#her names SASHA and i LOVE DRAWING HER.

[weewoohonk]

OC DOODLE !!!!

[krotiation]

I'm too lazy to clean this up but I wuv them

[senualothbrok]

Oath of Devotion

Summary: When you accompany Karlach to Avernus after the defeat of the Netherbrain, you assume it is the end of your romance with Gale. But you have a lot to learn about the meaning of devotion.

An exploration of the power of love and friendship, featuring Professor Gale, Paladin Tav, Karlach and Wyll.

Word count: 6.6k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Mild hurt/comfort.

A/N: This fic is dedicated to @dekariosclan, who wanted a story about a Tav who romances Gale but goes with Karlach to Avernus. I hope this hits the spot for you!

The dialogue in the scene at Withers' party is canon but for a few additions- you can watch it here.

Thank you again to @inglorionamy-ammy, beta reader extraordinaire.

She barrels into you when you hold it out. It is a ratty, one-eyed thing, as bruised and battered as you look on this winding road through death and destruction. But Karlach’s face lights up like you are offering her a gold-plated battleaxe, not an abandoned rag of a teddy bear.

“Mate!” she screeches, and you lurch at the tackling force of her embrace. “You shouldn't have!”

You cackle, because every time it is the same. As the heap of discarded and deformed teddies in her tent grows, each one anointed with a name and cherished place next to the inimitable Clive, so too does Karlach’s excitement. When you found her the first couple in a deserted shack - whimsically named Sasha and Roberto - you assumed that the novelty would soon wear off. But as usual, Karlach's enthusiasm knows no bounds.

“He's so cute!” She shrieks as she draws back from you, squishing the mangled thing against her cheek. “He looks like a Gary. Yeah. That's right. Gary. That's what we'll call him.”

She beams as she assigns Gary a sacred place within the mound of teddies in the corner of her tent. Peering inside, you chuckle at the chaos of weapons, armour and trinkets littered around her. She pats Gary proudly on the head as she returns to you. 

“Never gets old.” You mirror her grin. 

“You’re the best.” 

She gives you a quick squeeze. You ignore the way her skin sears yours in her elation - nothing that a simple healing spell cannot fix - and clasp her shoulder with a laugh. When she gestures towards the blanket laid out on the grass and the bottle of wine beside it, you nod keenly, bounding over to lay side by side, staring up at the stars. 

You have always been a traveller, journeying from place to place to follow whatever orders you received from the Justiciars of Tyr. Camping out under the bright expanse of the night sky is as familiar to you as breathing. The road has always been your home. 

It is not that you hated returning to the Halls of Justice, your headquarters in Waterdeep, where you spent most of your formative years. But over time, it has worn on you, the rigid, tight-lipped Tyrran priests, the narrow-eyed magistrates, knights and lords who were as joyless as they were harsh. It was not that you did not love Tyr, that you did not believe in truth and justice and law and order. It was not that you did not wish to defend and protect. You just could not see why you had to be so miserable while doing it.

You have never been the sombre, stick-up-the-arse sort, the type to inspire hushed envy. You have always had your feet firmly on the ground, quick to laugh, slow to put on airs and graces. You are straightforward, run of the mill. With you, what you see is what you get.

You are ordinary. Unremarkable.

So you have known, from the start, that you would never rise up the ranks. You know you will never be a Justiciar of Tyr. And though that harrowed you when you were young and wide eyed - so determined to bring honour and glory to your parents as they toiled away on their meagre farmstead - you find it amusing now. With the stench of the House of Hope still clinging to your pores, you and Karlach guffaw at Raphael’s ridiculous singing as you felled him, the crash of Yurgir falling to the floor like a drunken toddler as she delivered the killing blow. Though the threat of doom looms around every corner, the fate of Faerun hanging over you like a noose, joy burns within you with a ferocity that you have never felt before. You have never felt more alive, or less alone.

But when Karlach tells you, in a conspiratorial, slightly bashful tone, about how tenderly Wyll removed a stray leaf from her hair earlier, she suddenly halts. Her face contorts as she sucks in a sharp breath. Her hand flies to her chest. You jerk up, stiff with worry. 

“It’s alright.” She grits her teeth. “It’ll pass. It’s alright.”

Scorching tendrils pulse out from her chest, serrated cuts threatening to rip her apart. You grimace, your fingers sizzling as they rest on her arm. She curls into herself, braced against the onslaught. You feel frenzied, helpless. All you can do is wait. 

“Karlach,” you plead after a pause. “We need to get you to–”

“Don’t,” she chokes. “Don’t even say it.”

Her fire is hurting now. You cannot help but flinch back. “It’s getting worse. I can’t just watch you-”

“Tav.” Her eyes are dark wells, flickering with flame. You realise that she is crying from the pain. “Don’t ask me. I won’t go back. I’m never going back.”

You shake your head. It is an argument you have had with her before. You do not wish to see the glee in your friend’s eyes shatter into rage, to hear her breathless from anguish rather than laughter. You do not wish to tell her what she does not want to hear. But you cannot bear it. You cannot allow her to suffer when there is a solution within her grasp.

“Ten years,” she spits out. “Ten years in that fucking place, with nothing and no one to call my own.” A fine mist rises from her heart as tears trickle down her skin. “I would rather die than be alone again.”

You notice that the flare of her chest is dimming, her breaths levelling as her features soften. But her resolve remains, as unyielding as her goodness, her loyalty, her zeal for life. You would not change her, not for all the fame and glory in the realms.

In that moment, you want to promise her. You want to tell her that she would not be returning to Avernus alone. But your mind is flooded by indigo streaks across a blue-green sky, the sandalwood scent of a brown sea, the spell of stubble on your skin. And you cannot speak.

So you take her hand, and you do not let go, even when your skin begins to blister.

*****

“How in the hells did you get everyone to clear off for the night?”

You are still adjusting to the stillness of your room at the Elfsong Tavern. After the whirlwind of panting cries and thrown off armour, the lurching groans of the bed beneath you, the calm feels almost unnatural. 

Your head rises and falls on Gale’s chest as he laughs. You feel it as a low rumble through you, your arm draped over the muscled grooves of his abdomen. The damp down on his skin tickles your cheek as your fingers weave upwards through his tangled locks. You are drunk on the taste and scent of him, heady and bittersweet.  It is a crackling bonfire on the coldest of nights, a bottomless ache that rubs you raw. You cannot get enough of him. You do not know how you will survive a separation.

“I confess, I did have some help from Karlach and Wyll.” He chuckles. “The three of us can be very persuasive. As can a generous budget for evening entertainment.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.” 

You flick your tongue playfully over his nipple. He tenses, moans, tightens his grip on the cheek of your ass. All at once, you are ravenous. 

“I live to impress you.”  

The kiss starts as it always does, tender with longing, a gentle caress. And then you are all hunger and need, wanting and grasping and seeking, drinking from each other with a thirst that cannot be slaked. Drowning in the sea of him.

It scares you. The all-consuming demand of it, the fierceness of the passion that swallows you whole. The way the yearning blazes through every part of you, breaking down the barriers you have fortified between your mind, body and soul. How completely you want him, as though he is the answer to your every question. A feeling like no other, for a man like no other. 

You have always been wary of reckless abandon. It was a lesson you learned early on in your travels. Love was a recipe for disaster when you could not guarantee you would be alive from one week to the next, or predict the movements of your missions. Love was a privilege you could not afford. Temporary delights sated the cravings of your flesh. You told yourself that was enough.

And then you met him.

“I’ve never felt this way before.”

You are not sure why you say it. Perhaps it is your body speaking, wrapped up in him, caught in a drowsy lull, fleetingly sated. He has expressed his love for you countless times, but you have not yet used the word. You are not sure what love means, beyond the orb and Mystra and the Crown of Karsus, beyond the Netherbrain and the threat of the end of the world. You see no half measures, no deceit or reserve in him. When he speaks of love, he means it.

But who is to say his love is not formed from desperation? That it is not just gratitude at unexpected companionship, a compulsion to seize every moment for fear that it might be his last? If you defeat the danger that threw you together, how can you be sure his love will endure? That you will not return to your vastly separate lives, as though it were all just a passing reprieve?

He smiles, glowing with the sheen of sweat, soft and hard and magnificent. 

“Nor have I. And I never will again.”

His sincerity still surprises you. The openness of his gaze, like a clear horizon. You could lose yourself in the promise of his love. But you steel yourself. You remember who you are, the life you have led. He jumps on your hesitation. 

“Do you doubt me?”

You try to sound wry, teasing.  

“We’ve both been around awhile, Gale. You’ve had lovers before Mystra. You know your way around a bedroom.”

He tilts his head. “I can't tell if that's a compliment or a caveat.” His brow flickers, the beginnings of a frown. “Is that a cause for doubt, or…?”

“No. Yes. Well.” You look away, and when you meet his eyes again, you see that he is not fooled. Sometimes, it is unnerving to be known. To be seen. “What I’m saying is… you could have anyone you want. You did before, and you can again.”

You cannot bring yourself to mention the future. To ask, even implicitly, what will happen if you save the world and survive. If this is to be a pleasurable distraction, a momentary delight, then you would not want to ruin it. Yet somehow, the uncertainty is a thorn in your heart. It hurts to acknowledge it.

His eyes widen, as though he is stricken, almost offended. 

“And I want you. Only you.”

He cups your cheek. There is an urgency there. Under the intensity of his gaze, you feel vaguely embarrassed. You had not planned to show him this. Your doubt. Your vulnerability.

But it does not deter him. Inexplicably, you know it never would. 

“I love you, Tav.” His voice trembles with conviction. “I've never met anyone like you. You're…extraordinary. Extraordinarily beautiful. Extraordinarily strong. Extraordinarily kind, and wise.”

He pauses briefly, and the curl of his upper lip sends a roiling through your core. 

“Extraordinary in your…unique talents.”

Your eyelids flutter as his fingers whisper over your hip, settling just beneath your navel. The catch in his breath mirrors your own.

“I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for you, and I'd wait a thousand more.” 

He says the words like they are easy. Like they are not oaths, solemn and harrowing - a sacrifice only made for the greatest reward. You struggle against them, and you are not sure why. You want to trust him, but you do not know how.

Because you have always suspected that love was never meant for the likes of you. The love Gale speaks of is the stuff of songs and sagas, fairytales of noble maidens, not gruffly scarred farmer's daughters who have made no mark on the world. And you know, with every fibre of your being, that Gale deserves immeasurably more than your mediocre offering.

Fear and hope flit across Gale’s features as he gazes at you, waiting. You know he wants you to reply. He needs you to tell him you feel the same. To declare that you love him with the same consuming constancy. That you are his, just as he is yours.

But you cannot speak. His turmoil pierces you, and you feel helpless, frenzied. So you crush yourself against him, and you answer with a kiss.

*****

You are grumbling at the rip in your breeches, your punishment for swinging at a rabid imp just a second too late. The sky is darkening like a blood clot. Karlach is jabbing at the caves in the distance where you will make camp, launching into ancient strategies and hoarded secrets. With her engine stabilised here, she is broader, defter, more self-assured. In spite of the smothering decay of Avernus, she radiates with life.

But you are exhausted. The stink of sulphur scours you, and you wonder if you will ever feel clean again. You long for the relief of lush greens and blinding blues, the caress of silk and softness. You miss the cool brush of the wind and sea. And beneath the murk and mire, a chasm has opened inside you that you struggle to ignore.

You are nodding and grunting as Karlach spitballs, and then you see it. A mangled lump by your feet. A soiled leather cover, clinging to shreds of charred vellum. You surge forward to pick it up.

“I reckon we'll be safe there tonight, but–”

Karlach stops, glancing over. “What?”

You sweep away the crust of dust and blood from its scorched surface. Nearby, a half-buried skeleton gapes in rotted robes. 

“A spell book. Useless now.”

Karlach stares at you. You can feel the weight of her appraisal as the memories assail you - dancing fingers and lavender lightning, intricate crow's feet adorning smiling eyes. Rumbling incantations, tingling on your skin.

You stuff the tattered tome into your pack and walk on.

***

You are flicking through the remains of the torched tome. In the glow of the dying campfire, you can just about make out the haphazard scrawl of its dead owner. You are disappointed by the sharp, messy strokes, so harsh and ugly compared to the elegant cursive you know so well. The sparse pages, devoid of elaborate diagrams and rambling annotations. Their emptiness winds you. Grief follows like a wave, and you fight against the shaking of your hands.

“Come on then, soldier. Out with it.”

You start at Karlach's voice. The force of her presence jars you back from the brink. When you look up, her eyes are firm and gentle at the same time.

“Out with what?” you blurt.

She huffs, picking at the carcass of the abyssal chicken you shared for supper. 

“Whatever’s got your goat.” 

Instinctively, you wave her away. But you gasp as she lurches forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. When you break free, she holds your gaze.

“You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, right?”

You are stunned by her unexpected seriousness. She waits, expectant, stubborn. You sigh. 

“Of course I do.”

Her brows steeple. “Then talk to me. Because if I have to go one more day seeing you this fucking miserable, my heart might actually break.”

You raise an eyebrow, your last defence. “We came here to stop that from happening.”

“Exactly!” She throws her hands up. “So ‘fess up.”

You shift awkwardly. You suddenly realise how difficult it is to speak about your feelings, even to Karlach. Not simple feelings like lust or anger, amusement or delight. Not the stuff of throwaway comments, wry banter or gushing anecdotes. Those things come as easily to you as your friendship.

No. What you cannot admit is the gaping hole inside you. How it felt to be cocooned in his embrace. The miracle of joining your soul to his, as though you had always been complete. The boundless warmth of him nestled inside you, flowing around you, melting into you. The ebb and flow of home.

You remember the anguished panic on his face, shadowed in the setting sun. The realisation in his searching eyes as you knelt beside Karlach on the docks, paralysed by choice. The tight line of his soft lips as you looked at him one last time, haunted by the ghost of that final, unclaimed kiss, of everything spoken and unspoken.

If you speak of these things, they will swallow you whole. And you are not sure you can endure that, even after all the battles you have survived.

“You can talk about him, you know,” she says, as though she can read your mind. As though you never needed a tadpole to understand each other.

“Who?” A knee jerk answer.

Karlach rolls her eyes. “Who do you think? Do you know another magic man with big doe eyes who can ride you into the astral plane?”

You grimace. On a drunken ramble back in Baldur’s Gate, you had described in detail to Karlach all the places and ways Gale had taken you. You will never live it down. 

“Admit it. You miss Gale. That's what's eating at you.”

Part of you wants to shrug her off, tell her to drop it. But you know the doggedness of Karlach’s loyalty, constant as the sun. She jostles you, a motion meant to reassure. Her nails rap loudly against her chest, a clattering echo around the darkness of the cave.

“When we've fixed this baby, we'll go home. I'll find Wyll, and you'll find Gale. It'll all work out. You'll see.”

She sounds so certain. Once again, you marvel at her stalwart optimism, unwavering through the most unimaginable cruelties. You feel almost ashamed to burst her bubble.

“Karlach, Gale and I aren't…” 

You gesture uselessly. Your chest heaves. 

“It's not like you and Wyll,” you manage. “You guys are practically married. You know he's waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate. He knows you'll go back to him when all this is done.”

“And?” She frowns. “How's that different?”

You look down at the spell book in your lap. A sliver of vellum dissolves into black dust on your fingers.

“I left, Karlach.” You sound defeated. Small.  

You watch as Karlach’s features tighten in thought, then widen in realisation. Sorrow twists on her face.

“Soldier,” she whispers. “I never asked for–”

You straighten immediately. “You didn't have to. I wanted to." Your voice swells as you clasp her arm. "You're my best mate, Karlach. My sister. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

For a moment, you think she might cry. Then she clutches you against her so tightly you can barely breathe. She does not smell of sandalwood and soap, but oil and sweat. And though her warmth is that of a blazing furnace and not the summer sea, you rest in it for a while. 

“He loves you, Tav." Her words are muffled by her embrace. "More than anything.”

“Maybe he did," you concede. "Maybe he was lonely, and horny, and scared. But I left. He’s probably given the Crown back to Mystra by now. She's probably taken him back.”

Karlach pulls back roughly. “You’re joking. You think Gale would go back to Mystra, after everything? After you?”

You shrug. “Well, if not Mystra, he could have his pick. Plenty for him to choose from.”

“I can't tell if you're being serious. Are you serious?”

She stares at you, incredulous. You draw in a shaky breath.

“It would never have lasted, Karlach."

