#his troubled face!! the way it feels both underwater and in another world!! the lights all around that could be anything!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tillxthexearthxstartsxtoxcrumble · 4 years ago

Text

Bobby made a list of all the possible things that could’ve gone wrong that day. He was going to update it that night, once the show was done and they had rocked out the Orpheum. It started out great. The four boys woke up with hardly any sleep in them because of their excitement for the day, but nothing could kill their adrenaline for the day ahead of them. Even Bobby, who usually tried to hide his emotions, was almost all smiles that morning. They all got their parents to agree to let them stay the night in the studio.

“Just think, later tonight we could have a manager and we could finally get big like we’ve always dreamed!” Luke said, being the band’s usual hype man. Reggie nodded,

“Yeah! Who knows what’s gonna happen tonight, but it’s gonna be a big night.” Alex smiled in response, but the band knew the fact that their entire future was almost riding on that night, it would make him more anxious than the rest of them. They were all anxious about it, of course, but they wouldn’t let it take away from their excitement in any way.

“No matter what happens I’m sure everything will turn out good in the end.” Bobby tried subtly reassuring Alex, which didn’t do much, but Alex appreciated the attempt.

“Yeah for sure.” he nodded. They knew he wouldn’t wanna ruin their fun with this, so they all shared a look and immediately knew what to do.

“Hey, let’s go check out the area. Maybe we’ll be able to meet some fans!” Reggie got his big grin, opening the garage doors for them to start on their quest to calm Alex down at least in the slightest.

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 1. An instrument could get damaged.

They ended up seeing some people already lining up outside the orpheum, waiting just so they could get good spots. All of their hearts felt like they were flying when they saw the sight. Alex actually got a real smile at that, not the one he gave them to make them feel better.

“Luke, are you sure you wanna open with ‘Now or Never’?” Bobby questioned him, “It kinda feels like one we should save for last, y’know, to really blow them all away. It’s our song we always hear the most positive response to.”

“That’s exactly why we gotta start with it, man! We gotta show everyone how good we are, catch them by surprise and keep them on the edge of their seats. I don’t want them to just enjoy us at the end, we gotta keep them going the whole time!” Bobby couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s enthusiasm.

“All right, fine, but if the crowd doesn’t seem as passionate about the rest, don’t blame me.” Reggie chuckled and put his arm around his friends.

“I say we go check out the area and see if we wanna get something to eat and we just kill time for a while before we go and rehearse.”

~♧~

That’s what they did for a while, they ended up having a lot of fun and they managed to get their nerves set aside and that allowed them to get fully excited for the show later that night.

“Hey, do any of you wanna hear my joke about the blunt pencil? Oh it doesn’t matter, it’s pointless.” Bobby said, and he got an evil grin at the sound of his friends letting out an annoyed groan.

“No, I want to hear it!” Reggie said excitedly, which only made his friends get more tired of them.

“Reggie that-” at the look on Reggie’s face Alex just paused and sighed, “okay.”

Luke decided to ignore the terrible puns going on and turned to his friends. “Hey, let’s go do that sound check- we don’t wanna not be ready for our performance.”

~♧~

“You sure you don’t wanna go with them? I’m not sure you’ll be able to occupy yourself for two hours.” Rose smiled at him,

“Nah, they’ll be fine. I’m not sure even they could fuck everything up in the time they go get food and come back.“ Bobby chuckled, trying to come up with more flirty lines but given his tendency to use terrible puns, he’s not exactly the best with flirting either.

It had been almost an hour and a half since they’d left. Bobby knew it might’ve taken them awhile to find food and get it but it shouldn’t be taking them this long.

“Bobby, I say we just go out and search for them. Maybe they lost track of time and we just need to go get them.” Rose suggested to the anxious guitar player.

“No- No, they wouldn’t ever lose track of time. This means the world to them. They’ll be here. I know they will. Even if they died, they’d find a way to play the Orpheum.” Bobby started pacing back and forth. They both knew he was just trying to convince himself at that point, “They wouldn’t miss this.”

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 2.The equipment is messed up.

“Luke, R-Reggie” Alex croaked out, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain. They didn’t respond. Alex felt everything inside him stop. They were gone. The pain from the hotdogs weren’t even anything compared to the loss he felt. Alex screamed, his two best friends just died. He started coughing up blood, everyone around him trying to save the boy but knowing they couldn’t.

“Please, I don’t wanna die.”

Bobby started getting a little upset at them for taking this long, they had missed the rest of rehearsal and they only had minutes before they were supposed to go on stage. Why were they taking so long?

“I don’t wanna go to hell.” He begged.

Bobby could hear everyone chanting just thirty feet away. They were late, he couldn’t go on without them. He felt everything in his body freeze up when he saw the doors open, he hoped it was them.

The last thing Alex heard was a thumping noise filling his ears, slowing down into nothing, and a scream.

“Are you Robert?”

Bobby nodded, a wave of fear washing over him. He knew it would be bad but nothing could prepare him for why this man was here.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but.. You won’t be playing tonight.”

“Alex Mercer, time of death at 10:24 PM”

Bobby stopped breathing for a moment, “What do you mean?”

Everything felt like a blur after that.

“Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this.” the next words felt as if they were being said through a loudspeaker, as Bobby was underwater. “Your bandmates all passed away about half an hour ago.”

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 3.One of them is late.

Bobby was completely calm with the next few words. “Why wasn’t I told right away?” It caught the officer off guard. He shifted, slightly worried at how easily this kid was taking the loss of his friends.

“We had to fix everything up and tell their parents-” before the officer could even finish, Bobby took his guitar off and smashed it right at his feet, which would have hurt like hell if he had cared enough to notice. Bobby was now shaking, but no one could tell if it was out of anger or pain. He had a look that they couldn’t read. He looked at the broken guitar, feeling a mix of dread and relief from doing that. By now, the crowd had started to get quiet after the loud crash of the guitar.

Still trying to stay completely calm, he responded “I’m sorry about that officer. I gotta go, now.” Bobby started walking off only to be stopped.

“We’re gonna have to take you in for investigation. We apologise, but we have to go down to the office.” Bobby paused for a moment, staring off into the distance before he burst into tears. He collapsed, and Rose rushed forward to help him. She’d still been in shock about the whole situation. Just hours ago, she flirted with people who are now dead.

“I- I did this, didn’t I?” Bobby whispered to Rose, she felt her heart break. The officer got more suspicious, thinking this was some kind of act. To try and trick them, he confesses to the act and acts broken about it so no one truly suspects him. People can think that sometimes, when they aren’t the ones affected by the situation.

“We’re going down to the office right now, if you try to resist I will have to arrest you. I don’t wanna do that to a kid, so let’s just go right now and we can get it all settled.” Bobby stood up, but he couldn’t feel his legs. The noise from earlier came back - like he was underwater, pushing up against the waves and trying to escape, but losing the fight. The officer held him by the arm and pulled him along.

~♧~

“Why didn’t you go with them to have the hot dogs?” Officer Smith asked. Bobby glanced at the voice recorder, still feeling like none of this was real.

“I stayed behind to talk with Rose.” He knew how stupid it sounded. They’d already gone over it but he was already interrogated and ripped apart by that. Bobby couldn’t believe how stupid it sounded, either.

Officer Smith was clearly exhausted, he hadn’t gotten any real evidence so far and he tried doubling down on questions but it wasn’t working. He sighed, pressing stop on the voice recorder.

“Alright, well, we’re gonna let you go home but we’ll have to schedule another interrogation.” Bobby yet again felt like he was pushed underwater. He wanted to say it was him, it was all his fault. He should’ve stopped them, but he didn’t. That might as well make him a killer. He wanted to scream at the officer, to tell him it was all his fault. “You should’ve stopped them” he felt a voice whisper. That voice was him. Bobby knew that. But it didn’t hurt any less. Now the water he’s fighting against is a raging sea, and it’s pitch black out. He can’t tell which way is up and which is down.

Bobby nodded, and got up to leave. As soon as he left the interrogation room, he felt free, though. He felt as if the moon was finally shining a light for him to see which way to go. He started running, he had to tell them about what just happened. How he got into trouble with the police, they’d be concerned but they’re the only ones he can see right now.

He ran faster than he’d ever run in his life before, nearly getting hit by several cars. He saw a girl, she was sitting there in shock. He slowed down just a bit, he heard her muttering something about flirting with death. Bobby recognized her as one of the fans who was lined up outside the Orpheum earlier. He decided not to mess with it, he needed to see his friends.

Bobby was halfway home, and he started to go numb again. They won’t be there. Bobby shook those thoughts away, they would be there. They had to be. Maybe he just... imagined the last few hours. They haven’t even rehearsed yet.

As soon as Bobby opened the doors, he knew it was all real. The only thing he could see, was a dark, empty room. He collapsed to the ground, and this time, the numbness didn’t die down.

The only way Bobby knew he was crying- no, sobbing at that point - was because his neighbor came out to see what had happened. So as soon as the old woman saw her neighbor sitting there, sobbing like he’d just lost the most important thing in the world to him, she had to see if he was okay.

When she went up to him and tapped him on his shoulder, he didn’t even react. He was still crying, staring at the dark garage.

Bobby was thinking of all he just lost.

He’d lost Luke, the passionate writer of the group. Luke was the one in the first place to have come up with the idea of them being in a band together. Him and Luke had been friends since they were at least seven years old. He was there for Luke’s birthday when he first got his guitar, he remembered the excitement Luke had on his face. He was there for all of it, he and Luke worked together on a lot of songs. Luke, the one who would tease him and have fun with almost everything they did. Luke, who he let stay in his garage because his parents wouldn’t let him play music.

Then there was Reggie, the sweet and innocent soul that Bobby had met next, they hadn’t been friends for quite as long but they got along really well. Bobby regretted every time he didn’t take one of Reggie’s offers for hugs, even if they were joke offers. He rarely wrote music with Reggie but he remembered hearing his country songs and country was never Bobby’s style but he definitely liked Reggie’s country songs. They held passion and happiness, it was Reggie’s escape just as much as it was Luke’s.

Then there was Alex, the one who used to have a really good family life. He and his parents always got along, they always let him play music. They didn’t like the idea of him being in a band, but they never tried to stop him. Then he came out and all that changed. He was one of the most talented and humble people Bobby had ever met. He was kind and also the most sarcastic and snarky person Bobby had ever met.

He’d lost them.

“Robert, are you okay?” He got snapped out of his thoughts as he looked at his neighbor with tears still streaming down his face. How could he be alright? His entire world just collapsed around him. He lost everyone he loved. But Bobby couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even open his mouth.

He recalls a time once, when he was younger, at the beach. Before he met any of the guys. He’s surprised he even remembers a time before them - he’s known them for what feels like his entire life. He was always a good swimmer, growing up by the water, but being small and easily pushed over left him defenseless as a particularly strong wave pulled him under. He remembers feeling helpless. Wondering if he might drown.

Sitting there, in the studio, he thinks that he might as well stay under and let the water fill his lungs.

