to be offended.

"Eh," I joke back and he opens the door at the end of the hall.

"This is our bedroom, the bathroom is next door on the left," He nods behind us toward the hall.

The bedroom is a pale seafoam green color, the bed adorned with a vintage patchwork quilt lined with a ruffle trim. The room has more family photos hung on the walls and beach-themed decor.

"We can unpack now and then head to the store to grab something for dinner and the next few days. There's definitely no food here. Sound good?" He places our bags on the bed and turns to me, placing his hands on his hips.

He wears a backward camo Boston Red Sox hat, a black tee with a silver chain around his neck, jean shorts, and white New Balance sneakers.

I must have been ogling him for too long because he snaps his fingers in front of my face with a smug expression.

"D'ya hear me, kid, or are you too busy eye-fucking me?" He smiles, licking his lips, and I feel a deep blush bloom from my chest up to my neck.

"Not my fault my boyfriend is so hot," I shrug, trying to recover from his playful callout, and he rolls his eyes, blushing himself.

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his middle, placing my head over his heart as we settle into a moment of comfortable silence.

An intrusive thought takes over, and I squeeze him tighter against me. I hear him groan at the sudden pressure of my grip, and he grabs hold of my arms.

"Okay, okay. Enough with the cuteness-aggression. You're going to break my ribs, kid," He wheezes.

I let up only after he tickles my sides. I squeal as he chases me to the other side of the bed and I finally surrender and ask for mercy. He slaps my ass and tells me I'll pay for it later.

We unpack our stuff and head out to the store to get ingredients for tacos. The one and only thing I've tried to improve in Matt is his cooking skills.

When we first got together, it was concerning how little he knew about cooking along with the number of times a week he'd eat out. I changed that real fast, teaching him basic meals he could make himself that were quick and pretty foolproof. Tacos were one of them.

"Go shower, I'll start dinner." He tells me, putting all of the groceries on the counter.

"You sure you can handle it?" I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I've gotten better. Didn't you like the salmon I made you the other week?" He points his finger at me and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my love, I was very proud of you." I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, "I'll be quick," I say before going to take my long-awaited shower.

As the hot water cascades over my shoulders, I can't help but let my thoughts drift. This trip is a huge step for us, and despite my nerves, I know it was a much-needed and deserved trip.

We don't really have an anniversary only because we both don't remember the specific date and we never made our being official a big deal. It's never been our style.

But we decided this would be a getaway for our 'anniversary' as next month will be our second summer together.

I finish up and wrap myself in a towel, savoring the lingering warmth before I quickly get dressed. I smell the scent of sizzling meat and spices coming from the kitchen.

When I reach the kitchen, I can't help but smile at the sight of Matt carefully chopping lettuce. His brows furrowed and his tongue poked out in serious concentration.

"Smells amazing in here," I comment, leaning against the doorway.

Matt looks up startled a bit, dropping the knife and putting a hand over his heart. A proud grin quickly spreads across his face when he realizes it's just me.

"You fuckin' scared me. I'm almost done, just need to heat up the tortillas." He gestures for me to come over, and I do, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

"You're getting good at this," I compliment, kissing his shoulder as he flips the tortillas.

"Only because I have a great teacher," he replies, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

I help set the table while Matt finishes up. We sit down to eat, the atmosphere cozy and intimate. The tacos are actually delicious, and I make sure to shower Matt with compliments for his efforts. We pop open the sparkling apple cider Mary-Lou and Jimmy gave as a parting gift to us. Digging through the cupboards, we end up finding old plastic flutes to make a quick toast with.

"Here's to us, thank you for making each day brighter. To many more days with you, I love you very much," I say simply, raising my glass. He gets shy and smiley but clinks our glasses.

I can't help but smile at him as he blushes and tries to hide it. I lean in for a kiss and he immediately gives me one.

"I love you more," He whispers against me, pulling me onto his lap and giving me a deeper kiss. "I would say something too, but I don't want to sound stupid,"

"Hush, I already know you're madly in love with me. You made me bomb ass tacos," I joke, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into my chest. He giggles and kisses my collarbone.

After dinner, we go to the backyard to watch what's left of the sunset. We put a lawn chair by the water and sit together watching the orange horizon disappear behind the shoreline. The hues of blues and purples melt together in the sky until it grows darker and the moonlight casts a silvery glow on the water.

The sound of the waves is soothing, our breathing in sync as I sit in his lap, his hand drumming lightly on my hip.

"This will continue to be my favorite place, I'm glad I get to share it with you." Matt says, his voice soft and contemplative.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," I reply, squeezing his hand. "I'm really happy we came."

"Me too." He turns to face me, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. He goes deep in thought for a moment and he almost goes to say something but stops himself.

I give him a questioning look and nudge him lightly.

"What was that?" I ask gently and he shakes his head.

"Nothing," He tries to brush it off but I grab his chin and turn his face toward me.

"Didn't seem like it," I play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I don't wanna freak you out," he says lowly and I give him a pressing look before he sighs deeply, finally giving in.

"I was just imagining our future. I can just see us, you know, bringing our kids here in the summers. They'd grow up with memories of this place like I do," he admits, staring directly at the water as he confesses his inner thoughts.

My heart tightens with emotion at his statement.

"You think about stuff like that?" My voice cracks, tears stinging my eyes and he immediately snaps his head to look at me.

"Hey, why are you crying?" He looks worried, cupping my cheek and using his thumb to catch a tear falling.

"Of course, I think of 'stuff like that' though. Does that scare you?" His voice laced with uncertainty and I shake my head immediately at his foolish question.

"No, no," I say softly, running my hand through his hair tenderly, then tracing his face. Starting from his left eyebrow, down his cheekbone, and over the scruff on his jaw.

His eyes flutter at my soft touch and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

"It's actually really sweet, Matt. I didn't think you'd want things like that with me, a family..." I admit and his eyes widen at my foolishness.

"Sweetheart, I hope you know you're it for me. Pretty sure if you ever decide one day you're sick of me, I'll spend the rest of my fucking life alone." He tells me openly and I blubber at his sweet words that pierce my heart more.

"Stop crying," He laughs lightly, getting slightly nervous by my reaction but I try to compose myself.

"You wanna have babies with me," I squeak, crying more and he tosses his head back in laughter as I continue to be a mess.

"Yes, I want 'babies' with you. If you want babies," He smiles, continuing to wipe my tears. "Okay, I love you, but you have snot all over your face," he says motioning all over his face with his finger and I gasp covering my nose.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Now, no more tears" He says and I roll my eyes, hitting his shoulder lightly, laughing a little bit now.

"They're happy tears. I just love you, a lot. It's overwhelming sometimes," I bury my face into his neck and he rubs my back soothingly as I actually compose myself.

I must be severely PMS-ing because I'm never this emotional.

"I know what you mean," He says, my heart swelling once more. "It scares me how much I love you." He kisses my hair but I lift my head for a real one.

We share a tender kiss, the ocean breeze wrapping around us like a comforting embrace.

"I can see it too by the way. Having a family. But way, way in the future," I say when I pull away, fixing the hair on his forehead.

"Oh, yeah for sure. Although, shit happens, who knows." He shrugs and I raise my eyebrow.

"Well, thanks to modern science and my IUD, no kids for at least ten years," I say and his eyes widen a bit.

"Okay, ten years is kinda a long time..." He trails off, catching me off guard.

"Matt!" I say in shock.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs.

. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖

Matt walks into the room after brushing his teeth just as I'm taking the throw pillows off the bed and pulling back the duvet.

I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and his face buries into my neck. He places open-mouth kisses on the curve of my neck, making his way up to my ear, where he grazes his teeth lightly.

I sigh, shuddering at the sensation and allowing my head to fall back against his shoulder.

He puts both hands on my hips this time, pulling my backside into his crotch. I moan at the feeling of him already hardening against me and I press my legs together in anticipation.

"I like this, no one around to interrupt...just us," His voice is velvet and I melt into his hold.

I hum, "Yeah, it's nice," My voice is airy.

"Can be as loud as we want, too..." He chuckles lowly, as I feel one of his hands sneak beneath my sleep shirt.

His fingertips delicately dance up my stomach, barely even touching my skin. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, yearning for his touch.

His hand stops right below my breast and I whine when he doesn't touch me further. I arch hoping to make more contact with his hand, but he doesn't give it to me.

"Matt," I say almost as a whisper, a plea.

"Mm," He hums, returning to kissing my neck. I can hear and feel the smug grin on his face, he knows what game he's playing.

"Touch me," I whine, arching again and lifting myself to reach his hand.

He finally cups my breast, taking my nipple in between his fingers and I gasp as he tugs and pinches gently.

He sucks on my ear lightly, giving it a kitten lick before blowing cold air. I spin around in his hold, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into me.

The kiss was explosive, and we both let out a breath we didn’t realize we were holding.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling our hips flush together and leaning into the kiss more, forcing me to bend back.

In the heat of the moment, we stumble back onto the bed behind us clumsily, my butt slipping off the edge of the bed. I yelp when I almost fall, and laugh into the kiss. Our teeth clink together momentarily as he chuckles too.

He grabs under my thighs, lifting me further onto the bed as I make room for him to settle between them.

"That's better," He breathes out before kissing me again, laying me down on the cool linen sheets.

I revel in the feeling of his weight on top of me, our hips perfectly puzzled together, my hands running through his soft hair, while his rest on my hips.

I tug at the roots of his hair to elicit a delicious sound from him, something primal and guttural.

He squeezes my hips and pulls back to look down at me with half-lidded eyes. His pupils are so blown out you can barely make out the icy blue of his irises.

He keeps eye contact with me as he makes his way lower, lifting my sleep shirt above my breasts. My nipples pebble and harden as they're exposed to the cool air. He places wet kisses down my sternum, then my stomach until he reaches right above my cotton underwear.

He kneels on the floor so he's perfectly aligned in front of my core, his fingers play with the band of my underwear and he smiles to himself shaking his head.

I lean up on my elbows, "What?" I can't help but smile back.

"Kittens?" He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me.

I shrug, not ashamed in the slightest at the pattern of my underwear.

"Yeah, you like 'em?" I deadpan, but break into a grin when he tips his head back and laughs.

Endearingly, of course.

"Very sexy," he replies, and I shriek as he yanks me to the very edge of the bed.

He slips his fingers into the hem of my underwear, finally pulling them down my legs and discarding them. He lightly slaps the inside of my thigh before prying them apart and pinning them.

Just as quick as we're joking about my underwear, I'm back to trembling under his touch.

Completely exposed to him now, he teases me, kissing my inner thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

My hips buck at the gentle assault but he keeps me in place, stunting my movements.

"Patience..." he chides and I roll my eyes.

He slaps my thigh a little harder this time and I hiss, my core pulsing at the act. He licks a stripe on each crease of my thigh, purposely ignoring my aching cunt.

His thumbs spread my lips apart before he collects my arousal using it to circle my clit. I whimper at the contact, stopping myself from bucking my hips again.

Matt's in a trance, mouth agape, eyes heavy, as he continues to tease me and I become more and more restless.

Almost as if he couldn't contain himself any longer, he finally buries his head between my thighs. He hungrily licks from my entrance up to my clit, before sucking on my swollen nub like I'm a honeysuckle.

"Fuck," I gasp under my breath, squirming under his grip. My breath shallowed and my heart stuttered.

"I told you, we could be as loud as we want," He slurs against me, flattening his tongue against me and shaking his head side to side quickly.

I let go of a whine before snapping my legs around his head, overwhelmed by pleasure. He growls, immediately prying them back open and relentlessly swirling his tongue against me.

I grab a hold of the hair at the crown of his head as he continues to drink me in. Skillfully lapping every inch of my folds, knowing exactly what to do to get me wound up in merely minutes.

I feel the build-up of my first orgasm, all my muscles going taut as I begin to shake uncontrollably.

Matt knows that I'm about to come, so he pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers. He slips his ring and middle fingers inside me with ease, massaging my front wall and coaxing my orgasm out of me with each gentle drag.

"Oh my fucking god," I cry out, my hips moving with his fingers.

He stands above me now, swiping my hair away from my face and gently caressing my cheekbone. I grab onto his bicep beside me as he leans down to kiss me, swallowing my whimpers. 

"C'mon, baby. I can feel you squeezing the fuck outta my fingers. Come for me," His voice is a gentle command against my jaw. 

His mouth attaches to my nipple as his thumb smushes into my puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, stimulating me everywhere.

That's all it takes before the wave peaks, then crashes and floods of icy-hot, blinding pleasure courses through me. He moans against me as he feels me pulse and ooze around his fingers.

My nails dig into his bicep and I arch into him, my hips mindlessly riding out the pleasure as his name falls from my lips in a desperate, broken cry.

His mouth and fingers gently work me through the aftershocks before I'm grabbing his wrist and whining from the sensitivity. 

"You're so fucking hot," He breathes, kissing me again.

I exhale into him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down onto me.

He pulls back, tossing his shirt off his head and undoing his belt, looking down at me as I lay half-naked and panting. I lean up on my elbows and move myself further up the bed.

He's only in his black boxers now, placing a knee on the bed before crawling towards me.

"Wanna taste you," I say, reaching up to kiss his neck and he lets out a shaky breath.

He shakes his head, "I won't fucking make it," he pants, grabbing my jaw and claiming my mouth again.

He pulls back, "As much as I love this fucking mouth," He adds darkly, tracing my swollen lips before licking them sensually and kissing me deeper.

I moan at the kiss and the feel of his cold rings against my hot skin. I run my hands down his chest as our breathing picks up, the kiss becoming more heated.

I run my tongue along his bottom lip and he allows me in before moving his hand down from my jaw to my neck, squeezing gently.

I pull back this time to take my shirt off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I then hook my fingers in the band of his boxers and pull them down just enough to free him. His dick springs up, the tip so red it looks painful.

I spit into my hand before taking him into my hand and giving him a couple of strokes, swiping his weeping tip with my thumb. He whimpers at the touch before grabbing my wrist and making me release him.

I pout, bringing my thumb to my mouth to suck off his precum. His mouth falls agape at the sight, and his eyes screw shut as he falls onto one of his hands weakly.

"What's wrong?" I make sure my voice is dripping like sweet, gooey honey. Tempting a very hungry grizzly bear.

He grits his teeth, straightening himself back up on his knees in front of me. I look up at him, my hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

"You're going to be the death of me," His voice is gritty, and I tilt my head innocently. I yelp when he grabs my hips and flips me over.

It's moments like these that remind me of his surprising strength.

He pulls me onto my knees so my cheek is pressed into the mattress and my ass is elevated, leaving me exposed and shaking with anticipation.

His hand comes down onto my asscheek and I hiss at the sting. I feel his dick poke the back of my thigh as his hand smooths over my ass to ease the burn.

"Matt, please," I pant when he kisses down my spine and I push my hips back impatiently.

"Need my cock that bad, hm?" he murmurs against my skin and I nod quickly.

"Need you inside me, please," I whine, not caring how desperate I sound, only focused on how his low chuckle makes my core pulse around nothing.

"Yeah?" He croons and my breath hitches when I feel him run his tip along my aching pussy. Knocking against my clit with each teasing stroke.

"Yes-" I whimper and then gasp when I feel the familiar, delicious stretch of him.

I grip the sheets as he grips my hips harshly, slowly entering me.

"Fuuuck," He strains out, and I can picture the vein in his neck protruding, wishing I could lick it.

He fills me completely, his hips flush against my ass. I whimper as I feel him buried deep inside me, hitting a sensitive spot that turns my legs into jelly.

He begins guiding me in a gentle rhythm, slow and deliberate, determined to make this last. His thrusts are deep, intentionally angling down to hit the spot that he knows makes me see stars.

"You feel so fucking good, so deep," I praise him and he slightly picks up the pace.

My core tightens around him involuntarily and he hisses, his grip on my hip becoming almost painfully tight.

"Fuck, don't do that. I'll come too fast," He pulls back slightly, trying to steady himself.

"I don't care," I push back against him again, just wanting to feel him.

He curses under his breath, his hands firm on my hips to stop my movements. He pulls me up by my hair, my back against his chest now and I laugh maniacally before moaning at the fresh angle.

"Must you always be so defiant?" His breath is hot against my ear and I can't help the grin on my face. I love getting him riled up.

"I like it when you push me around," I admit, my voice dripping with playful challenge.

He releases his grip on my hair, and I catch myself on my hands, bracing for whatever comes next.

"Yeah? You like it when I'm rough?" He presses, his voice low and taunting.

"Mhm," I hum pressing my hips back again but he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty.

I go to whine in protest but I'm shut up with the hardest slap of the night, right on top of the red mark he left before.

I cry out and bury my face into the sheets again, but quiver with longing for more.

"That's what you wanted, right?" He continues to taunt and spanks me again but this time, on the other side.

I moan and go to rub my clit for some sort of relief but he grabs both my wrists, knocking me down further.

Another smack. I groan this time in frustration.

He gathers my wrists in one hand as I feel him lean over me. His hand sneaks around to find my neck as he presses his mouth against my ear.

"Are you just that fucking desperate?" He queries, his fingers pressing into my pulse points, just enough for my head to lighten.

"Please, Matt." I plea, but don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

"What's the matter, baby, you can't handle it anymore? Thought you liked me pushing you around," He tuts.

His free hand lifts my hips before he teases my entrance with his tip and I let out a shaky breath.

"Hm? Nothing to say?" He pushes his tip in but pulls back and I whine at the teasing.

He releases my neck to brush my hair away so he can see the side of my face. A reminder that he's still the caring Matt I love.

"Just fuck me, please," I beg and he sighs deeply.

"You're so fucking lucky I love you,” he says through his teeth before he drives into me again in one swift motion.

Both of us moan in relief, the tension finally being broken.

He grinds his hips down into me teasingly and my eyes roll back at the intense, tight angle.

I feel his body heat leave my back as he straightens out behind me. Placing his hands on my lower back, he leans forward causing my back to arch before slamming into me. Again and again and again.

Each breath is knocked out of me, and each blow is deeper than the last, discovering a new spot inside of me and pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His pace quickens with every approving sound I make, answering me with his own moans of approval.

He turns me onto my back, staying inside me, wrapping my leg around his waist before leaning forward to kiss me slowly.

"Mm, missed your face," he admits softly, his thrusts starting off slow but steadily increasing momentum. "Wanna see that pretty face when I make you come," he coos, and I shriek at a particularly hard thrust that sends me further up the bed.

He watches my face the entire time, studying every furrow, every eye roll, mirroring my expressions as if he can feel everything he is doing to me.

I can tell he's trying to distract himself, to last longer, slowing down to kiss me and then picking up the pace.

My second orgasm build-up is slower and more subtle. It almost comes out of nowhere, but he knows my body so well. He reaches down to stimulate my clit, deepening his strokes, driving me to the brink.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh-" My back arches, and my ears ring as my orgasm rips me apart.

"Good girl, fucking come for me–oh fuck. I'm coming–I'm gonna come. W-where do you want me to-" He rushes out, as my pussy continues to spasm around him.

Through my haze, I push my heels into his hips and grab the back of his neck.

"I-inside, come inside me," I pant and he shudders, whimpering.

"Oh my–fucking, fuck," He strains as he comes and I moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

He pushes as deep as he can inside me, and the aftershocks of my orgasm milk him further causing him to hiss.

He collapses into my collarbone, his hair drenched in sweat as he takes a moment to regain strength.

I place a hand in his hair and scratch his back lightly as we settle into a steady breathing rhythm.

"Holy fuck," he says eventually into my neck, laughing a little and I giggle too.

"Wait, wait don't laugh-" He pulls away with his face scrunched and I realize he's still inside me.

He hisses again in sensitivity, looking down at where we're connected before pulling out of me carefully. I whimper at the feeling and he softly apologizes.

I feel his come leak out of me and I watch his expression falter for a second as he notices the sight.

"Fuck me," he says under his breath, shaking his head and I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling.

I slowly reach my hand down to play with myself and his eyes widen as he quickly grabs my hand to stop me.

"Are you trying to kill me tonight? No, I'm cleaning you up and we're going to bed. Stay right there, don't fucking move." He gets up, pointing at me as he walks away.

I cover my mouth and laugh at his reaction. He comes back with a wet washcloth, using it to wipe me carefully.

He huffs out again, shaking his head and I give him a knowing look.

"Devil woman, don't look at me like that." He tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks with nerves.

"I love you," I tell him, meaning it. His eyes soften and he leans over me, a hand on either side of my head. He scans my face, a soft smile carves into his face before he leans down to kiss me.

"We really need our own place," he says when he pulls back and my stomach flips.

"What was that?" I ask him with wide eyes.

"I said we really need a shower, c'mon," He lies, laughing as he tries to pull me up but I'm tugging him back towards me.

'Hey, get back here. That's not what you said," I laugh at his antics but he runs away towards the bathroom before I hear him call back.

"I plead the fifth!"

[awkness]

Written in the Stars

Platonic Yandere Older Brother & Younger Selkie Genderneutral Reader

Your home life is tense at the best of times, with your mother fickle and moody and your father more concerned with her than his children. It would be complete misery without your brother, Cillian, who looked after you the way your parents should have, a bright light in your gloomy days.

But as family secrets come to the surface and your life starts to unravel, you're forced to wonder if your brother is any better than the parents that raised him.

Content Warnings: confinement, forced marriage (not between reader), unhealthy relationships, abandonment issues, mentions of mental illness, child abuse, child endangerment, isolation, death, and general yandere shenanigans. Let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 10.5k

Authors Note: I played it pretty fast and loose with this one so I have no idea when exactly this takes place, but it's somewhere before the industrial revolution in Ireland. So if you're wondering why there's no modern technology, that's why lol also this turned out way longer then it was supposed to, I have no idea why, it was supposed to be a quick 2k story and then it just got away from me. Whoops. Also the mother and fathers story is loosely based on traditional fairytale of fish wives and selkies. I remember reading a couple and thinking "wouldn't it be messed up if they had children?" And. Well. You can tell me how messed up it turned out lol

You're sick. You were born sick, and you always will be. It's all you remember.

Your first memory was of little four year old you wandering out of the house. Father was fishing, Cillian was tending to the animals and Mother was resting because of sickness as per usual, so there was no one to stop you. No concerned caregiver to bustle you back into the house and scold you for your carelessness as you pouted for being denied your will.