You offer it as an explanation, but she seems more baffled than before.

“What in the hells are you talking about?”

An image of Gale comes to you unbidden. Poised and ready, all broad shoulders and billowing robes, threads of silver shining amidst the brown waves that frame his chiselled face. He flashes you that smouldering look, halfway between a smile and a smirk, as his lithe fingers whip up a storm in the distance.  

You toss the spell book on the ground.

"A man like Gale... a woman like me." Your jaw clenches. "What happened between us was a fluke. A blip for him. I probably did him a favour by leaving. No loose ends to tie up. Now he can move on. Greener pastures, and all that.”

Karlach stiffens and scoffs. “Now I know you can't be serious. Because my mate Tav isn't a total idiot who's completely lost the plot.”

You are taken aback by her uncharacteristic scorn. You are about to shoot back a reflexive retort when she halts. 

“Oh.” She blows out a long breath. “I get it.”

You twitch. “What now?” 

“It’s your blind spot." She nods smugly, as though she has cracked a puzzle. "Like how you drop your guard sometimes when you dodge.”

You do not follow. It does not escape Karlach's notice, the mounting frustration squirming beneath your skin.

“You can't see what's fucking obvious.” Her words are harsh, but her tone is placating. Patient. She sighs, heavy with affection. 

“Tav.”

There is tenderness in the way she leans forward, looking you straight in the eye. You cannot help but soften. To be mad at Karlach would be like fighting without your sword. You just cannot do it.

“This is a bloke who talked my ear off about how your armour brought out the green of your eyes.” She chuckles. “He just wouldn't shut up about you. How brave you are, how kind, how awesome you are. How the sun shines out of your arse. We used to leave him with Minsc just so we could have a break.”

She chortles, then notices your surprise. In mock defence, she raises her palms to you. 

“Look, I love Gale. You know I love Gale. And I adore you. But I really don't want to hear about your muscles bulging in the heat of battle. Or anywhere else.”

When you burst into laughter, Karlach beams.  

“Even Wyll couldn't take Gale's lectures. I think he even fell asleep once.” 

She bobs her head, lowering her voice into a husky baritone, her pointed finger wiggling in the air. 

“Do you have a minute? Because I need to tell you about how loyal and smart and caring Tav is. No, I must insist on telling you all about it. Now. Pish posh.”

You cackle, but you cannot stifle the ache that tears through you. What you would not give to have him here with you now, and not an absurd imitation.

“Gods, that man would not let up about you," Karlach groans. "Shadowheart almost threw up when Gale started talking about your musk. He almost melted Astarion’s brain, too, when he said your scars were ugly." 

You wish you had been there for these interchanges. You had no idea of them, beyond curiosity at Gale's unexpected affinity with Minsc. Now, the idea of Gale singing your praises and defending your honour makes you want to weep.

"A couple times, I even saw Lae'zel chuckle at the way Gale looked at you." She guffaws. "Lae'zel! Chuckling! She didn't even go off on one about istiks being pathetic. That's the power of love, right there.”

You are staring at your trembling hands. A whirlwind of hunger, hurt and hope is gathering inside you. You do not know what to do with it. 

Karlach is silent for a while. When she speaks again, her voice is solemn as a promise.

“He loves you, Tav. That kind of love doesn't just go away.”

'I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for you,' he had said, 'and I'd wait a thousand more.' You wrestle with the weight of his words, the weight of hers. You shake your head.

“I never told him, Karlach. I never got to say….”

The tears choke you. All at once, you cannot think, cannot speak. She takes your hand, and she does not let it go.  

“We'll fix me up, and then you can tell him. You can tell him everything.” 

**** 

“So you came back.”

His gaze darts away from you, his hands clasping and unclasping. He looks as nervous as you feel, stooping awkwardly to greet you like a half-stranger. But in the haze of candlelight, buoyed by the heavenly breeze of meat and mead and flowers, he glows. He is just as you remember him, a vision in purple and gold. Your every longing and memory made flesh.

“You look well.” He shuffles, a halting smile quivering on his lips. “A little singed around the edges, but well.”

You have never before felt self-conscious in his presence. But standing before him now, so close you could reach out and touch him, you are ashamed. You are embarrassed by your dented armour, your torn and dusty boots. Having just narrowly survived a group of cambions sent by Zariel, there had not been time for you and Karlach to primp and preen - not that the two of you ever wasted energy on that. You could not have leapt faster through the portal back to Faerun to answer Withers’ summons.

Appearances never mattered to Gale. He always saw through to the heart of a person, finding beauty in the alignment of a soul. It is one of the things you love most about him. But tonight, as the strange stiffness between you expands, you find yourself fretting over the bunching of your braids, your unpainted eyes, the fresh scars on your arms.

“So do you, Gale.”

Your voice is strained. Every muscle in your body yearns to spring forward, to talk to him with touch. But he stands apart, worlds away. Perhaps he is beyond your reach, after everything that has passed between you.

At the corner of your eye, Karlach throws her arms around Wyll’s neck with a squeal. You turn to watch as she lifts him up, twirling him around to a chorus of hoots and whistles. You grin and clap as they collapse into each other. You hear Gale chuckling behind you, that most soothing of sounds. 

When you turn back, there is a moment when you simply gaze at him. You notice the empty canvas of his chest, laid bare by the tantalising dip of his richly embroidered doublet. Freedom, plain and pure, radiates from the unmarred plane of his bronze-kissed skin.

You think of all the times you traced the mark of the orb with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, pressing your love into his wounds, covering them with the balm of your desire. Is it recognition that glimmers in his eyes as they meet yours? Yearning? 

He clears his throat. Perhaps not.

“I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Not sure where to begin.”

For months, you have imagined what you would say to him. All the doubts you would lay down, all the things you would confess. In the silence of your loneliest nights, you prayed and pleaded with Tyr for a second chance, promising, with a resolve as strong as your Oath of Devotion, that you would not waste it.

But now that he is here, words fail you. What you want, in this instant, is to listen. To hear the resonant song of his voice, the lilting passion of it. To soak in the gentle earth of his eyes, the gossamer lines of delight and wisdom that dance on his face. To bask in the miracle of him.

“Why don't you start at the beginning?” you ask.

He tilts his head. Then his jaw clenches, as though he is bracing himself.

“I promise I've not been moping around waiting for your return.” 

It jolts you, the hint of bitterness. You have hurt him, and maybe there can be no second chances after that. Perhaps you cannot make amends for who you truly are. 

But then his voice drops. His brow arches ever so slightly. There is the ghost of that sideways smile that has always driven you wild.

“Though of course I longed for it.”

It takes you a moment to register it. He longed for your return. Waited. Slowly, mercifully, he begins to tell you about his life at Blackstaff Academy. You savour the familiar enthusiasm that snowballs as he speaks, the lively flurry of his hands, a secret language in itself. When you learn that he is a Professor of Illusory Magic, hear him extol the manifold wonders of imagination and lament the ineptitude of his apprentices with wry affection, you grin so widely that your cheeks ache. 

You have always believed in Gale - his stout heart, girded with goodness, his keen mind, honed as the sharpest blade. It has always been your greatest hope for him - to see him content with the man he is, no longer shackled to a mirage of the man he should be. If this is the end of the road, if a stilted goodbye is all that lies between you now, it would be a torment. An agony you will carry with you for the rest of your days. But there is no doubt in your mind. You would suffer any pain for his peace. His happiness. 

It is like you are old friends when he asks about your time in Avernus. You tell him about the endless hoards of hunters trailing after you,  the running count of kills that Karlach insists on keeping (she is currently leading by three). He shares your disgust with what passes as food in the hells, your excitement about the blueprints you found. When you tell him about Zariel’s forge, where you and Karlach are heading to fix her heart, you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he furrows his brow. You explain that Karlach is making inroads with one of Zariel’s guards, an old acquaintance of hers who thrives on chaos. Now, it is just a matter of biding your time before you make a move. 

You are struck, again and again, by how much you have missed Gale’s laugh. The brightness of his discerning eyes. The plump arc of his lips curving into a grin. Lost pieces of yourself, restored for a fleeting night.

“I almost feel sorry for the devils in your path.” He smirks. “I mean, I don’t, of course. I’m sure they deserve it.” 

He leans forward. As the wind weaves through his hair, you catch the notes of leather, scrolls, and sandalwood. Home. You breathe deeply, storing up his scent. You do not ever want to forget it. 

“I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know?” 

Something reverberates inside you. Dimly, you recall the weariness in your parents’ eyes when you returned to their farm on your thirtieth birthday. “Not a Justiciar, no. Still just an ordinary Paladin.” When, a few steps down the dirt track on the day of your departure, you turned back to wave goodbye, they had already scurried back into the house. Relieved to see the back of you, to be done with yet another disappointment in the ceaseless toil of their lives.

But Gale looks at you with pride, a kind of awe. A hero, he says. Extraordinary, he once called you.

“I'll be delighted to introduce you to them when you return. That is, if you wish to return to Faerun. Or to me.”

There is a fullness in his gaze now. The brown flame that flares is unmistakable. It is a swollen, throbbing desire that roils through you, a desperate mirror of your want.

He waits. For all this time, he has waited. Standing together where it all began, surrounded by the symphony of those you cherish most, you see him so clearly. The depths of his devotion. The boundlessness of his love. His need and hunger, wrestling against his fear.

There is so much you want to tell him, so much of your soul you wish to lay bare. It is not too late, you realise. If you open yourself to him, he will embrace you, as though there is no past, no future. Only the endless horizon of the astral sea.  

“I want nothing more, Gale,” you whisper.

He heaves, a burst of relief, disbelief, elation. His whole body seems to vibrate, beaming with the bliss of a burden lifted, a mystery finally solved. The glorious end to a grueling journey, a terminus for which he has fought tooth and nail, trusting, against all odds, in a home where you would both come to rest. And when he steps forward, reaching out to you, you drift towards him like a star falling back to earth.

But then it seizes you. You stop in your tracks, bowled over by a compulsion to protect. An urge to throw yourself before him like a shield. This man, who has sacrificed and suffered for you. This marvel of a man, who deserves nothing less than the full measure of you. You cannot take away the victory he has won, against all odds, over the demons of his history. You cannot jeopardise the peace he has laboured so hard for. You could never forgive yourself.

You force yourself back.

“Zariel knows we're coming.” Your voice breaks. “She has an army guarding the forge.”

Gale’s features freeze in shock, the anticipation of pain. Your withdrawal is a blow. To hurt him so soon after hope - it is unbearable. But you must protect him. You cannot take the risk.

"We might not make it in. Or out. I don't want you to…I can't let you…”

He searches your face. You push out the words - a guttering plea, woefully inadequate.

“I might not make it back, Gale.”

There is a twisting in his face, a faltering as he considers you. Then his eyes widen, blazing with sudden understanding. He huffs, a gentle half-laugh, brimming with affection. It throws you, and when he speaks, his tenderness reminds you of all those nights when you lay beside him, wanting for nothing.

“Your caution is warranted. But believe me, I know enough about divination to promise you that our future is one worth looking forward to.”

You stare at him. Divination? Has he sought out your future, while he yearned for your return? Can it be that he has seen it, the two of you living as one, the answer to every prayer you feared to offer up to Tyr? Your breath hitches. 

“A crackling hearth. Two cosy armchairs beside it. A bottle of wine to be poured. And your battleworn boots, discarded at long last by the door. That is the life we have waiting for us. Believe in it, and it will come.”

You can almost see it. The fine veins of his forearm flickering as he turns a page. His moist lips tingling on your fingers as they trail through his beard. Beads of sweat like pearls, settling into the nook of his clavicle, shadowed in the firelight.

Desire takes you like a flood. You can no longer resist the tide of his resolve, the smouldering embrace of his certainty. All of your questions, all of your doubts, dissolve like mist as he strides towards you. 

His closeness is a spell. You are enthralled by the whisper of his hair against your temple, the caress of wine on his breath. The bold curve of his nose ghosts over yours, luring you closer. All at once, you are dizzy, falling into him. He draws back, teasing and playful, and when he laughs, you grab hold of him and crush your lips on his.

And then, all you can feel and smell and taste is him.

*****

He is stooped over his desk at the front of the lecture hall. Framed by intricate oak walls and animated portraits of Blackstaff legends, the fervent undulations of his cursive on the chalk board behind him, his beauty takes your breath away. His hair is longer now, lighter, adorned with gleaming clusters of white-grey. He is leaner, sharper at the edges, but somehow more solid. More true.

Squinting into a mass of scrolls, he is in a world of his own, muttering and gesturing to himself, a mixture of irritation, confusion, determination. Even from the back of the room, you can make out the wrinkle of his thinking line, that most endearing of expressions. You chuckle.

He barely glances up at the sound. He calls out with a practised weariness, a sternness that you have never heard before but instantly relish.

“If you're here for the lecture on the nature and use of simulacrums, you are disgracefully, appallingly late–”

He jerks his head, his gaze finally lifting towards you. When his eyes meet yours, he lets out a gasp that lurches through his shaking frame. And then he is sprinting, leaping through the rows of chairs, hurtling into you like a flaming comet.

Your bodies weave together, clutching, seeking, finding. His hot tears, his juddering breaths, the frenetic beating of his heart, echoing and melting into yours.

“You're back.” He cups your face, pressing his forehead to yours. “You came back.”

You lean into his touch, ravenous for more. All this time, believing you could not love him, doubting he could feel the same - now, all you want is to fill yourself with him. The musk of soap and bookdust, the taste of coffee and salt, the heat of his thrumming muscles flush against yours. You are dissolving into a flurry of kisses, each one more eager than the last, sealing your promise against his tear-streaked skin. You do not hold back. You will never hold back again.

“I love you, Gale,” you pant. “I've loved you since the day we met. I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for you, and I'd wait a thousand more.”

The awe and wonder in his eyes reflects your own. He is quivering, letting out tiny sighs of jubilation. As his fingers dance up your chest, your neck, the knots of your braids, you tremble under his touch, grinning at the certainty that you will never again go without it. 

“Where's Karlach?” he murmurs into your hair, as you run your nose over the stubble on his jawline, savouring the rough and smooth of him.

“She's headed for Baldur’s Gate to find Wyll. She’s promised to visit us as soon as they can.” You draw back. “That is, if you want me to stay here, with you.” 

He huffs, amused, incredulous. His fingers find yours. Time stands still as he raises your hand to his lips. When he plants a kiss along the scarred ridge of your knuckles, it has the passion and devotion of an oath.

“I want you to marry me,” he breathes.

You look at him for a long time. You will never tire of the sight. Yours is a love that will last a lifetime, a love greater than any legend or saga, stronger than any fairytale. This man, this miracle, forever yours, just as you are forever his. You have no doubts about it now.

Joy burns within you, a fire in your soul that will never fade.

You laugh, and you answer with a kiss. 

*********

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

[sunaluv]

GIVE ME YOUR LOVIN'

someone's looking at you looking at him

feat: connie & eren, wakasa & shinichiro

CONNIE & EREN

connie watched curiously as you laughed at whatever it was eren said to you. you threw your head back and cackled as your unfiltered laughter was heard over the music. ironically enough, you had that same, unashamed laughter when he fell for you. every time he thinks about how he fell in love with you, he finds himself covering his cheeks like a bashful little school girl.

he can't really blame eren for getting to you first, he had only told sasha, ymir and historia about his little crush on you. and you were so attractive in your own way, it was a matter of time before someone else would make their move on you. ‘yeah,’ he convinces himself, ‘if i had acted first, maybe she would be laughing at my jokes right now.’

connie had been so deep in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed you approaching the kitchen island he was sat at.

"you alright, con?" he felt a blush coming on at the sound of your voice. "what'cha thinkin' about?"

maybe it was the remnants of alcohol in his system, but he swore you've been looking at him a little differently lately, like there was a hint of lust in your eyes.

he cleared his throat, calming himself down. "nothin' really," he wiped his hands on his jeans. "what've you been up to?"

he listened intently as you told him about the past week, about the pile of assignments you've been neglecting and the girls trip you went on recently (he smiled as you whipped your phone out, swiping through albums and he had to act like he hadn't seen the ones you uploaded on your finsta). he had to hold back the hurt on his face whenever you mentioned eren though.

time seemed to pass whenever he talked with you. he found himself genuinely interested in what you had to say, and became more of a listener than a talker when the two of you conversed.

jean elbowed eren, nodding towards the two of you chatting by the counter. "you ever noticed how con looks at your girl?"

eren looked between jean and the pair of you, shrugging his shoulders. "no? how does he?"