The entirety of the next few months, that feeling stayed the same. He’d hardly spoken a word to anyone, so his parents made him go to a therapist, but they didn’t understand why he would look past him and mutter random words, why the parents said he talks to himself almost all day. Of course, they knew the boy had lost his best friends , but with how Bobby seemed to handle every other problem in life, they knew that this broke him.

Bobby had to see his therapist at least once a week for many, many years. But Bobby never felt the same. Yes, he was freed of any suspicion under having killed them by the police. But he still felt like he was being pushed farther underwater by large waves, and he’d accepted that he’d never get out of that ocean.

He changed his name, found new people, and even started to make music again. But he couldn’t write any new music. Nothing good, anyway. He couldn’t do it without his band, his family. Every time he released a song, he just felt more numb. More cold.

He felt moments of happiness, yes. He felt that with Olivia, who he was with for a long time. He had new friends. He had many, many fans. But somehow, none of it felt like it would ever change the fact that he lost his family.

Only a few years later, he saw the sunlight. His little girl, Carrie. His hope, his joy. Olivia and him had split up, but he knew he could provide the best life for her. He might not be able to get out of the ocean, but he can see his way around now. It didn’t have to change his loss of his friends, it didn’t change his guilt, but he had something to live for.

Maybe he could survive.

Taglist: @nickalicious @futurearchaeologyprof @never-straight-no @queenmolina @suckerforpsychos @nervousmiracletrash @bluedarkness @queer-fandom-frog @bi-reginald @jelly-to-my-jam

You can thank @bi-reginald for the editing and some of the writing! 🖤

#Aight some of this is shit Ill admit #but I TRIED #jatp #julie and the phantoms #netflixwewantjatp2 #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp angst #bobby bobbert bobberlicious the third #bobby jatp #jatp bobby #bobby nolastname #bobby angst #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #trevor jatp #carrie wilson

120 notes · View notes

honeyxmonkey · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 2: Talking Is Overrated

"Douxie!" Toby shouted, struggling against the thick, meaty arms that held him back. "Let him go!"

"No, we can't do that." The man said, tightening the garotte wire around the wizard's throat, listening to his choked sounds with glee. "You kids are a pain in my side and I'm going to take you out. One. By. One." With each word he pulled the wire tighter around Douxie's neck, now drawing a thin line of blood from where it was digging into his skin.

Douxie felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, clawing and scratching at the man's arm but he held fast. He let out a choked, gagged scream when the wire was pulled even tighter. The world was beginning to go fuzzy, the voices in the room becoming muffled and far away, like he was listening to a conversation underwater.

The lights dimmed, but that could've just been him blacking in and out. Douxie's struggling started to grow sluggish as he lost consciousness, the warm feeling of blood trickling down his throat became numb and blended in with the rest of the pain he felt as the world went dark.

_______________________________

"Douxie?" There was a warm and soothing voice in his ear, and a familiar weight on his chest. "Come on Douxie don't do this to me."

Muffled voices soon began to become clearer as the wizard drifted back in from a void of unconsciousness.

"He's coming to." Another voice said and Douxie could feel gentle hands at the side of his head.

"That looks bad." Someone else said with worry in their tone.

"He's lucky we came when we did." A girl's voice said.

Douxie struggled to open his eyes but he forced them open, wincing immediately at the harsh white light above him. His eyes adjusted to the light soon enough and he blinked blearily up at the figures surrounding him. Most notably was a large troll with six eyes and four arms.

"Blink-" he tried to get a word out but his voice came out raspy and it hurt to speak. "Bl-"

"Shh," the troll said softly, placing a cool stone hand against the boy's throat. "Don't speak yet, Hisirdoux. Who knows how damaged your vocal chords are."

The weight on his chest shifted and Douxie didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Are you okay?" Archie asked, appearing in his line of vision. The dragon had blood spatters on his fur but Douxie had the feeling it wasn't his familiar’s blood.

"I-" he rasped, immediately being gently knocked on the head by the person who had his head in their lap.

"You heard Blinky, Douxie." Claire said sternly. "No talking."

"No talking for who knows how long?" Jim said with a slightly snarky tone and a very worried smile. He was trying to make light of the situation for him. Bless his heart. "The silence will be amazing."

The little group erupted into laughter and Douxie couldn't help the small chuckle building in his chest.

Claire helped him sit up and out of the corner of his eye, Douxie saw the body of the man who'd kidnapped him and Toby laying a few feet away, blood everywhere. Archie must've been pissed.

Archie seemed to catch where his line of sight was and put a paw on his shoulder. "He didn't deserve to live." He told his familiar quietly. "Not after what he did to you. After he tried to kill you.”

Douxie was silent but nodded all the same.

"Hey, but being killed by a dragon isn't something just anyone can brag about." Steve joked, albeit a little uneasily. "He's gonna have a story to tell all the ghost buddies in hell."

"Alright that's enough." Blinky said sternly. "Save the dark humor for another day." He looked at the wizard again, eyes a bit softer. "Can you stand?"

Douxie slowly and shakily pushed himself up, staggering a bit before steadying himself. He gave Blinky a weak smile and a thumbs up.

"Alright then." Jim stood too, helping to support him as they walked. "Let's get out of here."

_______________________________

They were slow in getting out of the facility. Douxie was still unsteady on his feet and also still bleeding from the thin but precise cut on his throat. Thank god that particular part of the injury wasn’t too bad or else they were in deep trouble.

They slowly made their way down one of the corridors, red flickering lights overhead lit the path in an eerie manner. The group stayed huddled together as they walked, Jim supporting Douxie, and Steve and Claire at his other side and behind him just in case he suddenly went unconscious or something.

“It’s creepy in here.” Toby said nervously. “Where’s the exit again?”

“Not too far now.” Archie reassured, hovering near Douxie’s head. “Just a little further.”

“You said that five minutes ago.” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“We’re lost aren’t we?” Toby bemoaned, scooting a little closer to Aarrrgghh.

“We’re not lost.” Archie snapped, landing on Douxie’s shoulders. “I know the way out.”

“Then where-”

The arguing was cut off abruptly when Douxie suddenly lurched forward, falling to his knees. A raspy cough shook the wizard’s shoulders as he held a hand to his mouth, a deep red liquid splattering onto his fingers.

“Douxie!” Claire knelt next to him quickly, eyes widening at the blood. “Oh no…” she gently turned his head towards her, stomach dropping at how unfocused his eyes were. “Hey, hey look at me.”

Douxie seemed to be looking right through her, not even recognizing she was there. Another spurt of blood bubbled up from his throat and he hunched forward, coughing up the sticky liquid. He sat on his knees, arms wrapped around his waist as he continued to basically vomit up blood.

“What’s happening!?” Steve shrieked, having gone pale at the gory sight.

“I don’t know!” Claire yelled, not caring about the blood splattering on her pants. “Blinky?”

The troll seemed just as lost and as concerned as the rest of them were. “I don’t know…”

The team flinched when Douxie gagged and more blood splashed against the cement floor.

“His throat!” Jim suddenly gasped in remembrance, crouching next to his friend, grabbing the sides of his face to move his head back so he could better see the injury. His stomach churned at what he saw.

The earlier, seemingly fine, wound had begun to fester and smoke, the cut itself digging deeper into the wizard’s skin all on its own. Blood was pouring mercilessly from the injury as if an invisible and intangible knife was cutting deep into Douxie’s throat, causing him to cough up blood… and maybe soon even be choking on it.

“What do we do!?” Jim asked, mind racing for possible solutions.

“How are we supposed to do anything if we don’t even know what’s wrong?!” Claire demanded.

Douxie coughed again, this time it sounded more like a choking sound. He dropped onto one hand, the other clutching his throat as it continued to bleed and then… he dropped. He fell onto his side, gagging and choking on his own blood while his friends watched with helpless horror.

Archie nudged Douxie’s head frantically, eyes darting back and forth while he tried to think of something to do. With a reluctant sigh he placed both his paws down on his familiar’s shoulders, basically standing on his chest. “Sorry about this Douxie,” he said, feeling a comfortable warmth building in his chest and throat while he summoned his fire. “This is going to hurt.”

Without wasting a second the dragon let a scalding hot and steady stream of fire wash over Douxie’s neck. He didn’t stop, not even when the wizard started screaming and thrashing in pain through his choking gags. Claire and Jim were quick to hold him down, eyes wide with tears as they watched.

Finally, when the sound of choked gurgling ceased, Archie let the fire dissipate, nodding at his good work. The wound was closed, cauterized by his magic fire. He’d successfully stopped whatever sort of poison was on the garrote wire that had caused this… he only wished he’d noticed it sooner.

“He’s going to live.” Archie said shakily, watching the tears streaming down Douxie’s face with guilt. “He’ll be fine…”

No one moved, still too shaken up and trying to process everything that had just happened. They sat in the hallway, the lights still flashing a dim and gruesome red, blood spatters on the floor, and they wondered… When would the nightmare end?

#whumptober #whumptober day 2 #toa wizards #wizards tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia #hisirdoux casperan #toa trollhunters #trollhunters tales of arcadia #toa 3below #3below tales of arcadia

28 notes · View notes

neomanateefromexiletribe · 3 years ago

Text

princess

Diavolo x Lucifer, DiaLuci

Fluff, Making Out

Diavolo accidentally turns into a woman and Lucifer is the one who has to deal with it. Inspired by this fanart.

There’s a knock on Lucifer’s door, loud enough to make him look up with a frown. The oldest brother hesitates, anxious that it might just be one of his siblings or MC determined to prevent him from doing his paperwork, but he gives in and tells whoever it is who’s now banging on his door to come in.

Surprise paints itself all over his face when a young woman barges in, a bright smile lighting up her face. She’s gorgeous, her skin glowing despite the lack of sun in the room, and her yellow eyes are sparkling with a hint of maliciousness. She’s wearing a red dress that highlights her generous curves, and it takes Lucifer a second to remember where he’s seen that dress before: it’s the dress Asmo designed for a sticker of Diavolo.

Suddenly, the gears in Lucifer’s brain activate: that skin color, the yellow eyes, the red hair… it can’t be?

“Um… Diavolo?” Lucifer asks, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Hello there Lucifer!” the young woman answers, waving a hand as she gets closer to him. “Don’t I look amazing?”

Lucifer takes another look at her, and coughs in his fist.

“What exactly happened?” he asks, not understanding how in the world Diavolo went from a huge demon to a beautiful demon lady.

“Simeon sent me some drinks from the Celestial Realm, but it appears that Solomon accidentally messed up their content, so now I look like this!” Diavolo explains, seemingly unbothered by his new appearance. “I had no idea I would look this good as a woman. I should’ve tried changing my appearance way earlier, don’t you agree?”

“I guess it is a good thing you don’t mind this sudden… change, but perhaps you should contact Simeon and Solomon in order to know how they can fix this?” Lucifer suggests, trying not to come too close to Diavolo.

“Don’t worry, Barbatos already told them of what happened and they’re looking into the matter,” Diavolo answers, “so now all I have to do is wait until I can somehow go back to normal. That said, I’m not particularly looking forward to going back to my former appearance too soon, I do like this one.”