You simply walked out the front door.

You had no understanding of what you were doing. Just a unceasing tug propelling you out and way from the house until the air smelled of salt, and you could hear the faint crashing of waves steadily growing louder.

Then there was the sea.

Your memories get fuzzy then, as your mind grew clouded by pure, blinding need. But you do remember the feel of grass slowly turning to sand under your bare feet. The way the rolling of the waves enveloped your mind completely, your eyes unable to move away.

Then your feet hit the cold of the water, and you snap awake, looking around, finally aware of where you are, and how far away from home it was. Confused and on the verge of panic, you try to call out for your brother only for your eyes to be pulled back into the blue, and all thoughts are gone, and you feel a deep, primordial comfort, the same comfort you imagine children feel when being embraced by their mother.

You step forward.

First, it's up to your feet, then your knees, then your waist. The salt water saps away at your body heat the deeper you go, but you don't mind it, you don't mind anything at all. After all, you're right where you're meant to be.

The salt water is almost up to your chest when you're swept off your feet and taken away from the water. You begin to thrash and cry, a horrible, searing pain in your chest at being separated from the sea, like a part of your being was torn from your body. Your cries are so loud, you don't even realize that it's Cillian who took you away until he turns you toward him and starts yelling at you.

The specifics of it are lost on you, but it's not hard to guess, given the circumstances. What you do remember is his young, acne covered face contorted in unfamiliar anger that you've never seen before or since.

It might have frightened you more if it wasn't for the immense pain and loss you were feeling.

But yelling wasn't enough for him. He starts shaking you by the shoulders and demands why you were there in the first place. You were still crying, nothing but running snot and big, hot tears, but you managed to wail an answer, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Put me back, put me back. I'm supposed to be there. It hurts. Put me back.

The shaking stops, and so does the yelling. There's nothing but your loud, desperate sobs as you beg to walk back into the sea.

Without warning, he picked you up and began to make the trip home.

You started to thrash again, increasing loud "NO NO NO"s running out of your mouth as your soft, weak body tries to slip out, but his grip is iron. He only squeezes you tighter until you eventually tire.

You spend the rest of the trip shivering in his arms, finally able to feel the cold again.

When you arrive home, he ushers you into your room and tells you to change out of your sea-soaked clothes as he heads towards another part of the house.

You obey, more out of habit then anything else, your mind still numb. When you finish, you sit and wait until he comes and grabs you, taking you into your parent's room.

Mother was sitting up in bed.

Cillian placed you beside her, and for a strange, uncanny moment, you stare into her unblinking, dark eyes. It's all you can do.

This moment last so long, you think she has fallen into one of her stupors. But she blinks, and the spell is broken. With her same blank face, she pats the bed. You tentatively comply, taking your place next to her.

"Cillian has said you've been to the ocean. Is this true?"

Her voice is soft, sweet, slow, and so foreign on your ears.

You nod, refusing to look into her eyes again.

"Tell me, what was it like?"

Your little mouth twist into a grimace. Something deep in you tells your mind to keep silent.

Your brother steps in.

"They were going to drown, Ma! They said-"

"Hush, Cillian."

She didn't spare him a glance, eyes trained on you.

Her hand snakes over your face, her cold flesh cupping your face as she turns your head to face her. Her eyes burrow into yours, and you can't help but feel small and weak. You have no more will to resist.

"Why did you go down there?"

"It was calling me."

"What was?"

"The sea, it was singing to me. I needed to go to it. I couldn't help myself"

For the first time in your life, you saw your mother smile.

It was a disturbed smile. The kind that didn't reach her eyes, that looked more like bared teeth then a sincere display of joy.

"I knew it. Your father tried to hide it, but I knew the moment you were born. You're just like me."

She let you go, and without another word, laid down, with her back turned to her children.

The entire thing disturbed and confused you, and you immediately looked to Cillian for explanation and reassurance.

Instead, you saw him frozen, a look of terror on his face as he stared at Mother's form.

But then he caught your eye, schooled his features into something more neutral, and carried you out of the room, out of the house, and into the sheep pen, where you wordlessly helped him take care of the animals until your Father came home.

Father was much more laissez-faire about the whole ordeal. Cillian explained everything to him, nerves alight after Mothers declaration, and to your Fathers credit, he listened patiently, never once interrupting the younger boys nervous speech. When Cillian was done, Father turned to you, and in a disturbingly casual manner, explained to you that your mother had passed on her sickness to you.

When you asked when it would go away, he laughed until Cillian yelled at him to stop.

That was when you got the news that though it wasn't as potent as your mother's illness, it was still permanent. You would live and die with this affliction.

You stood there dumbly as your father idly ruffled your head and told you that there were worse things to have. You think he was about to tell you to get ready for bed before Cillian exploded on him.

It was obvious you had no place in the conversation anymore, and you tried to make your way to your room before Cillian snatched you and took you to his room, his face red with tears.

You slept in his bed that night.

The following day, you were no longer allowed to stay in the house and play like you usually did. Instead, Cillian made you follow him wherever he went, not letting you stray from his line of sight. When your father came home that following day, he brought with him a bell at Cillians' request, which you were made to wear at all times, even as you slept.

Slowly, more symptoms began to manifest. At times, your mind would fog over, unable to focus on anything for periods of time. The sound of waves would ring through your ear, though you were nowhere near the shore. And occasionally, dreams of the sea would haunt you. Beautiful, painful dreams that would leave you crying in your wake, which in turn woke up poor Cillian. But ever the loving brother, he would go to your side and sooth you until you fell asleep again. In the case of especially distressing dreams, he would sleep with you, and no nightmares would dare plague you when Cillian was with you.

And, on very rare instances, you would feel it again. That same tug that changed your world, that demanded you return to the ocean where you belong. Your mind would switch off, and your feet would move of their own accord towards the shore. But you would misstep, or trip, or some other mishap would occur, and the bell would ring. The spell would break just long enough for you to run back towards Cillian and tell him what was happening before you slipped away again. He'd take you in his arms and mutter soothing words, keeping you close until the episode passed.

But those were few, and grew fewer as you grew older. Most days, the worst of your symptoms were brain fog, which was not pleasant but much better than walking towards a cold death in the sea.

No, most days were rather enjoyable. You would wake up to Cillian making breakfast and wait to eat until he finished serving your mother, who only ate in her room. Then you would follow him around as he did his errands for the day, sometimes helping, sometimes busying yourself with your own task. If he got done early, he would read to you or help you with your writing. He used to try and help with your arithmetic, but it became obvious that he wasn't good enough with numbers to teach you. Then, if your mind was clear, you would help with dinner and sneak bites whenever Cillian wasn't looking. Dinner would then be ready, and Father would usually be home by then, give you both polite greetings, and then he would take two plates and make his way to his room to spend the rest of the evening with Mother, as you and your brother spent the evening with each other until bed.

True, there were times when it felt like you were being smothered by Cillian and his constant worry and argue that you didn't need the constant monitoring. Sometimes, these arguments would get the both of you irritated beyond reason with each other, having you both oscillating between petty bickering and the silent treatment.

But those were few and far in between. Most of that time was marked by the games you would play with him when you should have been working, by the silly songs he taught you when you got bored of watching him work, of the gentle coaxing he would give when your mind wandered from you. Those moments when he would take you into the field in the middle of the night and teach you about the constellations, or help you make flower crowns, which he would gladly wear until they withered and fell apart. Those days he'd grow morose about one of the many worries he had, and you would comfort him the only way a child like him could be comforted: hugging him until he felt better. Or those dark moments when you were reduced to tears by your despair at your illness, afraid that one day it would grow worse, and you would end up like your mother. He would hold you tight while crying himself and reassure you that it would never happen. And if it did, he would be there to care for you and keep you safe until the end if his days.

But this wasn't meant to last. As the years went by, Cillian was slowly coming into his adulthood and needed to find a way to make a living for himself. Father had talked to him about teaching him how to be a fisherman, but he wholeheartedly rejected the idea. Instead, he went to town and asked for an apprenticeship with the local carpenter.

The first few weeks, he brought you with him, claiming it still wasn't safe for you to stay at home without him.

Though you loathed the thought of being treated like an unruly toddler and not a child old enough to keep house by themself, the thought intrigued you. You couldn't remember the last time you got to see the village, and the mere thought caused butterflies in your stomach. New places, faces, sights, and smells... perhaps you would enjoy this.

Unfortunately, reality had different plans for you.

It became obvious that you and your brother were not welcome in the village. There was never any violent confrontation or hurtful words thrown your way, but instead a lack of interaction. The other children avoided your presence, and the villagers avoided you and your brothers gaze, only speaking to you when polite conduct forced them to. You could swear you heard them gossiping about you, talking about "cursed blood" and something to do with the sea, yet every time you came up to them, they would act like nothing was said.

The carpenter himself was much kinder, but his time was spent teaching your brother his craft, and you were left to your own devices, more lonely than ever.

After the first few days of begging, Cillian finally relented, and you stayed home with Mother.

The following weeks were painfully uneventful, with you taking over Cillians chores and adjusting to the new workload. Your brain fog made it difficult, causing complications, frustrations, and occasional minor injuries, which Cillian would fret over when he got home. Not that he needed those to worry, as every day he came home, he would rush through the house, his face frantic with worry. He only relaxed when he found you, and you reassured him that nothing had happened, and you were okay.

By the fourth week, you couldn't tell him that anymore, because Mother had begun taking trips outside of the house.

It was the middle of the day, and you were doing some cleaning around the house when the door to your parents' room creaked open, and Mother came out. You called out to her, but she ignored you, steadily making her way out the front door and towards the shore.

You trailed after her a safe distance away, unsure of what else to do. You were always slightly wary of her, as her presence was always a disquieting one in your home. But a vague sense of familial duty kept you from letting her wander unaccompanied.

When the shore finally came into your view, she was already on it, knelt down in the sand, in the company of an adult brown seal.

Upon this image, you felt it again. That pull towards the sea, weaker than before, but just as familiar. You tried to stop, but your feet began to move against your will. Terrified, you used the last of your free will to clench your fist, digging your nails into your palms until they punctured your skin. Only then, the spell broke, and you were able to run back home, uncaring of what would happen on the shore.

An hour or so later, she came back, a faint smile on her face as she lazily wandered back to her room.

Not long after, your brother came home, and you told him everything.

His face sunk further and further as you spoke, and when you finished, he looked like a man twice his age. He took your hand gently into his, and all but begged you not to follow her again.

"To lose Mother would be sad, to lose you would be unspeakable. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

He then made you promise to not tell Father anything that happened, and you readily agreed.

But then Mother went to visit the beach the next day. And then the next. And the day after, and the one after that, until it became common place. The visits also grew longer, to the point where you and Cillian were worried she wouldn't be home when Father returned from fishing.

That day didn't take long to come.

She had left. You had worked. Cillian came home. You both cooked dinner. Then Father came home, grabbed dinner for both him and Mother, and headed towards his room.

Then the plates shattered on the floor.

He rushed out with the eyes of a madman and interrogated the both of you on where Mother was. Cillian answered for the both of you, saying she had felt in good spirits and had gone on a walk. Your father lost it on him, struck him across the face, and let out a string of curses before marching out the front door, leaving Cillian on the floor and you crying in his wake.

You did your best to help nurse Cillians swelling face as he did his best to console your silent weeping.

Little time had passed before you heard Fathers stomping and yelling once again, with the stern voice of your Mother mixed in. You both quickly took shelter in Cillians room before they made it through the door.

The arguing continued as they went inside and into their rooms, the walls doing little to muffle their voices. It lasted for ten minutes, twenty, thirty, and then an hour, with no signs of stopping. You held onto your brother as you both tried to wait out the storm happening in your house until Cillian decided that enough was enough.

He gently nudged your shoulder, then looked towards his bedroom window, and then back down towards you.

"You want to leave?"

You practically jumped at the opportunity.

He climbed through the window before helping you down, taking your hand and leading you towards the field where the sheep grazed. It was summer, so the night was comfortably warm, a full moon lighting your way. Your bare feet carefully tread the grass, making sure not to step on any burs or briars hidden in the greenery.

He stopped at a small flower patch that the both of used to love lazing around in before he had to take his apprenticeship. Cowslips, wild garlic, and wood sorrels dotted the area. He laid down and looked towards the sky, and you followed his lead, laying down next to him.

"Do you remember any of the constellations I've taught you?"

"Of course!" You say, a little indignant. How could you forget those nights of stargazing?

You search the sky, easily finding a few.

"Lets see, there's Aquarius...Capricorn... and I think that one's Gemini?"

You point in the direction of the cluster of stars, and he brings his head closer to see where your fingers led.

"Yes, that's the one. You know, some people believe the stars control your fate. Something about being born in a certain time of year connects you to certain constellations, and they determine everything about your life, even when you die."

Your brows scrunched together in confusion. You knew you were pretty sheltered, only having your brother, your father, and various books for news of the outside world, but this seemed rather confusing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't know too much about it myself. Some spinster stopped me in the street a few days back and asked me if I wanted my fortune read to me. I didn't know what she meant, so she explained to me how everything about our birth, when and where you were born, determines what will happen to you. She offered to tell me about mine if I paid her."

"And what did she say?"

"Nothing, her fees were too expensive, so I left."

"Boring."

He let out a chuckle. "Maybe."

The conversations then lapsed into silence, your eyes lazily gliding among the stars until he spoke again. His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"I wouldn't have asked for it, even if I had the money. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with me. I mean, if your whole life is written out the moment you're born, what's the purpose of it all? All your struggles, all your accomplishments, completely meaningless. And those that are destined for a horrible life, what's the point in living, if it will only end in disaster?"

You turn over to look at him, his face almost imperceptible in the faint moon light as he stares up at the sky. His hands restlessly fidget with his sleeves as he starts talking again.

"No, I can't believe that. It's too cruel. Our feelings, our thoughts, our actions, they matter. We're more than our birth."

He turns to look at you, his eyes soft and a faint, an almost apologetic smile on his lips.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know a better life seems impossible now, but it'll all be okay in the end. I promise."

You nod back with a smile. It's always been easy to believe the things your brother says, even if you know otherwise.

You both turn back up towards the sky, watching the stars until Cillian got up and told you it was time to head home.

The next morning, things only got worse.

It all started with you waking up in Cillians' bed, confused and disoriented, before remembering that you had refused to creep back to your own room, too afraid to run into your own parents.

Next, you noticed the sun was higher in the sky than it was usually when you woke up. Blearily, you realized you slept in late.

So you decided to wake your brother, still sleeping on the floor, and inform him of the situation. After a few minutes of calling his name, you finally decided to shake him awake. He grumpily protested the whole ordeal and was about to go back to bed until you informed him of the time.

He then threw off his thin blanket, sprang up off the floor, and opened to door with you following behind.

Until he stopped.

You peered from behind your brother and saw your father sitting at the table.

Shouldn't he be away by now?

He gave a smile to the both of you.

"Good morning, children. Why don't you take a seat? I've already prepared breakfast."

For a moment, Cillian didn't move, and neither did you. Briefly, you contemplated turning around and taking refuge in his room again, but then he started to cautiously make his way forward, and you reluctantly followed.

You and Cillian took the only two seats left, both located close to Father. You distantly wondered where Mothers chair had gone.

Your brother started to place food on his plate, and you grabbed a slice of buttered bread, immediately taking a bite out of it. The sooner you could leave the table, the better.

Father grabbed nothing. He simply watched the both of you, the same smile from before still plastered on his face.

It was only now that you could make out the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. You could also see he was still wearing the same work clothes from yesterday. You don't think he slept a wink.

After a tense, quiet moment of watching the both of you eat, he turned towards your brother and began to speak.

"Cillian, my boy, are you still going into town today?"

He avoided his gaze as he replied.

"Yes, sir. I can't afford to skip any lessons."

"But you're already late. Surely, you couldn't do any more harm by skipping today?"

"I can't, sir. It would be disrespectful to miss an entire day without reason."

"I expected as much. I suppose it can't be helped."

Father gave a thoughtful hum before turning towards you.

"Well, I guess that leaves you, then."

You froze as your heart rate picked up. You briefly caught Cillians eyes, and saw your own panic reflected back.

Father continued on, like he hadn't noticed.

"I need to ask a favor of you. Your mother has been getting worse, as the both of you seem to know already."

He pointedly shot your brother a look before returning his gaze to you.

"And she needs her rest. Unfortunately, she does not want to rest. That's why I've taken it upon myself to make sure she does."

He gestured over towards the door of the room Mother lay, and you saw the missing chair propped up securely against the knob.

"All you need to do is make sure she stays inside. Don't let her out for anything. Not for food, or water, or even the bathroom. No matter what she says or does, you do not open that door."

He then reached out and placed a large, cold, and loose hand on your shoulder. It took everything in you not to shake it off.

"Am I understood?"

You nodded rapidly. "Yes, Father."

His smile grew wider and he gave your shoulder a pat before retracting his arm.

"Good. Because if she isn't in there when I come back, I will be very disappointed."

With that, he slapped his legs before pushing himself off the chair.

"Well, I'd best be off now. Take care, I'll be back as soon as I can."

He grabbed his coat, put on his shoes, and headed out the door.

After the sound of his footsteps subsided, you quietly got up and headed towards your parents' door.

Your hand had only come to touch the chair before Cillian grabbed you and pulled you away.

You wrestled out of his grip and turned to face him before his hands landed on your shoulders as he gave you a slight shake, his hands warm and unmovable.

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed.

"What do you think you're doing?" You countered.

"Keeping you from making a mistake. Did you not listen to Father at all?"

"I did, and that's exactly why I'm doing it. You know this can't be right, Cillian, he can't keep her locked up."

"Of course this is awful, that isn't the point." He spat out.

You recoiled as far back as his hold would allow.

That seemed to make him pause he decided to close his eyes and take a deep breath, his features softening a touch. His voice was less harsh, but just as urgent as he spoke again.

"I know you don't want to be a part of this. I don't, either. But we don't have a choice here. With Father becoming more... unpredictable, it's better to play along with whatever he wants. Just until I can save enough money to get us out of here, okay?"

"But what about Mother?"

"I don't care about Mother, I care about you. Your safety goes above everything else."

You turn away, your eyes growing wet.

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, you just have to listen."

You wipe your eyes. He lets out a sigh and loosens his grip.

"Why don't you stay out of the house for today? Focus on tending to the sheep and chickens, or tend to the garden, or whatever you want. It'll be easier on you if you don't have to hear her, okay?"

You didn't move.

"(Y/N), please, look at me." He said quietly.

Against your better judgment, you did.

His face was fallen, his eyes starting to water like yours were. An unwilling feeling of guilt formed in your heart.

"Promise me you won't let Mother out." He pleaded.

You nodded, even though the thought of going along this made you sick.

He gave you a genuine smile.

"Thank you."

Cillian left soon after, and you tittered about in the house, trying to keep yourself busy. You thought about going outside the house and focusing on taking care of the animals like he suggested, but your guilt wouldn't allow you to leave Mother.

You had quickly come to regret that decision as not even an hour after Cillians departure, Mother tried to open the door.

Simple attempts at opening the door had rapidly grown more frantic until she was pounding on the wood. The sound encompassed the whole house, and you could only stand and stare like a trapped animal, torn between your duty to your mother and your duty to your brother.

And then she stopped.

And the whole house was quiet.

For some reason, you found the silence profoundly more disturbing than her hysterical attempts to break the door, and you half longed to hear them again.

As you debated calling out to her, the silence was broken by the sound of glass shattering.

The only glass in the room was her window.

You rushed out of the front door and ran around the side of the house to where the window was, only to see her exiting through where the glass used to be. He dress was torn, and her arms and legs were covered in minor cuts that dotted her in red.

"Mother!" You shout. "Are you okay-"

She turned towards you, came to an abrupt halt, and stared.

Her dark, dead eyes bore into you, leaving a weight on your chest you had never felt before. She knows, you thought. You didn't know what she knew or if there was anything to know, but it was the only thought in your head as she looked at you. She knows. And it made you wither before her.

She turned away and headed towards the tool shed. You followed her at a distance.

She emerged from the shed with a shovel and walked towards a small group of trees, of which she stopped in front of the old, brittle husk of what used to be a mighty oak.

And she started to dig.

It was obvious she was struggling. She had done little manual labor in her life, mostly content with wasting away in her room most days, so she had little muscle. She huffed and puffed, and even as far away as you were, you could see her arms shake with every shovel full of dirt. A foot into the ground, and you could see her hands start to bleed, the delicate skin tearing against the rough wood of the shovel.

But her face had stayed just as determined as it had been when she started, and her pace never slowed. As you watched, you could swear that not even hell could stop her.

You stood there and watched her toil knee-deep in the dirt, wondering what could drive such a woman to go to these lengths when you heard the sound of metal hitting metal.

With frantic movements, she began to shovel faster, then abandoned the tool altogether and desperately clawed at the dirt with her fingers.

Then she began to pull.

One tug. Then another. And another.

And then one final tug, and it was free. She staggered back, a metal box as big as her chest held firmly in her hands.

She wasted no time throwing it to the ground and undoing the latches that held it closed.

She took out something and stared at it for a moment before carelessly tossing it to the side. Out of her grasp, you could see it was a fur of some sort. Though you couldn't tell what animal it belonged to, you could see that it was rather plain looking, definitely not worth burying like it was some valuable treasure.

Yet why did it seem to tug at your heart, trying to draw you closer?

Your attention was torn from the fur as the sound of crying filled the air.

It came from Mother, now hunched over a larger, more beautiful fur, her face buried deep as he let out more heart-wrenching sobs. It was the most emotion you've ever seen from her.

You felt like a voyeur. This moment wasn't for you, yet you couldn't leave, transfixed by such both the fur and Mother.

It took moments for the crying to subside, at which point she slowly got to her legs, and she draped the fur over her shoulders like an oversized shawl.

It was like this you could see it better. It was white, and the fur sparkled in the sun like a jewel. It was also obvious that this was the fur of an adult seal.

Her head turned towards you, and you held her gaze, only for a moment, before she turned away and walked towards the direction of the sea.

As she made her past the horizon and beyond your line of sight, she didn't once turn back to look at you.