"like he wants her," he laughed at the glare eren shot him. "my sources have told me that he's had a crush on her before you two started talking."

eren was silent, taking a sip of his drink. jean would've probably considered what he meant, but a call of his name from the bros at the beer pong table managed to grab his attention. with a heavy pat on eren's shoulder, he left the said boy alone with this newfound information.

old eren would've pulled the two of you up on it immediately or caused a giant scene which was sure to embarrass the three of you. but since getting to know you, he had become a calmer person, more rational even. instead of storming over to the kitchen, he decided to let you be. he trusted you, and you obviously trusted him as you already told him about you and connie when you started getting serious.

he let connie get a feel of what it was like to be with you, just for tonight. it was as far as he was going to get anyway.

SHINICHIRO & WAKASA

sometimes, when you come into the bike shop with your cheery greeting, wakasa likes to pretend you came for him, despite the fact you greeted everyone.

he likes to daydream about you prancing in your summer dresses which heavily contrasted his oil-stained overalls tied at his waist. he likes to daydream about you scolding him about overworking himself, your pretty, plump lips drawing into a pout complaining about 'how you'll forget about me one day...'

to which he'd respons with 'you know i never would' before hissing that pout away.

yeah... this man was in deep.

instead, he nodded his head at you as he passed, to which you reciprocated with a smile of your own. the faint scent of your perfume hypnotised him, his eyes following your figure as you lovingly embraced your boyfriend, shinichiro, who was tinkering away at his own bike.

the slithers of conversation he could grasp closely resembled the ones he has with you in his daydream, he sometimes gets scared someone can read his thoughts.

with a heavy sigh, he tore his gaze from his leader and his girl, putting the finishing touches on the automobile in front of him.

--

wakasa didn't imagine this to be the first time he got to really embrace you.

"it'll be okay," he spoke your name tenderly, drawing small circles into your arm. "we'll all look after you for as long as you need, alright? we all know how much shin adored you."

at the mention of his name, your cries grew harsher and louder. you squeezed at his waist harder, burying your face in his chest as if to take out all of your hurt on him.

"what will i do, wakasa?" his heart shattered at the defeated look on your face. "my boyfriend is dead..."

wakasa was stuck. he didn't know how to console you right now, not when he was feeling so guilty for thinking about your flushed body against his whilst you were crying over his late leader.

so he said nothing, letting you fall into him once more. he only hoped takeomi would get to your place soon, anyone other than him would probably be a better support system for you right now.

takeomi arrived shortly after, a fruit basket and other comfort items with him, along with his condolences. you told the boys you were going to lie down, giving wakasa the chance to excuse himself from you.

the two of the stood in your kitchen, speaking in hushed terms.

"you're such an asshole for what you're doing, ya know?"

"i know," wakasa breathed out. "...i know."

"shinichiro died, wakasa."

"i said i know, damn it!" he finally looked up at takeomi, a mix of rage, guilt and disgust swirling in his eyes. his eyes widened as he lowered his volume.

"boss left her in our care," takeomi breathed out. "do you really think it's wise to do what you're doing?"

whether or not it was a rhetorical question, wakasa did not answer. the silence mixed with with the tense mood left the air heavier than usual.

wakasa knew he still held strong feelings for you and it seems others are starting to catch on as well. thus he had to distance himself from you and let you grieve shinichiro properly.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

playing excited & exhausted with them

ft: levi, erwin, bertholdt, jean, connie, annie, sasha, mikasa, eren

a/n: excited & exhausted is card game made for couples to play when they’re drinking. it is an explicit card game so this post is 18+. NSFW MDNI ! however, this does not go into details. it’s very light on the smut side, if you can even call it that. i’m not 100% comfortable writing full smut yet soo :) this request is for/from @ricebowl768 - also, this is not proofread :)

levi ackerman

it’s a pain to play this game with levi. he insists on doing all of the tasks on the card, resulting in you being the only drunk one. he says, “what’s the point of playing if i don’t do any of these?”

you tell him, it’s supposed to be fun and he doesn’t have to do any of the dares that he doesn’t want to. charmingly, he responds, “well, you’re my girlfriend. i want to do these things.”

erwin smith

he’s curious when you present him the deck. he didn’t think you’d be interested in something so explicit. honestly, he’s quiet shy about most of the cards. he gets a nice buzz going pretty fast, giving him the courage to do all these things.

the night ends up quite wholesome as you two share bursts of drunken giggles. you two wind up sweetly entangled in bed.

bertholdt hoover

you have to convince bert to play this game, given he’s on the shyer side. you both take two shots before playing just to ease any anxiety. the first card he draws reads, “drink if you want to have sex after this game.” his eyes widen and he downs another shot. he tries to hard the cards from you but you are dying to know, so you lunge across towards him and wrestle him for the card.

you laugh at his embarrassment when you read it outloud. you reassure him he doesn’t have anything to feel embarassed about by kissing him all over his red cheeks.

jean kirstein

jean thinks you’re the best girlfriend ever for buying this card game. he mainly teases you about drinking whenever you don’t want to do the action on the card. he calls you a few names just to rile you up. tired of his shit, you start doing everything on the cards just to prove a point. no matter how provocative or exposing they are, you do them. he both hates and loves you for this but he can’t wait for the game to be over.

connie springer

he’s enthusiastic about playing this game, he actually was the one who had picked it up at the store while you weren’t paying attention. he reveals it by slamming it down on the table and insists you two play. you both end up sloppy drunk for some reason despite doing everything on the card. honestly, it was just a good excuse to get sloppy drunk and be horny for each other.

annie leonhardt

she’s sort of…rough when you bring up the idea. annie’s a pretty shy, reserved person so when you present her with the game, she gives you a shrug. no wanting to press her boundaries, you forget about it.

she brings it up later on, on a random afternoon. she wants to deepen her bond with you, so she steps outside her comfort zone. she blushed at nearly every single card, choosing to consume a bunch of liquor.

she manages to hold herself together well, until she gives into her desires and chooses to do the sexual tasks on the cards. this side of her is refreshing. you keep telling her she doesn’t have to do anything, but she insists the liquor has given her courage to do these things she’s wanted to do all along.

sasha braus

sasha giggles at every single card! she barely takes anything seriously, especially when she’s drinking. she doesn’t quite understand the circumstances of the game until you draw all the promiscuous cards. she tries to keep a cool about tasks such as kissing her thighs. but since you know her so well, her gasps of surprise are considered more gasps of arousal. overall, she winds up enjoying the game.

mikasa ackerman

mikasa looks to please you, and only you as their partner. of course, this urge doesn’t dismiss her shyness. she starts off the game with a high confidence, dismissing with each card. she wants to do each, to please you but ultimately, she’s too embarassed. it winds up with her having a bunch of shots and it makes you laugh. you tell her, “baby, you don’t have to do anything, we can stop playing this game.”

she counters back, “i want to! it’s just so…vulgar? how do people do this sober?!”

it’s not that she’s a prude, but this game is impossible to play! that’s what she insists.

eren jaeger

this game was made for eren, or so he thinks. he‘ d play this game with anyone but for him, it’s a pleasure to play with you. he doesn’t shy away from any task, no matter how filthy it is. he enjoys teasing you and seeing you flustered. he wants you uncomfortable, in a consensual way of course. eren wants to take you further than you’ve ever been. both physically and mentally. he’s a menace, testing your limits until you’re begging for him!

[neiptune]

ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

c/w: 11k wc, SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren is a surfing instructor, overall it's just a light and hopefully enjoyable story full of sea, conflicting feelings & newfound friendships! it's been a minute since i published anything but i'd love to come back with part 2 if you guys enjoy :)

i've read i wish you would by @meowzfordayz so many times i eventually got inspired to write my own lil summery piece 🤍

PART 2

Eren doesn’t think anything of it.

He’s used to being watched as he runs back and forth by the shoreline, salt drying on his tan skin and surfboard faithfully tucked underneath his arm.

He’s used to drawing the interest of girls, women and some men whenever he hangs out at the beach cafe with his friends. Eren actually gets a kick out of the thrilled glances he receives as he travels from thick towels to colorful beach umbrellas, in search of strangers bold enough to take part in a volleyball match against his team.

But it’s the third day, your yellow towel is always in the same spot and he finds himself glancing back at you more often than not. You’re a tourist, most probably from the city. It’s clear from how you shield yourself from the sun and the way you keep attempting to brush the sand off your legs with a frown he finds comical. You’re a reader, if the thick book you carry around in that straw bag is an indicator. You’re also alone, he’s never seen you in the company of a friend or a relative. Or a boyfriend.

Somehow, you manage to pique his interest, if only for the smile you grant when meeting him halfway to give back the ball Sasha’s serve has conveniently thrown too far away. As he watches you walk back to your towel and right as he manages to catch the brief glance you shoot him from over your shoulder, Eren thinks he just needs the right chance to try his evergreen luck once more.

Fortunately, the perfect opportunity comes earlier than expected.

He’s fresh out of the water, one hand running through brown locks rendered thicker by ocean salt. The pace is cheerful as they walk towards the cafe, hungry as ever after what felt like hours on end of catching waves, adrenaline slowly flowing out of their bodies and heart rate calming down. Eren spots you right away, suddenly so distracted he doesn’t reciprocate Jean’s playful shove nor does he wince in annoyance when he flicks his forehead.

You’re sitting across from Connie and Sasha, polite smile that turns into laughter at what’s most probably one of his friend’s lame jokes. Despite Jean’s yo! that loudly announces their presence, it’s Eren’s the face your gaze flickers to. The smile is still there and wouldn’t it be unkind of him not to return it?

“Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” Jean is absolutely oblivious to your presence and ungracefully lets himself fall down onto one of the rattan stools.

“Burgers are on their way” Sasha pushes her plate of fries towards him and he thanks her with a grin so bright it’s blinding. Her hair is still wet from the lazy swim she took shortly after they arrived at the beach, auburn hair drenched in enough red saturation to contrast with her magenta bikini. 

“I don’t think we’ve met” Eren hasn’t let his eyes shift from your features, so relaxed while witnessing his friends’ antics. You lazily return your attention to him once more and, with a pleasant squeeze of his stomach, he senses the anticipation. Is this encounter so casual, after all? Or is everything going exactly how you’ve been wanting it to? Either way, he’s more than fine with it.

“We haven’t” you reply with a sweet smile, offering a hand he oh so easily envelops in his.

Connie introduces you and your name rolls off from his tongue with a fond inflection already.

“She’s gonna spend the summer here and doesn’t really know anyone—” he interrupts himself to land a protective slap to the back of Jean’s head. He’s been choking down way too many of Sasha’s fries.

“She was asking for some advice on what to do, where to go” Sasha takes it from there, flashes you a smile “so we invited her to join us tonight”

“And I already said I don’t want to intrude” you shrink in your seat a little and Jean scoffs at your demeanor, a lazy wave of the hand to brush your concerns off.

“It’s cool. The more, the merrier”

“Besides” Eren worms his way into the conversation “you’re gonna need reliable allies if you want to survive in the wild”

Genuine amusement settles at the corners of your lips while you take note of the jovial glint in his mirth gaze.

It’s exactly what you must look like to them, you think while trying to decide what to wear for the impending night out. An outsider in need of some guidance, the right companionship not to feel too lost while attempting to navigate the pathetically lonely summer ahead of you.

The simple truth is that you don’t really mind being on your own. This was a last minute, impulsive trip you had booked without thinking too much about it. You sort of wanted to get accustomed to the quieter life, idyllic days puncuated by late brunches, ocean waves crashing against the shore, the familiar rustle of pages of your favorite books, perhaps a movie or two while comfortably snuggled in the big, soft bed your small vacation rental came with.

All you’re actually after is a peaceful summer but sure enough you don’t mind meeting a person or two, nice people you can have a chat with at the beach instead of spending hours on end listening to true crime podcasts. You don’t mind having an excuse to finally put on something other than your sleeping shorts, pull out the only lipstick you have carried with you halfway across the country and actually spend some time outside of your room.

You definitely don’t mind having the chance to get to know hot surfer boy either, pretty much the embodiment of any summer romance trope a girl could think of. Doesn’t take a genius to understand that he’d be the main character in each individual one.

Attractive? Check. Charming? Check. Residing on a remote island in the middle of the ocean? Check. Eats, sleeps and breathes just to flirt with anything that moves? Most probably, check.

And although romance is definitely not what either of you are after, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have some harmless fun.

Isn’t that what summers are for?

That’s the thought you carry with you as you approach their table at the bar, a confident smile hopefully concealing the slight tension in your shoulders. In the end, you opted for a striped blouse and a simple, white denim skirt.

Connie enthusiastically chirps your name and Eren, who is seated on the outer edge of the booth seating, makes room for you right away. The space is cramped enough for everyone to be basically leaning against each other and you think it’s not exactly a coincidence that your thigh has to be flush against Eren’s in order to fit in the booth.

“You have to try this, it’s amazing!”, Sasha grins while gently pushing her drink towards you, the glass leaving a trail of condensation on the mahogany table. You lean over to take a small sip from the green straw. It’s a classic piña colada, the frozen blend of pineapple and creamy coconut a little too sweet for your liking.

“Think I’ll go with a moscow mule” you smile an apologetic smile and she just shrugs, unimpressed.

“I second that” a gentle yet unfamiliar gaze meets yours, copper mug raised in a metaphoric toast “I’m Armin, so nice having you with us tonight!”

“Thanks, Armin” with a soft chuckle you introduce yourself as well.

They’re such a diverse group but manage to fit amazingly well together, you find. The common denominator is genuine friendliness, there’s not an ounce of fabrication in the kind tone used to direct questions your way, each and everyone of those present genuinely curious and determined to make you feel included.

“You can’t be serious” Connie’s nose scrunches in a displeased grimace “books? Tv shows? Is that seriously what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m technically on vacation” your weak attempt at justifying yourself is laughed at.

“A great reason not to stay indoors the whole damn day” Jean downs his third beer of the evening and points a finger in your direction “consider yourself under our wing from now on”

“Not sure sweating under the sun while jumping after a ball matches my idea of fun” you give him a skeptical albeit playful look.

Sasha, three piña coladas in, slams her fist on the table .

“That’s exactly what I tell them every summer!”

“No one forces you to play like, ever” Connie smirks her way “wish you’d spare us the agony of having you on the team actually”

“He’s kidding” Armin is quick to chime in, alarmed by the childlike astonishment suddenly filling Sasha’s big brown eyes.

“What’s your idea of fun, then?” a deep, warm voice pulls you away from the funny scene taking place in front of you.

“This night is fun” you smile, gaze finally meeting sage eyes that have been so intently focused on you throughout the evening. Your leg is still shamelessly pressing against his, more of an intentional touch than a forced one. The amount of warmth radiating through his jeans is enough to send a shudder down your spine.

Eren mirrors your smile.

“We’re fun people” he concedes “what else?”

You pause, pensive for a moment. It’d be great to actually be the mysterious, secretly entertaining stranger from the city he’s probably picturing but the sour truth is that you own a boring, quite ordinary personality.

“Reading at the beach instead of my bed?” you crack another smile, met with a chuckle and an eyeroll this time.

“Ever tried surfing?” despite the amused expression, it’s clear he’s not mocking you.

“I literally live in Tokyo”

“Not even on vacation? As a kid? Ever?”

It’s cute, the authentic shock painting his features. So you smile again with a slight shrug.

Eren clicks his tongue.

“I’ll teach you. You’ll never be the same again”

This time it’s you who’s laughing as he frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just trying to picture how many girls you must’ve said that to”

Slightly taken aback, he offers half a smile.

“I don’t need to say that to girls, I’m actually an instructor”

“Right, so they come looking for you anyway”

“What’s this sudden interest in how I get girls?”

You innocently cross your ankles underneath the table, which causes your leg to press against his a little more.

“Not sudden”

Another boyish smirk splits across his face as he leans slightly closer, a dangerously inviting scent enveloping your senses already. He’s not even wearing any cologne.

“Seriously, come take a look tomorrow” Eren pauses for a second, intentionally, eyes travelling down to the soft curve of your lips “I usually make it fun, or so I’m told”

Sulking in your seat, you playfully raise your eyebrows because this is a game two should play.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna show me your place tonight?”

Without missing a beat, Eren fakes a pensive hum, magnetic gaze shamelessly lingering on your lips again.

“I might. If you promise to come take a look tomorrow”

He’s not one to be intimidated and, as a matter of fact, he has been fighting the urge to place a hand on your thigh for the entire night.