Lucifer can’t help but sigh, and he sits down again. If Barbatos has already contacted the troublemakers, it’s one thing he doesn’t have to do, at least. Remains Diavolo, who seems way too delighted with his new appearance, and Lucifer just knows he’s going to have to entertain him while he’s in this form.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you,” Diavolo says, still smiling brightly, “I’ll sit down somewhere and busy myself.”

That’s… unexpected. Usually, Diavolo never wastes a second trying to get his attention, and that even if Lucifer is drowning under paperwork. Lucifer nods at Diavolo, and resumes doing his paperwork. He quickly realizes that even if Diavolo isn’t doing anything, his mere presence is enough to distract him �� but he can’t blame it on Diavolo, who’s quiet in a corner for now.

It eventually reaches a point where Lucifer is this close to giving up, and that’s when Diavolo skips to his desk, a grin plastered on her beautiful face.

“What if you took a break?” she suggests, leaning in enough that her chest is showing thanks to her cleavage.

Lucifer has half a mind to scream because it seems that no matter the appearance, Diavolo seems to enjoy showing skin, but he keeps his composure and merely nods. Diavolo beams at him and takes his arm before leading him to his room. Lucifer sits on his bed, fully aware that he’s not in a position of power here, and he tenses as he feels Diavolo climbing in the bed and getting behind him.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer asks, and Diavolo giggles.

In this form, his voice sounds much more feminine, but it’s still as loud as his original male counterpart.

“I’m going to help you relax,” Diavolo answers mysteriously.

It would be a lie if Lucifer were to say that he was unaware of the sexual tension sitting between him and Diavolo since centuries or perhaps more. But for Diavolo to wait until he was turned into a woman to act on their reciprocally buried feelings somehow disturbed Lucifer. Just because he was a woman now didn’t mean it’d be easier for Diavolo to win over Lucifer’s heart, and Lucifer hoped the Demon Prince knew it. As much as it pained his pride, it was with the original Demon Prince he had hopelessly fallen in love with, not anyone else.

Lucifer tenses once again as Diavolo back hugs him, bringing the back of his head against her chest. Lucifer can’t say that he didn’t see that coming, it was obvious Diavolo was delighted to experience being a woman with such ample curves. Lucifer breathes in and out, forcing himself to relax, and Diavolo starts gently massaging his shoulders.

“You really are too tense,” Diavolo comments.

Lucifer doesn’t answer. There’s no point in doing so, he already knows it.

“You know, I actually thought of something,” Diavolo adds, relaxing her embrace.

“What is it?” Lucifer asks.

“You know how in tales and such, all it takes is a kiss from the prince for the princess’ troubles to go away? I thought that maybe a kiss could fix my situation too.”

There’s a heavy silence for a few seconds, and Lucifer’s body moves before he can fully realize what he’s doing. Diavolo is soon sprawled on his bed under him, cheeks red and panting, and Lucifer wonders if he’s doing a mistake or something that will serve them both.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Lucifer asks, and he has no idea why his voice sounds so seductive now but it simply does.

“Please?” Diavolo merely answers, batting her eyelashes.

Lucifer presses their mouths together, and it’s like they’re both breathing again after being underwater for too long. It’s a kiss that’s long overdue, centuries of dancing around each other without daring to make the first move, but now it’s the first step to setting everything right.

Diavolo moans weakly as Lucifer licks the inside of her mouth, and Lucifer merely presses their lips tighter together. Diavolo is melting under him, but has enough grip on reality to take one of his hands and bring it to her chest, a silent demand for him to touch her more. Lucifer wastes no time in doing as asked, and Diavolo cries in their kiss as he gently gropes her chest.

“More,” Diavolo whimpers, “give me more.”

Lucifer is tempted to get rid of the dress altogether, but before he can do so, there’s a sudden cloud of smoke and the original Diavolo is back. It’s strange seeing him lie on his bed in such a vulnerable position, legs spread and eyes watering with lust, but It certainly isn’t disagreeable.

“Do you still want more?” Lucifer asks, a smirk stretching his lips.

“I very much do,” Diavolo answers, chuckling, and Lucifer kisses him again.

That dress is in the way and Lucifer won’t let it ruin his plans of claiming Diavolo as his own.

#obey me #my writing #fanfic #diavolo #lucifer #dialuci #fluff

51 notes · View notes

sokkascroptop · 4 years ago

Text

traitor. (sokka x f! reader) pt 9

part 1 | part 8 | part 10

A/N: I finished this at 4 am, I am so tired. I also loved writing this, hence the staying up until 4 am to finish it.

Y/N looked between them, unsure of what to do with herself. She wasn’t friends with Katara, she was in fact better friends with Zuko, but it felt weird to stay, like she was listening in on a private conversation. But she thought they were starting to make some headway. They hadn’t tried to kill one another while locked in the catacombs yet. And she missed him, she wanted to stay with him, to see if she could make up for the mistakes she made while with Azula.

Neither girl knew what to do with one another.

The cavern was large and they kept each other in sight as they explored it separately. Green crystals grew out of ground everywhere Y/N could see. They shined like glow-moths and lit up the cave with an eerie haze. It was cold and damp too, and all she could smell was wet dirt.

She reached up and touched one of the crystals. It was the tallest of it’s bunch and thick as her wrist. She ran a finger along it. It was angled on top, it’s sides were sharp.

Y/N found a foothold and pulled herself up to be eye level and tugged on it.

“What are you doing?”

Y/N gasped and slipped off the rock she was standing on. She felt something sharp dig into her belly and pulled herself back up. She turned around and looked at the watertribe girl who was standing there with her hands on her hips.

“Don’t run up on someone like that. You scared me. I almost impaled myself on another one of these dumb crystals.”

“I didn’t–what are you doing!” She exclaimed as Y/N pulled hard on the crystal, this time her hands slipped off the slick surface and she had to jump down backwards before she fell on her back. Maybe she needed to try one that was smaller.

“Are you trying to find a weapon?” the waterbender asked her. Apparently whatever made her want to stay away from Y/N a few hours ago was gone, she followed Y/N close on her heels as she inspected other rocks in the cavern.

“No.” Yes, Y/N very much was.

“Well, they took my waterskin so I don’t have anything to bend. You shouldn’t be worried.”

“I’m not.” Y/N wiggled a smaller crystal but it was rooted just as deep as the last one. She had a feeling they were all going to be like that. “Besides there’s water all in the air, can’t you smell it?”

The girl’s voice was small when she answered. “I don’t know how to bend water out of the air.”

“Oh. Well, what a time to learn,” Y/N muttered. She bunched up her dress around her and sat down heavily in the dirt. She really needed to learn when to stop talking. “What’s your name?” Y/N asked, trying to be polite. She didn’t really know what else to do. They were stuck in this cave and weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Katara.” she sat down across from Y/N, an arm’s length away. “And I already know yours.” She wasn’t too hard to read. She looked like the person who held all her emotions on her sleeve. She wasn’t mad at Y/N, she just looked suspicious of her. Y/N was sure she looked the same. They represented two sides of a war. Wait, could Y/N even say that anymore? Were they two opposing sides? Or side’s adjacent now?

“I guess I should say thank you?”

Y/N waved her away almost immediately and Katara looked grateful that she didn’t have to say anything else. Y/N picked her words carefully. “I think that we both helped each other.”

Katara raised one eyebrow and stayed silent. A clear indication she wanted Y/N to continue. Y/N sighed. “I was… planningonleaving,” she said it quickly, like the words would burn her mouth. It was the first time she admitted it outloud and it felt surprisingly nice. Like when you’re underwater running out of air and you finally reach the surface. “But, I couldn’t do it. I was scared of leaving. You gave me an opportunity to get away.”

“Then why don’t you seem happy about it?” Katara’s face was so open, she looked like she genuinely wanted to hear about what Y/N was going through. She didn’t think she had ever met anyone like that before.

“That’s the worst part of it.” Y/N whispered like there was someone around to hear her admit it. “I have regrets. Not everything but–and I know, I know it’s stupid of me to think that but, I just wish I had kept my mouth shut and done what she had told me to do.” Y/N put her head in her hands. How could feel like that? One minute she was weightless, the next moment she couldn’t breathe from the pressure in her chest.

“Like kill me.” Katara frowned.

“No.” Y/N recovered quickly. “That was never something I would have done. I—I thought that my guilt would be gone if I was, and it’s not.”

“Because that’s not how feelings work. You can’t just wish them away. They’re going to stay until you can let go of them.”

“That’s...” Probably true and definitely deeper than Y/N wanted to go. Because Y/N wanted to let go, so why hadn’t she? What were the claws of guilt hooked on? Where had everything gone wrong?

Neither of them slept fully that night. The cave had too much light for Y/N to feel like it was night time even though her body told her it was. Everytime she closed her eyes, she tossed and turned fitfully. She woke up from dozing one time and Katara was sitting up looking off in the distance with tired, unfocused eyes. Another time Y/N sat up and Katara was sleeping nearby, her head pillowed on her arms. The third time Y/N was jerked out of her sleep she swore she woke up to Azula’s voice but after looking around, realized that she wasn’t there. It felt like she was hallucinating, her dreams mixing with reality.

The last time Y/N woke up it was for good. Her sleeves were covered in greasepaint from rolling around in her sleep, using her elbow as a pillow. Her stomach ached with hunger pangs. She leaned her head back against some rocks. “They could have at least given us food,” she groaned.

Katara’s stomach echoed her sentiment from where she was pacing with a low growl. She grimaced. “Maybe let’s not talk about food. It’ll only make it worse.”

Just then, above them, there was a loud rumbling as a rock was removed from the entrance of the tunnel they were dropped down from. Y/N went to stand next to Katara. They squinted up at the blinding light that came in through the hole. “You’ve got company,” One of the Dai Li shouted down to them. They watched as a figure was pushed and rolled down the tunnel to a stop at their feet.

The red scar on his face was unmistakable. “Zuko!”

Zuko pushed himself to his knees and scowled at them. Katara slowly started backing away from them. She looked between Zuko and Y/N defensively. Y/N could tell she was feeling outnumbered. “No, Katara wait–” Y/N started to say.

“What are you doing here?!” Zuko grabbed Y/N’s arm and turned her around to face him.

She shook his hand off. “What?”

“Why are you here?” He asked again. “Is this one of Azula’s tricks?”

Y/N watched his mouth move and heard the words he said but Y/N just stared. Of course he wouldn’t know. Last thing he knew, Azula and her were joined at the hip.

It seemed the answer was clear as day on her face. His eyes widened and then his face returned to his usual frown. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Y/N had taken a few steps back, creating a large distance between the two of them. She kept looking between him and Katara–who was eyeing them closely from across the cavern.

“Had what?” she asked, confused.

“The ability to defy her.”

It was Y/N’s turn to scowl. “I’ve always had it in me,” she said defensively. “This is just the first time I’ve used it against her.”

She’d always had a streak of defiance. That’s what Azula liked about her in the first place. But all these years of being friends with her had made Y/N compliant and malleable because those were the types of friends Azula needed. Y/N’s rebellious streak of never listening to her teachers or parents had faded when she realized the kind of trouble it could get her into when you were friends with a young firebender with a temper.