And you were glad she didn't.

You didn't know how long you spent watching her leave. Even after she disappeared from your sight, you still watched the last spot you saw her. You knew she wouldn't come back, and you hoped she wouldn't either, but that didn't stop the expectancy from growing inside you. There was more coming, and you just didn't know what it was or where it would come from.

Eventually, your mind snapped back to the present, and you became aware of your surroundings again. The sun had climbed quite a ways across the sky, telling you it was afternoon now.

With little else to do, you made your way to the discarded fur.

The closer you got, the more your heart trembled in your chest, and your skin itched in anticipation. It was so similar to the way the sea called to you, but more intense, and completely irresistible.

When you finally knelt down and grasped it, the world melted away along with the fog around your brain, and your mind gained a sense of clarity and sharpness you had never experienced before. And a beautiful, overwhelming feeling of completeness washed over you, like this fur was a long lost part of you, and you were finally, blissfully whole again.

This is what Mother felt when she touched her fur, wasn't it? It must be, because you started to to cry just like she did, face buried in your fur- no, a small voice in your mind said, your lost skin, as you tried to take it all in.

What relief, what clarity, what pain it is to be complete again. Who knew such an immense joy could bring so much hurt?

You only stopped crying when you heard a yell in the distance.

"(Y/N)! WHERE'S YOUR MOTHER?"

It was Fathers voice.

You whip your head to see the figure of your father coming towards you, only to stop as your body twisted towards his, revealing your second skin bundled in your arms.

His shocked expression quickly twisted to something dark, ugly, and angry.

He started walking towards you again, his movements similar to the confident prowl of a wolf coming across a stray lamb, far away from the safety of the herd.

And you felt your heart kick up, exactly like a lamb's would.

Without further thought, you draped your skin across your shoulders like Mother had, scrambled towards your feet, and sprinted away.

Father's heavy footsteps followed.

Past the sheep fields, beyond your property, from well trodden footpaths to completely untamed land, you dashed across the land with your father steady in pursuit, unable to escape his sight.

You didn't realize you were headed towards the ocean until you saw the sand of the beach and the deep blue of the sea.

Logically, you knew that the beach was a dead end. There was nothing there to help you down there, and you couldn't swim. But something inside you urged you forward, saying you would be free, if only you could reach the water, and after everything that happened today, you were inclined to trust it.

As your feet hit the sand, Father began to shout, all threats and insults.

When your skin met the sea, the sharpness in his voice disappeared, replaced with a desperation so unbecoming of a man once to confident.

When you were up to your waist in the salt water, and the rolling waves threatened threatened to knock you off your feet and sweep you out to sea, your father started to plead. To beg you to come out of the water and help him find Mother. He had momentarily lost his temper, he didn't mean to frighten you so. He's not mad any more, he's sorry, and only wishes you could come out and tell him where Mother went. To help him figure out a way to find her and to bring her home. If only you would get out of the water.

You didn't bother to look back.

You dove into the rolling waves, and something fantastical overcame your body.

Your clothes fell away from your body, and your seal skin filled with a strange energy, latching onto your human skin and merging until they were one. Your arms shrunk into flippers with dull claws, and your legs and feet merged into a sleek, powerful tail. Blubber formed around your body and neck, and nestled you in warmth. Your hair receded, and your head shrunk, with your nose and mouth forming the short snout of a seal.

Soon, you were darting through the water, further and further away from the cries of your father, and deeper into the blue.

You swam so far and for so long that when you finally came to the surface to breathe, you could no longer see the shore, with no recollection of which direction you came from. All round you was nothing but a yawning stretch of unbroken blue.

The sun had finally set, transforming the water into the same inky darkness of the sky, and you had still not found your way back to land.

You had tried to head back in the direction you thought you had come from, only to find nothing. So you tried another direction, then another, and another, only to wind up more lost than before.

Frustrated, you had given up for a time and decided to explore what lay under the sea, both in childish curiosity of what the world was like under the water and in foolish hope that you would find your mother, and she could guide you back.

Instead, you found dozens upon dozens of colorful fish and bizarre plants that you could scarcely dream of. You would follow these alien creatures as they scuttled and swam about with a sense of whimsy and awe, captivated by their strangeness. It was the most fun you had in a very long time. If only land could have creatures like this, it would be a much more beautiful place.

But soon, you had lost yourself in your exploration, just like you had lost yourself in the sea. When you finally stopped and resurfaced, the sky and sea had darkened, to the point you could hardly tell which was which.

It was only then you felt the effects of being at sea for so long. Though your blubber did much to keep you warm, the sea was always cold, and a chill had crept deep into your skin. Your stomach gnawed in hunger, and a great weariness started to overtake you. How much longer could you keep swimming?

You grew panicked, head whipping around in despair as you tried to find something, anything to lead you home.

In confusion and fear, you turned your head towards the sky, and it was there you found your answer.

The north star.

It was the first thing your brother had taught you when he took you stargazing. He would still quiz you on it every once in a while, just to make sure you remembered how to find it.

You can still hear his voice like it was yesterday.

"As long as you can find the north star, you can always find your way home."

A renewed feeling of energy washed over you, filling your weary body with resolve, and you pushed yourself towards home.

On and on, you fought against the choppy waves trying to push against your own struggling body and pull you further into the ocean, with nothing but thoughts of home to push you forward.

But after an unknown amount of time, you came across not the shore, but there, upon the horizon, the silhouette of a man upon a fishing boat, harpoon raised, as sharks circled him... no, those weren't sharks.

They were seals.

And that man you your father.

You abandoned your current course to swim closer, trying to understand what was happening.

As you crept up on the ship, you finally heard Fathers shouting over the rough waves.

"DAMN ANIMALS!" His voice was venom.

"WHERE IS SHE? I KNOW YOU HAVE HER! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

The seals began to nudge the boat, throwing him momentarily off balance. However, he quickly gained his composure.

"MY LOVE, COME BACK TO ME!"

There was no response.

"I'LL DRAG YOU BACK, ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, AND I'LL KILL WHATEVER BEAST GETS IN MY WAY!"

He regained his footing and raised his harpoon as if to attack, his face alight with manic anger.

But beyond his sight, you saw a beautiful white seal barrel towards the side of his boat, with no sign of stopping. In a flash, her body collided with the wood, and the ship was overturned, throwing Father into the dark sea before he could scream.

It was only a moment before he resurfaced, harpoon gone, struggling to keep his head above water.

"DON'T, PLEASE-"

A seal broke off from the circling pack, bit down on his leg, and dragged him down, disappearing beneath the surface. You tensed, afraid that the seal hadn't let him go, but he broke through the waves in a manner of seconds, choking on salt water.

He struggled against the current, coughing his lung out as he tried to make his way towards his capsized ship.

Then another seal did the same, taking him underwater but holding him down just a little longer. When Father resurfaced, he began to exclaim in fear, begging for mercy, and then for Mother, before he was dragged back down again into the inky abyss.

And then it happened again.

And again.

You caught sight of the same white seal who had brought this fate upon him. She had positioned herself slightly away from the rest of the herd, content to watch from afar. Perhaps she thought her part over, or perhaps she was merely waiting for her turn again.

Slowly, she turned her head towards you, as if she knew you were here all along.

She didn't say a word as she looked at you, but you knew what she was trying to tell you.

You don't belong here.

And perhaps she was right.

You turned away from the brutality happening in front of you, and found the north star again. With your bearings, you continued your journey home.

When the shore finally came out of the horizon, you could have jumped for joy. You pushed your tired fins to the max, wanting nothing more than to finally return to land.

As you came closer, you could make out the dark figure of another person, frantically walking along the shore line, calling out to the sea.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! IS THAT YOU?!"

It was Cillian.

You felt such a sense of relief upon seeing him, you could cry.

You tried to call out to him, but it only came out in the strange barks of a seal.

He ran towards the water, only stopping as it reached his waist, your abandoned clothes clutched it his hands as he continued to shout your name like a madman.

You pushed and pushed, willing your aching body to go faster and faster until you were upon him. His arms were held wide, and you leaped into them as he caught you with ease.

Then that strange, magical sensation happened again.

Your skin warped and twisted, growing and then separating itself into two, your seal skin wrapping around you like a robe. Your tail and fins turned back into arms and legs, with the rest of your body following suit. All the while, Cillian still held you, red rimmed eyes in awe over what he saw.

And just like that, you were human again.

He took your face in his hands, one cupping your cheek as the other stroked your hair ever so gently. His hands were cold from being out for so long, and they shook slightly, whether from adrenaline or exhaustion, you couldn't tell. Yet you found yourself leaning into them anyway.

His face was red, and his eyes were wet and puffy. His chin wobbled as much as his voice, unable to contain his emotion.

"I thought you were gone. I came home, and you weren't there, and I couldn't find anyone. I looked everywhere, and when I found your clothes, oh God, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would be alone."

His voice broke down into wordless sobs, his hands letting your face go only to wrap you into a crushing embrace. You found yourself beginning to cry with him.

"I'm here now." You told him, your own voice faltering from your tears. "It's okay, I'm here."

His sobbing only picked up, sounding like those rare occasions when he cried as a child.

"Oh, my baby. Thank God, thank God."

You stood there, held fast in his arms, as the ocean waves pushed against the both of you, sapping the warmth out of your body, but you couldn't bother to care. You thought you could stay like that forever, safe and sound in his hold.

But his hold began to loosen, and he looked down at you, face haggard and tired.

"Let's go home."

You nodded and took his hand as he led you out of the sea and towards land. But you felt like your body was made of lead, and you kept stumbling, almost falling back into the water. That's when Cillian decided to pick you up, arms under your knees and back in a princess style hold. You didn't protest, exhaustion leaving you too weak to reasonably object. Instead, you lay your head on his shoulder, arms securely holding your second skin around your body, as he took you out of the water.

As you exited the beach, the cold had finally caught up with you, and you began to shiver violently.

Cillian looked down at you, face pinched in concern, before focusing back on the path ahead, picking up his pace.

"I know, I know. We'll be home soon. We'll get you dressed in dry clothes, and I'll get a fire going, and you'll be warm before you know it. Just hang on."

You nodded, pressing yourself further against him, trying to share his body heat.

The journey dragged, the cool night temperatures making your symptoms worse. With each breeze, your shivering would pick up, and he would hold you tighter, as if he could solve the problem by only keeping you closer.

By the time you made it home, your fingers, toes, and nose were numb.

He tried to set you down carefully in front of your room, but his shaking, tired arms had you plopped on the ground more roughly then he intended, leading to him profusely apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You looked up to him and saw the way his fatigue wore on him, from the droopiness of his eyes to the sag of his shoulders and the way his wet clothes hung off of him. You wish he wouldn't apologize so much.

"Change into something warm, and I'll get the fire going, alright?"

You nodded and then went in your room to change, clumsily slipping on your normal nightwear. Still shivering, you then grabbed the blanket off your bed and bundled yourself with it before taking your wet seal skin and walking out of your room.

When you went back to the living room, Cillian was in dry clothes kneeling next to the fireplace, having finished loading the logs into the chimney. With a few strikes of the fire steel, a small fire began to grow on the wood, bringing a welcome heat with it.

You carefully hung up your second skin near the fireplace so it could dry and then sat down next to your brother, watching as he tended to the small flame, making certain it wouldn't go out. After a few minutes of carefully feeding it small, dry branches, it had taken to the bigger logs and grown to a healthy size. With a noise of contentment, he pulled the metal screen over the fireplace opening and leaned back, a drained expression falling on his face as he took a moment to soak in the heat.

Then he turned to you with a small smile.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded, your shivering having gone down some.

"But I'm still cold."

He opened his arms and waved you over. You didn't hesitate to go to them, taking your blanket and wrapping it over his body as well as yours as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head leaned against his shoulder, and his chin rested on your head.

And for a while, no one spoke. You sat snug in his hold, the warmth of the fire, the reassuring weight of his arms, and the steady rise and fall of Cillians chest, you were easily lulled into a state of half consciousness, bringing you a sense of peace.

But then your brothers voice, rough and low, spoke.

"Why did you leave?"

It took you a moment to process the question, mind fuzzy and slow from your exhaustion.

"Father was chasing me. I didn't know where else to go."

"You didn't have to stay gone for so long. You knew I would be home soon."

"I got lost."

With those words, his chest hitched, like he couldn't breathe. You hastily tried to reassure him.

"But when night fell, I used the north star to guide me home, just like you taught me. It all turned out okay in the end."

He shifted, his hold growing tighter.

"Don't you realise how lucky you were? If the sky had been overcast and you couldn't see the stars, what would you have done? How long would you have lasted at sea without its guidance? What if you had swam into a shark, or God forbid, a fisherman..."

His arms grew suffocating, to the point of pain.

"Cillian, please." You whimpered.

His grip immediately loosened, and he looked down on you, apologies spilling from his mouth once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it just- it scares me. You scare me. And I hate how frightened you make me. You can't go back there, (Y/N)."

What could you say? You felt guilty about making him so upset, but you couldn't promise to not return to the ocean, either. Yes, your first trip in the water was terrifying, but it was also freeing and beautiful. You wouldn't feel complete without being able to go there again.

You chose to stay silent.

He pressed you gently back into his chest and began softly rocking you, one hand around you and the other carding through your hair.

Eventually, you drifted off, the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle sway of Cillian's hold following you into your dreams.

The next thing you know, you're swaddled in your bed, sunshine streaming through your windows.

It takes you a while to get up, the ordeals from yesterday still weighing heavy on your body. But eventually, hunger pangs form in your stomach, and you force yourself to leave the safety of the blankets to get food.

With your blanket wrapped around your body like a cloak, you slowly shuffle out of your room and towards the kitchen. You dully make note of how high the sun is, meaning you had slept well into the afternoon. You hope Cillian let the animals out before he left.

Once in the kitchen, you cut a slice of bread and stand there, chewing on it slowly, eyes half lidded as not one thought crosses your mind.

Then it hits you, a delayed wave of dread washing over you.

Your skin.

You had left it near the fireplace, right? You were fairly certain of it being wet, and you had wanted it to dry. Therefore, near the fireplace was the most logical place.

Uncertainly, you take the few steps it takes to get to the living room, and can find no sign of it.

But you remember putting it here. At least, you think you remember.

It occurs to you that, upon separation from your skin, that mental acuity you had gained from it was now lost once again, and your brain fog has rolled back in with a vengeance.

You look around the fireplace, turning over baskets and boxes and whatever gets in your way, before expanding your search to the living room, then the kitchen, then your room. You even dared to look through your parents' room and Cillians room for no other excuse than your rising panic at not being able to find that vital, beloved part of yourself.

All higher reason left you as you left your house to trace back your journey from the beach on the wild belief that you could have dropped your skin, despite knowing that it had stayed wrapped around your body the entire time.

The further into your walk, the more the pit in your stomach grew, climbing its way into your throat until you threatened to choke on it, tears leaking from your eyes all the while.

It was only upon not being able to find the skin anywhere on the beach that you collapsed down on the sand, your wailing a companion to the roaring of the waves.

It was there Cillian found poor you, face a red, blotchy mess of snot and tears. He knelt beside you, out of breath from running to find you. He tried his best to calm you down despite looking panicked himself, but you had worked yourself into an unmanageable state.

After a desperate few minutes, you had slowed down just enough to wail out, "I can't find my skin."

His mouth formed a grim line, face becoming unreadable. Without another word, he picked you up and carried you home once more.

You didn't bother fighting it, only continuing to cry until it tapered off to pathetic little whimpers, and then total silence.

You barely registered that you were home, that Cillian had placed you upon the floor, near the dwindling fire where you collapsed. You stared into the small flame, not being able to comprehend anything. The world had become too much, weighing heavy on your mind and body to the point that you didn't have a will to care about much anymore. Except, of course, for one thing.

After an unknown time, Cillian sat down next to you, apple in hand. He made a gesture as if offering you the food, but there was only one response on your lips.

"Do you know where my skin is?"

He turned away from you and faced the fire again, taking a bite of the fruit, and you stared at him as he chewed. Chewed, chewed, chewed, and then swallowed it all down.

He nodded.

"Yes, I know where it is."

You felt your eyes light up, a surge of hope coursing through your body.

"Where is it?!"

He didn't turn to look at you. His face didn't even so much as twitch.

"Cillian, please, where is it? Where's my skin?"

"It's somewhere safe."

"That's isn't an answer." A heat began to form in your voice. "Where is it?"

"What are you going to do with it, when you get it again?"

The question took you off guard, making you sputter for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to try and leave again?"

Your patience gave way to your anger.

"I didn't leave you, I was trying to run away from our crazy Father, who would have done God knows what to me if he caught me. And I didn't want to be stuck out at sea for hours on end! And I came home, didn't I? I want to be here, why isn't that enough for you?!"

His finally turned towards you, face twisted and sharp.

"You came back this time." He spat. "But what about the next? What's to keep you from deciding to stay in the sea if I can't be there to stop you? Just look at you! A day hasn't even passed, and you're already running back towards that accursed beach."

Heat rose in your cheeks, and your voice rose.

"And so you steal from me? You take a part of myself and hide it from me? How dare you! How dare you do what Father did!"

The veins in his head began to pop up at your words.

"I'm nothing like him, Father was a monster!"

"Then prove it! Give me back my skin!"

He stared at you, eyes wild, huffing like he had just run across the property. You held his gaze, just as angry and stubborn, unwillingly to back down.

He jolted up, then stalked across the floor and exited the house with a slam of the door.

You could only look after him in silence.

After Cillian left, you had slunk off to your bed, not knowing what else to do except to lie down and wait.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep, not even able to find reprieve in your dreams, where you saw your mother taking your skin and running as you desperately tried to catch up to her. But no matter how fast you ran, or how hard you pushed yourself, you fell further and further behind until she was nothing more than a speck in the distance.

A hand came to rest on your head, and you jolted awake with a start, heart racing and eyes wide and unseeing, until a voice called out to you.

"It's okay, (Y/N), it's okay, it's only me, Cillian. Calm down, you're safe."

In a few short seconds, your eyes focused on the figure sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, and it was indeed your brother, face composed in a reassuring smile.

You took in your surroundings, noticing it had gone completely dark, with only a candle placed on your nightstand to offer any light. There was no sign of your skin.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to wake you up. It looked like you were having a nightmare."

You slumped back in your bed, and frown easily forming on your face.

"I was." Is your meager reply.

"I'm sorry about that. Do you want to talk about it?"

You look away from him, frown deepening.

He sighed. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

Silence.

"The first time you wandered off, trying to return to the beach, Father had taken me aside, and told me a story of a young, lonely fisherman who had come upon a beautiful, naked lady dancing on the beach. The fisherman had become enchanted with this strange woman, believing to have fallen in love at first sight. After having watched her for some time, he came to spot a stark white seal skin near the lady. It was then he figured out that the woman was not a human, but a selkie, a mythical creature with the ability to change their form from seal to human. He knew he had to have her and crept closer and closer, until he was able to snatch the skin away. She pleaded for it's return, offering anything to have it back. He had said he would, but only on the condition she became his wife. She relented, not having another choice. Of course, Father had then revealed that this was the story of how he met Mother."

You sat there, staring at him in shock.

"You knew that Mother and I were selkies, and you said nothing?"

"No, that's not it. I didn't believe a word of what he said, I thought it was the delusions of a sad man trying to find a reason for why his wife was so ill. I didn't start thinking of the story until Mother went visiting the beach, and even then, I wasn't sure until I saw you transform in front of my very eyes."

He sighed once more.

"But that wasn't all. Father had said that though I was human, you were a selkie, and that he had taken your skin as soon as you were born and hidden it away with Mothers. He believed that if you never had the chance to transform, the illness from Mother would lessen, and eventually, you would turn human. I thought he was mad, but now that I am able to think... he was right, wasn't he?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"Your illness wasn't as severe as Mothers. You were able to live normally for the most part. Sure, you couldn't always focus, and your mind would wander, but it was getting better, wasn't it? In a few more years, you might have turned human. Unfortunately, Mother stopped that from happening, but it can be done again."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, cold and iron tight, with a sickening smile stretched on his face.

"You'll be rid of this disease, and you can be human, like you were meant to. And I'll be here to take care of you until it happens."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move, could scarcely breathe. You could have cried, but all the tears and anger had left you earlier that day, leaving you to mutely stare at your brother, your only family, the only one you trusted, who you thought would protect you from the horrors of the world you lived in, in a complete and all consuming horror you have never felt in your life.

A moment passed, and you managed to find your words once again.

"Cillian." Your voice is quiet. A gentle breeze could drown it out.

"Cillian," you try again, "please. Where is my skin?"

His face falls and shoulders sag in disappointment.

"I know it will take you a long time to adjust, but I promise, this is for the best."

You shake your head, but he only brings you in for a hug, holding you gently as if you would shatter at a moments notice. You have no energy to fight back.

"Please. Give me back my skin."

He only shushes you, rubbing circles into your back as you continue to plead for the only thing that could make you feel whole again. You stay there until your voice goes silent, your body slack, and your eyes shut. Until you fall asleep in the arms of your brother, under the roof of your father, and under the stars that sit unmoving and unforgiving in the darkness of the night sky.

[sillylotrpolls]

(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

[florencemtrash]

Brown Eyed Beauty — Lucien x Reader

Fond, childhood memories are few and far between for Lucien. But he's reminded of every good thing when he looks at you.

Author's note: DAMNIT! Brown eyes deserve to be treated with the same tender reverence as any other color. This one is for all the brown eyed beauties (and Lucien lovers) out there.

There was a hidden stream Eris had taken him fishing once, back when he was a stringy child with two eyes and soft hands.

“You’ll need to build up your strength and the calluses on your palms, then the fish won’t be able to slip out of your grasp so easily.” Eris told him, standing up to his knees in the gentle current, pant legs rolled up with the ends dripping. His body was slim as a reed, but strong, and on the cusp of adulthood. Pale bruises were scattered across a pale, freckled chest, purple, green, and yellow.

Lucien watched with bated breath as Eris tracked a shiny, silver-pink body darting between the rocks, his eyes untricked by the bending of sunlight as it dove into the water. 

There. 

Eris leaned down and dipped his hands into the stream with lightning swiftness. “Gotcha.” 