You huff, newly found boldness courtesy of the second moscow mule and the thrill of the unknown. Surf is something you’ve never been interested in and you sincerely doubt all the women telling him how good of a teacher he is weren’t simply after the same thing you are being offered right now. But if a little stroke of the ego and some acquiescence will get you what you want, which is for him to finally just touch you, would you really be dumb enough to miss the perfect opportunity?

“Fine. I’ll stop by” you concede but whatever he has to say in response gets harshly sucked in by Sasha’s sobs.

The invisible bubble that had shortly enveloped you both suddenly bursts with a pop as you redirect your attention to the rest of the party. Jean seems genuinely horrified, Connie is just laughing with literal tears in his eyes as he watches Armin whisper comforting words to their friend.

“What the hell did you say to her?” you’re slightly surprised to hear the protective annoyance embedded in Eren’s tone, especially when you thought he’d just laugh the whole situation off.

“Nothing!” panic makes Jean’s voice squeaky and Connie only laughs harder, slamming a hand on the table.

“She thinks the ocean has dried up!” he can barely spell the words out before erupting in another fit of laughter right as Sasha’s desperate sobs increase in volume.

“Sash, I promise nothing has happened to the ocean” Eren attempts to gently take one of her hands and move it away from her face but she just harshly slaps his fingers away.   

“I don’t believe you!” she wails so heartbreakingly Armin deems wise to catiously hide what’s left of her drink behind one of Jean’s beer bottles.

“Sasha” you softly chime in and perhaps it’s because your voice is still unfamiliar that she looks up, puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks “I just got back from the beach, with a gift” it takes everything in you not to laugh as her eyes widen in shock when you pull out a glass of water from underneath the table.

“Special ocean water, just for you”

“How did you get that?” before you even have the chance to come up with a believable answer, Sasha gasps so audibly a few people turn around to look at your table “are you a mermaid?”

Connie is howling with laughter at this point, as Jean slaps a hand to his mouth to no avail. Eren just sighs.

“Why do we let her drink every time?” he mutters under his breath.

You ignore each and every one of them as you inch across the table, palms facing upward.

“You can’t tell anyone” the conspiratorial whisper is what probably gets her as she leans over in turn, absolutely amazed while inspecting your wet fingertips.

“Guess it’s time to take her home” with a sigh of relief, Armin finally relaxes in his seat.

“Your turn” Connie grins mischievously at Eren, who just rolls his eyes.

“I could use a hand” his lips conveniently brush against the shell of your ear as he pretends the sudden proximity was nothing but a natural consequence of his standing up. You follow suit with a soft smile and so does Sasha, who refuses to let go of your hand.

“We’re not like this all the time” Armin looks exhausted and something tells you he’s usually the one responsible for keeping tabs whenever things get out of control. It suits his kind nature, or at least that’s the impression you get after spending a few hours with him.

“Will you come to the beach tomorrow? I’d really like to continue that conversation about confessional poetry” and so you smile at him, no ulterior motive besides the genuine pleasure that comes with meeting a new potential friend with interests so similar to yours.

Sasha impatiently pulls you by the hand as Eren balances her body against his, an arm around her waist to make sure she stands.

“Yeah” warmth radiates from the tired albeit gentle smile Armin offers you “I’ll bring my Robert Lowell book”

“Remember what I said” Jean scoffs impatiently as Connie waves goodbye with a pestiferous grin glued to his face “our wing. Fun summer. No more indoors”

“Aye aye, captain” you chuckle.

“Let’s go!” Sasha tugs at your blouse twice and Eren has to literally keep her from collapsing on the floor when she clumsily stumbles upon her own feet.

You gently untangle your hand from her grabby fingers and secure her arm around your shoulders, careful not to fall yourself as she suddenly leans in to press her nose to your cheek.

“Your hair smells like the ocean” she mumbles dreamily and you can’t hold back the giggle that bubbles from your throat while you help her out of the bar, Connie’s chuckle the last thing you register before stepping out in the humid hair of the night.

“Everything okay over there?” Eren can’t help but smile when he glances in your direction, sincerely amused by the way his friend is all over you.

“Absolutely” your smile is intended for Sasha instead, who is walking pretty much blindly since her undivided attention is still focused on something that’s entirely different from the sidewalk. With a careful brush of your thumb, you clean off some of the smudged mascara underneath her eyes.

“Maybe someone should’ve stayed with her” you discreetly whisper over her head.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll tuck her in, make sure she wakes up with water and some painkillers nearby” Eren meets Sasha’s gaze and laughs when she grins widely at him.

“You’re my best friend!” she cheers so loudly you jump a little “the best Eren I know!”

“I’m the only Eren you know” he gently flicks her forehead, fingers barely grazing her skin.

You chuckle again, too caught up in the moment to realize how disarmingly nice and attentive and attractive he actually is.

Sasha is not steady enough on her legs but you can barely feel the weight you’re supposedly sustaining, Eren most likely doing the majority of the work. He hums and distractedly mumbles reassuring nothings in response to his friend’s incessant nonsense, still more amused than annoyed. When you reach her apartment at last they both insist you step in with them, Sasha being particularly excited at the thought of showing you her seashell collection (“it’ll make you feel at home!”) but you kindly refuse and watch as he quite literally drags her inside while she enthusiastically waves and promises to visit you the next day. Whether she means to come by your place or dive underwater, you can’t tell.

Because of what you’re wearing, sitting on the sidewalk is a hard pass. Still, Sasha doesn’t live far from the beach, much like basically every other island resident. You don’t mind waiting outside, not when you can hear the faint sound of crashing waves and the brackish breeze gently ruffles your hair.

It’s relaxing, really, getting to quietly stand by as everything else drifts before you. Couples taking a stroll by the shore nothing more than dark silhouettes barely discernible from where you’re standing, an old man slowly pushing a gelato cart and then stopping to take a break, groups of friends loudly making their way through the street as some bystanders direct them glances expressing disapproval.

“Hey” Eren materializes next to you out of thin air, a smile tugging at his lips when you wince “want one?”

With a small nod, he indicates the ice cream cart. You smile back.

“Ah, no, thanks. Is she okay?”

Something passes through his handsome face, some sort of indefinite emotion gone before you have the chance to even fully notice it, the apology remaining tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

“Out like a light. C’mon, I want one, we can share”

He doesn’t give you the time to decline again. You just have to promptly follow him not to fall behind as he marches towards the vendor. They seem to know each other: Eren calls him uncle Katsu and the older man seems delighted about the encounter. He asks if his favorite customer wants the usual but Eren glances at you, amusement conquering his relaxed features once more.

“Nah, she wouldn’t understand. Give me something more tourist friendly”

Brows furrowed, you open your mouth to protest but you’re cut off by Katsu’s boisterous laugh.

Sullen, you end up with a butter pecan cone Eren lets you hold more than a fair amount of time for two people who are supposed to be eating equal amounts of ice cream.

“What’s the usual?” you grumble and he grins walking beside you, hands shoved in pockets and pace comfortably slow.

“Pineapple, with chunks”

“Nice” the attempt at playing off your skepticism as nonchalance fails miserably.

“You’re gonna try it eventually, I’m just giving you some time to get accustomed to the wilderness first”

With a huff you pass him the cone, trying to ignore the pleasant flip of your stomach at his words. Is he assuming you’ll hang out more than just this once?

“You really like living here” it’s a sincere observation that just slips out, past all the casual facade you’re trying to keep up.

Eren shrugs but there’s fondness in the way he looks at the ordinary street ahead of him.

“I do. Can’t imagine myself anywhere else”

The affection vibrating in his tone makes you bitter. You never experienced that sense of belonging, not to a place, not even to your own family. The only person who’s ever been the closest at becoming home has let you down so violently, so suddenly, your scarred skin is still having a hard time healing itself.

Eren peers down at you, taking in your pensive expression. He wonders why you look so gloomy all of a sudden, if your friends ever call while you’re busy spending your days all by yourself on the other side of Japan. He wonders why you’re here on your own.

“What about you?” his tone is light, poised between genuine curiosity and the urge to elicit a shred of actual information “how come you’re staying here all summer?”

The gloom dissipates so abruptly it hardly looks natural.

“Ah, my rich parents agreed to pay for the vacation so why not take full advantage of their kindness?” you shrug with a smile that hopefully covers up the lie well enough. His furrowed brows indicate that he’s not fully convinced but genuine intimacy and heartfelt confessions in the middle of the night are not what you need nor what you want, therefore it’s only fair to batten down the hatches.

“So, where’s this place of yours? Far from here?” you jokingly ask with a light shove of your shoulder to his arm.

Eren pauses for a second, seeming so taken aback you feel your face getting hot with embarrassment.

“You actually want—”

“You don’t—”

Both of you look at each other with furrowed brows, until he stops in his tracks.

Fuck.

“Uh” you let out a nervous chuckle “I’m so sorry. That was weird of me, I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably stood in the sun too long today. Anyway, I can totally walk myself home, don’t feel obligated to—”

He too laughs but, again, it’s not to poke fun at your pathetic little self.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” the playful glint in his eyes only contributes to embarrass you further, so he promptly softens his tone “I should be the one apologizing. I just thought you wouldn’t want to, you know, after Sasha and everything”

You blink a few times, candidly confused.

“No? I mean, I like Sasha. I like all your friends” it’s the unexpected truth, one that makes him smile.

For a split second, he considers asking if you like him too, even if your willingness to let him take you home already speaks volumes. But why would he? If Sasha getting absolutely plastered and almost throwing up on you wasn’t enough of a turn off, Eren should just shut the fuck up and savour the opportunity he’s been waiting for ever since seeing you at the beach for the first time. He’s been picturing the pretty creases of that blouse on his bedroom floor pretty much the entire evening.

“I’m just a few blocks away” therefore he smiles that attractive smirk of his, right before taking one last bite of the crumbly cone in his cream-stained hand.

“Don’t feel compelled to—”

“You look beautiful right now” Eren cuts you off abruptly, words dying in your throat as you look back in shock “the whole night, actually. The last thing I’m feeling is compelled” his noses scrunches slightly, as if feeling nauseated by the ridiculous assumption alone.

Another beat passes before you allow your lungs to deflate with the release of a breath.

“Okay” you mutter, still dazed by the sudden, straightforward flattery.

Eren’s smile grows in softness this time. An entire second is spent thinking that smile suits him more than the confident smirk of a moment ago.

“Okay” he says back.

When he arrives at the beach the next morning, earlier than usual, he spots you right away. You’re sitting on your yellow towel and seem engaged in a heated discussion with his best friend, both of you interrupting the other with a frantic gesturing of hands.

Eren stops for a second, surfboard planted in the sand for good measure, one hand on top of the other as he just takes a moment to observe you. His mind travels back to the slight disappointment swallowing the convenience of waking up with an empty spot next to him, the sun bleeding through the shutters because he’d forgotten to close them. How could he had remembered with your fingers running through his hair and the goosebumps blossoming on his forearms?

He didn’t have the time to explore you like he had intended to, he couldn’t take his time because you were so eager and it was surprising how impatient Eren found himself to be in turn, how rapidly you adapted to each other. He even remembers genuinely enjoying the short, embarrassing incidents that came with growing accustomed to such a sudden yet highly anticipated proximity: your head bumping into his while straddling his lap, him knocking over the lamp from his nightstand, airy laughs swallowed by each other’s mouths.

Little to no foreplay was needed, the memory of your fingers closing around his wrist to confidently guide his hand between your legs still pulsing in his mind. He barely got the chance to kiss you, nowhere near as how he would’ve liked to, his lips being hastily reclaimed everywhere else.

He’s not even sure why he’s still lingering there, uncertain. Eren’s had countless one night stands before but once both parties got what they needed none of them were really there to hang out again, certainly nowhere near his friends anyway. He’s had longer affairs with tourists, mutual attraction and harmless fun lasting from days to weeks, his conquests eventually recognizing Jean or exchanging a few pleasantries with Connie. But this has never really happened. He’s never made plans with someone before even getting to the point of having them in his bed, for the next day no less. He’s never frowned upon waking up alone and he’s definitely never chuckled while barefoot in his own kitchen, the messily scribbled note you had tucked underneath his french press in hand.

Your coffee sucks.

You didn’t even bother to wash the mug abandoned in his sink but still you made sure he’d wake up to a freshly brewed serving anyway.

Eren’s never truly liked any of his one night stands enough to frame them as potential friends in the long run and so it was a little unsettling, the feeling that you were just about to change that.

“Can you believe they deemed this as lazy writing?” Armin’s finger skims across the page he’s holding open, underlining a particular verse “now the hot river, ebbing, hauls its bloody waters into holes; a grain of sand inside my shoe mimics the moon that might undo man and creation too”

You hum, appreciative.

“It’s the absence of flowered language. Nobody liked reading about raw trauma and dramatic events but at the root of hypocrisy is always fear and low self-esteem” with a little shrug, you smile “essentially, they were a bunch of assholes”

“You can’t truly appreciate poetry if life scares you” for some reason, Armin’s words make your insides twist for a second. You remember one of your favorite Anne Sexton’s poems and its brutal honesty: suicides have a special language, like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. It felt dangerously similar to how you were living.

“Enough of this unsettling realness” Armin closes his book with a loud thud and gently places it between your bodies, on your soft towel. You wonder if he’s noticed your sudden gloom or if he just genuinely wants to talk about something else. “Anything fun planned today? I know Jean can be insufferable but we do have some cool activities around here” he smiles.

“Eren wanted me to check out his lesson but I’m not sure surf could ever be my thing” the smile you return is shy, because you don’t want to sound ungrateful nor make the conversation weird. It’s pretty evident that you’ve spent the night with him, if only from the hickeys scattered at the base of your throat. Armin has just been nothing but a gentleman, too polite to even stare at them.

Once again, he doesn’t even falter at the mention of his friend’s name.

“Still, you should give it a go! I used to think the same and now I can’t go a day without riding a wave. Even when I’m not on vacation, if the weather’s nice enough I’m here as soon as I’m done working” he grins.

“I never asked what you do, by the way”

“I’m a copy editor in a publishing house, mainly work from home but sometimes I travel to Tokyo. Leaves me a lot of freedom, really. What about you?”

You hesitate. But he’s looking at you so candidly, head slightly tilted to the side, that you can’t find it in yourself to lie.

“I’ve been laid off a few weeks ago, actually. I was a winemaker at a pretty famous winery in town”

Armin lets out a slow whistle.

“That sounds so cool!”

You chuckle.

“All I do is monitor the maturity of grapes, oversee the process and place orders”

“I’d love to visit once you start somewhere else. I’m sure it’s gonna happen in no time” he places a warm hand on your shoulder and briefly squeezes it. You’ve never experienced the kindness of a stranger, not at such a high level anyway. As you thank him with a touched smile, for the first time this impulsive vacation doesn’t feel like just a way out anymore.

“I suggest you two sit closer to the shore, the first group of the day is gonna be here soon” a playful voice interrupts your chitchat and you look up to find a familiar figure silhouetted against sunlight right before your towel. A flash of embarrassment seems to take over his features for a few seconds as he takes notice of the now very much noticeable marks on your skin. But then he just smiles that friendly smile of his, one that tells you there’s a chance of not letting any potential awkwardness stand in the way of what could become a harmless friendship. You appreciate the maturity.

“Wanna help me out?” Eren then looks at Armin, who’s squinting his eyes in attempt to stare back.

“I’ll keep her company. Maybe later, with the kids”

“You’re pretty special, he never skips the chance to hop on a surfboard”

As you get up and start collecting your things, Armin’s book secured underneath your arm while he helps you out with the towel, you briefly glance at Eren with half a smile.

“Let’s see if you’re good enough to convince me to get on one in the first place”

He rolls his eyes, feigning exasperation.

“Just watch me”

And so, you and Armin look at each other with an equally amused smile, the complicity over a moment so simple warming your heart.

While sitting there with him, feet sunk into where the sand is cool and damp, you observe Eren with genuine curiosity. The variegated group he’s handling consists of ten people, it’s most probably not their first class as everyone seems to already know what to do.

They’re going over what they’ve learned until now, Eren repeating instructions out loud and nodding proudly as his students comply. Two girls, friends by the looks of it, keep asking him to help them position their bodies better on the surfboard. When the blonde one fails to properly stand up and her foot theatrically slips, with an exaggerated grimace she begs him to support her weight as she tries again. With Eren’s hands on her hips, she succeeds in hopping up with a form so perfect you can hardly hold back a scoff. Armin chuckles beside you.