Zuko sat against a rock and set his head in his hands. Y/N noticed his hair was longer than before, scruffy looking. He didn’t look sad, just beaten.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N blurted out. When both Katara and Zuko looked at her. She sighed inwardly. She hated that she had so many people to apologize to. She groaned and fisted her hands in her air. She paced back forth between them. “I’m sorry for… what do I even say? I’m sorry for chasing you around the Earth Kingdom and trying to capture you? I’m sorry for lying and being deceitful and… fuck!” Y/N kicked the toe of her boot into a rock. The sharp pain did nothing to distract her. Y/N didn’t know why it was so hard to find the words she wanted to say.

Zuko didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Kind of hard to not do what the Fire Lord orders.”

“Well, you’re not the only one who was chasing after us.” Katara glared at Zuko.

Zuko glanced at Katara with his one good eye and looked back at his hands. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I do! You’re always following us, hunting Aang, who is by the way, the world’s last hope for peace! You’re a terrible person. But what do you care? You’re the Fire Lord’s son. Spreading war, violence and hatred is in your blood.”

None of this was directed at Y/N but she was rocked by the powerful words Katara spoke anyways. Every word she said rang true. The Avatar–Aang, was not someone who was meant to be captured, and Y/N was sure in this moment she couldn’t trust or fight for a Nation that wanted him all to themselves. She didn’t know how she didn’t see it before.

Katara was crying softly in the corner she situated herself in. “The Fire Nation killed my mother. It doesn’t matter what you say, you can never tell me they’re fighting for good.”

Y/N felt a pang of sympathy for Katara. She hated seeing other people cry. She wanted to move closer and comfort her but she wasn’t sure how well that would be received.

“I’m sorry.” Zuko lifted his head to look at Katara.

She looked taken aback. She wiped her eyes and the three of them sat in companionable silence. Y/N felt so miserable for the three of them, sitting in a cavern together. Two sides of the war and one girl who was now stuck in the middle, looking for a way out of it all. Two, who had worked for and acted in place for those more powerful and had no choice in anything. And the one who took the hardships for it all.

Y/N heard a rumbling over her right shoulder, and in an instant, the wall was knocked down. Through the rubble and dust she saw the Avatar and Iroh.

“Aang!” Katara beamed. She ran and hugged him. “I knew you would come.

Iroh walked over and hugged Zuko, which Y/N was surprised to see him return. “Uncle, I don’t understand. What are you doing with the Avatar?”

“Saving you, that’s what!” The Avatar quipped.

Zuko snarled and Iroh had to hold him back. “I think we need to talk, Zuko.” Iroh nodded at The Avatar and Katara. “Go help your other friends. We’ll catch up!”

The Avatar grabbed Katara's hand and they began jogging back through the tunnel he had made.

“Y/N,” Katara called from the tunnel. “Come with us.” The Avatar stood next to her, looking at her like she had grown another head.

Y/N looked at Zuko and Iroh, people she knew, people who were where she was from, people from home. “Why?”

“Where else are you going to go?” Katara asked.

Y/N sent another look to Zuko. He looked like he wanted to say something, maybe tell her not to go with them, but he didn’t and Y/N ran off with Katara and the Avatar.

They ran into a larger cavern, much like the one they were just in. Next to them was an aqueduct and from somewhere Y/N could hear trickling water filling it.

“We’ve got to find Sokka and Toph!” Katara said to the Avatar.

They were two steps ahead of her, and Y/N kept looking over her shoulder to see if Iroh and Zuko had caught up yet. Instead, she saw the last person she expected.

“Duck!” She yelled. A ball of blue fire was blocked by a slab of Earth the Avatar brought up. Katara ran around the stone and used her bending to drag a wall of water up from the aqueduct and pummel Azula with it. Flames hit the water and evaporated it instantly. Y/N stuck behind the wall, feeling helpless in the fight.

Azula jumped and ran across a row of crystals above them. Y/N noticed she was no longer wearing the Kyoshi warrior uniform. She was wearing a Dai Li uniform and had Y/N’s sword strapped to her back!

A white-hot streak of rage shot through Y/N. She didn’t even know how to use one and she was carrying Y/N’s around like a trophy!

Azula jumped a small space between the crystals she was balanced on and a large tower of rock. She threw three fireballs at Katara and the Avatar who blocked it with a water shield above them.

Azula landed in a crouch on a small ledge and as soon as the water fell around them, the Avatar used earthbending to knock the tower down. Azula jumped at the last minute to avoid being crushed and landed between Katara and him.

Before a thought could even go through her mind, Y/N launched herself out from behind the rock and ran full speed at Azula. She hit her with a grunt and tackled her to the ground. They landed in a pile of writhing limbs.

“Give it back!” Y/N screamed. She yanked her sword out from under Azula and kneeled on her chest, the sword posed over her throat. There was a beat, and then another. Every sound in the cavern was blocked out by the blood rushing in Y/N’s ears. She was elated to see the look of shock and terror that crossed Azula’s face. Y/N wasn’t able to enjoy it for long.

An explosion next to her knocked her of Azula and she went rolling away. It could only have come from one person. Zuko stood in the entrance of the cavern, still poised like he was ready to throw another fireball. The five of them looked between each other and Y/N broke into a smile when she saw him.

But he didn’t return it.

Suddenly, he threw a fire punch at the Avatar.

He blocked it with a gust of wind but was still thrown backwards from the force of it. Upon seeing her brother fight for her, Azula began a fight with Katara.

And Y/N just watched it all unfold in front of her, helpless in the bending war that was going on.

Zuko threw fire-punch after fire-punch at the Avatar. She could see the anger in his eyes as The Avatar evaded the flames each time using earthbending and airbending to jump and weave around fireballs. He bowled over Zuko with a large gust of wind and jumped to perch on a crystal at the top of the cavern. Zuko yelled in frustration and jumped to his feet.

He set his feet and threw the largest fireball she’d ever seen him make at the Avatar. He bent the crystals around him but the energy from the fire still hit it, knocking him into the cavern wall. He jumped around the top of the cavern on ledges, avoiding Zuko’s fire whips. He used earthbending to knock a stalactite down from the ceiling, causing Zuko to dive to the side.

Azula was having just as much luck as her brother. Katara had waterbent shackles around one of Azula’s arms and one of her legs. She tried to yank out of their grasp but there was no use.

Y/N thought back to a time when seeing her be incapacitated would have scared her, she would run to Azula’s aid even if it was the middle of danger. Now, she just watched as she struggled.

Suddenly, the shackles were cut away with fire and Zuko jumped in the fight, and Y/N saw her chance.

She jumped in, ducking under a fire whip. She sliced at his leg and cut Zuko. He stumbled a bit and threw fire at her that was quickly extinguished by Katara’s water. Together they worked to push Zuko further back, Y/N waving her sword around in his face, occasionally catching some skin and Katara extinguishing any flame that got too close to Y/N. With Y/N as a distraction, Katara was able to encase one of his arms in water. He thrust the other in Y/N’s face but she carved upward with her sword and cut the middle of his palm. He winced and pulled it to his chest.

All of a sudden, Azula jumped down from above Y/N and shot a fire blast at her. She jumped away but the edge of her Kyoshi dress caught fire. She patted it out quickly and looked to see that Azula had turned on Katara, shooting fire blasts her way. She was forced to let go of Zuko’s trapped hand to defend herself. Y/N ran to Katara reaching her just in time for her to throw a water shield around them. With the onslaught of fire from Azula and Zuko though, the shield busted and they were thrown into the rocks.

Y/N’s vision went fuzzy. She could tell something was happening in front of her but her eyes wouldn’t focus and the ringing in her ears was too loud. She felt something warm roll down the side of her face. What was that? Next to her, Katara was lying motionless, her hair loosened from it’s braid. Y/N reached out and shook the other girl’s shoulder.

“Hey, Katara, we have to get up.” She groaned and blinked her eyes open.

Y/N grabbed her wrist and pulled Katara to her feet. They were instantly surrounded by Dai Li agents. Katara pulled water from the aqueduct and encircled them with it. She flared her hands out and tentacle-like projections waved around them. Y/N hefted her sword but it hadn’t been much use and it still wouldn't be when the Dai Li trapped her like a stone mummy.

On the other side of the aqueduct, the Avatar faced down Azula and Zuko and more Dai Li agents. There were too many of them for the three of them to fight off. She watched as he turned away from them and created a crystal tent. Then, the crystal tent began to glow.

It was blinding. The crystals exploded and the Avatar rose in the air. Everyone stopped to look in awe. Y/N saw now that it was him glowing, his eyes and tattoos lit up the cavern like a small sun.

And then the lightning hit. The Avatar’s body jerked in the air as lightning coarsed through him. Someone screamed. It might have been her, but Y/N wasn’t sure. And he fell.

Katara didn’t miss a beat as she created a large wave that flooded the cavern, knocked over most of the Dai Li and carried the two of them to the Avatar. She caught him before he hit the ground. She held him like he weighed nothing, his clothes were torn and burnt. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. Katara looked up at Y/N with tears in her eyes. Y/N’s face was wet too; she knew what she had to do. She turned her back on them.

Last stand it is, she thought to herself as she raised her sword against the army of benders in front of her. But a wall of fire blocked them from attacking.

Iroh jumped down in front of Y/N. “You have to get out of here. I’ll hold them off as long as I can!”

Y/N grabbed the Avatar’s other arm and threw it over her shoulder. Together, her and Katara dragged his limp body to the waterfall where she bent the water and lifted them up.

They landed in the grass behind the palace. High above them, circling like they were looking for something was the Avatar’s sky bison and the rest of his friends.

Y/N stood and waved her hands above her head. “HEY!” she screamed. “Over here!!”

Someone on the sky bison heard her and they turned their way.

Y/N faced Katara. She was still holding the Avatar in her arms. Her hand shook as she pushed his shirt aside and looked at the wound on his chest. It was red and laced outwards like tendrils of smoke. Y/N looked away.

She grabbed one of Katara’s hands. “You can heal him.” If she was as good of a healer as she was a fighter, the Avatar would be fine.

“I–”

“You can.”

The sky bison landed next to them and Katara and Y/N lifted the Avatar up to Katara’s brother to be pulled on.

He grabbed Katara’s arm first and pulled her up onto the bison. He looked down at Y/N’s outstretched hand and hesitated. But then he grabbed it anyways. They needed to get out of here, they needed miles and miles between them and Ba Sing Se and Y/N was coming with them whether he protested it later or not.

A/N: so there she is!! I might have unintentionally lied and said that we have sokka x y/n content in this part. I planned on this actually being longer but I was too tired to continue this one any more and I feel like Y/N and Sokka talking in a brand new part would be better. Also! It was so hard to write a non-bender in this fight?? Let me know what you guys think!! ❤️❤️

---

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @bubblebars @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @naanlianid @creation-magician @lunariasilver @vintagerose1014516

#atla #sokka x reader #a:tla #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar resurgence #avatar fic #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #sokka x female reader #toph beifong #aang #katara #zuko #azula #ty lee #mai #uncle iroh

395 notes · View notes

zestyquetzalcoatl · 4 years ago

Text

Luck is petty.

Like everything else about his luck, Gladstone hates this and loves it in equal turns, often both at once.