His hands broke the water. The salmon writhed, fighting with every gasping breath and splashing water onto Eris’s already soaking trousers.

“Here.” Eris stretched his arms out to where Lucien stood in the shallows. The salmon was giving up, the rhythm of its whipping body slowing. “It’s tired. Try holding it now.” 

Lucien held on for five seconds before the tail slapped him across the face, startling him so much he dropped the fish and its scaly, sleek body began to race downstream.

“No!” Lucien dove for it, red hair slipping under clear waters. The current was stronger than he expected, or maybe it was just that he was weaker than his brother. He felt something pulling downward, keeping him submerged.

His first response was to panic, to flail his arms and legs out uselessly. But then he stopped. It was peaceful down here, the water so clear that he could catch every grain of sand splashed over brick-brown rocks like stars. Tiny fishes, silky smooth with beady eyes, darted in and out of crevices. Light behaved differently underwater, fragmenting and casting lovely golden shapes on stones the color of fresh-pressed coffee. 

Here it was calm. Here was a place where Beron’s power couldn’t touch him. Here he was safe. 

A strong hand grasped the back of his shirt, hauling him up soaking and sputtering with a brackish taste sliding down his throat. 

The bruises on Eris’s cheekbones stood out on his pale skin, the fright in his eyes turning to anger. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Eris yelled and all but tossed his sopping body onto a yellowing patch of grass. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucien mumbled. He sat, shivering in the Autumn chill until Eris caught another salmon and assembled sticks in a neat circle of sand, lighting it with a snap of his slender fingers. 

“Tomorrow we’ll come back,” Eris promised as Lucien sank his teeth into the juicy, pink flesh. The skin was perfectly crisp and grease dribbled down his chin hot and slick. Eris wiped it away with a soft swatch of moss. “I’ll teach you to swim properly.” 

He didn’t seem to mind the descending cold, and for that Lucien was grateful. It meant he would get to keep Eris’s shirt until his was finished drying on the cracked log. 

But unbeknownst to them, Beron had come home earlier than anticipated with their other brothers. Eris was whipped ten times for leaving the Forest House unattended and Lucien was locked in his room for three days. They never went back to that stream — at least not together — and Lucien learned to swim on his own in less forgiving waters. 

Lucien still clung onto the memories of that day. Good memories from his childhood were far and few between. 

“You’re staring again.” You sighed contentedly and shifted in the little cradle of earth you’d claimed for youself. Yellowing, waist-high grasses swayed above you, occasionally bowing down with slender fingers to tickle your cheeks. A hundred yards away the Sidra tumbled over stones, rolled onto gray-sand beaches. The air tasted of salt and seaweed. Crisp, tangy, clear. 

“How did you know?” Lucien asked, and you could hear the gentle caress of his smile in the words.

You cracked open your eyes against the sun’s assault high in the midafternoon sky. Sure enough, Lucien was staring at you, golden eye whirring. You ran a languid finger down the bond, light and airy as a kiss. He braced his arms by your head, sinking down until his body was pressed flush against yours. 

You smiled. “I can feel it. It’s my special talent.”

“Oh?” Lucien chuckled.

“I’ve cultivated it over the years. A product of having a brute like you chase after me like a hound goes after a fox.” Not that you’d ever gone far. 

Scarlet strands of hair slipped out of the braid you’d arranged hours ago. They hung around his elegant, scarred face like liquid fire, casting a warm glow onto his already tanned skin. You tucked them back behind his sharp ears. Traced the curve of his bones until he was leaning into your touch.

“You wound me,” he murmured, kissing your palms. 

You blushed, feeling the brush of his full lips against your sensitive skin. “I didn’t mean it.” 

He smiled — a crooked, boyish smile. “I know.” 

He looked into your coffee eyes. The light bent differently when they touched your irises, curving around the bends like honey, cutting amber crescents at the edges of their rich color. You closed and opened them slowly, letting the light pour in like cream into coffee, swirling and setting them aflame. 

Lucien was back in that stream. The world was still. There was nothing that could hurt him. Just clarity, peace, and the riverbed glittering beneath him. 

“I love you, Y/n.”

[lenaariewrld]

C.42 — what about you?

ON THE AIR — childe x reader smau

| SYNOPSIS;; Teyvat University’s popular radio personality, Y/n L/n, has only one gripe with her life. Her classmate, neighbour, and all-around nuisance in her life, Tartaglia. Their rivalry extends just past academics and, to her horror, into her work. He becomes the music director and co-host for her radio show, working alongside her most nights and forcing himself even deeper into her life. But is he really trying to just be friends, or is there an ulterior motive to his actions?

| WC; 3.6k

previous! ~ masterlist ! ~ next!

After a long, and frankly a little stuffy, car ride to the beach house that Childe had helped book, you all finally arrived and got out. You practically leaped from the car as soon as Keqing put it into park, stretching out your sore limbs. “Ahh, fresh air,” You sighed dreamily, the stiffness alleviating from your arms as you held them out to feel the gentle breeze. It was the early evening, the air was still a little cold, but the breeze was warm and inviting. Perfectly framing the glow of the sky as the sun set a rich marigold hue, just starting to dip below the horizon.

About a hundred feet from you was the shore of the beach, the sparse grass giving way to glittering white sand. And, eventually, to the waves that waded in and out of shore. You drank it all in, breathing in as you heard each crash of a swell, clear as day even from here. The breeze that drifted in was salty and fresh.

“Y/nnie, help us carry in the luggage!”

Cyno’s deflated squawk of your name calls you from your thoughts and you immediately turn back to the car. You giggle as you see him heave one of the larger suitcases out of the trunk to carry it in. “Sorry,” You duck out of his way and reach for your own hold of bags, unloading more of the suitcases.

With a satisfied grunt, you set two of the cases down inside, taking in the interior of the place. It was moderately decorated and clean, with giant floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall facing the shore. But it still felt homey. “OK, dibs on the master bedroom!” Ganyu comes in behind you, laughing as Cyno immediately turns to make a rebuttal.

“Let’s just do a coin toss for it. We only have enough for three of us to get solo rooms,” You remind with a fond smile, pulling out your wallet from your bag. 

“I think we should leave the master for the doublers, then,” Childe chimed in, following dutifully behind Keqing with the last of the luggage. You leaned against a taller suitcase as everyone packed into the main area of the bnb. The five of you nodded in agreement.

You flip the coin with your thumb, letting everyone call out heads or tails. Eventually, it was decided that you, Ganyu, and Childe got solo rooms; Keqing and Cyno paired up. “Happy?” You looked at your white-haired friend, who was already beaming at you. He clicked his teeth proudly, helping Keqing move their things into the bigger room upstairs. Childe claimed the last room upstairs, which left you and Ganyu downstairs.

You took your time settling in and taking in the house, eventually meandering back to the main living room area. Cyno was already there, casually scrolling on his phone. You perch yourself on the arm of the couch next to him, earning an affectionate pat on your calf before leaning back. He was more reserved with his touch now, you noticed.

Keqing came down next, looking around the rest of the house before coming back to the living room. “How hungry are you guys?”

“I can probably wait an hour or so, I’m still a little carsick,” You say, with a shrug, leaning back on your hands. “Me too,” Cyno agreed half-alert, fixing his hair into a mustache by pinching it between his upper lip and nose, his face screwed in concentration. You giggle as the two of you lock eyes, turning your attention back to Keqing.

“There’s a grill back there,” The woman says, glancing through the other doorway opposing the hallway to the rooms, where the kitchen and side deck were. You hummed in interest. “That’s if-” She adds, looking at you and Cyno, “-anyone wants to cook.”

“We could make it another toss-up,” You volunteered.

“What toss-up?” Childe calls, coming off the stairs. Honestly, he looked a little dorky with a hairband pushing his hair back and his jorts (yes, JORTS). You smiled to yourself while he looked between you all, placing a hand on his hip and fanning himself with his shirt. It wasn’t until he glanced in your direction that you looked away, catching yourself staring.

“For cooking,” Cyno told him during your sudden silence. He gestured for Childe to join in, sitting up a little bit. ”For dinner,” He adds. The other man hums as he takes a seat across from you both. Keqing follows his cue and moves further into the room, typing on her phone as she holds your attention.

“Well, we need to get the food to cook, first. So, two people can be assigned to dinner duty, and anyone who wants to chip in after can do so.” She looks between the three of you. “How about that?’ She raises her brows and closes her phone, leaving the floor open for anyone else’s opinion.

Childe raises his hand, which makes Cyno giggle. “I’m okay with that, but I don’t mind helping shop and cook,” He volunteers himself. Keqing nods and looks between you and Cyno. Before he gets the chance to speak, you shrug and stand up. “I haven’t done much yet, so I can help too,” You say. Your friends exchange a quick look but don’t fight you.

Soon enough, you find yourself packing into the car with Childe, a short list of groceries hastily written in your notes app. You roll the windows down in the car, leaning your elbow on the windowsill. “It’s been years since I’ve been to the beach,” You muse, watching the shore disappear in the mirror as Childe drives up the driveway and to the closest town. He hums from the driver's seat.

“Me too,”

You lean your cheek against your arm. The wind brushes through your hair, kissing your cheeks and the tips of your ears, or tickling your neck. The lights on the street dye a hazy yellow around you. You turn to look at Childe, adjusting yourself comfortably. “Are you happy to be here?” You ask.

“On the trip?” Childe replies. You nod. “I mean, yeah... Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugs. You look at him with a raised brow, not disbelieving, but not entirely believing him.

“Just curious..”

The grocery trip is pretty quick, overall. You and Childe put your combined skills to use to retrieve everything and get home before it got too late and too dark, successfully pulling into the driveway with an hour of daylight left to spare. The others help you put everything away and start prepping.

You easily get into the role of directing everyone around, laughing as you give different directions to your friends. Ganyu connects her phone to a speaker and plays her playlist for the trip, singing along as she chops up and skewers some vegetable kabobs. Childe and her work together. You prep most of the sauces and chop up the meat, handing it off for Cyno and Keqing to season and skewer.

The prep breezed by quickly with your shared drinks and conversations. You take over cleaning up the dishes while everyone else files out to where the table and grill were.

Outside, you hear Cyno scolding Childe for sampling some of the food fresh from the grill, and Keqing laughing while she sets out some plates and cutlery. You finish cleaning up the cutting boards, knives, and mixing bowls before joining your friends, your drink bottle propped on your knee as you drop onto a chair.

“–Anyway, I was telling this story about this customer I had come in one day,” Cyno gets back to what he was saying once his focus returned to grilling, having taken over temporarily while Childe got himself a drink. “But I was running through my usual questions; asking how their day was a shit, y’know? And she deadass looks at me–” He turns dramatically to all of you, a hand on his hip for emphasis, “-and says, ‘Better now. You have the face of a porn star I used to love!’”

You gawk at the absurdity of what he just said, over taken by laughter while Ganyu slaps her hand over her mouth. “Are you kidding me?”

“No! She was completely serious. I didn’t even know how to respond! I was just like ‘oh. Okay’” The white-haired man laughs, shrugging it off. You catch your breath while Keqing sighs dramatically.

“Sometimes, people just lose their common sense filter when they face hospitality workers… There’s no other reason they act that absurd,” She says, taking a drink.

You tip your bottle to her. “That or they are just that stupid and obtuse.” You retort.

Your friends hum or add in their own comments, continuing with the conversation and chipping in with more stories of the like, thoroughly entertaining everyone and killing the time until you all can eat. You’re sure that all of you are being thoroughly annoying and loud, but it was summer and it was warm and you felt at ease. So, who cares. Once a good portion of the food was cooked, Childe helps divvy out the food and everyone picks apart the plates. Your cheeks are flush as you eat and laugh and chat, caught up in the moment.

You catch Childe’s eyes, the two of you exchanging a quiet look while Ganyu and Cyno serenade each other with a Rihanna song, unapologetically loud and dramatic. “Aren’t they fun?” You mouth, smiling.

The man nods. “I see why you are so close to them,” He mouths back and holds out the bottom of his bottle. You clink yours against his.

Everyone was thoroughly relaxed as your dinner progressed, the hours ticking by while you all fill up, taking your time. The conversation devolved into discussions of philosophy– such as if chickens can be raised by cats, or which Twilight movie was more accurate to Shakespeare –as it got later.

The hollers of laughter you all continue to stir in each other bled into the calm blue of the night.

And eventually, you all decide to head inside and clean up. You watch Keqing and Ganyu set up a movie on the television in the living room. Cyno cleans out the grill quickly with Childe, making sure all the coals were extinguished and whatnot before calling it a night. You decide to rest as well, wishing sweet dreams to everyone else in the house before ducking into your room.

You breeze through your nightly routine and fall into bed, curled comfortably in the ridiculously soft sheets. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep..

However, it also doesn’t last long, as you wake up sometime around four-ish. You blink blearily, staring at the ceiling. It takes you a second to realise what had woken you up was a soft knocking on the door of your room, as a second soft tok tok against the wood makes you get up. You pad over to the door, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you pull it open.

“...Childe?” Your brows furrow in confusion at said man, who looks wide awake despite the early hour.

“Sorry for waking you up,” He whispers, leaning slightly on the door frame. “I want to show you something,” He wiggles his brows enticingly, a casual smile spreading on his face. You stare at him blankly.

“Really?”

“You’ll like it,” He rolls his eyes at your dry response, holding out his hand. “And leave your shoes here,” He adds. You raise a brow curiously, hesitating. Your hand was still on the door. Though you were comfortable around Childe again, and you’d hung out with him one-on-one as friends since you forgave him, it hadn’t happened often. And not at night.

Why did this feel familiar?

Fuck it. You take a deep breath and close the door behind you, making a dramatic show of dropping your hand into his. His eyes crinkly pleasantly as a grin splits onto his face, and he pulls you forward with him. With quiet but eager steps, he leads you through the living room. The two of you are careful not to disturb the women passed out on the soda, cuddled up with a quilt.

You catch a glimpse of their intertwined hands and make a mental note to question Ganyu about it later.

For now, though, your focus is on Childe, your eyes trailing to the back of his head. He leads the two of you out the back door and off the deck, helping you down over the railing. You smile, full of glee, as your feet make contact with the sand of the beach. It’s still warm from the sun of the day.

It’s soft too, cradling your steps as you and Childe walk hand-in-hand closer to the shore. It gets colder the closer you get to the water, icy and shifting. You inhale sharply as the water first touches your skin, sending a shiver up your body. “Look,” The man squeezes your palm and points at a specific set of waves in the distance. Where the horizon stretches into miles and miles of blue-black, churning beyond your vision.

You squint to see what he’s gesturing at.

In the distance, getting clearer the longer you stare at the pitch darkness, is a pod of animals cresting over the water. It’s hard to tell exactly what they are from how far away you are, but it’s still something to see. Hearing the waves crash and break over the shoreline while they flip tails and turn over in the glittering water. You stare in awe.

“This time of year, tons of whale pods make stops near this part of the ocean during their migrations,” Childe tells you, his eyes trained on the aquatic creatures. “Sometimes, separated family pods will join up with them again here for mass migrations or breeding seasons,” He continues casually, as if it were common knowledge.

You hum.

It’s quiet as you both take in what you can see. Childe tells you more facts until the waves and the whale pod become so hard to distinguish, you’re sure they’re not even there anymore. “Are you secretly a merman?” You break the silence and glance over at the ginger.

He laughs, caught off guard by your question. “I’m serious!” You laugh as you shove his shoulder. He stumbles a step or two before righting himself.

“Sure you are,” He says.

“But… I mean, are you really into the ocean or something?” You question, rocking back and forth. You were getting accustomed to the temperature of the water now, wading until you were calf-deep in it, your shorts tucked high just in case. Childe sucks his teeth, running his hands through his hair.

He looks like a model.

His hair curled more with the salty sea air, his eyes reflecting the moonlight as he looked over the water, and his skin tanned and dotted. The breeze tousled his clothes, and you stared for a moment. He looked real.

“I got really into them when I was like, ten,” He answers after a moment of contemplation, his hands relaxing on his hips. “I grew up in a land-locked area, so until I moved I had never really seen the ocean. But even before that, I was obsessed with the sea and sea animals..” He tells you.

“When you moved here…” You repeat quietly, talking more to yourself in the moment. You had never really discussed either of your lives before university, too busy trying to keep up with your never-ending schedules. “Do you miss it? Miss your family?”

“Of course,” Childe looks at you then. “It was better for them if I left, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t wish to go back to them,”

“Why did you leave?”

He tilts his head at your question, but you keep your attention on the waves circling around your knees. “I don’t mean to pry,” You tell him. “I’m just curious.. I would’ve never chosen to leave my family,”

Childe makes a sound of acknowledgement. He wades further into the water with you, stepping closer so you don’t have to raise your voice as much. He laughs when you step out of his reach, giggling when he reaches for you again and ends up stumbling deeper into the water. “I don’t know much about your life…” You begin, holding out your hand to help balance yourselves against the waves, your laughter dying down as he slides his hands over your arms, holding on while he shakes the water from his hair and face. “So, if you’re comfortable with it, I want to know more about you.” You tell him.

“Oh, I see…” Childe smiles sheepishly. He holds your shoulders as a particularly strong wave crashes over the both of you, cutting off the conversation momentarily while you squeal at the cold water splashing onto your arms and stomach. He rubs your arms up and down like he was warming you up, the both of you laughing quietly.

“Come on,” You pat his arm encouragingly.

The man thinks for a second.

“I left to protect them, and to protect myself, I guess…,” He says. “I-it was a hard decision, obviously… but necessary, you know.” He trails off, rubbing the side of his neck.

You give him a quiet look to go on when he glances at you, nodding quietly to show you’re listening.

“When I was younger, I was a lot more vicious… and I got into fights a lot, which wasn’t great for my family either. Then my dad died… and, it kind of became my role to look after the family. My mother and my older sisters couldn’t do that by themselves, not in the way things were set up for us..” Childe continues on, a distant look in his eyes as he looked towards the horizon again.

“So I did some shitty things in order to keep people from questioning us. Making money so my sisters could dress the best way possible or my mother could afford to go to banquets and gala’s her job invited her to… and I did what I had to to protect their reputation and safety, which including coming abroad,” He shyly ends off, refusing to look at you now. His ears grow darker as you stare at him.

“Did you kill people?”

“What? No!” Childe waves his hands rapidly, his whole face burning bright red now. “I just mean I paid them off and shit,” He explains, embarrassed about the whole thing. Your mouth parts in a little ooohhh expression as you process it.

“You make it sound so serious…” You sigh. The man shrugs. You can’t say you were surprised by what Childe told you. Getting into fights with people for having a big mouth and a cocky attitude seemed to be his biggest crutch. That being said, what you didn’t expect was that he so readily upended his life for his family.

“I just hate talking about myself and… I’m not proud of what I did to get here,”

You nod. “That’s fair, but you can’t change it.. So, there’s no point trying to keep it from people who want to be there for you, you know?” You turn in a slow circle, taking in the scenery of the ocean. 

“What about you?”

“What about me?” You raised a brow, facing forward to feel the breeze against your face. Childe was still holding onto a couple of your fingers, following your meandering steps while you talked.

“Your family…” He leaves the question in the air, breaching just the general topic.

You press your lips together for a second. “Well, my mother was a control freak and a helicopter parent and my dad was abusive and neglectful.” You say matter-of-factly. “They always thought I was ungrateful, and after they heard rumors about me at the university… they cut me off and sort of disowned me. Now, we weren’t rich, but it was something I could’ve fallen back on back then..”

You sigh, deflating a little as you told the story. “In the end, they were right. I was kind of ungrateful about what I had, but they still sucked, so ultimately I’m glad I had to go through that.. I’m better off taking care of myself,”

“Oh,” was Childe’s only response.

“Stupid, I know..” You can’t help but laugh dryly. The man nods, squeezing your hand softly in reassurance.

“You have your friends, at least,” He reminds you, glancing towards the little house your other friends are asleep in currently. You nod.

The two of you talked a little bit longer like that, wading around in the shallows and trading stories about your families and lives before you met each other. When the sky started getting lighter, the stars starting to fade into the washed out blues as the sun rose higher, you and Childe decided to call it a night.

The both of you trekked back to the airbnb, giggling as you washed the sand off your feet and tiptoed back into the house. Thankfully, everyone was still asleep as you headed back towards your rooms.

Before you parted ways, the man wished you a goodnight, squeezing your hand. “Um… thank you for talking with me,” He whispered. You smiled, physically unable to stop it. Just the sight of his sheepish expression made your reservations melt. Maybe you were soft-hearted, but he was trying. And you could see that.