“It’s pretty much always like that”

“No way” you mock “that’s crazy!”

“I mean, it’s kinda part of the job to go along with it” he shrugs.

Does he think I’m jealous or something?

“You didn’t have to stay” there’s softness in your tone, just to make sure he doesn’t take it the wrong way, but he blushes nonetheless.

“It doesn’t happen as often to me” the spluttering makes you giggle. You’re not blind: he has arms, he has abs, shoulders wide enough to well pique one’s interest and a smile so sweet he’s probably the favorite instructor of more than one student.

“I find that hard to believe” the implied compliment tints his cheeks with a richer pink and he runs a hand through his fair hair to conceal the embarrassment.

“But I didn’t mean it like that” you decide to put an end to his misery “I just meant, feel free to go ride some waves”

Armin shakes his head.

“I have the entire day to do that” he smiles “and no one else likes to talk about books with me”

“But your group is great. You guys seem pretty close”

“We all grew up here, I’ve known Eren since kindergarten and I met everyone else along the way. Some of us you didn’t meet actually, like Christa and Mikasa”

“They don’t live here anymore?”

Armin sighs, plants his heel in the sand a little deeper.

“Yeah, they moved for college and never really came back. They prefer the city”

You can understand that, to be honest. You grew up in a small town near the countryside and although it’s not nearly comparable to an even smaller island, you remember the primal need to run away, driven by the firm belief that there’s surely more to explore, better ways to live and opportunities to seize in the big city. Back then, Tokyo felt like a dream. An endless pool of magical possibilities.

“You probably think it’s insane, wanting to stay on an island that only comes alive a few months per year” Armin’s gaze is lost across the ocean, so you look ahead too. Eren’s group is in the water now, paddling in and taking off on the foam that propels colorful surfboards onto the waves. Most of the students previously warming up by the shore succeeds in remaining upright, cheered on by those who have either been less brave or simply not balanced enough.

“No, I think wanting to stay requires a lot of love. I never had that for the place I grew up in”

“And are you happy now, in Tokyo?”

You force your lips into a smile, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m happy”

Another cheerful fit of screams has you both returning your attention to the group challenging the ocean, one particular figure paddling perpendicular to an exceptionally big wave, angling his take off perfectly to the left before popping up and digging the inside rail of his surfboard into the water. Knees bent, he’s a sight for sore eyes as he beautifully rides along the vertical center of the wave, the sun complimenting his tan skin.

“Showoff” you snort and Armin laughs.

“Let’s go get a drink, Sasha makes a killer frozen lemonade”

“Sasha?” you ask, surprised.

He nods.

“She should be on shift today”

“She works at the cafe?”

Armin smiles.

“Her family owns the cafe, actually. She just helps out in the summer, whenever she can catch a break from the internship she’s doing”

And sure enough she’s actually there, all smiles and cheerful pitch behind the counter.

She turns ecstatic as soon as the spots the both of you, calling you by your name with such warmth your cheeks hurt a little from how wide you’re smiling already.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?”

You and Armin sit on the rattan stools opposite to the counter and she leans over with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Amazing, whoever left that ibuprofen on my nightstand has my endless devotion”

“T’was Eren’s turn to take you home” Armin shoots her a good-natured glare, which elicits her silvery laugh.

“I don’t think he was too bothered about it” Sasha’s intentionally looking at you and her grin has your cheeks grow hot.

“Leave her alone, make us some frozen lemonade” Armin gently grabs her chin and directs her attention to him.

“Oh come on, none of Eren’s special friends ever hangs out with us, I want some details!”

“Sasha!” he hisses as you shrink in your seat, head hanging low in embarrassment “you can’t remember this but she’s been nothing but caring last night, they both took you home”

“Armin, there’s no need to—” you mumble but he shows no sign of having heard you.

“It’s none of our business what they do” he grumbles, letting go of Sasha’s chin “now, please, lemonade. Before I die of dehydration”

She juts her bottom lip out, sullen, eyes back on you.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually happy I get to finally spend some time with another girl”

You shake your head with a soft smile.

“Please don’t apologize. You’ve all been way too kind to me”

Truth is, the fear of being seen as nothing but their friend’s easy fuck has been nagging at your brain. Especially since deciding you actually, really like them and wouldn’t mind tagging along if they’ll have you. And, of course, if Eren isn’t bothered. The last thing you wanna spend your summer doing is imposing your presence to a group of childhood friends just because you’ve had sex with one of them. That’d be gross.

“Here, it’s on the house” Sasha slides two tall glasses of frozen lemonade across the counter.

Armin grabs his with a sigh of relief, the creaminess of his drink rapidly decreasing in quantity as he gulps it down quickly. You carefully mix it with your straw, then have a first taste and have to keep yourself from moaning.

“I’m gonna need ten of these” you mutter and they both laugh. It’s genius really, the idea of combining the consistency of a milkshake with the tanginess of freshly squeezed lemonade.

You end up staying at the cafe to keep Sasha company while she prepares orders and entertains you with the latest gossip concerning people you don’t even know. You wonder where she gets all that energy from but you also think it suits her, that bubbly aura she so effortlessly carries around. If customers smile a little brighter and leave generous tips, it’s probably thanks to her never ending friendliness: she remembers their names, special orders and always offers free ice cream to kids. She even has special ice cream for dogs.

After a while, Armin leaves to help Eren with his next group of students, as promised. They’re all children this time, so you doubt they’ll bring them into the water: the whole class consists in some training by the shore, Armin and Eren patiently showing them how to paddle and corretly stand on a surfboard over and over again. When what you can only guess are some heated protests erupt, they patiently allow the kids to practice some paddling as close to the shore as possible. You catch glimpses of Eren’s smile and hear his laugh when two kids start splashing him with water, deaf to Armin most probably attempting to draw their attention to the lesson once again.

Eventually, he’s forced to surrender too, as one particularly agile kid climbs onto his shoulders and demands to be carried around. The whole class turns into nothing more than a game session and you find yourself smiling.

After each kid is collected by their corresponding family member, Armin doesn’t waste any more time and he swiftly grabs his bigger surfboard to jump into the ocean once more, finally free to chase waves at its own pace. Eren seems to hesitate, lingering by the shore for a moment, looking around as if searching for something. Then he turns around fully, seemingly scanning the cafe and meeting your gaze although, from that distance, you’re not completely sure he’s looking at you specifically. You’re quick to redirect your attention to the pasta salad Sasha has recommended.

“Ah, here comes the athlete” she pulls a face “let’s see how many wraps he’s gonna down, last time it was three”

“Hello, ladies” the familiar voice is so close you feel a shudder run down your spine as memories from the previous night resurface. He’s leaning on the counter, body facing you and arms crossed showcasing swollen biceps you’re surprised are not carrying any signs of the crescents you very clearly remember being a consequence of your tight grip.

“You’re dripping on my napkins” not nearly as dumbstruck as you, Sasha shoos him away with the impatient push of a hand. In response, Eren shakes his head like a dog would after getting a bath, splashing both his friend and you with ice cold water. She flips him off.

“You’re an ass”

“Will you make me one of your delightful wraps if I behave?” he grins like a child while taking a seat next do you.

“One?” Sasha skeptically raises an eyebrow.

“Make it three”

You chuckle as you meet her knowing look, which causes him to turn to you. He’s even prettier up close, salt already drying on his smooth skin, cheeks slightly flushed.

“So? Opinions on getting started with the best sport in the world?”

Pensive, you bring a forkful of pasta to your mouth.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go”

You had half an idea of teasing him by suggesting Armin be your instructor but the way he quite literally beams at your words forces you to shut right up.

“I’ll pick you up later this afternoon”

“Pick me up?” you frown, confused.

“This beach is way too crowded, there are better places to go”

“So considerate” Sasha loudly places a plate in front of him and Eren just rolls his eyes.

“You don’t even know where I’m staying” trying to swallow yet another lump of awkwardness, you keep your attention on the now almost empty bowl in front of you.  

He huffs, brushing your concern off by gesturing vaguely with a hand.

“I know where all vacation rentals are. Of course, if you wanted, you could make it easier for me”

A funny sound comes out of Sasha’s nose and this time you go along with her demeanor with the raise of a brow.

“If you want my number, just ask” the challenging words roll off your tongue playfully, you don’t really think anything of them.

But much like every other time you thought you had him cornered, he simply looks up from his plate and plants those resolute eyes in yours without so much as a hint of hesitation.

“I want your number”

Why your heart picks up its pace as you both let a beat pass while staring at each other, you don’t really understand. Nevertheless, as the corners of his mouth upturn in a smile with yet another one of Sasha’s scoffs in the background, you think it’s convenient that he’s pretty much doing all the work. Because of course you want his number too.

The place you rented is nothing more than a small beach cottage and while Eren doesn’t exactly live in a penthouse, his house is bigger and way cooler than yours. A mere 100 yards from the beach, it comes with a colorful, eclectic exterior and cute double doors opening out to the porch where he keeps his surfboard, a lounger, one whimsical sign that reads it comes in waves and a small table with two chairs. You don’t really have a porch, just three steps that lead to the front door, which is where you’re sitting while you wait for him to come pick you up. Your straw bag is resting at your feet, filled with the few things he recommended you to bring: sunscreen, a swimsuit, water, all wrapped in a towel. It’s later than you had anticipated and you nervously wonder if he’s actually gonna show up, how long it’s gonna take before you’re done. How ridiculous you’re going to look.

And then he pulls up by your little house with the peeling white paint, window rolled down and one arm gracefully hanging out a silver pickup truck. The two surfboards stored on the bed are reflecting the late afternoon sun.

A light honk has you standing up, his warm smile so wide you can guess the excitement shimmering behind those dark sunglasses.

He pushes the door open for you, so you rush to the car and climb onto the passenger seat. Eren barely gives you the time to fasten your seatbelt before his foot is on the clutch pedal again: his hand swiftly moves the gear shift to the left and then up and the accelerator pedal is pressed down way more harshly than needed.

“You do know that this is probably going to suck, right? I have no idea what to do” you anxiously shift on your seat, to no avail because your back remains glued to it.

Not bothered in the slightest by the ungodly speed he’s driving at, a genuine laugh slips out of him.

“It’s gonna be amazing, I’ll teach you everything you need to know! Plus, I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots, consider yourself lucky” he glances at you with a toothy grin and you let out a panicked sound.

“Look ahead!”

Eren laughs again but complies, not a care in the world or so it seems as he sprints through roads that are way too narrow and bumpy and lacking concrete for him to be driving like that.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why’s my coffee so bad?”

It’s the first actual semblance of a reference to the previous night. You swallow.

“Too bitter. Coffee shouldn’t be too strong, aggressive and off balance. It definitely shouldn’t have just one flavor either”

“Just like wine?”

Surprised, you just stare at him until he cracks another smile.

“Armin told me. You’re kinda cooler than what you come across as”

Eren fakes a groan when you smack his shoulder.

“I just meant” he refrains from looking at your scowl “you don’t really do yourself justice. All that talk about tv shows and books and spending the summer alone—”

“Those things can be cool too. Sorry, not all of us feel the need to live and look like olympic athletes” you cross your arms, stubbornly averting your gaze from his handsome profile to look ahead like a cross child. That’s how you miss a smirk he promptly suppresses.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you. I really do think you’re cool, regardless of your career”

A beat passes before you reluctantly eye him again.

“You’re tolerable, I guess”

The laugh he lets out is so genuine you have to fight back a smile yourself.

His good mood remains seemingly unaltered throughout the ride, lithe fingers absentmindedly drumming on the steering wheel as he strives to make conversation. By the time you arrive at the secluded beach he’s chosen for your first lesson, your nerves are calm enough for you to be actually excited about what’s to come.

The beach is nothing less than a little slice of paradise, sand so white it almost looks fake and turquoise water so inviting you can’t wait to jump in. For the first time, the island presents itself as something other than an overpriced magnet for seasonal tourists: it’s raw in its beauty, so quiet it’s hard to believe you’re not the only two people currently on an uninhabited piece of land in the middle of the ocean.

One thing you’re learning quickly is that Eren is scarily good at easing unnecessary tension. Perhaps it’s because he never seems to feel any, always so relaxed and ready to handle any unexpected circumstance or setback. Sure, he’s outgoing enough for people to easily like him but there’s something about the genuine smiles he offers to everyone, in the attentive care he reserves to his friends. Despite his well-trained figure and intimidating good looks, his touch is gentle and at times timid. He blushes just like everyone else if you trace the line of his jaw with sweet kisses and emits pleased hums when you run your hand through his hair.

You can tell this isn’t something he has set up to lure you back into his bed: how could it be, with that child-like excitement embedded in the instructions he’s giving you? You don’t even feel self-conscious nor ridiculous wearing the wetsuit he’s brought for you, he’s that great at making it fun and keeping it professional. Well, mostly professional.

For the nth time, you jump up with your feet planted and arms out to your side, stabilizing yourself and feeling the breeze flow through your hair as your personal instructor hums.

“Again” he demands and you huff.

“Are we gonna get into the water eventually? I feel like it’s been an hour of this!”

“It has been an hour of this. Now, do it again”

With a pout, you lie belly-down on your longboard once again. You practice your paddling motion once again and then place your palms on the flat of the board just below your chest. In one quick motion, you push your body up with your arms and tuck your feet up and under you. You had started by getting up to your knees first and then bringing up one foot at a time, but you have gained more confidence over the endless minutes spent practicing the same movements over and over again.

“Look at that. You’re a natural” he finally grins, letting some warmth leak through the all too serious facade.

“Thanks to a good teacher” you smile back and he rolls his eyes, barely refraining from uttering a cocky comeback to your obvious statement. He steps closer, calloused fingers gently placed on your hips and warm breath suddenly ghosting over your cheek.

“Don’t spread your legs like that” he mumbles, his own foot gently pushing from behind your left ankle to guide your foot into a better position “this might feel comfortable but it actually makes it harder to control your movements. Balance is always side-to-side, never front to back”

You comply quietly, the sudden closeness leaving your mouth dry. What the hell? It’s not like you weren’t on top of him just a few hours prior. What on earth could be making you so nervous, like some damn bashful teenager?

“Eyes up” Eren gently grabs your chin to lift your head up “always look in the direction you are going”

His other hand is still on your hip, your skin burning so much at the contact you’re positive his fingers are going to leave a mark somehow.

As he lets you go, you’re left so cold you actually shiver.

“Okay! Let’s take it into the water” he gets down on one knee to secure the leash around your ankle, the pads of his fingers grazing your skin once again sending an electric buzz throughout your veins. What the fuck.

Perhaps he senses your weird bodily reactions because he stands up again and motions you to take your board with the impatient wave of a hand. He has his surfboard too, although after seeing what he’s actually capable of doing with it, you doubt it’s gonna be used to ride an actual wave.

“Just get comfortable first, see how it feels” when you’re both waist deep into the ocean he holds your board for you, helping you lie on it again and chuckling when you slip right off a few times.

“You shouldn’t laugh at your students” with a grimace, you try to hold on to it by curling your fingers around the edges. He untangles your grip immediately, one hand gently pressing on the small of your back to keep you balanced on the slippery surface immediately after.

“Never do that, your hand’s gonna slip off and you’re gonna slash your chin open” a subtle teasing is still laced into his tone, so you roll your eyes.

“Okay. I can do this” you mutter, as determined as ever not to fall off the stupid thing again. You haven’t even started yet.

“I know you can” he sounds so goddamn sincere it’s a pain to refrain from glancing in his direction and actually focus on what you’re supposed to do.

With a deep breath, you start paddling around and although you drink your fair share of water in the process, after a while it starts feeling more natural. Your board planes across the waves, nose slightly up, your feet rightly positioned with your toes grazing the leash string. You paddle with long, deep strokes, and Eren keeps shouting instructions and encouragement even if you stray too far from him.

Adrenaline starts circulating in your system and your confidence gets a boost the first time you manage to pop up and shakily cruise on what’s probably the smallest, insignificant wave in recorded history for three entire seconds before slipping back into the water.

But you shout your astonished cry of victory nevertheless and Eren smiles so widely, so proudly, you let excitement cloud your senses and quite literally jump into his arms. It’s not embarrassing, not even when you realize what you’re doing, because he hasn’t tensed a second and is actually hugging you back, happier than ever for the smallest of accomplishments of someone that’s not even him. Of someone he barely even knows.

“Let’s go” you mutter and actually have to take a poorly balanced step back because he’s not, by any means, the one breaking the impulsive hug “I wanna do it again”

This draws an airy laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re already hooked, aren’t you?”