It’s pettiness means he always knows that people’s minds are their own (or at least not influenced by him). Once someone has decided he is insufferable and deserving of only a kick in the pants, it cannot make them give him things or put up with him anyway (ignoring the odd encounters he’s had with a chicken in a bright pink cape.*1 He’s pretty certain something entirely different then luck was at play there, though he has no idea what), which is why he mostly gets given free stuff by strangers instead of people who have met him before. It can influence the physical world, and that alone.

He loves this about it because it means he can exert some level of control over it, want and hate and whittle down its options until it’s forced to give him what he actually wants. He loves it because he is terrified of what it could do if it wasn’t petty. How far it could go, how much it could effect, how badly it would twist the world around it, while he would have no control or hope of containing it.

He hates it because petty luck is petty. It cares about riches, wining bets, getting free things, and curtailing talent and hard work. It can’t (and doesn’t) win him friends or happiness or love. It protects his physical health but doesn’t give a damn about his mental, content to let him be abused and taken advantage of (especially if that gives it another chance to win a prize), so long as he isn’t hungry, isn’t homeless, and isn’t injured. (Liu Hai’s was not the first gilded cage he’d been trapped in, just one that was unusually hard to escape.)

Luck is petty but Gladstone is not.

Sometimes (when the chips are down and the stakes are high) this means that his luck has to play by Gladstone’s rules.

��——————————————O0—0—0O————————————————

Gladstone had run into Fethry by complete chance earlier in the day, and he’d spent the last several hours cheerfully walking and chatting with his red-hatted cousin as they meandered their way across town. Gladstone’s luck had been in full effect as they walked, guiding their route via construction sites that had blocked roads, flying $20 bills and interesting butterflies that tempted them down back alleys and side streets, and a very memorable dumpster that gave Gladstone a bad jump scare by falling over and releasing about twenty cats into the general area. The path they’d taken had been dictated largely by whatever looked like the least hassle, and had eventually ended up with them down by the docks, getting lost amongst the warehouses and shipping containers of the many trading companies that had operations in Duckburg Harbor.

Gladstone didn’t mind being utterly lost, he never had. His luck meant they’d get where they ought to go without being late, so he was content to simply wander at random while he enjoyed his cousin’s enthusiastic rambling.

Popping out of a particularly out-of-the-way alley, he realized that he and Fethry had ended up at the main road, less then twenty yards from the beginning of the pier. What was more, he could see Donald’s car.

It was pulled just off of the asphalt and onto the concrete, and parked behind a pile of boxes large enough that it likely couldn’t be spotted from anywhere except the small alley they’d just exited. The 313 was old, and in even worse repair then normal, with one of its mirrors duct taped on, and a couple of its fender skirts boasting decently sized dents. Slumped in the driver’s seat was Donald, with blood on his beak.

For a moment Gladstone felt like he had been plunged underwater.

He had seen his unlucky cousin injured before, many times even. Donald, Della, and Scrooge were always finding a way to get themselves into life-or-death danger, and even when they weren’t trouble managed to find Donald anyway. He’d seen his cousin thrown through walls, struck by lightning, almost crushed by falling boulders, and passed out in all sorts of places weirder then his own oddly parked car. But for all that, he’s rarely, if ever, seen his cousin bleed, so he thinks it’s probably the blood that makes everything about his just scream wrong.

The underwater-feeling, the feeling of wrongness, is intense, blurring the edges of the world and muffling all sound. He can just barely hear himself shout through the veil of unreality that, for one long moment, seems to drown him.

“Donald?!”

Beside him Fethry stops talking, then the underwater-feeling shatters to make way for the electrocuting feeling of ice-cold terror, and the next moment he and Fethry are both sprinting for the car.

Donald wakes up when they reach the car, both of them somewhat crashing into it in their panic. The more important thing, is that there are bloody petals in Donald’s lap. Gladstone suddenly feels like there’s something caught in his own throat that he has to force words out past, because he knows what bloody petals mean, but no no No NO—

“Donald, Donald what, w-who—“

Any doubt is swept away when Donald goes to respond and starts choking instead, coughing up not just bloody petals but entire flower heads. Red, Blue, Green, Pink, Gold, and White, all different shapes and kinds. Gladstone feels like every emotion he has has been flicked on at once, a white-hot intensity that burns through him just waiting to explode outward. The world around him is in crystalline clarity, all his senses turned up to eleven and recording in overwhelming detail, and he’s feeling everything at once. He knows what hanahaki is but he doesn’t know his flowers, can’t decipher what’s before him. Can’t know and can’t guess and can’t let Donald die.

Donald finishes hacking up a morbid bouquet and starts trying to tell him and Fethry, voice garbled even worse then normal, about having several hours left and wanting to be next to the ocean. Fethry is listening to Donald. Gladstone is doing anything but.

He hasn’t been Cloverleaf in years, and it’s been just as long since he actively controlled his luck. Focusing in the draining way it takes to Curse or Bless is not something he does outside of the mask, instead just letting Gladstone Gander be blown wherever his luck wishes to take him.

But by god he does it now, pouring everything he can into Blessing Donald more intensely then he’s ever done before, wanting and pushing, making bets against himself with devastating consequences if Donald dies. Deciding, with no hesitation or room for chance, what he’ll do —do to himself— if this goes wrong. Gladstone will never be okay again if Donald dies, making his luck agree is just a matter of making sure it knows that he means physically too.

He stifles and kills the urge to Curse whoever hurt his cousin, because that won’t help Donald now. But eyes are burning red with roiling anger, fear and worry adding fuel to the fire, the temper he shares with Donald on the few occasions he’s well and truly ticked on full display. And he will not release his death grip on his cousin’s arm.

And Gladstone doesn’t know it, but Paperinik has seen Cloverleaf Curse and Bless before, and can very much recognize the light static electricity jumping between his cousin’s feathers and the look of vicious concentration on his cousin’s face, even if he wasn’t expecting it at all.

Several miles across town in McDuck Mansion, six people discover they abruptly need Donald for something all at once. The worry that begins to break out when they can’t find him anywhere bubbles over into full blown panic as one of them trips into a trashcan, and a bunch of bloody petals are flung out as it goes flying.

———————————————O0—0—0O————————————————

Well! That wasn’t how I was expecting to loose my day. @bamboozledeagle this is your fault, I woke up to your Hanahaki post sitting at the top of my Tumblr dash, and spent the whole rest of the day writing it on-and-off. Then when I went to post it the WiFi crashed :/ so I had to wait a day.

This is completely unedited, so sorry about any glaring mistakes. I probably change style several times and I think I even changed tense once on accident. Oops. Also sorry about the formatting, I wrote it on notepad and then just copy-pasted to here, and only bothered fixing the italics.

The Gladstone/Cloverleaf on display here is my own version that I started playing around with after reading this post by @adamarinayu: https://adamarinayu.tumblr.com/post/176467180262/hey-yall asking for a competent version of Cloverleaf, but haven’t actually written anything with prior to this.

Blessing and Cursing is just what he calls manipulating his luck to make good things or bad things happen to other people. It also has the added bonus of helping protect his identity by making Cloverleaf seem magical instead of lucky.

Oh and Bam, the chicken in a pink cape line is also your fault by the way: *1 https://bamboozledeagle.tumblr.com/post/617956657118511104/i-love-how-in-your-and-other-peoples-aus

Sorry if the links don’t work on mobile.

#ZCQ writes #duckverse #ducktales 2017 #hanahaki #gladstone gander #donald duck #fethry duck #cloverleaf #duck avenger #paperinik #only for like a sentence but he gets mentioned #first work in this fandom #june #2020 #ZCQ post #this is how i tag right?

233 notes · View notes

cienie-isengardu · 4 years ago

Text

The Development of Law and Zoro relationship - Part VI: Wano, Against Emperors (The Untold Journey)

<<Part I: Before Meeting>> <<Part II: Sabaody Archipelago, The First Meeting>> <<Part III: Punk Hazard: The Alliance (A)__(B)>> <<Part IV: Dressrosa, The Breaking Point (The Plan Failed)__ (Saving Law)__(Protecting Law)__ (Birdcage, Pica and Doflamingo)__ (Aftermath)>> <<Part V: Zou, The Kindred Spirits (Traveling Together)__(Searching for Nakama)__ (Reunion)__ (Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance)__(The Last Moments before War)>> <<Part VI: Wano, Against Emperors (The Untold Journey)__(Zoro & Luffy means Trouble) ...>>

A word of introduction to the 6th part of The Development of Law and Zoro relationship: Wano arc is still an ongoing adventure and because of that, weeks if not months will pass before we learn all the details and its impact on the main characters and world as a whole. Right now, One Piece reached the 1000th chapter and from on, the Supernovas will finally face Big Mom and Kaido. It’s hard to tell if this will be their final battle or not and how much the author still has up his sleeve about Zoro and Law in regard to their relationship during this arc. I suspect some flashback may happen in the near future, especially since Luffy, Law and Zoro are going to fight arm to arm with Kid and Killer against the main target of the alliance - the Emperors. Because of that I can’t rule out the possibility that upcoming chapters could show the dynamic of Zoro and Law already analyzed by me in a different light yet I decided to slowly tackle the analysis of what was shown so far and eventually write an annex and/or correction if the future source material will bring any contradiction.

Every part of the analysis so far got an individual subtitle from me, as a quick summary of Zoro and Law’s relationship stage. For example, Dressrosa Arc was the breaking point that in the visible way separated their neutrality (indifference?) from previous adventures and the clear comradeship presented from on. Wano is pretty hard to name properly so I went with the general “Against Emperors'' title. But frankly speaking, the Together But Separated so far would fit even better because from chapter 909 to 1000, Law and Zoro interacted directly or indirectly (including, having some thoughts about the other) for like, maybe 10 chapters at best. At the same time, most of the likely development of their relationship was happening offscreen - the journey to Wano that is basically omitted by the story so far and so is the time before Straw Hats went undercover. The upcoming confrontation with Emperors thankfully is going to change that. Because of lack of direct interaction I decided to write also about A) Law and Straw Hats (especially Straw Hats men) and B) Supernovas to show how different it is from his and Zoro dynamic.

That said, time for a proper analysis!

The alliance separated into four groups. Luffy's team went to rescue Sanji and got into a fight with Big Mom. Zoro and Law became part of Kinemon’s team and headed to Wano Country scrambled in Law’s submarine. For now (up to chapter 1000), there was little to no detail or flashback about that time of journey, but who knows what future chapters will reveal.

Despite the lack of proper information, some conclusions may be drawn on the basis of previously established informations and logic:

➽ On Zou, Law promised Kinemon a safe passage to Wano. Since shogun Orochi worked closely with Kaido, Beast Pirates posed an additional threat on this part of the sea. Another problem was limited ways to enter the country by ocean. The hidden tunnel leading to Mogura Port was used only when Kaido or Orochi granted someone permission thus was out of question. The other known method was the Climbing Koi Waterfall which itself was a pretty dangerous method, especially since sea currents and weather there were all the time bad for sailing (chapter 910)

So far, there is no information how exactly Team Kinemon avoided or passed by the natural dangers nor how they entered the country (did they find another way underwater?).To get into the country without being spotted by the enemy the submarine most likely needed to be submerged for the majority if not all of the course since Zou alone was already targeted by Beast Pirates.