“Good night, Ajax,” You whispered, leaning forward just slightly until your lips brushed ever-so-slightly against the apple of his cheek, a flush soon dusting his skin as you stepped back into your room. “Get your rest,”

You don’t catch the grin stretching on his lips as soon as you close your door, or the way he nearly skips to his room, but you feel the same giddiness regardless, changing out of your semi-soaked clothes and flopping into your bed again to catch any more sleep possible…

———

A/Ns: SORry that it took so long to write this <//3 writers block is a bitch.. anyway, enjoy the fluff of this chapter!! as always, any interactions are loved and appreciated, and so are you! <33

TAGLIST: @popiizpops @scaradooche @yourfavoritefreakyhan @neversore @monocerosei @dontmindtheevie @kittywagun @yumidepain @kazumiku @hanilessa @nrviine @wren-art @state-of-grac3 @definitely-not-leena @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @tikitsune @hwngti @trulylee @basicsofdying @starriylover @sweetkyojuro @duhsies @kitchenscissorbangs @love-loveyy @julliesfilmz @rifran @jayathelostdragon @floweringanna @vi0let-writes

[rayveneyed]

cw: mentions + depictions of death, crime, alcohol.

it's difficult for nanami kento to leave behind the life of a cowboy -- but, truth be told, he's only ever wanted to live a quiet life.

god as his witness, he’s seen his fair share of trouble — train heists and bank robberies and turning sheriffs topsy-turvy, mostly at the behest of his more excitable companions. he's seen blood and guts and bullet wounds the size of his fist, and he’s damn sure seen too many good people bite the dust far too soon. the adrenaline and the money weren’t ever worth it -- but haibara had wanted to stay, and so he did.

haibara dies. it's no glamorous death. it's shitty, and dull, and it happens in the blink of an eye -- shot from his horse as he galloped down the side of a train, hitting the sand with a sickening crack. they hadn't even been able to recover his body, and it ruins kento beyond anything. haibara was his brother. they'd known each other since they were old enough to know what knowing someone meant.

his heart was never fully in it, but that was the nail in the coffin. he couldn't smile. couldn't find the will to continue on as he had before, like nothing had happened. what was it that made him survive, when so many died? why did haibara die -- good haibara, ditsy, smiling haibara -- while nanami lived? why was he seemingly deserving of life, when others weren't?

he didn't know. he doesn't know, but here he is, with a beating heart and a furrowed brow and a pistol that doesn't fit all too well in his hands anymore.

it's all enough to have him yearning for a home and a bed and the country, with it's silence, with it's peace. the country, like he lived in when he was a boy. the country, where haibara had run through the grass and caught cicadas and geckos.

if he can't swap places with haibara, he thinks, then surely he can try to repent for all he's done. turn his life around. live as an honest man.

so — with a heart as light as a lump of stone — he retires from the outlaw life. says goodbye to the crew. sets himself up in a quaint town with a little cottage to himself, some land to farm on and some cattle to wrangle. it’s far away from the big cities, but there’s a train station the next town over and everything he needs a short horse-ride away: a general store, a saloon, a doctor. he can live simply. he can live honestly.

and so it starts. no use in making a name for himself as some sorta recluse, he reckons, so he forces himself to get to know the town, settle in. he’s a quiet man by nature, but they’re kind as most small-town folk are; the doctor is a weathered old man whose daughter is married to the town sheriff, and their niece helps out at the general store. the sheriff himself is stout and balding, with little experience in shooting a gun, but he's a good man. there’s a group of old, weathered farmers that seem to take him under their wing, though he tells them time and time again that he’s no spring-chicken when it comes to tending the farm — that was his father’s work, after all, before he died. and there’s families and kids and men his age, mostly farmers or sheriff’s deputies or soldiers. girls just barely women, tittering and blushing when he nods a good day to them.

life is good. he can live like this, he thinks. he milks the cows and sheers the sheep, hoists lambs over his shoulders and sweats, sweats, sweats. gorges himself on whisky and beer and hearty food, spares some money for a little piece of toffee if he has it. walks himself home from the rowdy saloon with his jacket over his arm and his cheeks flushed, eyes counting fireflies in the evening sun. it’s all hard work -- he's left aching and sore each day -- and it’s good work, anyways. at least out here no-one’s hankering to put a bullet between his eyes.

and yes — he gets lonely sometimes. he’s so used to running with a pack of seven or eight, staying up ‘til dawn, trading stories ‘round the fire. laughing more than he knows how to, hiding smiles around the rim of a cup of moonshine. now, his nights are filled only with the calls of cicadas, the sound of dried grass brushing against itself in the wind. the days are long and hard and he has little to return to by its end.

probably why he spends all his time at the saloon, drowning out the quiet with the noise of it all.

probably why he spends all his time glancing at you out the corner of his eyes.

now, look here: kento doesn’t consider himself the kinda man deserving a wife — but you’re… you’re kind. kind and pretty, serving up drinks and putting the town drunkard out on his ass when he gets too riled up (if kento doesn’t get to him first). slipping the kids sugar cubes when they sneak in past their bedtime.

his first day in town, you never made strange; you remind him of his old crew, in some ways, with your open brightness, your ability to welcome him so easily. you’d told him that his first drink was free of charge, a smile on your lips like a secret. and you walk past his home on your way to work, your dress swaying ‘round your hips, your face all dewy and plump — you're a summer evening, strawberries sweet and syrupy, and he can't help himself: he glances over sometimes, and you always call his name in greeting, like you were expecting it.

(in the back of his bad, no-good mind, he wonders if you talk about him the way the other town girls do — if you giggle over the size of his arms, or the colour of his hair, or his voice. he shakes the thoughts away with a disapproving grunt.)

but it doesn’t matter — it doesn’t matter that sometimes you end up late for work, stuck standing at his fence and talking for far too long; doesn't matter that you bake him loaves of bread, using the excuse that there's too much at home. it doesn't matter that he fixes the porch of your house and you make him lemonade, batting away your younger siblings with a tea-towel and scolding them for bothering him -- doesn't matter that, for a second, he imagines a life like that.

and it sure as hell doesn't matter that, when the old doctor swings an arm around his neck and teases him something terrible, drunk off his head and slurring — “i reckon you’ll be wantin’ a wife soon, big man like yourself!” — that his eyes cut to you. and it doesn’t matter that you’re already looking at him, knowing.

men like him don’t deserve lemonade or apple pie or sweet summer strawberries. not now, not ever.

[phoenix-downer]

Love’s First Bloom

Summary: Kairi accidentally falls into a rushing river when she tries to pick a rare paopu flower. Sora and Riku work together to rescue her and realize they both have feelings for her.

Kairi likewise has a few realizations of her own.

~5000 words. Set between BBS and KH1. Love Triangle, Friendship, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Feelings Realization, Crushes, First Love, Introspection, Hurt/Comfort. POV Kairi, Riku, and Sora.

🌸🌼🌺

How quickly life can change. Like a cool breeze picking up or a slight shift in the scenery, suddenly what you took for granted can be gone in an instant. 

“C’mon, Kairi, let’s go!” Sora called. Kairi looked up from her current crafts project: a flower crown with purple asters, white chrysanthemums, blue forget-me-nots, and big red hibiscuses. Those colors were all nice together, but a yellow flower would be a nice addition. Maybe she’d find one as they went exploring. 

She tucked the flower crown in her pocket, then grabbed her straw hat and put it on. She wasn’t like Sora and Riku—they tanned easily, especially Sora, but her skin turned red so fast. And then the red turned into dozens and dozens of freckles. Redheads weren’t made for the tropical sun, and brief memories of another place flickered through her mind. A place with a big castle and lots of flowers and waterfalls. 

“Coming!” she cried as she stumbled after the boys. They were both so much faster than her, and the sand on the beach was always hard to run on. But presently the ground beneath her feet got more solid, and the boys finally slowed down as the three of them passed through the town and started climbing the hills behind it.

“Where are we going this time?” Sora asked, looking at Riku. Riku always decided what they would do. 

Riku grinned and swung his play sword. “It’s a surprise. But I think you’ll like it, Kairi.” He looked at her like he wanted her to say something. Come to think of it, he’d been looking at her a lot lately. 

“Oh, are there nice flowers?” she asked, her fingers resting on the flower crown in her pocket. She wanted to finish it as soon as she could.

Riku’s grin got bigger, and his eyes had a teasing glint in them. “Maybe.” 

“And pretty scenery?” she pressed. Every part of Destiny Islands was pretty, but Riku always knew the best spots.

“Only the best for you,” Riku said, and Kairi felt a funny feeling blooming in her chest.

Sora frowned, his face twisting into a scowl. “I know some pretty spots too, Kairi,” he said. 

Riku rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. The stuff I showed you guys last week,” he said, and Kairi giggled into her hand. 

Now Sora was pouting. “That’s not true, I know a lot of nice spots Riku doesn’t know!” 

“Prove it, then,” Riku said, and Sora muttered something about how he would. At the branch in the mountain path up ahead, he led them to the right. They followed the path for a little longer until Sora took them off the path and through a clump of trees. On the other side was a beautiful clearing full of wildflowers, perfect for sparring. The sound of running water reached Kairi’s ears. There must be a branch of the river nearby. 

“Oh, this is really pretty!” Kairi exclaimed, clasping her hands together. She glanced at Sora, and he grinned and rubbed his cheek. 

“Hmmph,” Riku said. It was clear this was a place he hadn’t been before. Either that or he had but hadn’t thought to bring them here.

Sora pulled his wooden sword out. “Wanna fight?” he asked Riku, and at this Riku perked up. He loved the chance to spar with Sora. He pulled his sword out too and moved into an attack stance. 

Kairi smoothed her skirts and dutifully sat down on the grass nearby. Sora recklessly charged, and Riku carefully evaded him, then caught him in the back. Sora plunged into a roll and then sprung to his feet. He whirled around so quickly that he caught Riku by surprise, knocking Riku over. But Riku still had a trick up his sleeve; he waited a few seconds, then pushed himself up with his arms, using his momentum to kick Sora with both of his feet. Sora flinched and yelped but still clung to his sword. And so the fight continued with neither of them getting the upper hand. Riku was stronger but Sora was faster, so it wasn’t clear who would win.

After a while, Kairi got kinda bored watching the boys fight. They sparred so often that she felt like she'd seen every combination of tricks they could pull off, and there were some pretty-looking flowers over by the riverbank that she really wanted to pick. She skipped off in the direction of the river. A quick glance over her shoulder told her the boys didn’t even notice because they were so focused on their fight. Smiling to herself, she continued on. She usually enjoyed hanging out with Sora and Riku, but sometimes they were just such…boys. Lately they’d been constantly sparring and competing with each other, even when she wanted to pick flowers or go swimming or make seashell crafts. 

Besides, this way she could give them both flowers no matter who won the fight. 

The wildflowers along the riverbank were really pretty. Their petals were small and delicate, like little blue bells hanging off the stems. The river sped along nearby, deceptively calm for having such a fast current. Her parents always warned her about not swimming in the water when it looked like that. One wrong move and she would easily get swept under. 

Humming, she picked a few more flowers and tucked them into her pockets. She was always careful not to take more than she needed. Only enough for her crafts—the rest she needed to leave behind so there would still be pretty flowers in the future. That was what her parents had taught her. The flowers she did pick would make nice gifts and supplies for her crafts.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a brilliant yellow blossom. It had five petals, and the rounded shape of the petals made it look like a paopu fruit. Kairi’s breath caught. Was this the paopu flower? She’d only seen it a couple times in the wild before, and never in a place she could reach it. It was supposed to be super rare, and she hadn’t expected to see one today.

Which meant she had to pick it. Who knows when she might find one again? Edging towards the riverbank, she thought about who to give it to: Sora, or Riku. A blush crept up her cheeks. You were supposed to give the flower to someone you loved. But who did she love? She wasn’t really sure. 

Just…a little further…there. She plucked the flower and smiled, glancing back towards the boys. But the movement threw her balance off, and she gasped and dropped the flower. A clump of earth crumbled beneath her hands, and a root from a nearby tree broke off when she grabbed it. She clutched at something, anything, to keep herself from falling in, but it was too late. With a scream, she tumbled headlong into the cold, fast-moving waters of the river.

🌸🌼🌺

The moment Riku and Sora heard Kairi’s blood-curdling scream and then a loud splash, the boys dropped their swords and raced to the riverbank. Riku knew Kairi was a strong swimmer thanks to his careful lessons (well, and if he had to, he would admit Sora had helped her too), but the river was cold and the current was fast. And if she’d hit her head on anything when she’d fallen…

Riku reached the riverbank first. He yanked his shirt off and threw it on the ground. “Sora, I’m going in!” he called as Sora arrived, panting hard. “Find a branch I can hold onto and pull us out.” Sora nodded, trusting him completely, and with that Riku dove into the icy water. Man, it was cold, and the current was fast, but he had to find Kairi. She hadn’t fallen into the water much earlier than him, but—

There she was, a little further downstream. Her eyes were half-lidded and she was gripping a tree branch, but as he watched in horror, her hand went limp and she slipped back into the water. 

“KAIRI!” he shouted, then swam to her as fast as he could. This couldn't be the end of her. He wouldn't let it be. Ever since she had washed up on the shores of the Destiny Islands eight years ago, his life hadn't been the same. She'd been shy and quiet at first, her eyes always gazing off into the distance like she was searching for someone she couldn't find, but that was before she’d opened up to them. They were all friends now, and the thought of never hearing her giggle or seeing her smile or watching her eyes light up when he surprised her made his stomach churn and drove him to reach her. He had to see the way her eyes danced and her smile got playful when she teased him and Sora again. He just had to.

Faster, he had to go faster. His senses sharpened, and his feelings were as clear as the river rushing to take her away from him: he couldn't bear for her to slip out of his life just as suddenly as she'd entered it. Her head briefly popped out of the water again, and relief flooded him at the side of her familiar red hair. He reached towards her, he was almost there, just a little farther—

“Kairi, grab my hand!” he shouted.

She latched onto his arm with far more strength than he expected, and he knew Sora had to act quickly, or they would both drown. In her desperate state, Kairi wouldn't remember to avoid dragging Riku under the water with her. It was something all parents told their children on Destiny Islands, and the warning rang clear through Riku's mind.

“Riku, grab the stick!” 

Never had he been so relieved to hear his best friend's voice. Sora had tied himself to a tree with some spare rope and was holding out a tree branch to him, his eyes filled with panic and worry. Riku grabbed on, and the unwanted thought flashed through his mind that Sora might not be strong enough to pull them both out. He was still pretty scrawny and small. But a determined glint was in his friend’s eyes now, and Sora braced himself and pulled with far more strength than Riku thought he was capable of. The muscles in his arms strained and shook, and he gritted his teeth and groaned loudly, but he refused to let go. For a split second, Riku thought he saw a blond boy several years older than him in Sora's place, but then he was gone and it was just Sora. Slowly, inch by inch, he pulled Riku and Kairi out of the river.

Sheesh. Riku must've been seeing things with how stressed out he was. He turned his attention to Kairi. She gasped and coughed, and at last enough of Riku was on the bank to pull and drag her the rest of the way up. She was shivering, soaking wet, and now covered in mud from the bank, but she was alive. He suddenly felt very, very weak, and as he glanced at Sora, he was shocked to see tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Thank goodness,” Sora said, sniffing and rubbing his red eyes, his voice filled with relief. “I thought I was gonna lose you both.”

Riku was irritated at how much of a crybaby Sora was being. Again. Seriously, he'd been such a crybaby ever since they were kids, and even at twelve years old, he still cried shamelessly in front of other people. Then Riku was annoyed at how little faith Sora had in him. Did Sora really think he wouldn't save Kairi? 

But when Sora smiled at them both and knelt to hug them, all of that melted away.

We really matter that much to him, don't we? A pang of guilt shot through Riku at how he'd been treating Sora lately. Putting him down in front of Kairi to try to impress her. Goading him and teasing him when he reacted and got upset. Turning everything into a competition because a tiny, green-eyed voice deep down wondered if Kairi liked Sora more.

Not that Sora noticed. The idiot was still so oblivious to his own feelings, let alone Kairi’s.

But Riku didn't push Sora away or tell him not to hug them. He didn't like how clingy Sora was being, but after what they’d all just been through, he would allow Sora to be clingy. Just this once.

“Kairi, you’re as cold as ice,” Sora said. He pulled away from them and frowned. He was right. When Riku touched her arm, it was way colder than it should've been. She coughed and wouldn't stop shivering, and when Sora said her name again, she didn't respond. 

“Kairi, wake up,” Sora begged, but she still wouldn't respond.

“I think she needs to see a doctor,” Riku said. “Hang on, let me grab my shirt so you can put it over her, then I'll go get her parents.”

He found his shirt upriver a little ways away from them, right where he’d left it, and brought it back. He tossed it to Sora and took off running, following the path of the river. He had to make it back to town as quickly as possible. But he was tired, so tired from going after Kairi. Would she really be okay? If only he were stronger, he could carry her all the way back to her parents or to the doctor himself.

Another pang of guilt shot through him. He needed more strength. More strength to protect her. His body was growing every day, but it still wasn't fast enough or strong enough. He still had to rely on adults for help. One day, he would have the strength to protect his friends himself. He had to. 

The thought urged him forward even as his legs ached and his lungs burned. Strength, to protect what matters. That was what he wanted, more than anything else.

🌸🌼🌺

Sora didn't know what to do. Even though he’d wrapped Riku’s shirt around Kairi, she kept getting colder and colder. She wasn't responding to him anymore, like she'd fallen into a deep deep sleep. She was still breathing, but her face was as pale as a ghost’s.

His heart was thundering in his chest, and his head swam. His arms ached from lifting Riku and Kairi out of the water, and he felt so useless. What good was it that he'd gotten her out of the water if she died here?

“Riku, hurry," he pleaded, but he knew he had to do something before his friend returned with help. It would still be a while yet before anyone else came. So he pulled Kairi close to his body and held her tight, hoping with all his heart that his warmth would make her body warm up again.

This was the closest he'd ever been to her, but all he could think about was how cold she was, how limp she was, how he wanted nothing more than for her to open her eyes again. Her eyes were so pretty. Blue like the sea with just a hint of purple, her favorite color. How did he not notice how pretty they were before? And now she might never open them again.

“Wake up, please,“ he begged, and the words sounded strangled and choked. “Kairi, you have to open your eyes!”

How could he have been so stupid? The thought of losing her made him realize just how much she meant to him. She was such an important part of his life, woven into so many memories as tightly as she wove her flower crowns and daisy chains together into beautiful creations. He couldn't imagine the future without her. In his mind, he'd arrogantly acted like she would always be there. But today had shown him he couldn't ever take a single moment with her for granted.

So he willed with all his heart that she would live, that his warmth would be enough. If it was, he would be sure to treasure every memory with her from now on.

After what was probably only minutes but felt like hours of agonized waiting, her skin felt ever so slightly warmer. At first he thought it was his overactive imagination, but no, a slight flush had returned to her cheeks. He gripped her even more tightly. A minute passed, and then another, and at last she stirred and opened her eyes.

“Sora?” she said weakly. Her voice sounded more like the croaks of the frogs they liked to catch in the pool on the Play Island, but to him it was the most wonderful sound in the world.

“You're awake!” He smiled, and in that moment he thought his heart would leap out of his chest. A warm, tingly sensation tumbled through him, but it wasn't a bad feeling. Just exciting and new. He would think about it later.

She smiled back. “You saved me. Thank you.”

He couldn't help himself. He hugged her tightly, and a moment later, he felt her arms wrapping around him. This was a very different hug from the quick hug he’d given her and Riku earlier. She was close, closer than she'd ever been, and something stirred deep inside him. His face, no, his entire body felt warm. He’d never been so aware of his body like this before, let alone hers. He was embarrassed by what he was feeling, but at the same time, he didn't want to let go of her either. It was like he couldn't move and didn't want to. She wasn't pulling away either. Did she like hugging him? He sure liked hugging her.

What was all this? He’d never felt like this before. Before he could make heads or tails of it, Riku returned with the grownups. 

The look on Riku's face was strange. Like Sora had just said something awful and punched him. Sora felt oddly…guilty. Like he shouldn't be hugging Kairi like this in front of Riku, even though it felt better than he could've imagined. So he pulled away from her even though he could've sat there hugging her for hours.

“Kairi, are you okay?" her mother asked, holding a blanket out to her daughter. The grownups took over from that point, and Sora just sort of watched everything in a daze.

Until Kairi wondered whose T-shirt she was wearing, and Riku shyly said that it was his. Kairi thanked him and tried to give it back to him, her cheeks pink as she avoided looking at his bare chest. Riku shook his head and insisted she keep it, and his cheeks were flushed too.

Sora felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. The breeze that had felt pleasant earlier felt cold now. Like the world was strange and different and off kilter because he knew something he wished he didn't. 

He understood now why Riku had given him that strange look. A tiny green-eyed monster reared its ugly head inside him. A creature of shadow that whispered Kairi's mine. Sora pushed the creature deep down to where he couldn't hear it anymore. Kairi wasn't a possession to own, she was a person. She was his friend. How could he even think something like that?

But a part of him didn't want her hugging anyone else the way she'd hugged him. And that part of him did not like the way she had looked at Riku, or the way Riku had looked at her.

Sora had stepped into a storybook he didn't want to be any part of. Riku was his best friend. Kairi was also his friend. He didn't want to hurt Riku, and he couldn't bear to watch Kairi smile at Riku or blush because of something Riku had said or giggle because of something Riku had done. He had the funny sense that the little green-eyed monster would grow bigger and stronger every time she did.

So when the grownups took Kairi back to the town, Sora stayed behind. She looked disappointed but didn't argue, and he promised he'd see her tomorrow. Now he was wandering back and forth by the river and kicking clumps of grass. He didn't think he could be around Riku or Kairi right now. He was relieved she was okay, but he had no idea what was going on with himself. The three of them were friends. They would always be friends. Right?

He wanted everything to go back to the way it was. Things had been fine this morning. Sure, Riku liked to tease him, and Kairi liked to tease him too, but he knew where his place was in that world. This new world, with these confusing new feelings? He had no idea. All he was sure of was that he wanted to hug Kairi again like that, but he didn't want to hurt Riku's feelings. And he knew that if Kairi ever hugged Riku the way she had hugged him, the monster might destroy him from the inside.

Not that he could ever let either of them know that. All of this felt so wrong and so complicated. 

He wandered over to the spot where Kairi had fallen in the river. A yellow flower with five petals caught his eye. Huh. The rounded shape of the petals kinda made it look like a paopu fruit. He picked it up and carefully tucked it in his pocket. It was a nice flower, and for some reason, he felt like it should stay with him. Maybe it was a token of good luck that had kept Kairi safe. He would take it home and put it in a vase. That would help it live for a while longer.

As he walked home, the future didn't seem so scary anymore. Those strange thoughts he had had earlier, those weird new feelings…it all felt a little silly now. He and Riku and Kairi would always be friends. He put his hands behind his neck and whistled as he walked the path home.

A tiny part of him, not the little green-eyed monster but something smaller and more delicate and yet harder to kill, hoped that someday, Kairi would hug him again like that, and that Riku wouldn't hate him for it.

🌸🌼🌺

The next day, Kairi was feeling much better. A good night’s sleep, her mother's miso soup, and the day off from school had worked wonders. Still, that had been an awfully close call, and she promised her parents never to do something so foolish again just to try to get a flower.

She sighed sadly. She'd been so close to having a legendary paopu flower of her own. Imagine what she could've done with it! Oh well. It certainly wasn't worth her life, and she knew she would find another one eventually.

The weather was perfect today. She happily skipped down the path to the main part of town, enjoying the beautiful scenery. Her father was the mayor, and her family lived in a big special house on a hill overlooking the town. Sora and Riku's families lived in town, so it was a bit of a walk to reach them, but she didn't mind.