“I just can’t believe how good it feels!” you beam, absolutely euphoric “hate to admit it but maybe you had a point”

“Yeah, that happens a lot”

“People being skeptical whenever you say anything?”

Eren huffs and then inches closer to brush some wet hair away from where it’s sticking to your cheeks and forehead, his touch pleasantly cool on your heated skin.

“Me being right” he doesn’t let go of your face, seemingly conflicted about whatever is going through his mind. Oh, he looks good like this, like he belongs to the sea and the summer and whatever beautiful scenery he may be surrounded by. He just fits in. He’s like a tanned Apollo peering down at you, if his hands weren’t on you it would be alarmingly easy to think he’s just a figment of your imagination.

The adrenaline rush still hasn’t worn off, perhaps that’s why you crack a smile.

“Anything else you feeling right about?”

The self-discipline Eren has to exercise not to kiss you knocks the wind out of his lungs for a moment. Because what would become of him if he’d let himself yield to a temptation he doesn’t even completely understand yet? It’s just day two of knowing you.

Get a grip.

“I think we’d be good friends” it’s not lying, he tells himself. It’s just telling a partial truth. And he wishes so badly not to notice the disappointment that flashes in your eyes for a second, as you take a wobbly step back and force another smile on your pretty lips.

“Totally, I agree”

Eren clears his throat and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, which he hasn’t tied back like he had in the morning.

“The sun is about to set, I think you’ve trained enough for today. Let’s head back”

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” you peer up at the sky, only then noticing the soft orange hues painting it “just ten minutes. I haven’t been anywhere this quiet in a while”

“Ten minutes” he agrees and straddles his surfboard, hands pressed on the surface in front of him as he looks up as well.

You imitate his position and sit on your board as well, reveling in the gentle way the waves are lulling your body.

Eren thinks you look beautiful like this, eyes shut and facing the setting sun, features relaxed and hair wet. He can easily see himself dating you, someone who has already won his friends over and whose touch he seems unable to stop craving. But what would be the point? He’s all too familiar with what being an islander means. It’s a fluid state of being, his existence nothing more than a fleeting detail in the lives of those who come and, inevitably, go.

Insularity is painfully romanticised and although most times he gets a kick out of the benefits that come with belonging to a place so distant from the mainland, he also realizes the downsides.

You won’t be here when the days will get shorter and tourists will fly back to their dull lives. You won’t witness the way leaves turn a deep shade of crimson and fall from the trees of his beloved cedar forest, you’ll never take part in one of Connie’s notorious christmas parties nor you’ll taste the Kansai-style ozoni Sasha always brings to their new year’s dinner.

And so, Eren will just keep doing what he does best. Remaining nothing more than a fleeting detail in someone else’s summer.

“Thank you for doing this” your voice snaps him back to reality. He cocks his head, confused.

“I didn’t do anything”

You smile with a little, timid shrug.

“You were up early, training group after group and still took the time to indulge me. I can only guess how tired you are, let’s head back”

He’s not tired. He’s so not tired, he would gladly spend the rest of the evening sitting on a surfboard in the middle of the ocean just talking to you, apparently. Perhaps one of his students’ boards collided with his head?

Eren notices your subtle shivering and clicks his tongue on the way back to his car. He carries your surfboard too and secures it on his truck once again, right next to his. He then undoes the tab at the back of your neck, pulls it down and unzips it to help you out of the wetsuit, patiently waiting on the other side of the car while you get out of your wet swimsuit and slip back into the white sundress you had on earlier that day.

“All done!” you walk around the vehicle, eager to climb onto the warm passenger seat once more. But Eren sees the goosebumps blossoming on your arms and another shudder is enough to inch forward to keep the door of his car locked. You turn around to look at him, a questioning look on your face.

“Come to my place” he blurts it out before he has the chance to stop himself. Your brows knit.

“Why?”

“You’re obviously cold and my house is closer” Eren does his best to play off his tension as sense of practicality “just take a shower, warm up and then I’ll drop you off. I swear I’m not gonna try anything, it’s not—”

“Okay” you interrupt his pathetic rambling and he blinks back the surprise.

Oh.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go then” Eren clears his throat and opens the door for you.

It feels a little weird to be honest, but you’re not uncomfortable as he drives back to his place. This is probably the last time you two will hang out anyway, so what’s the harm in accepting a friendly offer, especially when you can’t seem to stop shivering?

“So… what d’you do once summer ends?” the quietness is slightly unsettling, so you take it upon yourself to make some small talk. He glances at you, no panicked reaction elicited this time as he’s driving more carefully.

“My family has been in the fishing industry for decades, I mainly help them out and try to catch whatever job I can handle from home”

“Do you ever travel? Like, to cities”

Eren huffs out a laugh.

“Yes. You think I’m some kind of savage?”

“No!” heat crawls up from your neck to your cheeks “of course not, I didn’t mean—”

“Relax, I’m kidding” he grins “my college was in Osaka. Lived there four years, got my degree, came back”

“Which degree?” still a little flushed, you avoid his amused gaze.

“Mechanical engineering”

“And you’re not offered engineering jobs?” there’s outrage laced into your tone.

Eren just shrugs.

“Yes. But they all require my presence in an office on the mainland”

You don’t say anthing, mainly because you don’t want to risk blurting out another poorly phrased sentence. It would come out all wrong, it would sound as if you’re looking down on him.

Eren senses everything that’s sitting behind your silence and he’s not bothered. His personal life is not really any of your business and although he understands you mean well, yours is an opinion he’s heard way too many times before. It’s a topic not even worth discussing, least of all with someone he’s barely just met.

When you arrive at his place, your hands and feet are ice cold, your hair painfully frizzy. He asks to give him a second and disappears into the bathroom, rattling sounds coming from behind the closed door making you smile as you hop onto the kitchen counter and take a look around. The small living room is messier than it was last night, or maybe you simply didn’t have the time to really look around on your very first entry to the house.

He comes out of the bathroom with a folded drying rack filled with clothes in his arms (I forgot I was drying laundry in there) only to disappear into his bedroom once more, the sound of closets being harshly opened and closed alongside what you can only guess are wardrobe doors slamming against the wall makes you chuckle.

“What are you doing?” amused, you have to shout the question from where you’re sitting.

He comes out of the room with arms full once more and directs you a quick smile before heading back to the bathroom.

“Fixing you towels and something to wear, that dress won’t do!” he shouts too, which makes you giggle.

“Don’t give me your clothes!”

“They’re clean!”

You laugh again, shaking your head.

Eren finally walks into the kitchen, seemingly exhausted, all the way to the counter you’re sitting on.

“Okay, the bathroom is more guest-appropriate now” a small smile tugs at his lips and you notice the wet stains on the front of his black shirt. Has he cleaned it?

“Thanks” you mutter, a sudden, small lump of uneasiness you can’t seem to swallow.

“I’m such an idiot” he snorts “you must be thirsty. Water? I also have orange juice somewhere, or maybe iced tea”

Right as he takes a step to walk past you and towards the fridge, your body moves on its own accord and your fingers instinctively grab the hem of his shirt. Eren stops, surprised gaze flickering from your hand clenched around the fabric of his clothing to your face.

“I’m sorry, Eren” your brows knit in a frustrated frown “I didn’t mean to come across as judgmental, or worse, an elitist asshole”

You exhale, unable to sustain the look in his eyes. “It’s not my place and definitely none of my business. But please know I really didn’t mean—”

“Fuck” he curses under his breath, cutting you off abruptly “you’re making it very fucking hard for me”

Disoriented, you cock your head.

“I’m making what hard?”

Eren plants his palms onto the counter, on either side of your hips, body inching forward. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, forehead dangerously close to be leaned against your own. You can’t resist the urge to gently nudge the tip of his nose with yours, an insignificant gesture that somehow has him sucking a sharp breath in. You’d love to giggle, the teasing question does kindness turn you on? dancing on the tip of your tongue but then his tongue is peeking out to wet his bottom lip a second before he leans forward and traces the soft edge of your neck with the tip of his nose. His mouth follows along somehow, not quite kissing your skin but certainly grazing it, anticipation having your breath quicken.

“You said we should be friends” you whisper, regretting it right away. Eren emits a frustrated huff, breath hot on the neck his parted lips are still gently exploring.

“I said we’d be good friends. And we can be” he places his hands on your thighs, a touch so incandescent the thin fabric of your skirt may as well not be there at all “friends who do this” and just like that he finally closes the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a burning kiss that draws a sigh of relief as you pull him closer. He tastes like the ocean, the strands you have buried your fingers into not as soft as the night before, rendered dry by the salt he still hasn’t washed out.

Eren is an eager kisser, right as his grip on your thighs tightens his tongue is languidly slipping past your parted lips with a satisfied hum vibrating in his chest. Head tilted into yours, he kisses you so hard you think your lips might bruise, he kisses you until you start getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen and he does too, although he wouldn’t mind challenging something as silly as the chance of his organs shutting down if it meant keeping his lips moving against yours and having your hands cradling his face.

You break apart first, a panting, breathless mess when you rest your forehead on the curve of his shoulder. He relaxes the grip on your legs, chest heaving with the depth of his own ragged breaths. So long for self-restraint.

“I meant it” he whispers and you find it in yourself to lift your head and meet his gaze “I didn’t invite you here to—”

“Lure me back into your bed?”

Eren senses the playfulness laced into your tone and smiles.

“Yeah”

When he attempts to take a step back, you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him in place. Except he doesn’t offer any resistance, allowing you to effortlessly pull him closer until he’s flush against the counter and the tip of his nose grazes your cheek.

“I know” you mutter, honest “and I appreciate that. But, if you’re down, I’d really like to take that shower with you”

A beat passes.

Two days of knowing you and Eren thinks you hold all the right tools to drive him absolutely insane already.

PART 2

[dexastres]

temporary heart, aurélien tchouaméni

face claim : serena page

summary : aurélien fell for maiya, the barista at his local coffee shop

warnings : aurélien being a matcha hater

wc : 870

notes : i didn't want to publish it cause of the game, but i'm doing this for the girlies.

Aurélien tightened his coat against the cold wind that swept through the city. Autumn had settled in Madrid, much to the joy of some, but not his. The Frenchman would have liked summer to last a little longer.

“I’ll never understand her love for this season.” The young man thought, before sighing. As he walked towards his car, Aurélien passed a café whose name immediately struck him. The bold letters on the sign brought a flood of memories.

“Moca Loca... I haven’t been there in a while.” A bittersweet smile appeared on his face as he walked past, only to turn around moments later. For some unknown reason, he decided to stop there, despite what the little voice in his head was telling him. As he stepped inside, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. Nothing had changed since the last time he’d been there, or almost.

“Hello, what would you like today?” Aurélien glanced at the menu, although it was useless because he would end up ordering the same thing. 

“I’d like a medium iced coffee with two pumps of vanilla and a chocolate chip muffin, please.” A vague feeling of emptiness came over him. This was his regular order, but something—or someone—was missing.

“Sure! And can I have a name for the order?” 

“Aurélien.” The barista nodded, rang up his order and handed him a receipt.

“Perfect. It won’t be long. Feel free to grab a seat while you wait.” She said with a smile. Aurélien nodded and sat by the window, waiting for the barista to call his name. Sitting there, the young man watched the people outside, rushing by or lost in their thoughts, like him. His mind wandered back to the first time he came to this café.

That day, he had just dropped Jude off at his place when he saw the sign on his way back. The Englishman had mentioned this place before, because he used to go there almost daily with his ex-girlfriend.

Curious, Aurélien went inside. The moment he entered, the barista, busy wiping down the counter, caught his eye because of her beauty. He must have arrived just after the morning rush, since plates were still on tables and the air felt thick with a lingering humidity. Not wanting to bother the young woman, Aurélien just stared at the menu, trying to figure out what to order. Everything looked delicious, except the matcha. He hated that drink and never understood the craze for it.

“I really don’t know what to get.” He muttered under his breath, hoping not to draw attention, which was a failed mission because the barista heard him. She glanced up, tossed the rag she was holding and apologised to Aurélien. The Frenchman flashed her a smile before looking back at the menu, still unsure of what to choose.

“Hey... sorry, it's my first time here, but what’s the best drink you serve here? ” Aurélien asked shyly, scratching the back of his neck. The barista laughed softly, which sounded like music to Aurélien’s ears. Before she could reply, Sasha, her colleague, appeared from the back.

“Maiya, you can go on break,” Sasha said. “By the way, where’s your name tag?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Maiya shrugged nonchalantly in response.

“Somewhere in my bag. I only had time to put on my apron before the whole city showed up. But anyway, I’ve got a customer right now, so I’ll go on break later.” Maiya then turned back to Aurélien with a smile.

“To answer your question, our best drink is matcha.” The Frenchman rolled his eyes, which the barista noticed, and she felt slightly offended by his reaction. 

“I’m guessing you’re not a big fan of matcha. What a shame, you’re missing out on something good.” She said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, was it that obvious?” Aurélien replied in the same tone. The two of them stared at each other silently for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Maiya didn’t typically engage in chats with customers, at least not like this. However, she felt like she could talk with him for hours. Aurélien was different from most of the men who came to the café. He didn’t try to flirt with her or make inappropriate remarks. He just gave off good vibes and had a great sense of humour, despite his dislike for her favourite drink.

“I can make you an iced coffee, unless you don’t like that either. I can also add vanilla if you’d like.”

“I’ll take two pumps of vanilla in my iced coffee, and I’ll have a chocolate chip muffin too, please.” A lingering tension hung in the air, so much so that Sasha retreated to the back because she felt like a third wheel. Maiya didn’t know why she felt so drawn to this man, but she hoped he would come back to the café. 

“Okay, and can I have a name for the order?”

“Aurélien.” Maiya felt her heart skip a beat. She could listen to him repeat his name countless times without getting tired.

“Perfect. It shouldn’t take long, but feel free to have a seat while you wait.” The young woman said with a smile. Aurélien sat at a table near the window.

[detentiontrack]

Top funniest amphibby lines and moments, in no particular order (except for the first one because I think it’s the funniest line in TV history) (paraphrased because it’s too early for me to hunt through episode transcripts to find the exact wording)

We’re trying to teach Polly how to play kickball! Which is challenging for obvious reasons!

No Tyler I will not clown face you

Well, Doc, I think you've done it. I think you've cured me of my fear of direct eye contact- *nightmare clown balloon from a horror movie passes by the window* AHHHHHHH

Did that creepy old man just lick EVERYONE on the bus???????? (Honorable mention: *panicked* bOy I could SURE USE SOME COFFEE)

Hop Pop, trying to pass as a human: What would you say for an older frog who's complaining about back pain these days? Vet: ummmm a frog complaining? Hop pop: Well, honestly, he holds it in and soldiers on. He's noble like that.

Polly: what’s your problem? Hop Pop: well to be honest, my cholesterol has been a little-

Polly: oh Sprig good. You survived. Sprig: yEah! I KICKED him! 😃

Anne: Oh, yeah, like you're really gonna tase a kid... *immediately gets tased*

We got banned for life! :D it was Anne’s fault

Anyone need a cough drop? 🤠

WHY IS EVERYTHING YOU SAY SO AGGRO???? 😨

Tongue him?? I hardly know him!!

Marcy: she’s just saying hewwo!!! 🤩🥰 *immediately almost gets eaten*

Polly: (a literal baby btw) hehe… frogs died here :)

Mr. X: sorry, coy is my default setting

Mr X, interrogating the Plantars: alright pinkie, I want to know. Start from the beginning Sprig: I was born on a humid swampy evening, just a tiny cute tadpole with big dreams 🥹

Mr X, still interrogating the Plantars: what’s your master plan Polly (still a literal baby. 5 years old): DUH to eliminate my enemies and take over the world! Mr X: AHA […] tell me more! Polly: *starts listing nearly every person in wartwood*

Sprig: your last friend was kiiiiinda totally evil :/

Not a specific line, but I think Sprig’s accidental homophobia and choosing to be a hater in Marcy at the gates is so funny

Nightmare toy: I eat eyes….. *screaming* ice cream. I eat ice cream. Hop Pop: oh! Well that’s fine Anne: loggle would love this thing :/

*after seeing a detailed wood carving Loggle made of himself super buff and muscular*: Sprig: Whoa, Loggle. We gotta talk about this man. We're comin' back. We're gonna talk about this. All right, good-bye 👋

*Sasha busting out cheerleader moves in the middle of a dangerous mission because of “muscle memory”. Twice.*

*Sasha drawing actual emojis on paper instead of writing or signing her name like a normal person on an actual war document ⚔️😘💅*

[sapphanimates]

SapphAnimates Art Recap 2024!