➽ It’s hard to tell how long the journey took from Zou to the samurai homeland - what depended on the Elephant’s location, submarine’s speed achieved while sailing or during the submergence and eventual obstacles on the way. The most telling time reference we have is that:

⟹ Luffy’s team needed “multiple (several) days” to reach Big Mom’s territory (chapter 823, 824). Nami said Luffy wasted a week’s food supply which also supports the claim that the journey was meant to last for more than one-two days.

⟹ Additionally, the enemy subordinates transporting Sanji to wedding (chapter 825) also needed “several days'' to cross the borderline of Big Mom’s territory and they left Zou two days before Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky and Law get there. The Straw Hats spent at least two days before they separated into two groups, which gives the enemy four days of advantage. It feels like Big Mom’s pirates sailed around a week (4 day at minimum).

⟹ Saving Sanji and fighting the Charlotte Family took another five days. On the fifth day, in the early morning the Straw Hats escape Totto Land (chapter 901)

⟹ While Luffy’s team sailed to Wano (chapter 903), manga showed the events happening at the same time in a different places, including the world leaders sailing to Mary Geoise for Reverie that last for a seven days. In chapter 904, it was said the conference would start in two days that have passed in chapter 908. Chapter 909 brings the storyline back to Wano and chapter 910 is the moment when Luffy’s team reach the country boardline. It seems safe to assume Luffy’s group took at least 2 days to reach Wano.

⟹ The journey from Zou to Whole Cake Island took Straw Hats several days but from Totto Land to Wano closer to two days.

⟹ Jack the Drought’s return to Wano happened several days before Luffy’s arrival. Since “several” is an “indefinite number more than 2 or 3 but not many”(x), he most likely got there before Luffy left Big Mom’s territory. Of course that doesn’t tell much how long it took to sail from Zou to Wano, because Jack needed to be rescue from the bottom of sea first (after Elephant destroyed all ships of Beast Pirates on Momonosuke’s order, chapter 824) but at the same time it suggests that journey from Wano and back took days. To find Jack, the Kaido’s people most likely followed the vivre card - otherwise, how did they manage to find and rescue the person stuck deep underwater? And because they traveled through their captain’s territory, they didn’t need to avoid anyone in their journey, unlike the alliance.

Though it’s impossible to determine how long time passed from Luffy leaving Zou to arriving in Wano, it was longer than a week yet the most likely shorter than a month. I feel like the safest bet is something around two weeks. When Luffy arrived in Wano, Zoro’s group was already working on their tasks yet the indirect information suggests that Kinemon’s group most likely traveled for a few(?) days rather than just hours. Whatever it was a few hours or one day or more, the Zoro and Law’s group was stuck in enclosed space deep under water for a while.

➽ The manga does not provide a precise scale to measure Thousand Sunny with Polar Tang. The closest in that matter are frames from Marineford and Dressrosa arcs

in which both Polar Tang and Thousand Sunny look tiny compared to Marine Battleship. It’s hard to tell for sure the difference in length but it’s not something truly drastic. Thousand Sunny uses a soldier dock system and the Coup de Burst in specific situations, relying mainly on sailing in a traditional way. Although Submarine is also equipped with sails, more often was shown during immersion. Both boats are equipped with some advanced technology though I suspect that engines and machinery for air circulation and heat (the basic life support equipment) built into Polar Tang may take some of space (that and at least some space was intended for the operating room).

➽ Even if Law’s Polar Tang was spacious boat, it needed to accommodate Heart Pirates (Law and his 20 crewmembers), samurais (Kinemon, Momonosuke, Raizo and Kanjuro) and remaining part of Straw Hats (Zoro, Robin, Usopp, Franky). An eight additional people to feed and bunk somewhere, in case of a longer journey. For record, Thousand Sunny during its journey to Dressrosa carried only 9 Straw Hats and four additional people (Law, Momonosuke, Kinemon, Caesar Clown). Even if both ships are more or less of the same size, Sunny hadn’t been crowded like Polar Tang was while heading to Wano.

➽ In contrast to normally sailing Thousand Sunny, the submerged submarine has less space to find privacy (isolation) from the group or the noise. All members of Straw Hat crew have their personal space on the ship, be it Usopp’s Factory or Sanji’s kitchen or Zoro’s gym (lookout point). A place they may work in peace or relax. On Polar Tang, samurais and Straw Hats were the guests, thus on personal territory of other pirates. If they didn’t get along well, the journey could be awkward and uncomfortable. Most likely it wasn’t, considering how Heart Pirates were excited to meet their allies and the two crews already were partying together on Zou. At the same time, during that party, the lonely panel (evidence) showed only Usopp interacting with Penguin(?). Zoro was drinking with wolf Mink, while Robin, Franky and samurais weren’t there at all. The little bits of Law’s crew presented in the previous arc suggest they are more emotionally open and easy going people than their captain and both crews have a lot of stories to share and laugh about during their journey to bond over. Usopp and Franky most likely didn’t have any problem fitting into the new situation, but Zoro is a much more reserved, no-nonsense person than them, especially around strangers. Much more intimidating too. And the last journey with Bartolomeo’s crew proved how short-tempered he can be if surrounded by noisy and/or idiotic people for too long.

➽ Straw Hats for the first time had a chance to see Law on his turf. Up to this moment, they interacted on either neutral, enemy or Straw Hats’ home ground. Now the roles were reserved, Law was the host and captain of the submarine. Kinemon may be the leader of the team, but during the journey it was Trafalgar (and Heart Pirates) that guaranteed safety and took responsibility for the wellbeing of the rest. Straw Hats were the ones who needed to adapt to the situation (like not getting in the way of Heart Pirates when the crew performed their duties) and trust Heart Pirates’ navigation skills.

➽ Adding to that, all the additional 8 people weren’t really accustomed to traveling underwater for longer period of time. Of course, Straw Hats had some experiences with the little submarine built by Franky but from all of them (beside maybe Franky himself), only Robin, at least manga-wise, took part in submerging search for Fishman Island, two years earlier - what was seen in chapter 490. And was apparently aware of the danger submerging too deeply.

All Straw Hats experienced submerging to Fishman Island but according to Nico, it was “nothing like a submarine” and it felt like they were “flying through the air” (chapter 604).

Which may imply that traveling in Law’s submarine was very new and/or different experiences to what Straw Hats knew.

➽ Also, out of 8 people, half were devil fruit users. We may only wonder how spending hours/days underwater could affect samurais (who were still catching up with the technological change that happened in the last 20 years) and Robin - and depending on the result, affecting Zoro, Usopp and Franky. Like was mentioned above, Robin already had some experiences with submerging but we must remember that “Shark Submerge III” was built by Franky, thus trusted to be a safe way of exploring the ocean while Polar Tang was totally new, alien territory belonging to other pirate crew. Once again, we don’t know how long the journey lasted and how enclosed and crowded space was and how being trapped for a longer period of time under water was affecting devil fruit users. Claustrophobia and panic attacks could happen at any moment, even more if the submarine was attacked by sea monsters or flowed into an excessively strong current. Law presumably was used to the feeling and enclosed space by now but at the same time, his crew so far doesn’t seem to have any other devil fruit user beside him. Traveling together with so many (inexperienced) stranger devil fruit users could be much more exhausting than it seemed at first glance.

➽�� Frankly, the additional scene in episode 490 showed that:

A) living conditions on the submarine can be affected by external factors. In this case, the submarine going through an underwater volcanic(?) region caused the rise of temperature inside the boat and thus brough discomfort to Heart Pirates.

B) The living conditions worsened to the point Bepo was suffering overheating. He admitted “I hate riding the submarine. Spending several hours in a cramped area together with these scruffy guys.” and even kinda bullied Penguin and Shachi into submarine ascent so he could breath with fresh air.

We don’t know much about the underwater region(s) between Zou and Wano but manga mentioned at least strong sea currents. Depending how deep the submarine could - or rather needed - to submerge, the outside temperature (and pressure) of water could affect traveling people. Generally, the deeper into the ocean, the temperature is lower while the hydrostatic pressure increases. Of course, waters of the Grand Line are unpredictable and there was no one in the group that knew for sure what awaited them during underwater travel. So if even experienced Heart Pirate like Bepo, who according to SBS (vol. 84, chapter 840) met Law shorty after Cora’s death and is his friend since then thus we may assume has the same years of experiences with submarine, could be so affected by heat, cramped area and hours of traveling underwater with “scruffy guys”, the possibility of happening something similar to Straw Hats or Samurais can’t be excluded.

➽ In contrast to the uncertain situation of devil fruit users, Franky and Usopp most likely were smitten with all the technology of the submarine and bonding over it with Heart Pirates. In addition, both men were friendly by nature.

➽ Zoro, sadly, wouldn't have much to do there. No lookout point available, no guarding ship, no way for a serious trening or real fight with Law or samurais (to avoid destroying the submerged boat). Did he happily sleep or drink through the journey or did he grow restless at some point, we don’t have any clue so far. At the same time, Zoro wasn’t on his (safe) ship, had other Straw Hats (and samurais) to look after, didn’t have anything important to do (no real duties, no knowledge how to maintain submarine) and unhealthy habit of sleeping barely 3 hours per day that could finally took its toll. Though looking at Law’s dark circles under eyes, his sleeping habits may not be better than Zoro's .

In general, the alliance journey to Wano could provide a lot of interesting and important details about the development of Law and Zoro relationship, especially since for the first time in the four arcs, Law was on his home ground and had better control over the course of events. At the same time, his dorky crew could tell many stories of their (and Law’s) past or previous adventures. There were also matters of Wano to discuss, but also no place to run away if Zoro wanted some distance from noisy Law’s crewmembers - on Thousand Sunny Law at least could choose to sleep on the ship deck instead of being cramped with others in the men quarter. Straw Hats and samurais didn’t have such luxury.

Zoro and Law could learn something new about each other or simply fall into an already established dynamic or even get tired of each other after being forced to spend time together in enclosed space. Sadly, so far manga did not provide anything useful about their journey.

The next part: Zoro & Luffy Means Troubles...

#one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar law #The development of Law’s relationship with Zoro #wano arc #i'm impatient #which is why i'm slowly writting this meta even though arc is not done yet #i'm so mad that we don't know how straw hats heart pirates and samurais were dealing with each other #on this tiny submarine #trapped under water #como on that is a crime against readers!#one piee spoilers #zoro & law #law & zoro

27 notes · View notes

brandyllyn · 4 years ago

Text

In our own image... (09)

Chapter 09

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 2700 words. (Read it on AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) sexual thoughts.

Poe had a spring in his step when he finally rolled out of his hammock. The sun was shining, the weather was clear, and it was his day off. Not even the cold, watery caf that the kitchen was serving was enough to dampen his mood.

He had chores to take care of. Laundry was a big one. And he would need to find some glue to see if he could get the sole of his left boot put back together. It was probably time to see about scrounging up a new set, but he still felt like he had only just broken this pair in. He whistled to himself while he worked, trying different tones and words back and forth with BB-8 who seemed to find the exercise amusing.