She decided to stop by Sora's house first. It was a little closer, and he'd acted strange after their hug yesterday, and she wanted to know why. He’d gotten all quiet and thoughtful, which wasn't like him at all. She was a little bummed out he hadn't walked her home along with the grownups and Riku. But he’d said he wanted to stay behind a little longer, and she’d been too tired to argue.

She knocked on the door, then rocked up and down on her heels as she waited for him to answer, her hands behind her back. His mom opened the door instead and invited her in, and she greeted her politely and took off her shoes. Then she took the stairs two at a time and burst into his room. He was lying on his bed with his hands behind his neck, and he sat up, surprise written on his features until he realized it was her. His face lit up and then softened into a smile.

“Hey, Kairi! I'm glad you're feeling better.”

She tilted her head and leaned closer, which made his breath catch in an adorable way and a flush creep up his cheeks. “It's all thanks to you and—“

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a brilliant yellow blossom carefully placed in a simple glass vase on his bedside table. It had five round petals, and Kairi’s breath caught. Was this the paopu flower she’d picked yesterday? 

“Sora, where did you find that flower?” 

He grinned. “Oh, that? It's pretty, isn't it? I found it on the riverbank yesterday and brought it home because I liked it.” He paused for a moment, studying her face. “Do you want it?”

She just stared at him for a few moments. You were supposed to give the flower to someone you loved. By fate or by chance, the flower had made its way to Sora. And in that moment, her feelings became crystal clear. The flower was a sign, but it hadn’t made up her mind. No, it was simply confirmation of what she already knew, deep down inside her heart.

She was very grateful to Riku for saving her from the river and for his friendship over the years, and like every other girl on the islands, she thought he was attractive, so of course she had blushed at seeing him shirtless yesterday. But she'd also realized something very important, something that had taken her by complete surprise.

Sora was the one she had a crush on. Sora. On paper she should prefer Riku. He was older, he was more mature, he was stronger and faster and good-looking. So why didn't she like him like that?

The answer was Sora. As she gazed at him, her heart grew warm and a blush spread across her cheeks. She couldn't stop thinking about the tender way he’d hugged her yesterday. How safe and gentle his arms were. How he had warmed her cold, shivering body up. The smile on his face that was meant only for her. It had lit up his eyes when she woke up and transformed his entire appearance. And his eyes were so pretty. How had she never noticed before? They were as blue as the sky at midday without a cloud to shroud them. She loved his messy mop of spiky brown hair and his dorky clothes, too. 

He was so brave and kind and goodhearted. Finding the strength from deep in his heart to rescue both her and Riku from the river, even though it must've been really difficult to pull them both out of it.

Sora was a good person. And knowing he was a good person, that he would go to any length to save her, painted him in a different light. Or maybe she was finally seeing what had been there all along.

She suddenly felt bad about the look on his face yesterday when she’d tried to give Riku back his T-shirt. He looked so hurt in a way she hadn't ever seen before, but he’d quickly masked it. Was it possible he was jealous? The thought sent a little thrill through her.

He had nothing to be jealous of. The paopu flower was only confirmation of something that had been growing and growing until today it had burst into bloom. Its yellow petals cast everything in a different light, like rays of the sun showing her Sora’s true self.

He tilted his head, a faint smile twitching at his lips. “Kairi? Everything okay?”

“Yes, sorry! I just got lost in thought, that's all.”

He just shook his head and grinned. “And you give me such a hard time about daydreaming,” he teased, putting his hands behind his neck. Then his expression softened and he lowered them. “But seriously, do you want the flower? You can have it.”

“Oh! No, no I want you to keep it. It suits you, and it suits that spot on the window.”

Still…The fact that he’d offered her the flower…was that confirmation he had feelings for her, too? 

No, he didn't know what it meant. She wasn't even sure he knew what his feelings were. But maybe one day he would. And then maybe he would tell her.

“Okay!” He glanced out the window looking out over the area in front of the house, where Riku was now waiting for them. “C’mon, Riku’s here.”

“I'll be right down,” she told him. With that he took off and clambered down the stairs while she lingered, staring in awe at the flower. It had found its way to Sora like it was supposed to and had revealed her feelings to her. Her heart.

This was all so strange and sudden and new. She needed time to think, to process her feelings before she went downstairs and joined the boys. A blush crept up her face, and she giggled into her hand. Sora! She liked Sora! Selphie would tease her endlessly about it if she knew.

But she didn't have to know yet. For now, this was Kairi's precious, private secret. She didn't have to tell anyone until she was ready. How this would all unfold was uncertain, but these new feelings were wonderful, and she would treasure them in her heart just like she treasured Sora in her heart.

And, when the time was right, she would tell him. Glancing at the flower one final time, she knew how she would do it. It was all in the flower’s namesake. She descended the stairs with a smile, looking forward to the day her daydreaming would become a reality.

🌸🌼🌺

A/N: Happy birthday to @hollypollly! 🥳 She gave me a very detailed prompt and outline for the story which was a lot of fun to write ❤️ Thank you so much for everything, Holley, and I hope you have a wonderful day and a fantastic year ❤️ I'm really grateful we met, and I'm glad you're a part of my life 🥺❤️

And thank you all for reading ❤️ I really enjoyed exploring how each of the characters felt in this situation because I do think they would all be feeling conflicting emotions, and it was fun to put that Ventus cameo in there too. I also really enjoyed exploring the world of Destiny Islands more and expounding on the paopu flower concept Holley came up with. Hope you all enjoyed!

[bubble-popping]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Punz's tower in summer

Dream would've never guessed it, but Punz liked to decorate.

It was warm on the Dream SMP, deep into summer, but with autumn on the horizon judging by the cool breeze. Dream's birthday was coming up.

More importantly, off the back of their largest and most devastating battle, Dream had to check in on all the many moving parts of his plan. One of those was his wolven mercenary.

Who, for whatever reason, was acting like it was just another day in the neighborhood.

"You look ridiculous," Dream told him, brow raised. They were lounging on a long chair, shades covering their eyes, not a care in the world.

They'd completely transformed their backyard, replacing all the grass with sand and the fountain with a pool. There were even faux palm trees constructed around the place, for fuck's sake.

Punz lifted his sunglasses to meet his gaze. "It's hot as balls out and you're wearing a hoodie and pants, but I look ridiculous?"

"Yes! You should be building defenses, not sitting on your ass!"

"Dude, we fucking smoked them." The merc sat up, shades pushed into his ash blond hair. "We won. They didn't stand a chance against us. So yeah, I'm gonna enjoy myself a little. You should try it."

"I can't even-can you put a damn shirt on? I can't take you seriously like this." Dream waved a dismissive hand, looking away from their half-naked body with a faint blush on his cheeks.

"I ain't got nothing to hide." He shrugged then stood from the chair only to sit at the edge of the pool. "Maybe if you relaxed a little, those L'Manberg guys wouldn't have so much to say about you."

"What the fuck? What, are you agreeing with them?"

They sighed, ear flicking like it did when they were frustrated. "Look, all I'm saying is, as the winners, we deserve to take a load off. And that's what I'm doing."

There was no getting through to them. He needed Punz to take these things more seriously, but he clearly had his mind made up about this. Dream turned to leave, wanting to ease his thoughts with a peaceful walk, but that was abruptly stopped when he felt a wave of water soak him from behind.

He gasped, cold shocking his system and freezing him in place until he whipped around to confront the offender. Except, that just got him a face full of more water.

"You little-!" Dream growled and rushed forward, catching Punz off-guard by tackling him and sending them both into the pool.

Thankfully not hitting his head on the bottom, the change in gravity and density surprised Dream enough to make him lose his grip. They each quickly resurfaced, spluttering and coughing, but Punz had the audacity to laugh between breaths.

"Dude," he hiccupped, not even trying to hide his grin, "you look like a wet cat." And that was apparently the funniest thing in the world to him. Even worse, their laugh was stupidly contagious. Dream couldn't help but to chuckle a little.

"Yeah, well, you smell like a wet dog. Asshole." Satisfied with that gut-wrenching insult, Dream swam and hauled himself up onto the side of the pool. "Great, now I'm fucking soaked..."

"Hey," they started, laughter settling down as they soon joined him, "I'm not the one that put us in the pool."

"You got me wet in the first place!" Dream bit back, wringing out the end of his hoodie that was now a dark green from saturation.

"Woah, dude." Their hands raised in surrender, smirk on their lips. "You don't gotta tell me all that."

Dream gave him a confused look until realization set in and a blush consumed his entire face. "Not like that, idiot!" He shoved him aside, only succeeding in making him dissolve with laughter again.

And he tried to be mad--because his clothes were drenched and his hair was a mess and any plans he had for the day were ruined since he'd have to wait for everything to dry out--yet, he just found himself fondly watching how their shoulders bounced and their tail wagged.

It was... cute.

That probably wasn't a thought he should have about a business partner.

[anticidic]

Many a moons we have spoken,

Stories told with our emotions,

Passing glances and sunshine eyes,

Tell me the thoughts you picturize?

"Every song, every sunset, it all just reminds me of you."

“You and me. Together.”

He was young and it was summer when they were down by the water, hand-in-hand. Dazai looked distant, casting his gaze out to the lonely sea with such longing that it smelled strongly of salt and felt like the seaweed slime washing ashore. Chuuya got down on one knee and cupped his hands around sand. Warm. The grains slipped from between his fingers the same way opportunities and the concept of them slipped from their future. The past. The present. And the future. Infinite possibilities condensed into a single moment beneath the sun with a flock of seagulls circling above, searching for a place to roost. The waters lapped at their feet and soaked their toes.

He held Dazai's hand a little tighter. Because if he didn't, Dazai might drift out to sea and be lost like all the other sunken ruins and forgotten treasures down, down at the bottom of the ocean. The way Dazai looked at him and the way Dazai felt—felt so right and looked positively brimming with adoration by evening but by day poisoned with envy—Chuuya ached. Envy for what he couldn't be, but it mattered not to Chuuya. He cared not for what Dazai could never be. He loved what was.

Then, he caught a whiff of cinnamon: reminding him of some bygone spring when they took a dive. Chuuya surfaced first with a gasp, sucking breath into his lungs and coughing out water. To his left, nothing. To his right, bubbles on the surface. A reflection of messy brown curls. Then a hand on his ankle.

It pulled him down under.

Chuuya fought to keep his eyes open underwater, but the salt stung. Almost too much. Dazai held a finger to his mouth. Be quiet. If he could speak. And then a playful smile with hidden intent played on his lips and Chuuya understood.

When they resurfaced, they heard the faraway calling of Chuuya's parents. The king and queen. Wanting their prince back at home. Safe and sound. Where he belonged and where Dazai did not and never would. Dazai was a worker at the end of the day, in suit and tie with tray in hand going around asking members of royal families the same, persistent question: "Refreshments?"

The sun tickled his cheeks with a pleasant warmth. This was their little secret, after all. The same secret they planted and protected from the snow and flooding rains. The secret that blossomed and became soft as rose petals and embraced them in longing. The longing smelled of apricot among the reeds. Of dozens of little fireflies half past dusk. And they were gazing up at a starless sky on a hill with the grass beneath them, bodies touching.

“Chuuya!”

This time, his father called. They always called for him, but never for Dazai.

At the end of the day, Chuuya and Dazai were one. Two entwined souls torn apart by day that always found their way back to one another after sunset.

Dazai was the world by day. Needed. With great expectations upon his shoulders that he sometimes tired of them all. But he lived for watering the garden beneath Chuuya's balcony if only to listen in on the prince humming the quietest melody whisked away on the wind.

By night, he became nothing. An exhaled afterthought once the king and queen put their heads on their pillows and the lights went out.

And by night, he became Chuuya’s everything.

“Forever?”

Home. There was a time when Chuuya wouldn't question that word. Home was here, where his mother and father were. But now? Everything was different. Draped in absence, void, memories of the past. He would never see his mother again fixing her hair at the dressing table. No one browsing old books in father's study. And in the hallways, there was only the spirit of the carefree child who now tried to find himself in a new reality.

“And ever. And ever.”

[cloudythoughtss]

Best Friends?

Neteyam and readers relationship changes for the better.

Warnings: Smut, teasing, slight degradation, oral (f receiving). Neteyam and reader are both 18. (This will be a mini series).

Pairings: Neteyam x F(reader). Loak x Tsireya.

You had known the Sully family your whole life. You are the same as age Neteyam and your parents were lifelong friends with Jake and Neytiri. You did not have siblings of your own but you were extremely close with Kiri, Loak and Tuk and saw them as your brothers and sisters.

Neteyam and you were close as kids and now you were each others best friends, your parents often making jokes about you being each others unmated mates. You always had a thing for Neteyam, you could talk to him about anything and you loved seeing how protective he was over his family. But with that he was always stressed but you helped with flying with your Ikrans or riding the Ilus.

You challenged him to a race with your Ilus which caused the both of you to become slightly stranded in the middle of the reef. “My Ewya” you hear him mumble as his brows furrowed and you look at him “teyam calm down we will be fine, we are not that far away, I know someone will come out looking for us” you reassure and you can see his muscular shoulders relax. You glance around and see a tiny beach, “come teyam” you point and he follows behind you. The both of you dismount your Ilus and walk on the sand, you take a seat closer to the water so you could feel the cool waves soak your feet.

He takes a seat next to you and laid on his back, his thigh brushing yours. You watch the contact and your cheeks flustered slightly, thanking ewya he didn’t notice. The older you got, the harder it was to contain your feelings both physical and emotional. The both of you had kissed before when you were little and horny teenagers but never went anything beyond that. Your eyes examine him, you stare at his lips before your eyes move down and you watch his muscles and veins twitch on his arms and legs causing heat to pool between your legs. “I can feel you watching me” he smirks and you roll your eyes “in your dreams, forest boy” he just laughs and sits up so now both his knees are touching yours.

You know It’s not that bad being stranded with you” he teases and you lightly punch his chest, he grabs your wrist and smirks again “are you really going to hit your future warrior like that?” And your cheeks were now fully flustered. “I think your brother will take that place” you bite back and you see his face fall and you laugh before you get out of his grip and run into the small jungle that was crowded with tall thick trees and bushes. You could hear him chasing you as he swore under his breath and you quietly hid behind a bright blue shrub that barely covered your whole body.

You yelped as you feel something push you over and you smile when you look up and see him staring down at you. His hands had your pinned against the soft grass and his legs were embracing your hips. “Now teyam you know you can’t stay mad at me” you smirk and he rolls his eyes but smirks again “I can’t stay mad at you but I can keep you trapped” and you feel your stomach flutter heavily. You thrash around trying to get up but you gave up shortly knowing you couldn’t defeat him. He laughs and you take the opportunity to pivot your hips up so his groin slightly rubbed against yours. You can feel him tense up.

“Not so cocky are we now?” You tease and you see his eyes darken and he tilts his head down at you which makes your mouth go dry. One of his large hands moves to grip the side of your face firmly and his eyes examine your face before he leans down and kisses you, your eyes widen but you kiss him back eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck. The both of you makeout heavily with your tongues battling for dominance, you moaned into the kiss when he wrapped your thighs around his hips tightly. He pulls away and you frown, “y/n I don’t know if I can contain myself” he grumbles and you rest your hands on his chest “teyam I want you, I’ve wanted you since we were kids” he goes quiet for a second which makes you worry.

You feel his mouth kiss the side of your neck and nibble on your ear and your breath goes uneven, your hands grip his bsck and you can feel him smirk against your skin. He bites and sucks on either side of your neck before he moves down and leaves a trail of wet kisses from your chest to your stomach. His slender fingers toy with your loincloth and he looks up at you, you nod and shivered slightly when you felt the air expose your cunt. He eyed it and your whole body went pink, you went to shut your thighs together but he prys them apart. You could feel how slick your cunt was and his fingers move down to play with it as his other hand wrapped around your throat tightly.

“I always knew you were submissive, you look good doing it, I’ll make you my submissive slut” he smirks as he hears you moan and whimper. His fingers pinched your clit and slapped it causing your legs to shake, he cooed “what does my little Y/N need?” Your eyes crossed when you felt 2 of his fingers open you and rub against your spot greedily. “Fuck teyam-m” you stuttered, and you grind your hips against his fingers not caring how desperate you looked. He slides his fingers out and shifts you so that his face his hovering over your cunt, he gives you a couple long teasing strokes with his tongue before he flattens it completely against you.

Your hands gripped his braids tightly as you moaned his name, his eyes raked over you hungrily as he watches your nipples perk up and your back arch desperately. His ears flatten against his head as he hears you moan and whine from him, he slides two of his fingers again inside you and curls them as his mouth sucks on your clit. “Fuck Neteyam” you exclaim loudly and felt your stomach tighten up, your legs start shaking “I’m gonna cum” you whimper and that eagers him to make his fingers move faster. You squirt all over his hands and his face and you hide your face embarrassingly as he sucks his fingers dry and wipes his face.

He gives you a long hard kiss and smirks down at you, “so I guess we can say we’re not just friends” and you roll your eyes and smile. He helps you get up and get dressed and you both hear voices from a distance.

“Neteyam!?” You hear Loak.

“Y/N?” You hear Tsireya.

You both shuffle out of the jungle and walk out holding hands. You see Loak on a Ilu with Tsireya behind him with her arms around his waist, she giggled seeing you hold his hand and Loak smirked “about time big bro” the both of you just smile and head back to the mainland with them.

You already knew that those two would be gossiping to everyone.

[themirokai]

@windsweptinred had this lovely post which got me thinking about Rose and Gault and then I couldn’t stop thinking about Rose and Gault and then I rewatched Gault’s scenes and then I wrote this story. It’s about 2,500 words, most of it under the cut.

“Gault. Lucienne tells me that you have asked for an audience.”

Gault shivered at the feeling of her creator’s voice in her head. The last time he had spoken to her in this manner was before his imprisonment, when she had been a shapeshifting nightmare. Through the painful episode of her capture and punishment, as well as her joyful resurrection, there had been others present and so he had spoken to her out loud. This felt strangely intimate and viscerally reminded her of why she had requested the audience: she had, after all, inserted herself into someone else’s mind. 

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then come.” 

The space in front of her twisted and was suddenly the throne room. Gault swallowed and stepped forward. 

Lord Morpheus was standing on the third step of the staircase, hands behind his back, wearing a cloak of shadows and fire. From beside the stairs Lucienne smiled at her warmly. Gault had hoped that he would see her on the shores of creation or… anywhere else in the Dreaming, really. She hadn’t been here since her punishment, and though his face was calm now, she couldn’t help but picture the cold fury with which he had beheld her on that prior occasion.

Gault took a breath and bowed. 

“Speak, Gault,” Lord Morpheus said out loud.  

“My lord, as you know, in the time that I was … gone … from the Dreaming, I was living in the dreams of Jed Walker.” She knew it was dangerous to bring up what he likely still considered her insubordination, but she had no choice. His face revealed nothing. “In that time, I became very attached to Jed … and so I wished to ask you if I might be permitted to visit him when he is in the Dreaming.”

“I am aware of your feelings for the boy and this request is not unexpected,” Lord Morpheus said solemnly. “I fear, however, that it may anger Rose Walker, which I am loath to do.” 

Gault felt her stomach drop and her wings droop. She looked down at her feet. Of course Rose would only see her as a nightmare who wore her dead mother’s face. 

“I will speak with her, little dream.” 

Gault gasped and looked up at him. “Really, lord?” 

He nodded, glacially slowly. “While I do not condone all of your actions, ultimately you showed the child great kindness. And. The dream you created for him … was … amusing.” 

They had never spoken of it. The … dispute over her nature had taken precedence. But the fact remained that she had taken a vulnerable, hurting child, and to make him feel strong and happy, she had given him a ruby and a bag of magic sand, and helped him to fight monsters and protect the innocent. She had given him the names of the creator who had abandoned her. 

The creator who was even now staring into her soul. 

“More than amusing,” Lord Morpheus said quietly. “It was very touching.” 

Gault lowered her head, no longer able to meet his eyes. 

“I will let you know the result of my conversation with Rose.”

“Thank you, lord.” 

There was grass under her feet again. The throne room was gone. 

___

Dream willed himself to the portion of Fiddler’s Green where Rose Walker was chatting with Unity Kincaid. Rose’s eyes immediately snapped to him and she frowned. Unity noticed him as well, but her expression was far more amused. 

“Ladies,” Dream said, “please pardon the intrusion.” 

“What do you want?” Rose said icily. 

“Rose, dear,” Unity said gently, placing her hand on the young woman’s arm, “cut him some slack, he’s not that bad.” 

“He killed you, Unity.” 

Unity rolled her eyes. “It’s more complicated than that and you know it, dear. And besides, now he pretends not to notice when I visit my husb- spouse.” She gave him a bright smile. 

Fondness for Unity outweighed his always-simmering anger with Desire, but it was a near thing. “Crossing between the realms of the Endless is impossible for a human, Unity. … And it is easier to not notice something when it is not directly brought to my attention.” 

“See?” Unity said to Rose. “He’s sweet.” She turned back to Dream. “What do you need, Morpheus?” 

Dream shifted, clasped his hands behind his back and addressed Rose. “You are a child of the Endless, Rose Walker. You have set boundaries around yourself and your brother Jed. I respect those boundaries. Recently, one of my dreams has asked if she may visit your brother. I told her that I would speak to you on her behalf.” 

Rose frowned. “Why would a dream ask permission to visit Jed?” 

“She was a nightmare when you met her. Gault.” 

“Gault?” Rose asked, incredulous. “The shapeshifter who impersonated my mom?! No! She can’t see him!” 

“As I know you are aware, your brother was being badly abused by those charged with his care. Gault provided him a respite in his dreams and came to deeply care for him. She was not a nightmare to Jed. She was a source of comfort when he had little else. And I have since transformed her permanently into a dream.” 

Dream could feel Rose softening. She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“And what would happen if I say yes?” 

“Gault would meet Jed here in the Dreaming. Under your supervision if you prefer.” 

“And if I say no?” 

“Then I will ensure that she continues to keep her distance from both of you. She … is very skilled at being a dream. She has inspired many people since she was transformed.” 