Calling it a little bit early, but here's a quick recap of my art progress for the year ^^

JANUARY

My Alacrity AU designs for Team Chaotix! Espio was one of the new designs I was most proud of at the time (despite the fact I ended up slightly modifying it later on). Hence why I chose him to represent January!

FEBUARY

THIS IS IT. THE ORIGINS OF SASHA. A Sonadow fankid I originally made just for shits and giggles, as many other creators were making them at the time, has slowly evolved over the year to become a pseudo-face for the blog! I wouldn't be where I am right now if you guys hadn't loved her as much as I do, and I'm super grateful for all of your support! Stay tuned for more Doom's Child AU news!

MARCH

Warrior Cats designs! These are some Medicine Cat/Healer designs for fun, though it did push me into a short era of drawing a lot of warriors stuff. I think most of my March was dedicated to Warriors content, actually...

APRIL

I like garten of banban. I needed to share my concept for a darker, psychological horror type of banban story, with a hint of infection au in there as well. please forgive me.

MAY

The end of the Sasha's run in the Sonic Fankid Showdown hosted by @head---ache . She didn't last very long, but the support behind our campaign was insane. Same goes for Zayne's run in the second Showdown. Thank you all so much!

JUNE

I did a "Six Fanarts" Challenge, featuring a mix of Warriors and Sonic characters, this one in particular featuring Sonic, Tails, Shadow, Tangle, Yellowfang, and Breezepelt. Shadow was my favorite from the group, with the bright yellow moon in the background and new Doom Wings (the Doom Powers were recently announced at the time).

JULY

Drew some of the horror adjacent Tails designs from some of the zones in my Project Alacrity AU. Ojo, Maggie, and Tailtrap playing Operation together and failing miserably at it :]

AUGUST

Some scrapped art from an animated shorts compilation video I posted on my YouTube Channel! It features some of the main characters, namely Fallen Leaves from Warriors, a Floragato from Pokémon, and a Mimic and Blarret from My Singing Monsters. Please go check out the video if you haven't yet!

SEPTEMBER

September means school, and school means teachers. And I've never met a more wackjob teacher than my current Chemistry teacher. This picture was one I did as a "Get to Know You" project on the first day of school. Labcoat Sapph.

OCTOBER

My first self assigned school art project, and a photography one! A multimedia picnic, a clay frog, a paper doll coati, and a portrait of a ghostly cat-woman, all sharing a lovely shoo-fly pie. Each character was created in a different medium, and the final photo was taken in my grandmother's backyard.

NOVEMBER

Part of a community challenge spurred by @yourpalsalamander . Asha in Wonderland needed a high af caterpillar, and who better to fill the role than Sasha. Just uh... don't touch her shrooms.

DECEMBER

Mlp horror AUs have had a small comeback lately, mostly on TikTok, but I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and create new evil versions of the entire Mane 6. I haven't come up with a design and concept for Rarity yet, but I've had a great time developing the rest of them! I'd love to turn it into a video series if you guys are interested in hearing my thoughts.

See you all next year! Template is by @zontarzon

[nephriteknight]

so a while back i made a post about what my blorbos' playstyles would be like in botc/social deduction games in general, and at the time i didn't include tma because they have so much highly specific trauma and dangerous eldritch appetites that this would be terrible for, but i just can't stop thinking about the very silly scenario where the tma characters play botc together. it would go so badly.

the banned character list includes fortune teller, spy, snake charmer, oracle, evil twin, vigormortis, no dashii, pacifist, cannibal, cult leader, fisherman, pixie, golem, plague doctor, organ grinder, and ojo, because elias keeps cheating. ojo and oracle somehow keep ending up in the bag anyway.

daisy gets way too into hunting down the demon. Guns Will Be Drawn.

jon and tim handle this game Extremely Predictably. i just know s1 tim would adore botc but s3 tim is having an awful time. oh great yeah one of our friends is a shape shifting demon lying to our faces? perfect. jon is on the verge of a panic attack but instead of breaking down he's just interrogating everyone very aggressively. hey, at least everyone believes he's on the good team.

basira solves the game right away and spends the rest of the game trying to convince everyone else. only georgie believes her.

martin is very good at being evil in these kinds of games (and also benefits from people not expecting him to be good at it), so when he pulls the demon he could demolish good, but, uh, he's honestly not sure jon could handle that right now so he gets caught on purpose without letting anyone else realize he threw.

elias insisted peter would attend and he did not in fact show. luckily no one believed he would come so it's not really a problem. ("you called it a 'social deduction' game, elias, it's in the name! no i'm not coming--")

...annabelle's the storyteller? i mean. she obviously would if she was there. i feel like sasha gives me st vibes as well but i might just be projecting again.

multiple games are ruined because jon accidentally compels the demon to tell him their role. one of those was not fully an accident.

simon is having a grand old time but he really doesn't give a shit about winning/the game which is less of a problem when he's good but very much a problem for his teammates when he's evil.

melanie draws the psychopath "by chance" several times and enjoys it way too much. daisy handles an outed evil player whom town can't easily execute exactly as poorly as you'd expect. i cannot emphasize enough how unlikely it is that canon team archives could play this game without at least one person getting hurt, killed, or giving in to the dark powers completely.

helen is eating it all up. literally. (elias is still pissed that the spy got banned.) she still never outright lies, which unfortunately for everyone else but fortunately for her (and simon, who thinks its hilarious) means she can't tell outright truths when she's good either or it'll look suspicious when she's evil. no one is ever fully certain what she is or what she's doing. pure chaos and we love her for it. (we being me; team archives does not in fact love her for it.)

elias is still cheating, but when they threaten to fill the room with eyeless dolls he decides to quit while he's (not) ahead and just watch from his office like an eldritch twitch chat.

[moonsanoverthinker]

Some more TMA headcanons because I’ve thought of some more. Also apologies if this list is a little more chaotic than the other one x (Here’s the first list I make incase anyone’s interested)

Also if people have their own that they’d want to add feel free to because I love reading other people’s x

There’s probably going to be some spoilers for but I’ve tried to keep it as broad as possible :) x

Tim used to steal Jon’s pens - Not because he needed them he did it to annoy Jon

Tim once hid a plastic spider in Jon’s desk then pinned it on Martin

Gerry liked to make puns, Gertrude didn’t like Gerry’s puns - Or at least she pretended not too

Peters changed the locks multiple times but Elias just keeps finding his was back in

Georgie has that really nice kind of swoopy writing - I kind of feel Sasha did as well

Distortion Micheal likes the animated Alice in Wonderland film - Can’t think why… (If I had any artistic talent I’d draw him as the Cheshire Cat but I sadly I don’t have any)

Melanie used to make loom band bracelets - She never gave them to anyone but she’d use specific colours with specific people in mind

Elias likes to shout peoples names then not answer them when they shouted back asking what he wanted

Jon owns a few packs of some nice playing cards (Like the ones with cool pictures and stuff) but no one’s allowed to use them - He let Tim use them once but after he slightly bent the corner of one they became off limits to them all

Jon drinks black coffee because it seems like the mature thing to do

Tim drinks the super sweet coffees because they taste nicer and look pretty

Elias has one of them big spinning office chairs - He’s definitely done the James Bond villain spin

Daisy once told Martin she knew a great place to hide his body - She then proceeded to leave notes around the archives to remind him - Jon would also take the notes down

Not necessarily a headcanon but I just imagine series 5 Jared Hopworth in the garden with a necklace of various body parts and bones

Occasionally Basira would just look out to the fourth wall - I’m imagining it like fleabag style

During their travelling Gerry brought Gertrude a mug from a tourist shop - She kept saying she didn’t like it but once she was back in the archives she would use it all the time

Just Jon wearing some sparkly green nail polish

On the topic of Jon’s nails imagine him with those pointy acrylics - He’d either be in his element or he’d have the same vibe as a dog trying to walk in shoes

Both Micheal and Helen just pinging rubber bands at the backs of peoples head (I’ve got no real explanation for why they do it but then again neither have they)

Jon appreciates badgers - He got a little desk calendar with different pictures of them every month

When Martin was staying in the institute Jon gave him a blanket. He took the blanket with him when he started living at home again and started using it

Tim kept every card Sasha ever gave him

Sasha has a little pot of fake flowers on her desk

Jon pretends to he surprised every time Martin gives him a present - Especially if it’s an out of the blue ‘I saw this and thought of you’ present

Sasha and Tim went ice skating together one Christmas - They claimed it was as friends but Tim did give her flowers

Also some random side notes - Slight spoilers for series 4/5

Listened to 170 and immediately started crying at the end / The descriptions in 172 made me feel physically ill as someone who really doesn’t like spiders / Also I saw a thing on TikTok where someone took Gerry asking to be called Gerry and paired it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski and it was more upsetting than I was expecting xx

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

All forms of soulmates AU work for sashannarcy, especially if whatever indicates them being soulmates only appears when they arrive to Amphibia.

Strings of fate: they connect them to each other but in the situation in which they're in, they can only follow one. They're so far away that they can only go one way or another. Anne's strings disappear when she's back on Earth, and she thinks this means she lost her soulmates. Sasha still has a string that connects her to Marcy, and Darcy can see Marcy's string connecting her to Sasha. They eventually figure out Anne came back when another string appears. They didn't know the girls were soulmates before, but the idea of using one soulmate against the other two is delightful to them.

One name in each wrist: but apparently, when this happens, it can sometimes mean one is your soulmate and the other is your sworn enemy. There is a point in which Anne thinks Marcy is her soulmate and Sasha is her enemy, and also a point in which she wonders if it's the other way around.

Whatever you draw on your skin appears on theirs: Anne and Marcy use this as a way to communicate across large distances, writing little notes and drawing doodles that quickly turn from "gn! Ily ♡" to "I love you. Sleep well ♡". Sasha never writes, so they don't know she's their soulmate, but she reads everything and watches them slowly fall in love through the writings in her skin. She also knows what the're doing and where they are atm and uses that against her. She only tries to write after Marcy is killed and Anne is gone, but it's too late now.

Only seeing colors after you meet your soulmate: they're confused because they remember always being able to see colors. they slowly figure out what that means. Sasha calls it dumb frog superstition that clearly doen't apply to humans, but Anne and Marcy would like to hear them out.

Your soulmate's last words to you on your skin but they don't know those will be their last words, just that it's a soulmate thing: imagine having the words "I'm sorry. For everything" on your skin and only realizing the person speaking them is your soulmate as you watch her lifeless body hit the ground.

[elsalvy]

About me :

My Name : Elsa, you can give me any nickname as long as they aren't inapropriate, my middle name is Rebecca

My Age : 16

Personnality type : INFJ

I am Located in : France, so forgive me for grammar or spelling mistakes

My Pronouns : She/her

My Religion : Christianity, i respect everyone's believes ! I believe in scientific facts too

DNI, account i will block :

Racists, islamophobes, homophobes, transphobes, any religion shaming, everybody is accepted on my page

Non-teenagers

MEN

Nswf, k!nk , fet!sh, 18+ content accounts

Antivaxx

Current likes/interests :

Movies : Donnie Darko, Bones and all, Call me by your name, Girl interrupted, The virgin suicides, Jennifer's body, Carrie, The Goldfinch, Gone girl, Seven, Kill Bill, Black swan, Buffalo 66, Saltburn, Dinner in America, Fight club, Saw, Final Destination and any Alice in Wonderland, Tim Burton, Wes Anderson, Sofia Coppola movie

Shows : You, Stranger things, Breaking bad, Rick and Morty, South Park, Arcane, Baby

Fandoms that i am/was in : Alice Madness Returns, Danganronpa, Sally face, What Remains of Edith Finch, Life is Strange, Fran Bow, Until Dawn, Undertale, Project Sekai + others i cant remember rn

Music : Lana del rey, Alex g, Arctic monkeys, Cigarette after sex, Ethel Cain, Mindless Self Indulgence, Melanie Martinez, Deftones, Super Heaven, Ayesha Erotica, Pitbull, Crystal Castles, The Aubreys, Gorillaz, Snow Strippers, Buena Vista Social Club, Kendrick Lamar, Sade, GloRilla, Megan Thee Stallion, Doja Cat, Charli xcx, The xx

Hobbies : reading, working out, drawing, meditation, petting my cats, vinyl collecting, monster high dolls collecting, visiting museums, smoking & drinking school takes ALOT of my time

Celebrity crushes / Idols : Timothée Chalamet, Mike Faist, Finn Wolfhard, Devon Bostick, Edward Norton, Megan Fox, Loli Bahia, Sasha Luss

Activity (random) :

On this blog i will repost girlblogging posts, letting out my thoughts about anything, and share about my obsessions.

I will try to answer to anyone in my asks (please send me some🙏🏻) and comments

My dms are open and you can talk to me about anything, nothing is "tmi" or taboo

I love alt people & aesthetics, dress as you want as long as you feel confident

I suffer from an eating disorder and trying to recover, so be nice to me and anyone who has one

Thanks you for reading ! Love u 🤍

[isleofair]

Thank you so much for the tag, @applescabs!!! 🥰💚

Are you named after anyone? After, of all things, a 15th century noblewoman (whom I always thought was a saint, but actually wasn't, I just found out!) My mom saw an amazing statue of her on a trip and loved it, and her name, so much that she named me after her.

When was the last time you cried? I teared up a little yesterday when I got my friend's wedding invitation in the mail. The last time I properly cried was... huh. I think a couple of weeks ago, watching TV. That's a fair amount of time for me to go without crying, so go me!

Do you have kids? No, and I don't want any.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? A bit less than I used to, and not a lot in general. Only when I think it will be funny, or when I need to make an underhanded comment about something that ticked me off but I can't do much about.

What sports do you play? None. I am a very inactive person, sadly. I hope I can at least start going on more walks as the season keeps warming up.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? If they seem friendly or not.

What’s your eye colour? A very, very dark brown.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings all the way. I can't handle scary stuff very well at all. 🫣

Any special talents? I'm fairly good at languages (I learned them easily in school and I usually have a decent shot at figuring out what a word might mean if it's in a language that has at least some relation to the ones I know/have studied). Sadly, the only one I'm still fluent in (besides Italian, of course) is English, because it's the only one I use regularly.

Where were you born? Italy, smack dab in the middle of the top part of the boot, lol

What are your hobbies? Writing fic, reading fic, scrolling Tumblr, playing video games (mostly just Pokémon), playing D&D, and very occasionally drawing or weaving bracelets or assembling jigsaw puzzles.

Do you have any pets? My two cats, Sasha and Misha 🥹🥹 They're tabby-and-white twins, they're almost 5 years old, and they're the ones I come home to. 💚💚

How tall are you? 164cm, although sometimes when I'm in a hurry I just say 1.65m 😅

Favourite subject in school? All the sciences and Math, though I also liked English when I started having it as a subject.

Dream job? Writing a single novel, or a trilogy or something like that, that becomes inexplicably popular, gets a movie deal, and gives me enough residuals to potentially live comfortably while bumming around on my couch writing fanfic for the rest of my life.

I am tagging (but only if they want to answer, zero pressure, as usual!) @nicoroni, @imaginatorofthings, @zimithrus1, @thekuraning, @saltedpin, @horikoshi-secret-ao3-account, @damedanedameyodamenanoyo, and anyone else who sees this and wants to play! 💖💖💖

[firefly--bright]

carry me out.

jean kirstein x reader , modern a.u.

summary ; you've let your predetermined, statistical thoughts on being loved carry you out for a long time. maybe you realise that jean should be an exception.

warnings ; HUGE trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, especially in the beginning. overall very angsty, but slight comfort at the end. no pre-existing relationship, only the indications of one. underage (?) alcohol consumption (please be safe n responsible with alcohol!)

a/n ; finally wrote a fic after like a month lmao im so sorry. a) for being gone so long and not updating my other fics but also b) returning with another heavy one. no promises if this is me coming out of my haitus, though, i still have end-sem submissions to worry about. everything has been hell but hey atleast im alive! anyways, as always, enjoy! also if you ever need anyone to talk to, im always here. please know that. youre not alone!

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kiernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes (please feel free to skip this story, even if you are tagged, if it's too heavy for you!!)

huge thank you to @raazberry my absolute favouritest person for beta reading this :3

masterlist is in pinned post ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

You weren’t going to live past the next three years.