"What did I say?" he asked as the droid rocked from side to side.

"Friend Poe said 'Hi I am sandwich'," BB-8 trilled back. "But Friend Poe is not sandwich."

Poe grinned, re-lacing his boot, "Okay, then, say pilot for me once again buddy."

BB-8 whistled and Poe whistled back, but judging from the little spin the droid did he was no closer on the second try than he had been the first. It was probably a futile effort. He wasn’t even sure he could hear the full range of noises that Kina made when she was talking - and she understood him perfectly fine when he spoke Basic.

Kina. She was the reason he was in such a good mood. After the sabacc game they had stayed up together for a while. Not talking, there was no one there to translate, but it hadn’t stopped them from communicating.

Poe leaned his head back for a moment, closing his eyes and remembering the feel of her against him. The way she had licked and then bit his collarbone and he’d thought he was going to embarrass himself right then. He knew she had a talented mouth, had heard what she could do with it, but having it on him had been a new and delightful experience he looked forward to repeating.

He’d been a gentleman of course. Hands on her hips or cradling her back, her neck, her head. And yeah, maybe his mouth had drifted away from hers a few times as well, licking against the shell of her ear or wandering across her jaw. He liked the little gasps she made, and she didn’t seem to mind making them for him.

That had been two nights ago, and he hadn’t seen her in more than passing since then. Kept too busy by flight schedules and supply runs. Last night had been the first time he’d slept on base since then too. He’d arrived back late, not wanting to disturb her.

But today he had the day off. A full day to do whatever he wanted. And he wanted to do her.

He coughed, stumbling a step and tried to pass it off as tripping over a root. Even in his own head that sounded a little too much. He wanted to spend time with her. Just the two of them. As much as he enjoyed Finn and Rey and Rose and Chewie and Snap and and and and… it wasn’t privacy. It wasn’t a chance to really get to know someone.

Or to kiss them.

He hummed to himself when he got to lunch, dropping into a chair across from Finn. "Good morning!" he chirped, unable to stop the wide smile on his face. Next to Finn, Rey hid a raised eyebrow and a smile, turning down to her plate of food like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

To his right, Kaydel coughed pointedly.

"What," he turned to her. "What’s going on KoKo?"

Kaydel rolled her eyes. "You know I hate that."

"I do actually," he told her, reaching over her to pluck a piece of fruit off of Rey’s plate.

"Hey," Rey frowned at him. "Go get your own."

"You stole someone’s seat," Finn pointed out, tapping BB-8 with his foot in greeting.

"Yeah?" Poe looked around for a moment, "Whose?"

"Mine," BB-8 whistled and Poe gave him a confused look before his brain clicked. He turned and sure enough, there was Kina - holding a mug of something, one eyebrow raised. She whistled again, BB-8 repeating. "I was sitting there. Get your own."

Poe looked up at her, debated moving for a moment. The next available seat was at least four away. Much too far from her. "Nah," he shook his head. He opened his mouth to offer to get another chair but she moved before he could get the words out.

"Fine." The next thing Poe knew she was sliding into his lap, leaning her elbows on the table as she whistled at Finn. "Tell me more about the Imperial connection plates. Common knowledge seems to be they’re AX+, but it sounds like you’re saying they’re BX+. How do they get around the frequency issues?"

Poe’s eyes darted around the Commons. Thankfully, he was mistaken in his gut instinct that everyone was looking at them. It was no more than half of the lunchgoers, two third tops. What they were doing was incredibly inappropriate. Incredibly. But then again, he’d seen worse in the Commons before. Snap and Karé had practically been sucking each other’s tongues off in a corner just two days ago. Kina shifted slightly against him, shooting him a concerned look over her shoulder and he realized he’d been keeping himself stiffly from her.

Screw it. Poe slid a hand around her waist, pressing his nose to her shoulder for a moment before whispering into her ear, "This is nice."

She noticeably relaxed, dropping one of her hands to thread her fingers through his. Poe rested his chin on her shoulder, half listening to her and Finn talk back and forth about Imperial standards. Next to them, he saw Rey and Kaydel share a look and then both women got up, taking their plates with them.

Finn paused in his explanation to watch them leave, then looked at Kina. "There’s a chair free," he said pointedly.

"Yes, and?" she replied.

Rolling his eyes Finn grabbed his bowl, muttering something to himself too low for Poe to catch. When he was gone, Kina turned to Poe, sliding her arms around his neck. "Was it something I said?"

He snorted, leaning forward and giving her a light kiss. "Oh don’t mind them, they’re just jealous." She smiled and he kissed her again.

"I have the day free," he told her after a minute, "would you like to spend it together? Chewie told me about a stream and pool not too far from here."

"I should really work on the DZ unit," she grumbled. Poe had never heard a grumbling whistle before.

"Come on," he kissed her again, "have you taken time off since you got here?"

She seemed to think about it before shaking her head. "Okay, let me grab a bag?"

"I’ll meet you at the shop in ten."

It took several more kisses before he let her go, returning to his own quarters to grab his towel, a canteen, and a bag to stuff both into. He stopped by Ops on his way to the workshop and picked up an emergency beacon, just in case. He wasn’t expecting trouble but you never knew. It would also let him know if something happened and they needed to come back to base.

Kina was waiting for him when he showed up at the workshop, her own bag slung over her shoulder and K-0 darting little circles around her feet.

"Hi Kina," he said, kissing her cheek. "Hi K-0."

"Bad man," K-0 greeted back.

"We still on that?" Poe sighed.

He could see Kina’s shoulders shaking, hear small puffs of air leaving her nose. It occurred to him he’d never really heard her laugh. He reached a hand out to her and she took it, twining her fingers into his as they set out.

The pool wasn’t far, maybe a twenty minute walk to the nearby foothills. BB-8 and K-0 took turns darting ahead of them, calling back differing accounts of where the trail led. When they finally got there, Poe whistled softly to himself. It was better than Chewie had described.

The pool itself was maybe twenty feet across, and at least half that wide. It was fed by a small waterfall just above it, and had its own waterfall going to a stream just below that snaked off into the jungle. The water was crystal clear, but Poe still tested it with a few rocks and leaves, watching to see if anything came out to investigate while Kina laid down their things on the sunny flat rocks that edged the pool.

"It looks safe," he said after a minute, standing up with his hands on his hips. "I don’t think that there’s anything here that will eat…"

He trailed off when he turned to look at her. While he had been checking the water she had pulled off her boots and her shirt, leaving her in some kind of chest binding and her pants - which she shed as he was staring at her in stupifacation.

She hadn’t lied. Her spots really did go all the way down. Framing her stomach and hips, continuing down the outside of her thighs and calves and covering the tops of her feet. He was still trying to get over that when he saw her arms lift, her breasts doing interesting things in her chest wrap as she pulled her hair up on top of her head and secured it there with Maker only knew what.

"Are you done staring?" BB-8 asked him and Poe shot him a look. He hadn’t even heard her talk - wasn’t one hundred percent certain that the comment had come from her and not the droid himself. Regardless, he pulled his shirt over his head quickly, jerking his boots and pants off until he was wearing nothing but his briefs and the necklace he never parted from.

She was already sitting on the edge of a rock, her legs dipped into the water nearly to her knees. She sighed, tilting her head up to the sun and he just stared at her. Flummoxed. The way the sun glinted off her golden skin, her dark hair - his hands itched to touch her everywhere. His body reacted to the thought with enthusiasm and he groaned to himself and quickly slid into the pool, perching his feet on an underwater rock so he was covered to his chest.

"Are you getting in?"

She looked down at him, smiling, and he held his arms up to her. Catching her when she slipped down into the water with him. He lowered her slowly, feeling her body move down his and capturing her mouth as soon as it was within reach. He felt her toes sliding along his legs, her feet coming to rest on the rock. But the logistics didn’t matter because she was half naked in his arms and her tongue was sliding along him too and for some reason that fact was taking up all of his brain space.

He moaned into her mouth, hands clasped around her back. They kissed for hours, days maybe even. The heat death of the universe came and went while he had her wrapped up in his arms. Yet when he pulled back to look into her eyes the shadows had barely moved along the ground.

Poe leaned away from her, holding his hand out as he let himself drift into the deeper water at the center of the pool. She hesitated, hand coming up to the leather at her neck.

"Take it off," he prompted, "it’ll be safe here. And it’ll chafe if it gets wet." He waggled his eyebrows at her as he said the last part, grinning when she rolled her eyes back at him. When she turned away, he saw her fingers struggling with the clasp on the back and he pushed himself forward, his own hands coming up to cover hers. "Let me."

She shivered in his arms and he placed a kiss right on the nape of her neck, reaching past her to drop the thick band onto the rocks. He didn’t give her time to do anything else, just wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed himself back, hearing the shrill whistle she gave off as he pulled her into the deeper water.

Vaguely, he heard BB-8’s confused beeps, apparently that whistle wasn’t in binary. But Poe was looking down Kina’s body. At the way the cloth was molding to her breasts. The hard nubs of her nipples rising in sharp contrast to the smooth arc of the flesh around them. He swallowed, resisting the urge to touch. Holding her up instead as she floated with her head back on his shoulder, water lapping along her body. From this angle he could see what her necklace had hid.

On each side of her throat were two identical scars, perhaps two inches long each. They were stark white against her otherwise dark gold skin, surgical in their precision. He wanted to ask, could feel the question burning behind his teeth, but they were scars she kept covered, hidden away. So he bit the words back and pressed his cheek to her temple instead.

"This is exactly the day off I wanted," he whispered, his toes finding a rock where he could gain purchase and turn her. Cradling her in his arms and nuzzling into her hair. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her mouth finding his skin, and her tongue tracing along the tendons of his neck. It felt so good. It had been so long since he’d been touched like this - months with only his own imagination and hands for company.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had offers, or that he hadn’t been interested in anyone. But he also knew his rank, knew his duties. And one of those was that he might need to send someone into certain death. It could happen, it had happened. Everyone knew it was a risk when they signed up - and as friendly as he was with his squadron he kept himself carefully apart from them. When the day came, he needed to be able to give the orders, to do what needed to be done.

So no, he hadn’t taken the offers. Or made any himself. They were all in the Resistance with him. All subordinate to him as well which was its own kettle of trouble. It was just too complicated, too dangerous.

But Kina… he groaned when he felt her nip his ear. Kina didn’t report to him. She wasn’t in the Resistance. He couldn’t order her to do anything - although the thought of doing so had an interesting effect on his body he wanted to explore in more detail later. Any danger she was in here was danger she chose, and danger she could walk away from at any time. He needed to know that she could do that.

In the meantime, he could get lost in the heat of her mouth. The press of her fingers. The warm drugging sunlight and the feeling of weightlessness that came from the water. It was almost like flying. He cupped beneath her chin, tilting her face up so he could thrust his tongue into her.

"Bad man, no eat."

Poe couldn’t help it, he laughed directly into her mouth before he turned them both to see K-0, restless at the edge of the pool.

"No eat Kina. Bad man." As K-0 spoke, BB-8 rolled up next to it.

"Friend Poe do not eat Friend Kina. Friend Kina is not sandwich either," his droid whistled.