Rose sighed and glanced at Unity who raised an eyebrow and shrugged. She turned back to Dream. “I’ll talk to Jed about it in the morning. Send Matthew to check with me tomorrow and I’ll tell him what I’ve decided.”

Dream inclined his head. “As you wish.” 

“But no matter what, she is never allowed to impersonate my mom again, do you understand?” She jabbed a finger at him. 

“I understand.” 

___

Gault waited in the middle of one of Fiddler’s Green’s meadows. Apparently Rose was comfortable here and trusted Gilbert to ensure that Gault did nothing nefarious or nightmare-ish. 

“They are coming.” 

Of course, Gilbert wouldn’t be the only one watching. But it wouldn’t do to mention that to Rose. 

And then Rose and Jed were walking towards her through the field, holding hands. Jed was taller than when she last saw him (a growth spurt undoubtedly fueled by getting proper nutrition for the first time in years) and he looked more grown up and mature. Gault felt her eyes fill with tears. They stopped a few yards in front of her. 

Jed’s head tipped a bit to the side as he studied her. “Did you always have wings?” 

Gault shook her head quickly. “No. I got them when I was transformed from a nightmare into a dream.” 

“Why did you pretend to be my mom? Did you know she was dead?” 

Gault sighed and sat down cross-legged in the grass in front of him. “I did not know your mother had died, Jed.” She looked up at Rose. “I am so sorry for that.” Gault turned back to Jed. “I just picked a shape that I thought would bring you comfort.” 

“Our mom wasn’t a ‘shape’.” Rose’s tone was bitter. 

Gault nodded and looked down at the grass. “I know. She was important. I’m sorry.” She swallowed and kept talking, still looking away from them. “I found you when I was running away. I felt abandoned by my - by the -“ Gault sighed. “I felt abandoned. And I didn’t know if I was more afraid of… things going back to the way they had been or continuing to be alone.” She looked up at Jed. “And when I found you … you felt a little like … what I had lost.” She knew now that it was his Endless blood. At the time she hadn’t needed a reason. “I knew that you were alone and hurting too. I wanted to help you. And I hoped that in helping you, I could help me too. Or at least I could try to be the kind of dream I wanted to be.”

Jed sat down in front of her. “What about the thing with the rats?”

Gault’s heart twisted at the memory but she kept her voice steady. She could do that for him. “The rat was climbing on you in the waking world, and you brought that into the dream. I tried to get you to shake it off and stay asleep but when it bit you, you had to wake up and then I couldn’t help anymore. I’m sorry.” 

“You say ‘sorry’ a lot,” Jed said, narrowing his eyes at her. “I don’t think you need to do that so much.” 

Gault chuckled. “Thanks, Jed.” 

“Why did you ask Morpheus if you could see him?” Rose, still standing, asked. 

“I missed him,” Gault told her, then turned back to Jed. “I wanted to hear what kind of adventures you’ve been having.” She winked at him. 

“I live with Rose and Lyta and the baby now!” Jed told her excitedly. “It’s so good! I can eat as much as I want!” He sobered a bit. “But Rose only keeps healthy food in the house. And she worries all the time.” 

“I’m sure your sister is working really hard to take care of you,” Gault said gently. 

“School sucks,” Jed said. “I’m behind in everything and the kids aren’t nice.”

Gault opened her mouth to ask if he was being bullied but he continued. 

“I miss dreaming with you. My dreams are all boring now.” 

Gault looked up at Rose. “Jed, do you think your sister and I could talk for a couple minutes?” 

Jed frowned. “But you’re my friend!” He paused, as a thought occurred. “You are my friend, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, of course I am, Jed,” she assured him. “But Rose is responsible for taking care of you. When I was in your dreams before, the people responsible for you were … well. But now that someone who loves you and is caring for you the right way is in charge, I can’t just show up in your dreams anymore. That’s why I need to talk to Rose.” 

From a little ways across the meadow, Fiddler’s Green’s human form appeared and waved. “Ah! Young master Walker! I am so glad you’re here! I wonder if you might tell me more about this … ‘mine craft’ you were describing on your last visit?” 

Gault realized that she and Rose were pressing their lips together in matching attempts to hide smiles. 

Jed jumped to his feet and waved back. “Hey, Gilbert!” He ran towards the figure. 

“That was kind of Fiddler’s Green,” Gault said. 

“Gilbert’s a good friend,” Rose said, and sat on the grass beside Gault, so that they could both watch Jed and Gilbert. She sighed. “He knows some of the dream vortex stuff, but he’s had so much going on that I haven’t wanted to drop all the supernatural stuff on him. I haven’t told him about my detente with Morpheus.” 

Gault nodded. “I figured as much. There is plenty of time for supernatural stuff when he’s had more time to recover.” She smiled at the sight of Jed gesticulating wildly and Gilbert throwing his head back to laugh, then turned to look at the side of Rose’s face. “You have had to make many difficult decisions. And I certainly understand your reticence with Lord Morpheus. Probably better than most.”

Rose turned to look at her. “You do?”

Gault nodded, looked down at the grass. “He… punished me. After he pulled me out of Jed’s dream. He’s since changed his mind,” she fluttered her wings, “but you’re not wrong to be cautious.” Gault knew the odds were good that Lord Morpheus was listening, and perhaps she should have sought another way to gain Rose’s trust. But she would not say anything false. 

“How do you punish a dream?” Rose asked. “Like he did with the Corinthian? He told me he ‘unmade’ him.” 

“From what I understand, he completely destroyed the Corinthian,” Gault said. “And good riddance. Lord Morpheus did something similar to me. He… sort of disassembled me and put me back into the dreamstuff, but I was still conscious… was still myself. I was just… hanging in the void.” 

“Like solitary confinement?” Rose asked. 

Gault considered this. “Something like that.” 

“That’s horrible! Was it because of what you did with Jed? You were helping him!” 

Gault found Rose’s righteous anger on behalf of a being she had so recently been wary of, incredibly endearing. 

“Lord Morpheus was angry that I didn’t return to the Dreaming once it was restored,” Gault told her, “but he was more angry that I wanted to be something different than what he made me. He created me as a nightmare and he was furious that I wanted to be a dream instead.” 

Gault half expected Rose to disappear from the Dreaming or for her to find herself in the throne room facing an angry dream lord. But nothing happened. She couldn’t even feel his presence particularly strongly. Perhaps he wasn’t watching after all, and she reminded herself that she only spoke the truth. 

“But he changed his mind?” Rose was looking at her intently. 

Gault nodded. “I think you may have helped with that. And Lucienne.” 

Rose gave a tentative smile. “Is being a dream like how you thought it would be?” 

Gault felt herself beaming as she nodded. “I had some experience with Jed, but I love it.” She gave another flap of her wings. “I teach people to fly!” 

Rose giggled. “That sounds really nice. Maybe you can teach me sometime.” 

“You’re Endless,” Gault told her, “not to mention a former vortex. You hardly need me to teach you. But I’d be happy to help you discover what your soul already knows.” 

Rose smiled at her then turned back to look at Jed, who was showing Gilbert a dance move. “Jed told me what you did for him,” she said quietly. “For years the only time he had any happiness was when he was asleep.” Rose faced Gault again. “I am grateful for that. Thank you.” 

Gault felt the pressure of tears in her eyes and she smiled warmly. “I was happy to do it. Jed is a wonderful child. He deserves so much better than he got. I’m so relieved that he’s back with you now.” 

“Me too,” Rose said. “Though I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time.” 

“From what I understand, that is a very common state for parents and others caring for children. What matters is that you love him, and you try to do what is best for him.” 

Rose looked at the grass, swallowed and nodded, then turned back to Gault. “Will you come dream with him again?” 

Gault knew her smile stretched from ear to ear. “Nothing could make me happier.” 

Rose smiled back and turned to Jed, calling, “Hey Jeddy, did you know Gault can teach you to fly?” 

A look of wonder spread over Jed’s face. “Really?!” 

Gault got to her feet as he ran back over to them. “Really.” She affected a serious expression. “But we’ll need to come up with a new hero name for you. ‘Sandman’ is taken.”

“Oh! I have some ideas!” Jed’s eyes were wide. 