You knew this – it was written in your teary-eyed thirteen year old self’s note to a much older you, “if youre still the same after everything and you still feel like this all the time, then why keep trying? If youre not happy in somewhere outside of your head, then why keep living? Do you really want to live past 24?”

The letter may have been written against your better judgement, and you could still feel the cold of your marbled bathroom tiles and the too-bright florescent light above your head as you tried to stop your hand from shaking, but you lived by it. In all reality, your hopes were dwindling, and this misshapen version of you that sat infront of the mirror looked more like a smudged charcoal drawing instead of your face. You didn’t know how or why it was the way it was, but you had to live with this, live with the burnt and shaky outline of yourself thanks to the years you spent with your light still ablaze.

you sigh. Its all you know how to do.

The door knocks and you shift from your mirror to the source. Your heart skips a beat and everything lulls into a low hum.

“hey,” he says, with your name on his tongue as if he’s kept it there for years. “we were thinking about going out now that midterms are over. You wanna join?” he asks, his thumb pointing to the invisible invitation outside of your room.

You blink, humming the semblance of what you’d call love in your mind. “maybe. What’s  in it for me?” you ask. A smile graces your face and it doesn’t feel that foreign.

He pretends to think, humming out the same tune that played in your head every waking moment, his voice a low and calm tide. “free food?”

You breathe out a laugh. This bit doesn’t feel like a play, it doesn’t feel like a script with big block letters and directions and your name written in all caps. It feels normal. It feels foreign.

“don’t tell sasha, though.” He says, pointing a finger at you with a loose fist.

“I make no promises.” You really don’t.

“well, then, you should."

Maybe you would.

 Connie’s laughter would usually be described as an annoying 11 year old’s, but today, it offered you comfort like ice against a bruise, and marco would usually be described as a worried father, but his warmth was appreciated when he held the door open for all of you to walk in. sasha was already inside, chatting with her boyfriend who couldn’t be more happy to look at her with his chin resting on his palm and a soft smile on his face. Sasha’s animated voice could usually be described as the babbling of a child, but today it offered to be the noise that you craved. She was dressed well, with a bow tied gently into her hair and you wondered how you got this lucky to be half-present in the light of these fools.

Jean was always next to you, always to your left, always silently giving you his secretly undivided attention. Even as connie got another round of drinks for the table, even when sasha ate all the fries that were supposed to be shared, even when marco, ever the extrovert, went to mingle with friends from his other classes, even as niccolo held sasha’s hair back when she entered an unsaid drinking competition with Mikasa and her unshaken record, he was there. To your left, looking at his right with a warmth and gentleness that would’ve shaken you had you noticed it.

There was chatter. There was always noise, something to occupy your mind, as you played with the condensation on your glass, silently waiting for connie to shout out another drink that he presumed youd enjoy. To his credit, you did enjoy them, but maybe downing them in one go wasn’t the best idea if you truly wanted to savour them, and if the attention you were getting from your left wasn’t so alert, you’d have left this bar a long time ago.

And this didn’t mean any harm to your friends. Of course not, they couldn’t help but be the sun. they couldn’t help being this all consuming light that couldn’t stop itself from touching and spilling onto any surface it could find. Truly, you loved them for it like how you loved the sun – from a distance, looking at it through squinted eyes because you were afraid of it’s beauty. No, it wouldn’t be their fault that you were too much of a coward to feel what they offered to everyone without the hesitation you had.

“this is the part where you tell me what’s on your mind.” Jean says from beside you, memorizing a script you weren't aware of. theres a chord in your mind that rings out as he does, beginning an unfinished song that would continue on for as long as you lived.

You hum. It gets lost with the increasing sound of the song in your head and around you. shaking your head, you say something that’s unconvincing to your already deaf ears. “nothing,”

His palms slide over your wrist, covering up the embarrassment your pulse brings to yourself with a softness that doesn’t fail to shake you this time, noticing the way he looks around the place youre in – a bar? Youre not sure. You haven’t been sure where you ever were – and stops as he finds one. He gives you a once-over and leads you to the haven he’s scanned around for. he refuses to remove his hand from your wrist and some small or large or whatever-is-remaining part of you wants him to keep it there until your body evolves to accommodate his skin on yours.

You wonder how he feels. For the first time in a while, you wonder what it feels like to live outside of your head, outside of your own whatever-is-remaining body, outside of the stripped bare bones with pieces of meat stuck on it after charred teeth having gorged upon it night and day for twenty years. Does he see you that way? Could he stand to see the state you had yourself in, an unholy and unceremonious shrine to yourself, with nothing but the most minutest proof of your existence instead of everything you’d always wanted to become? Or does he see you as something that remains standing despite it? Would he see you as just that- the proof of the proof?

“there we go. No more noise.” He says decidedly and you’d agree a thousand times over. The chord he plays still reverbs through the empty nest of your chest and you agree – its as present as the noise of silence.

You hum again. You have no words to say. He doesn’t let go of your wrist and you pretend not to notice, just as he does. His fingers are calloused and weathered under unsaid conditions but you hope its because of love. It’s a large word to say, to think and to feel but you’ve long since forgone the formalities of having to speak. In your head, all words mean the same and nothing at the same time.

“saw a cat today.” He says. In your head, you agree.

This means something. Each word he says has its own representation, its own grip and handle on you instead of it all being everything.

You lean against something solid. Only then do you realise youre at a rooftop – climbing the stairs wasn’t registered when you spent your time staring at your beloved’s back, observing how his shirt moved over his skin with every consequential step, every meaningful breath. You became even more blind to the bodies of people that were a thousand times more present than you.

Only then do you realise the brightness of the city lights under you. the building you were on didn’t look all that tall, but it seemed taller than the rest. There were people there, being alive, breathing their own air and their own sound as yours made none. You let jean’s breathing be enough for the two of you until you’d find the dormant strength in yourself to find your own.

“brown and ginger fur. It was this tiny-“ he says. You throw him a glance because youre afraid looking at him for more than that would leave you with no choice but to keep burning, and his hands cup an invisible ball-like shape. You smile, looking back at the distant windows that carry their hopes into the night sky. “If I see it again, im gonna name it cookie.” He says.

Your smile grows gentler under the curtain of your fingers that are curled up against your lips, your chin on your palm. You wonder then, again, how he sees you. do you seem uninterested? You don’t mean to be, and he should know, but you don’t have the courage or the guts to let him know otherwise. Your words will get jumbled by the time you decide to regurgitate it, they’ll spill out of you in a blurring mess. You’ll end up having to say your name thrice to believe youre still here, if at all.

He's silent. His shoulder brushes against yours and you feel this like a script of a play – written in big block letters with his name signed over it, written in the brackets because its something that needs notice.

HES BRUSHING YOUR SHOULDERS LIKE HE ALWAYS IS, and youre an idiot because you think it makes you yourself. In a bracket, its specified with your name on top in big block letters – HE SEES YOU.

When you turn your head to that god-awful, all consuming left side again, he does. He sees you and you decide that now is a good time to return back to the whatever-is-remaining body again. Your bones shake with the song that keeps playing when he’s around and maybe the hopefulness of the open window lights of the city before and after you carries your hopefulness with it.

Maybe the light that his eyes reflect can carry out your silent grief with him. Maybe the burden you hold over yourself for so long – the one that you’ve gnawed and scratched and kneeled and digested over – maybe this all consuming shake in your body could use some pre-written and pre-determined accompaniment.

He doesn’t say anything. Whatever his script is, he doesn’t follow it. Maybe its his silence that speaks more about you than you could fathom for yourself. He carries out your grief and takes it for what it is – the proof of all of your love. He carries it out in his eyes, in his hand that is calloused because of words he hesitates to speak and carries in his fist, hidden behind his back. Only now, hes thankful for this silence. You understand it better than anyone, he thinks.

The big block letters in all caps overweigh the desperate letter you wrote to yourself when you were thirteen. He shift beside you, HIS ARM IS AROUND YOUR SHOULDERS AND HE’S HUGGING YOU NOW and youre  a little hopeful now. Youre a little hopeful that your longing has a partner. That your teeth can still be capable of letting go. That your tongue is capable of saying “thank you,” muttered against the warmth of his chest and his too-weak left side that carries his heart flutters against itself and he’s glad for how weak his left side is. He’s glad he feels your words ten times over because of it.

Whatever this script is, whatever dialogues are written and edited and predetermined are either being fulfilled or being gone against. You don’t care. You have the time to read it later. You have the choice to never read it ever again.

He holds you. your words don’t muffle because he hears you.

He hears you, and this is not a compulsion. Its not written in the script, no, loving you has always meant breaking the rules, loving you has always meant going against the forces of the nature that shaped you. jean didn’t seem to care much for rules, anyway.

[exitmusicforastory]

Conventional Weapons: Prologue

ROSTOV, RUSSIAN FEDERATION

SIX YEARS AGO

The click of the gun’s safety being switched off makes Nadya’s heart sink. She slowly raises her gloved hands to the back of her head and squeezes her eyes shut. Her entire body tenses.

“Sasha?”

Her voice trembles on the last syllable of his name, and her jaw clenches as she realizes she’s been betrayed. She hears an intake of breath behind her, and a tear leaks out of her eye, cutting a path through the ashes- the remainder of their latest mission- on her face. 

“Nadya… I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice low and broken, “I can’t do this anymore.”

She opens her eyes, and stares at the faded wallpaper of the Rostov hotel room. The flowered design swims across her vision, the repetitive patterns leaving her nauseated. Her heart pounds in her ears, nearly drowning out the sound of Sasha’s quiet sobbing. What the hell is happening? He had been acting strange for months, his typical brash efficiency replaced by a quiet loathing directed, it seemed, at everyone. Everyone except for her. Despite everything, he always seemed to do his best to protect her. Until now. Until the moment that the two of them stand in the dimly lit motel room, him holding a gun to her head. She hears him drawing in a breath, as if preparing himself for something, and she realizes that he is going to kill her. The man she loved so dearly, who had shared the same pain as her for so long, who had sworn to love her for as long as he was breathing, was going to murder her in a shitty hotel room in Rostov. Just her luck. She has always known she will never get the happy ending she wants. She squeezes her eyes shut, preparing for death, but instead she feels a rustle in the air behind her. 

“I-I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he says.

Her voice trembles as she replies, “Then why the hell are you holding a gun to my head, Sasha?”

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving all of this behind and I don’t want you to stop me.”

Nadya’s eyes snap open again. 

“Leaving? You’re going to try to leave the SVR? Sasha, that’s suicide!”

He chuckles and places a hand on Nadya’s shoulder, turning her to face him. He looks down at her, and the pain in his dark grey eyes makes her shudder. He brushes a stray curl of scarlet hair off her forehead, his hands achingly gentle against her skin. 

“That’s the idea,” he replies, clenching his jaw and refusing to meet her eyes. Nadya’s stomach sinks. She raises her hands to his cheek, brushing away a tear, before burying her face in his shoulder. His arms encircle her. Her breaths begin to hitch in her chest, her lungs refusing to take in the air. Sasha cups her face in his hands and presses his forehead against hers.

“Breathe, детка. Breathe. It’s okay.”

“No!” she gasps, “No, it’s not okay! I can’t do this alone.”

“I know,” he says, “I’m sorry. I know it’s unfair, but you don’t understand. I have to.”

“Why? Why do you have to?” Her breathing is coming in short, painful bursts now. He lets out a breath and steps back, his left hand still caressing her cheek.

“I did it. I killed Lebedev.”

“What! Sasha, they’ll kill you if they find out! Not just you, they’ll make sure they burn everything you ever loved!”

“Which is why they can never find out, at least not definitively. They have been suspicious of me for a while now. It’s only a matter of time before I’m discovered. I can’t let that happen. Nadya, I need to ask you something.”

Dread grows in her gut. She knows exactly what he’s going to ask her. And she knows that she doesn’t have the strength to do it.

“No, Sasha. I… I can’t.”

“Please? I can’t do it on my own. I can’t be the one to pull the trigger.”

Nadya lets out a short, harsh laugh that barely conceals the fact that she’s on the verge of tears. 

“And you think I can? God, Sasha. You really are an idiot if you think I’m gonna let you do this. Fuck national security, fuck Lebedev, I can’t lose you.”

“Nadya… if anyone finds out, they’ll kill me anyway. And not just me. They’ll kill you, they’ll kill Sergei, they’ll kill anyone who they even suspect might have been involved.”

Nadya steps back and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Then we leave. We escape. Today.”

Sasha laughs and shakes his head, “We’d never make it. The second we leave, they’ll realize it was one of us, and then the entire security force of the Motherland will be after us. We would stand no chance. This is the only way. Please.” 

Nadya turns away, unable to look him in the eye. Her mind races at the speed of light. Her body shakes with silent sobs. This was impossible. Sasha had sworn that he had nothing to do with Antonin Lebedev’s assassination. And they never lied to each other. They were the only ones who each other never lied to. Not that she hadn’t broken that rule before, but this was different. He had assassinated one of the most powerful men in the world. And that decision had led to him asking her to do the impossible. She couldn't kill him. She knew she couldn’t, but she also knew he was right. If anyone ever found out what Sasha had done, it wouldn’t just be his life on the line. But damn that! Was he really asking the woman he loves to kill him? She buries her face in her hands, her back still turned to Sasha, and sobs. Behind her, she hears the gentle sound of Sasha sitting down on the bed.

“Nadya. Please.” 

She looks up and fixes her gaze once more on the wallpaper, her vision blurred by tears. She looks down at her shaking hands and balls them into fists. She knows he is right, and she hates herself for it. She knows what she has to do. She turns to him, her body surprisingly steady as she walks toward him. Her gaze rests on the gun, lying innocuously on the bed beside him, before flitting once more to him. As her green eyes meet his grey ones, an understanding passes between them like a bolt of energy. A small, sad smile plays across Sasha’s lips. Nadya crosses the room until she’s standing directly in front of him. He stands, and there’s no longer any space between them. Reaching around her, he pulls her into his arms. Both of them shake, from anguish, from fear, from their sudden closeness. Nadya feels his hand touch her chin, guiding it upward to look at him. Their faces are inches apart, their breath intermingling, until Sasha leans in and kisses her. He tastes of tears and pain and home. This last kiss is gentle, but passionate in its own way. Nadya’s arms encircle his neck and pull him closer, not wanting to let go of him. He tightens his hold on her waist, and pulls away from the kiss for a second, before kissing her again. When Nadya pulls away the final time, Sasha doesn’t want to let go.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “The hardest part of all this is knowing that I’m leaving you behind.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re the only one I trust to do it.”

She nods and breaks from his embrace. He grabs her hand, and presses something into it. Something small and metal. She opens her palm and gazes down at the delicate silver necklace in her hand. Looking back up at Sasha, she smiles, pain showing through the cracks in her facade. He takes the necklace from her and reaches around her neck, clasping it. She cherishes the feeling of his fingers brushing against her neck, knowing that soon, she’ll never feel them again.

“I’ll never take it off.”

Sasha nods silently and presses something else in her hand. Her fingers close instinctively around the handle of the HKP30 pistol. The second the rubber grip makes contact with her skin, her entire body tenses. Her brain feels foggy, as if she is standing in a cloud.

“Are you sure there’s no other way?”

“Nadya,” he sighs, “You have been in this business just as long as I have. You know how they treat traitors. You know there’s no mercy.”

“And you call this mercy?” Her voice is laced with tears.

“Yes! You’re saving me from a long, torturous death at the hands of our captors, and giving me a peaceful one at the hands of the woman I love. What’s more merciful than that?”

“Sasha…” she says, “This may be merciful for you, but it sure as hell isn’t for me. You’re damning me to a life without you. You’re going to make me walk this world alone, with the knowledge that it’s my fault you’re gone. I love you, Aleksander. How the hell is that merciful for me?”

Sasha looks away, unable to meet her eyes.

“Please.”

His voice is pleading, wrought with desperation. As he turns to look at her once more, his grey eyes look haunted, and his face, usually so composed as to never betray his feelings, is a cracked mask of emotion. He runs a hand through his ash-blonde hair, his breath quickening in fear.

“Either way, I’m a dead man. Just give me this little bit of mercy.”

Nadya knows in her heart that he’s right, and the sheer frantic energy in his eyes destroy her last strands of hope. She nods slowly, stabbing pain from sobs she won’t let out coursing through her chest. Her body is numb, and she moves robotically, as if some outside force is governing her limbs. She raises the firearm, seeing the fear on Sasha’s face as he stares down the barrel of the gun that is going to kill him. Her hands are steady, but her body shakes. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, squeezing her teary eyes shut as the blast sounds.