Gault put her hands on her hips and grinned. “Okay, let’s hear them.”

~~~

 I haven’t quite figured out how we get there yet, but eventually Jed decides that - given the wings - Gault is his fairy godmother. 

Thanks so much for reading! 

[roninoftheblacksand]

@crocblooded

It has been about a month since that shameful night. Ronin was losing himself into a corruption he wasn't sure he needed...even if part of him wanted it. A part of him that distracted him from the very goal of being an Acolyte. That made the pain of his brand pointless if he could be so easily swayed by a snake...no a crocodile in the grass. He needed space, a place to center himself. With his King's permission Ronin returned home, his true home. No matter his devotion to the crown his heart would always remain with Acoma. And so he took a break from his duties to journey home without much word to anyone besides Silas, the only one he felt deserved notification of his day to day.

It felt good being among his people again, even if he had evolved far beyond the powerless boy he once was to them. Time spent with his parents graves, sleeping in his own bed, it did manage to set him on the right course again. But part of him feared he would lose sight when he returned to New Olympia. And so he called in another favor to his King. A grand favor that would drain whatever currency he had won in honor to the crown thus far. Well worth it given it would not be long before he won Silas' favor again returned ten fold. His return to New Olympia was made with the same silence of his exit. Although whispers of his return were sure to echo through the catacombs after a glance or two of him from the servants.

He could be found out at the private beach known only to the Acolytes and staff, glamoured from the sights of mere mortals. Ronin sat with his back laid against a mount of what appeared to be sand and dirt. As if he'd gathered was was needed for the most epic of sandcastles but fell short of constructing the notable shapes of such a landmark. Body still wet from a swim and covered only in his speedo. It appeared he felt more comfortable swimming here instead of the grotto, for obvious reasons. Alas it did not seem he would be safe here either as the very face he was avoiding appeared in the distance. Ronin said nothing to greet him but once Zai was close enough he would learn that was no mere mound of sand.

The earth shock for a moment before a head rose from the sand pile that was actually the body of the large creature. Head elevated it peered down at the approaching visitor with a snarl and huff air from his nostrils that sent a mini sandstorm in Zai's direction. A warning before a show of sharp teeth were exposed. "Calm down, Lil Draco. He's a frei...." No. "...he's not a threa..." No. Ronin sighed. "...just don't eat him." That felt the most he could offer to settle the hatchling that was no mere hatchling any more. Lil Draco had grown to a med sized dragon that still toward above most. The name just stuck and Ronin's father never changed it even as he became his dragonrider over the years. After his parents passed Lil Draco would let none but Ronin care for him. So it was a little disheartening when he had to leave the last part of his family behind when joining the Acolytes. But Silas trusted he could keep the beast tamed when needed.

Lil Draco huffed but kept his eyes on Zai before resting his head on the ground again. Only this time he shifted his tail to block the path between Ronin and Zai. Once settled Ronin stroked Lil Draco's side where he rested while keeping his eyes on his new company. "Is there something you need, Zainab?"

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Change | Changing | Changed?

Sooo Ive read Change like 10 times and though I love ALL your fics, that one gained a special place in my heart as soon as you posted it. I really vibe with Roman (maybe I am autistic…) and I love projecting onto him and watching him suffer. Anyway I was wondering if you feel like it or had any ideas, if we could get a third chapter? Maybe more about how the others react to finding out what Patton and Janus did to Roman, or more protective Ollie! <3 – stealing-babies

Had this concept idea hit me: Patton (as part of being Thomas’s emotions) is hypersensitive to the effects of the other sides's rooms + the imagination. No idea what one could do with that but thought it was neat enough to share. – ax3-e0ns

Have you seen the new incorrect quotes? I feel like there could be some Roman angst/hurt/comfort potential, either with Logan or Janus, what with the stress ball or the 4am chocolate pudding scene – anon

Hey, I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a fic where Roman’s actually the one who finally snaps and goes off on everyone about he himself has been treated? I don’t see enough of the boy standing up for himself for a change. No worries if not! – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: panic attacks/dissociation

Pairings: none

Word Count: 7191

Roman is over the top, bombastic, and enthusiastic. He is prone to fits of passion and emotional outbursts. Such is the nature of Creativity. But the others...don't like that. They aren't exactly ambiguous about it either. Or, Roman struggles to walk the line between being himself and being something the others can tolerate. It gets far worse before it gets any better. Getting better takes...a long time

The deepness of the Imagination's oceans vary according to the demands of its various creatures. On this day, when Red Prince is too quiet and a little too sad, Oliver the Kraken decides that the ocean needs to be as vast and monstrous as it can be. He takes Red Prince in his arms, cradling him against his bulbous body to afford him protection within his aura from the crushing depths, swimming down, down, down, past the shoals of fish and pods of whales to the hidden tunnel near the base of the great cliffs. The water here is icy cold, lit only by the sparse bio-luminescence of the deep-sea folk, briefly illuminating the jagged rock walls and mountainous sea terrain. Oliver moves through as silently as a monolith of his size can, Red Prince held delicately in the safety of his grip. As they reach the end of the tunnel, it begins to curve upwards, a faint violet light coming from someplace above the surface of the water.

The Kraken breaches with a soft splash in the hidden cavern, lit by the glowing crystals growing along the walls and the ceiling. Red Prince lets out a breath, sagging in his grip, his tiny fingers stroking the bumps and scars along his skin. The cavern rings with the quiet music of water lapping against the crystals and the slight breeze that blows through their hollows, interrupted by the sloshing sounds of him swimming toward the island in the center of this sheltered cove. Small piles of glowstone highlight the soft white sand underneath flowering trees. The faint smell of them wakes Red Prince from the stupor he had been in since entering the Imagination, and he reaches for them as Oliver nears the island.

"Thank you for bringing me here," he mumbles as he's deposited on a patch of pale green grass.

Of course, Red Prince. You know that you will be safe here, whenever you want to be. He shifts his arms around to prop himself up a little. I will not let any harm come to you.

"I know." Still, Red Prince shuffles a little, tugging his limbs close to himself. "I just—I suppose it's stupid."

Nothing is stupid to me, Red Prince, not if it concerns your well-being.

"Are—you like spending time with Remus too, right?"

Oliver burbles quietly, the water frothing around his arms. Yes, Red Prince, I do. And despite that, I do not favor him anymore than you.

The hidden meaning seen, Red Prince's shoulders relax and a small smile comes to his face. Oliver reaches out to lay an arm within Red Prince's reach and his hand rests on it. Little birds twitter in the trees. The crystal song changes pitch.

You need not fear anything here, he says again, and you may stay as long as you like. She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds knows you are here as well, even though she cannot get here. Is there anything else I can do for you, in this moment?

"I—I don't know." He curls up a little tighter. "I'm just…I'm just really scared. And it feels like nothing I do even helps make it go away."

The water bubbles again as his arms churn. What does it feel like? Does it feel like the type of fear that Green Duke makes?

"Sort of? I just—I keep waking up sick to my stomach like something bad's going to happen, like, bad enough that I don't want to wake up anymore."

That is worrisome indeed. The arm wraps around him and tugs him slightly back toward the water. I regret that I cannot hold you the way you might desire.

"This is great, Ollie, you're…you're great." Red Prince now sits near one of the piles of glowstone, turning to rest his cheek upon it. "I think I'm…I think I'm tired."

The bone-weary ache of his words ring through the cavern. A few birds flutter down to perch on the rock, making soft chirps as they run their beaks through Red Prince's hair. Red Prince's smile brightens just a smidge.

"Thank you, little birds."

You know that we all would gladly give you whatever you need, Oliver says, there is nothing you could ask of us that we would not try to provide to you.

"I know."

Although none of us have arms that would embrace you, would you like to be held still?

"Yes, please."

It would be our pleasure.

It is not a simple thing for a Kraken to embrace Red Prince, but Red Prince is sad and upset and in need of comfort, and so he takes two arms and wraps them gently around Red Prince and the pile of glowstone. The pile is not the most forgiving of surfaces, but glowstone is warm to the touch and yields ever so slightly if pressed. Red Prince does not seem to mind, closing his eyes as a soft sigh leaves his lips. The birds perch on his head and shoulders. One of them settles into the crook of his neck, a wing brushing his cheek. He turns his head and his lips brush the tip of its beak. It chirps.

"Not the most fairytale of places," Red Prince mumbles, "but I do like this a lot."

We do specialize in the unconventional, Red Prince, and if I may speak for the birds, we all are quite happy to stay here for as long as you need.

The ocean is vast and hungry, monsters swim its depths and light vanishes from the waters far before it approaches the entrance to the hidden cavern. But here, in the quiet light of the crystal cave, Red Prince is safe for the moment and Oliver is content.

***

At the very tops of the mountains, high beyond the clouds, grow small trees no taller than a bush that could grow anywhere else. The trees have soft and warm bark from the sun's warmth, for there is little cover up there amongst the flat planes of rock and stone. She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds nests at the very peak, between the trees, sleeping in the light of the endless spinning galaxies of stars. The wind blows cold in the darkness of storms alone, where the clouds can rise high enough to block out the infinite skies. Otherwise, the sweet warm gusts of wind waft the secrets of the valleys up, up, where she may peruse them in comfort and safety.

It makes it far easier to rest easy when she has her charge nestled against her chest, humming a quiet song to keep her company.

I have missed your voice, Red Prince, she says gently, I cannot say I have heard it nearly enough in the recent times you have come.

"I haven't really felt like singing all that recently."

I know, says she, and leans down to nuzzle her snout against his chest, is there anything I can do?

"Just sitting here with you is nice. I haven't really had a lot of places that I feel safe enough to just exist in for a while."

The now familiar tingle of irritation flickers down her scales and she lays her head down next to him, watching him fiddle with a small amulet—from the kindly man who lives deep in the woods, no doubt, he had long ago taken a liking to Red Prince and provided him with many gifts and trinkets. She puffs a small smoke ring. What is this one for?

"He said it was to bring a sense of comfort to me." He runs his thumb over the engraving, the shape of a blooming flower worked beautifully into the metal. "I don't know if it was just supposed to be figuratively or if there's some magic in it, but…I like it."

It is a most thoughtful gift. Partway between sentiment and practicality, is it not?

Red Prince smiles. "Yes, it is."

Then it is perfect for one such as you. She nudges him with her snout to make him chuckle. Perhaps he has been refining his gift-giving for you intentionally.

"I didn't come here to be teased," he protests, but it is only lightly, and she relents as soon as she began, turning her head to rest once more towards the edge of the mountain to sniff the breeze. "I…I said thank-you, and that I'd be…interested to learn from him."

Her ears prick up slightly. Oh? I did not know you would be interested in such a craft.

"I'm trying new things."

It does not take a dragon of superior wit and mind to know that Red Prince has long be afraid of sharing new things with Those-Who-Do-Not-Shape, and as such, has even hesitated to try something in the safety of the Imagination. Her chest warms with contentment, a low and pleased rumble thrumming through the surrounding stone. Red Prince smiles. She turns once more to press her snout into Red Prince's stomach.

Words cannot express how pleased I am to hear that, Red Prince.

"Yeah," he says quietly, "I know. I…yeah."

The breezes forgotten for the moment, she sighs happily and lets Red Prince run the medallion across the ridges of her snout. I do not wish to push you, but I have questions if you would answer them.

"I trust you."

I will not abuse it, Red Prince, you have my word. She shifts her tail to curl it around him, adding another degree of safety even atop this mountain where none else would dare to tread. Does Green Duke still help you?

"Remus is great. He's—he's really helpful, he's—I wouldn't—I don't think I'd be able to do any of this without Remus."

What does he do to help, if you would tell me?

"He helps take the heat off me when I need it, or he's always there to help me escape if I need to. He also helps me explain what's going on with me or—or if I need to do things a different way than what they want."

I see. Are you…safe with him?

"I've never not been safe with Remus."

She lets out a quiet growl, not quite a reprimand, not quite not a reprimand. You were frightened when he came upon you on the grass, where The Deep One and I were tending to you.

"Yeah, but that wasn't—that wasn't really because of him, it was…I think it was…"

Even now, just speaking of it, Red Prince hunches in on himself, curling up in the lea of her. With another soft rumble, she moves them a little closer to one of the small trees, affording him something to clutch if he needs it. He rests his cheek against the warm soft bark, taking in the shade. She gives him the time he needs, but keeps up the gentle rumble of her breath to ground him.

"…I was scared of him being there because the others would—because I thought they would just immediately be mad at me, not because I thought Remus would hurt me."

And the others, do they still frighten you?

Red Prince lets out a long sigh, slumping against the tree and her chest in turn. He looks like the little child whose favorite toy has floated away in the river, and the old man who has seen a thousand thousand years and still must watch the sunrise.

"Yes," he says with that voice of infinite sadness, "every day."

I am sorry, Red Prince, that I cannot always protect you from the hurt they cause you.

"It's not your fault. I know…I know most of it's my fault."

No, she says firmly, raising her head up to look him in the eye, it is not your fault, Red Prince, you are scared and hurt, and that is not and never will be a burden that falls on your shoulders and your shoulders alone. You are scared, that is true, and you are hurt, that is true. But you have been taught to be scared and hurt, and you are far too gentle of a soul to have done that to yourself.

Red Prince sniffles and oh, her intention was not to make him cry, and so she leans forward to gently lick away his tears. He tucks the medallion into his pocket and hugs her back, the tears subsiding quickly as he falls into a doze against her heat.

You are welcome to come back here, Red Prince, whenever you need.

"Will you take care of me like this if I do?"

Yes, of course I will.

***

Patton sits next to him on the couch and Roman immediately tucks the medallion into his pocket on the far side of his leg. He can tell by the way Patton shifts that he notices it, but doesn't say anything. Remus comes over a moment later and sits on his other side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a smacking kiss to his head.

"Hey, Roro."

"Hi."

"You doing okay today?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Across the room, Janus gives him a look but doesn't say anything. After another moment, he gets up and ruffles Remus's hair, kissing Roman's forehead. Roman tenses a little and Janus doesn't seem to take any offense, moving away and sitting next to Logan. "Well, shall we decide what movie we're watching tonight?"

"I'm partial to something along the lines of The Imitation Game," Logan says, looking up from his notebook, "but I am aware that we've been going with my choices quite a few times over these past few weeks."

"I'd be down with watching that," Virgil says, "but I think I'd rather—I mean if we're throwing out choices, I wanna put Pacific Rim out there."

"Ooh, I do like watching giant robots punch giant aliens." Remus nudges Roman. "What about you, Roro?"

"Um, I don't really have an opinion right now."

"Okay." Janus says quickly before anyone can say anything else, "that's fine, sweetie. What about something like one of the documentaries we've been working through?"

"That sounds great," Patton says, but Roman can tell he's still looking at him, "Roman, does that work for you?"

"Yeah, I like documentaries."

"Settled, then." Logan stands up and fetches his laptop, beginning to hook it up to the TV. "Roman, would you mind helping the—"

"Yep."

He doesn't give anyone the time to say anything else, immediately going over to Logan's side to fiddle with the cords and make sure everything's good. Behind him, he can feel the eyes creeping up his back and rounds his shoulders. Logan touches his back lightly in thanks as he finishes, quickly going back over to let Remus lie on top of him. Janus chuckles at the two of them even as Patton yelps, quickly getting up and going to sit by Virgil.

"Sweetie? Can I play with your hair?"

"Um, if you want to."

"Thank you." Gloved fingers begin to scritch lightly through his hair and he closes his eyes, letting Remus's weight sink him into the couch. The sensation is soft and makes his brain go a little fuzzy, and he thinks that maybe he'll fall asleep here, before the documentary starts…

"Is everything ready?"

Patton's voice wrenches him back to wakefulness and he knows that Virgil, Janus, and Remus can all sense it. Remus lets out a quiet growl, holding him a little tighter. Janus kisses his fingertips and ruffles his hair again. Roman keeps his eyes open for the rest of the documentary and there's a sickness curdling in his stomach that he can't quite shake.

"Hey," Remus whispers when the documentary is loud, "hey, Roro, just stay with me, okay? Just hang out."

"I'm trying."

"I know, and you're doing great. Hey, can you name all the colors on the screen right now?"

He turns his head and looks at the animals, the plants, the skies. "Brown…white…purple…green…blue…black, yellow, red, and pink."

"Hey, nice, good job." Remus nuzzles into his neck. "You're my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother."

"So?" He nuzzles into him again and it tickles. "You giggling down there, Roro?"

Roman glimpses Logan glancing at them and braces himself to be scolded, but Logan only smiles fondly at them and shakes his head, looking back at the screen. Remus follows his gaze and huffs, flopping down like a cat and making a show of being comfortable while shielding Roman's head from everyone else.

"You're safe," he whispers into his ear, "you're safe, I've got you, nothing's gonna hurt you right now."

There's nothing like this in the Imagination, Roman knows, nothing like this comforting weight and warmth and safety that he can't really get from the dragon or Ollie or anything else. He curls into Remus and tries to lose himself in the documentary. It's interesting, something about how these animals have adapted to living in urban environments. But he sees a rat scurry through a dark, dank alleyway, and can't help but feel like he's recognizing something in himself.

***

"Remus," Logan calls, walking down the hall, "can I speak to you for a moment?"

"What's up, Lolo?"

"Can we…" He indicates Remus's door. "Would you mind if we spoke somewhere more private?"

Remus nods and opens his door, welcoming Logan inside. Logan fiddles with a notebook, turning pages back and forth. After a while, he sighs and looks up.

"I have a question about Roman, and I want you to know that I don't intend to cause him hurt by investigating this information."

Remus raises an eyebrow. "Well, this definitely doesn't make me incredibly inclined to help you."

"I don't think it's anything that you did, if that's any consolation."

"It's not, but proceed."

Logan sighs. "Can I have your word that you will not immediately attempt to cause me physical harm when I ask this question?"

"I will not immediately break your spine, no."

"Is that the best I'm going to get?" Remus grins a little two widely and he sighs again. "I suppose that's a yes. Very well: I am…concerned that something has happened between Patton, Janus, and Roman, and I don't know what to do."

Remus takes a deep breath and sits down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What's he told you already?"

"Something stemmed from the incident between the three of them when Thomas was still uncomfortable with his homosexuality, but I don't know—"

"The 'incident,' is that what he called it?"

"…no, that's my word for it."

"'Cause it was a fucking incident, alright." He reaches out and grabs a squid ink sac. It bursts in his hand. "That was—shit, and you and Emo didn't learn about this until later, did you?"

"I was not aware of an incident until Roman told me about it recently."

Remus growls at him and he steps back with his hands raised. "You mean that Roman was physically locked out of the Imagination for months, and you guys didn't fucking notice?"

Logan's expression drops. The notebook clatters to the floor. "Roman was what?"

"How the fuck did you not know about it? The Imagination—shit, Lolo—"

"No, I knew that Roman didn't go into the Imagination for a while, but I didn't—I was not aware that it was because his entrance was prohibited. What—why—"

"Because Roman's existence hasn't actually been appreciated by everyone around here for a long time and things like stuff he needs to do to stay alive are viewed as privileges that can be revoked."

Guilt and regret tremble at the corners of Logan's mouth and he adjusts his glasses. "I know I have played no small part in this—"

"No shit."

"—but I didn't…Remus, you must understand, I never meant to…I had nothing to do with this. I didn't know. I wasn't—I don't—I wouldn't—Roman is Creativity, how would I—"

"I believe you," Remus says quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, "I know, Logan, I know."

Logan lets out a shuddering breath, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "I apologize. I did not foresee myself becoming this upset."

"Yeah, I know."

"The…the incident, if I may still call it that—"

"That's fine, yeah."

"—would I be incorrect in assuming that it was not the only one of its kind?"

"Well, they never tried to banish Roman from the Imagination again, that's for fucking sure." Remus shakes his head. "God, I've never—I've never fucking seen Roman like that before and I never want to see him like that again. But yeah, Lolo, I don't—you're smart enough to know that Patton and Janus have been holding some sort of power over Roman for a long time."

"Yes."

"That's not an accident. Roman's really vulnerable to stuff like that—and you need to know that I'm telling you this because if this somehow gets back to them," he continues, tightening his grip on Logan's shoulder, "I'm going to know exactly where it came from."

"I won't betray your confidence."

"You'd better fucking not. Yeah, Roro's the Ego—he's fragile in ways that Patton and Janus can exploit. Uniquely exploit, because Patton can feel what's going on in the Imagination to a certain extent, and Janus…"

"Janus knows Roman," Logan says softly, "and that is perhaps all he needs."

"Yeah."

"You said Patton can feel what's going on in the Imagination?"

"Well, Thomathy isn't exactly unaffected by what happens in the Imagination, nor is he immune to what his Ego does to take care of him. So when Roro's trying to make himself feel better, Thomas can feel it, which means Patton can feel it."

"So Patton knows when Roman's trying to cheer himself up."

"Yeah."

"How…how is this a bad thing?"

"Well, if you have a conversation with someone and they immediately run to make themselves feel better…"

Logan's expression shutters and his jaw sets. He adjusts his tie and covers Remus's hand with his own. "I don't know what else I can do for Roman, especially since I have contributed to the pain he has felt, but if there is anything, please, tell me?"

Remus looks at him, eyes narrowing slightly. He seems to be content by what it is that he's found, however, and nods sagely with a seriousness that seems almost foreign to him. Logan nods back and picks up his notebook.

"Is there anything else that I should know?"

"Not right now, I don't think."

"Can I…is Roman in the Imagination right now?"

"Why?"

"I…wanted to tell him that I had an idea for another board game I think he and I could play together. You could play it with us too!" They start moving toward the doors. "It's a mystery horror themed thing—"

"Sold!"

"Remus, I didn't even explain what it—"

"You said 'mystery' and 'horror.' Lolo, I'm in already."

***

"I'm sorry, he did fucking what?"

Logan puts his hands on Roman's shoulders and a different shudder goes through him, one triggered by the dry warmth as opposed to the near flinch in response to Virgil's shout. He leans into the touch as much as he can.

Virgil, of course, senses his fear, and quiets immediately, slouching a little to make himself seem smaller. "Hey, I'm sorry, Princey, I didn't mean to shout."

"It's okay."

"It's not," Logan says softly, "and that's alright too."

"L's right." Virgil even goes so far as to ease himself into a seated position on the other side of the room. "I know how bad yelling can be for you, Princey. I'm—shit, I'm just really upset for you right now."

Roman peeks out at him under his hair, surprised to see a soft smile on Virgil's face. After a moment, he holds out a hand, and Virgil gets up and ambles over. He sits down next to the base of Roman's chair, tangling his fingers with his. He gives a few reassuring squeezes and Roman squeezes back.

"Can I—so obviously I'm gonna try not to shout again, but can Remus keep telling me about this incredibly fucked up thing that happened to you?"

Roman nods. Logan squeezes his shoulder. He drifts away again, for he has no need to relive this more than he already does, focusing on the comfort of Logan's touch and the way that Virgil squeezes his hands every once in a while. Remus's voice stays low and even, but there's an undercurrent of steel that doesn't quite vanish even when the words never raise louder than the low thud of the wind against the walls of the Imagination's cabin.

"—incey? Princey?" Roman blinks. Virgil looks up at him. There's a furrow between his brows but he makes an effort to smile. "Hey, there he is. I'm so fucking sorry, Princey, that's fucked up. That's really fucked up, and I'm sorry that I've—I'm sorry that I've ever had anything to do with making this worse. I don't really—I'm not great with words, but I—"

Roman squeezes his hand. "You didn't do it to me, I don't…I don't blame you for that."

"But I've been doing the same sort of shit. Hey, hey," and here his voice softens a little when Roman goes to protest, "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm not trying to run my own fucking pity party over here, I just—fuck, Princey, you're owed so many fucking apologies about all this shit, okay?"

A lump suddenly appears in his throat. He swallows heavily.

"Oh, hey, hey, c'mere…" Warm arms wrap around him and he's leant back into a strong chest. "Hey, it's okay, you can cry, Princey, that's okay."

"Shh, little one," Logan murmurs when Roman starts to try to apologize, "you're safe here. You're doing very well."

There's a soft thwoop sound and he peeks out to see Remus has summoned a massive mattress on the floor of the cabin. The windows are open, the late-afternoon breeze blowing in with the soft sweet smell of grass and flowers. Virgil and Logan must've had some sort of silent conversation, for he's lifted up into two pairs of strong arms and laid down on the mattress. Remus tucks a blanket over them and then gleefully flops down, much to the surprise and chagrin of the other two.

"Hey!"

"Remus!"

"Cat pile time, everyone hush and cuddle Ro."

Roman chuckles, a little watery, but snuggles into the midst of the three of them. Logan sighs, far too fondly, and presses a kiss to his temple. Virgil scoots a little further away so none of them are at risk of losing circulation, still holding onto Roman's hand.

"I vote that we don't talk about this anymore for right now," Logan says quietly, "all in favor?"

"Me."

"Also me."

"Yeah," Roman mumbles, "can…can we just stay here for a while?"

"Of course, little one."

***

"Sweetie," he hears distantly, "sweetie, it's alright, it's just me, I'm not here to hurt you, can you open your eyes for me?"

Roman opens his eyes. He's lying on the floor in the hallway. It's dark. Someone is leaning over him.

"Sweetie," he hears again, "sweetie, can you say something?"

"J-Janus?"

"There you are, my sweet prince." Janus smiles and cups his face. "Can I help you sit up for me, sweetie? I don't think the hallway is very comfortable at this point at night. There's nothing wrong with sleeping on the floor, believe me, but I think a fine prince such as yourself would be better suited to your bed."

Roman blinks again. "I'm…on the floor?"

"Yes, sweetie, you're on the floor. Do you remember how you got here?"

"I was…I was in the kitchen."

"Yes, that's right. You were making chocolate pudding."

"Why was I making chocolate pudding?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I believe you said it was because you've lost all control."

"That does sound like me."

He chuckles. "Now, sweet prince, can we see if we can sit you up? Come, come, lean on me…that's it, there you are."

Roman blinks a few more times as he slowly lifts himself up, holding onto Janus's shoulders. Janus slips more of his arms around his waist to help him, murmuring more encouragement in his ear as he goes. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sits up, leaning now against the wall. Janus crouches there with him, tucking his hair back behind his ear.

"Janus?"

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever for, sweet prince?"

"I was—I'm—I didn't mean to—"

"I'm not angry with you, sweet prince," Janus says gently, "I promise. I'm only worried—can we get you to bed?"

"I don't want to impose—"

"Sweetie, I'm not asking you because I have some obligation, I'm worried, and I want you to be safe in your bed so you can rest." He leans down and kisses his forehead and everything is fuzzy for Roman, and he doesn't know what to do, but warm touches are warm touches and he's always been weak to a soft voice with gentle words. "So?"

"…okay."

He leans against Janus's side as they move down the hallway, opening the door into Roman's room. He pulls back the covers and lies down, leaning to help tuck him under the sheets. "There you are, sweet prince, is that better?"

"Why…why're you only nice to me when there's no one else around?"

Something shutters across his expression before it settles on something terribly sad. "I don't know, sweetie. I'm—I'm trying to be better about it, but I seem to keep messing it up."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Janus." His voice grows thick. "I don't know whether you're going to be nice to me or hurt me."

The bed dips as Janus sits down near his head, still carding his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Roman. I'm so, so sorry."

"You hurt me, Janus," and now he begins to sniffle, "you—you keep hurting me."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm sorry."

Janus doesn't move away, not as Roman sniffles and sobs his way through saying how much pain Janus has caused him, not when he tells him how difficult it is to keep moving forward, not even when he says how scared he is right now, with his belly showing and Janus's teeth at his metaphorical throat. He just sits there, listening, pressing kisses to Roman's hands and cheeks.

***

"Patton?"

"What is it, Roman?"

"Shut up."

Virgil mutters oh, shit. Logan takes a deep breath. Janus's shoulders tense. Remus steps closer.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Roman says through gritted teeth, "shut up. You don't know what the hell you're talking about. You don't get to talk over me like that. You don't get to act like I'm just some good-for-nothing spoiled kid that doesn't know anything."

"Now, Roman—"

"No. I've had to sit here and have you talk at me for ages. You're gonna listen to me for once." His hands ball into fists. "You don't get to act like you're the one who's always going to be right. You don't get to do that, not to me. You don't get to act like I'm the one who always comes into this sort of thing with a preconceived notion of how it's going to go. I'm the one who's tried with you. I've tried so many times to just talk to you and you never listen to me."

"That's not—"

"It is. It is true, because every fucking time I have to walk away from those 'conversations' with bruises all over me because you can't be bothered to think about what your words do to me. Because they hurt, Patton, and you don't get to act like they don't. You don't get to act like you don't know what you're doing when you tell me I'm stupid or petty or a bully, you don't get to act like you're hurting me because you don't have a choice or that it's my fault I'm getting hurt."

Remus brushes against his arm. A silent keep going.

"You don't get to act like you don't know why I'm scared of talking to you sometimes, not when you've claimed the authority to remove my fucking coping mechanisms like they're some luxury that you think I don't deserve anymore. You don't get to hold that shit over my head like you have the right to it. No, I don't want to talk about this stuff with you. No, I don't feel safe to talk about with you, and no, I don't feel bad about saying any of that because it's true."

"Those are very hurtful things to say, Roman."

"It's hurtful to tell someone they're wrong when you haven't even taken the time to actually listen to them. It's hurtful to invite someone to a 'conversation' and then just lecture them the whole time. It's hurtful to hold someone's insecurity over their head for actual fucking years and use it whenever you want because it's a convenient way to make someone listen to you."

Patton just looks at him. Roman's breath suddenly catches in his throat. He's yelling at Patton. He's yelling at Patton.

"He's right, Patton," he hears Virgil say, "you're—I'm not gonna say the rest of us are blameless here, but you're really unfair to Roman sometimes and that's not cool."

"And now, how am I supposed to react to all of these accusations? Are you all going to gang up on me now?"

"We're not ganging up on you," Logan says, "the rest of us have barely said anything."

"But you're not disagreeing with Roman."

"No, we're not, because he's right." Remus squeezes Roman's shoulder. "And you know he's right."

"I don't think it's right that he's making me out to be this big bad guy who's trying to hurt him on purpose!"

"I don't think it's right to act like we don't know what they're talking about," Janus says softly, and Patton turns to look at him, "you know we've been unfair to Roman, Patton. We've been cruel to him, almost, and even if we didn't know the effects of what we did when we did them, I think we both know better now."

"Why are you looping me in with you?"

"Because the reason Roman was so receptive to praise and positive attention was because it was so foreign to him he didn't even think to question it," he says, voice a tad sharper now, "and there's really only one person who could've started such a thing."

Patton goes quiet for a long, long moment. Then he looks at Roman. Roman flinches just at that look.

"Roman? Is…are you…did I really make this a lot worse for you?"

Trap. This is a trap. This is a trap, this is a trap, this is a trap.

"You can tell me," Patton says, which doesn't make him think it's any less of a trap, but then Janus nods at him and he manages to swallow.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah, it's—it's really bad, Patton."

Silence. Remus squeezes his shoulder tightly. There's a roar of blood in his ears. Distantly, he hears Virgil mumble something to Logan and Logan starts talking. They're all talking now, but Roman can't say a thing. He's so scared. He's so scared. He's going to pass out. He's going to throw up. He's going to have a sword thrust into his chest and split his ribs.

"Roman," he hears Remus say, cutting through the fog, "Roro, you did great. You did it, it's over now. If you need to run and hide, you can. We'll take care of it. It'll be okay."

He thinks more than says I can go?

"Yeah, Roro, you can go."

Roman's gone in the blink of an eye.

***

The forest is dark. There is no moon. The sky is black. The trees loom over the clearing. The wind is bitingly cold. The grass crunches and snaps. No living creature dares move.

Roman curls up on his knees in the middle of the clearing. The wind whips across his bare skin so harshly it feels like a blade. In the dark of the night, there is no refuge from the biting cold, no place where he could go and be free of the pain ravaging him inside and out. Breath shudders out of him in pitiful clouds of steam. He shakes and trembles.

The reverberations of the approaching footsteps are so powerful that he feels them deep in his chest.

With jerky movements, he looks up. It's difficult to tell at first what's different, just because the mass is so large it's hard to distinguish it from the surrounding sky, but as he moves, the faint silhouette of the wolf becomes discernible from the forest. Glowing eyes gleam down at him, light reflecting off of the fangs, as the enormous paws come to a stop right in front of him. His head bows, his snout lowering to breath warm air across Roman's frigid form.

The wolf, unlike the other creatures in the Imagination, does not speak. Not in the way that Oliver or She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds speaks. But he knows Roman, more perhaps than any aside from Remus, and so he needn't speak to be able to communicate. He leans down, taking Roman's limp form in between his giant teeth, beginning to carry him through the woods. His tongue presses against Roman's freezing arms, trying to convey some warmth back into him, but he is too massive and too focused on carrying him to safety to be able to do something more right now.

There is no fear sweeter than the kind that curls in Roman's stomach at this moment, for what could be more terrifying than the one that carries him in his jaws? They move through the dark forest, over fallen logs and past trickling streams, deeper still into a thicket where the warm air from the valleys below has created a dense fog. A few skittering noises as different small critters move away from the wolf's path. They reach the base of a cliff and he recognizes the entrance to the wolf's den.

He's carried into the den, laid down on soft moss next to a small fire. The warmth licks at his limbs as the wolf lies down with a growl, circling him with his bulk. Roman turns and snuggles into the soft fur of the wolf's belly, hearing another soft growl that sounds almost like a huff of endearment. The fire snaps and crackles, a soothing noise as the wolf's heart beats steadily against his side. He continues to let out low huffs and growls, reassuring Roman of his presence and safety in this moment.

The fear re-surges. He retches, clapping a hand over his mouth. He curls up tighter, as if he could squeeze it from himself. The wolf growls again, a little louder, and his tails flicks up to almost cover him as though it were a blanket. He knows it is ridiculous to be scared, here, between the paws of the wolf, but he is only small and cannot help it.

Another huff of breath and the snout pushes against him.

I know, he thinks, I know it's okay to be scared, but I—I—I—

The wolf rumbles again, tongue darting out to lightly lick his hand.

Can I just be scared? Is that okay?

Another rumble, and this time he feels the wolf shift slightly so he can curl better around him. He noses gently at Roman's head, lapping at his hand again, his tail lightly tickling under his chin. He closes his eyes and leans into the gentle attention, letting the wolf protect him. The sound of the fire soothes the frantic part of his hindbrain, the fur too tempting not to burrow into just a little. He's barely the size of a thorn in the wolf's side. The wolf rumbles, lying his head down and leaning it against him so he's pressed in on all sides.

The sickness recedes ever so slightly. Exhaustion quickly replaces it. The wolf breathes slowly. Roman turns his cheek to rest against the soft fur.

***

"I just don't understand!"

"You're hurt because Roman has expressed that you've hurt him."

"Well, yeah!"

"I don't think you get to be mad at him for that, Patton."

"I'm not mad, I'm just very disappointed that—"

"Okay, no, you don't get to do that either. That's not—Patton, the reason this got as bad as it did is because Roman doesn't feel like he can express that he's upset. At you or anyone else."

"But that's—how is that fair?"

"Okay, I think we're going in circles here—look, Pat-Pat, the point here is that Roro's upset—rightfully so, and he needs to time be upset about it now that he knows it's safe for him to be upset."

"It's always been safe for him to be upset!"

"No, Patton, it hasn't."

"Not when we've been jumping all over him for just expressing how he's feeling."

"He knows he can come and talk to me, he does! I don't understand why—"

"Patton, when was the last time Roman sought you out? To talk to you, or even just to hang out?"

"…"

"Patton?"

"…oh, no."

***

It takes a long time.

Roman spends a lot of time in the Imagination. Patton can feel it, can feel how hurt Roman is and how Thomas must be feeling by association. Everyone spends more time just…existing around each other without actually doing anything.

It takes a long, long time.

Fear never completely goes away, but it does become a little less omnipresent. Pain fades, or dulls, but the memory still causes flinches.

In time.

In time.

***

"Roman?"

"Hm?"

"Any ideas?"

Roman glances up at the others. They're all looking at him expectantly. Logan raises an eyebrow and gestures for him to go on.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

"Well, I did think of something."

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