"I’m not-" Poe started to say but yelped when he felt Kina’s teeth sink into his shoulder before she squirmed away from him. He rounded on her, seeing the amusement in her eyes as she pushed herself backwards through the water. "Oh you’re going to pay for that."

"Friend Kina do not eat Friend Poe!" BB-8 called out in alarm just as Poe launched himself at her.

To his complete lack of surprise, K-0 didn’t seem to have any problem with him getting eaten.

They spent another hour frolicking in the water - there was no other word for it. Sometimes playing chasing games that ended in kisses. Sometimes floating and holding each other which inevitably led to kisses. And sometimes with one of them perched on a rock while the other basked in the sunlight.

Which also led to kisses.

It was exactly the day off Poe had wanted.

Chpt 10

#poe dameron #poe dameron / ofc #poe dameron x ofc #star wars sequels #in out own image #star wars fanfiction #writing

15 notes · View notes

thesardonicwriter · 4 years ago

Text

The Way It Is, Chapter 4 (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

After two weeks of nonstop treatment, Arthur’s face was finally starting to look better. You hadn’t risked another trip into town. Now that Arthur was up and moving, you wanted to be with him. The last thing that they needed was for him to think he was doing better than he actually was while you were gone and hurting himself again. Or worse, getting caught by the Pinkertons. You didn’t even want to imagine the torture they would go through before they were killed. It was sure to be a slow and painful death, especially after what Abigail had done to Milton. Arthur described it once, the gruesome reality of having someone’s brains sprayed directly onto his face. You had, of course, seen a bullet go through more than a couple of skulls, usually from your own gun, but you had always been a safe distance away and never really had to face the aftermath. You figured that whoever had found Milton hadn’t seen it up close or at all. No, there would be no mercy for them now.

You forced Arthur to his feet. He didn’t protest verbally, but you could see the complaint in his eyes. Even after years of going through this kind of shit, he was still reluctant. Imagine that. He was always so proactive on jobs and helping out others, it was strange to see him so unwilling to do something to help himself. You had no qualms about dragging him out of the cave if it was necessary. Thankfully, Arthur would listen to you. Usually. Even now, as he leaned heavily against you, he was still walking forward.

“That’s it. Just a couple more feet,” you promised.

“You said that already,” Arthur huffed.

“Gotta keep you on your toes. Literally. C’mon, what happened to Arthur Morgan? The guy who could intimidate the world’s strongest man? The guy who, if your ridiculous campfire stories are to be trusted, fought a lion?”

Arthur groaned. “Don’t remind me. That damned Margaret or whatever his name was nearly got me killed. Did get a lot of folk killed down at Emerald Ranch, all to give me some piece a junk for my troubles.”

“Sure he did.”

You chuckled softly. A part of you didn’t believe anything like that could ever have happened, but they were far enough east around that time that you would have believed anything was possible. You looked up at him. He was staring at the ground with an intense expression. All of his energy was focused on getting his leg back up to full strength. He’d been sitting around in that cave for too long. When he stood up for the first time, he immediately fell back on his ass, clutching his wounded leg and grimacing. You had gone out into the woods to take care of the Count after that. You found that the white steed had taken a liking to you. If he was close enough, he’d come to the sound of your voice. You made sure that that pretty white coat of his stayed white and lustrous. While you were out there in the woods, you fashioned a fallen branch into a kind of staff for Arthur to make walking a little easier. Now, he was insisting that he didn’t need it. You had some requests of your own, such as taking him down the mountain side and back. Not all the way, of course. Just a few meters away from the cave. It was still well within view.

The real challenge was getting the food you cooked to stay in their stomachs. The food you’d bought at the general store had run out in a week. Since Arthur was awake, you felt comfortable going out to do some hunting. However, if you tried to do anything more than roast whatever game you’d managed to catch, it never turned out right. It wasn’t like they had a plethora of ingredients, but it wasn’t pleasant. It was, somewhat, better than having nothing. Hopefully, they’d be off this mountain soon.

“Hey, y’know what I could really go for?” Arthur asked.

“What?”

“Some fish. Dutch’s old rod was in with the Count’s things and I’ve always got mine handy. How’s about we head down to a nice place and try to catch somethin’?”

“Arthur Morgan, suggestin’ that we go fishin’? Now I’ve seen everything.” You didn’t bother trying to hide your grin. “Stay here, I’ll grab the rods.”

You quickly ran back to the cave, crawling inside and grabbing what they needed. You took a few scraps of bread and cheese, too, in case they needed some extra bait. Arthur was waiting somewhat eagerly for you to come back. You helped him move down the more tricky parts of the mountain. There were more than a few places that could get a little steep and slick if one step was wrong. They were following the small stream you’d discovered hidden in one of the many crevices. It was about 20 minutes of walking (mostly because they had to stop every now and then to let Arthur rest) to get to the spring the stream fed into.

Your breath was taken away as you looked at the sight before you. Crystal blue water stretched out just far enough. Vegetation was spread all around them. Some of the plants you knew, but most you couldn’t name off the top of your head. The water reflected the beauty around them. It was somewhat obscured, but that only added to it. The stream fed into the spring like a small waterfall, ensuring that the area would never be completely silent. Not even the lowest part of the rocks reached the surface, standing several inches above the water. A perfect fishing spot.

“Wow,” you spoke quietly.

“Wow indeed,” Arthur agreed.

Without another word, they both put together their rods, sharing the bait. You moved a few paces away to keep their lines from getting crossed. They sat in silence for a long time. It was comfortable. Perfect, unlike that first night Arthur had been awake. In a place like this, it was easy to forget fear and just… live. Really live and be human for a few fleeting moments. That was all that you really wanted now. Precious moments, surrounded by beauty.

Arthur stopped fidgeting and looked up. You glanced back at him. He was staring at the sky in wonder. His mouth was slightly agape and blue-green eyes were wide. You turned to see what he was looking at.

The sun was slowly setting in the west. From where they were, they actually had a pretty good view of it. The fading sun cast a glow of orange over the tops of the trees. The usual blue of the sky was melting into the oranges and yellows. The clouds were a light pinkish colour, lazily floating towards nothing. Purples meshed with reds, light and dark came together and it was only for a few moments. Before anything else could be seen or said, the moment was gone.

Arthur closed his mouth. There was a soft smile traced across his lips still. You stared at the retreating sun for a moment. It really was something else. No matter how many sunsets you saw, you would never get used to the sight of them. Each one of them was so different from the last, so unique.

“I missed the sun,” Arthur said.

“We can see it from the cave,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, but you know that ain’t the same as standing in a place like this and watchin’ it. Don’t try and fool yourself now.”

“Nah, I s’pose not. We better be headin’ back now. I don’t think any of our fish friends are interested in cheese.”

“Hold on! I’ve got somethin’!”

Arthur pulled back on the rod, reeling in whatever it was he had quickly. You watched in anticipation. Neither of them were expecting for his leg to give out at that exact moment.

Arthur was pulled into the water. He landed with a loud splash that sent water up over the rocks and onto you’s boots. Dread overtook you as you looked into the water. Arthur sputtered when he came back to the surface, wiping water from his eyes. He gave his head a good shake and held up the fishing rod.

“Had to cut the line to keep the rod,” he said.

“You okay?” you asked him. You hoped that your voice didn’t sound as worried as you felt.

“Yeah, I’m good. C’mon, help me outta here.”

You made your way down the rocks closer to the water’s edge. You found the spot closest to the water and held out your hand. Arthur swam over to you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist. You started to pull back but was met with a much greater force pulling you in. You barely had time to brace yourself before you were completely submerged. It took you a moment to get your bearings under water. Her eyes stung but you needed to look around. You found the surface and swam quickly. As soon as you were up, you took a deep gulp of fresh air into your lungs. Arthur was laughing like a madman. It wasn’t often that you heard Arthur laugh, but it did nothing to make you less angry at him. You sent a wave of water his way.

“You dumbass! Now we’re both soaked!” You complained.

“Ah, you’re enjoyin’ yourself, don’t lie.” Arthur was still smiling and trying not to laugh. “You need to do that, y’know. Take a little time for yourself. God knows you’ve spent enough of it on an old fool like me.”

“Fool? Yes. Old? No. If you’re old, then so am I and I ain’t ready for that conversation yet. And as for lookin’ out for you? If I didn’t do it, who would?” Arthur opened his mouth to say something back. “All right, will this shut you up? I’ll promise to watch you if you promise to watch me. We’ll take care of each other. Deal?”

You held out your hand expectantly. Arthur didn’t hesitate to take it in his own. His palms were rough and calloused. You were sure that yours felt much the same to him. They shook on it, making it official. You pulled your hand away. As Arthur turned around, you put your hands on his shoulders and pushed down with all of your strength. He was completely submerged. You let out a laugh of your own until you felt his hand on your ankle. Just like that, you were back underwater. You could just barely make out Arthur swimming back for air. You did the same. You pushed your hair out of your face. It was the first time that you had smiled in what felt like months.

You laid on your back and let yourself float. You looked up at the night sky. If Arthur was feeling this good, then their days on the mountain were numbered. If it was just the two of them, they could get off with relative ease. They could even make it back west, if they tried. Find someplace far away from the trains and settle there. Together. Make some kind of a life for whatever time that they had left. You wasn’t going back to being an outlaw. You knew that you could, if you really wanted to. You had been doing well for yourself before Arthur found you. Somehow, it felt wrong to think about going back to that life without the rest of the gang by your side.

Arthur entwined his fingers with yours. You looked over at him. He was staring at the sky, too. As you looked back up, you wondered what was causing that pensive look on his face. Was he worried about the same things you were? All you knew was that he was there and present. With his hand in your own, you could forget about the rest of the world. It was just the two of them in this moment, in their little secret spring. They were unburdened by the need for conversation. The only sound was the soft trickle of the stream.

Arthur let you go and swam to the edge. He pulled himself out of the water. Arthur shook his body like he was a dog, running his fingers through his hair. He leaned down and held out a hand to you. You swam over tentatively and took it. You still didn’t entirely trust Arthur now, not after that stunt. But there were no tricks up Arthur’s sleeve, not this time. He pulled you up with little difficulty, considering his leg wound.

You stood next to him for a moment, inches away from being flush against his chest. They had been forced to be close together over the past couple of weeks, sure, but this felt different somehow. You took a step back to get rid of the feeling. You didn’t like it and you didn’t like who was causing it.

On the sodden trek back to their temporary home, you kept your arms tight around yourself. By the time they got back to the cave, you were shivering. You made your way into the cave and started gathering up the blankets.

“Make sure to get out of those wet clothes, Arthur. The last thing we need is one of us catchin’ pneumonia,” you warned.

He nodded, facing towards the back of the cave as he started to unbutton his shirt. You stared at his back for longer than you should have. When you turned to face your own wall, your cheeks were burning. Quickly, you took off your own clothes and wrapped one of the blankets around yourself tightly. You set the clothes close to the entrance. You sat against one of the walls and leaned your head back. You let yourself dream of the virgin west for a short while before taking watch.

#arthur morgan x reader insert #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader insert #arthur x reader #reader insert #reader #fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead #rdr2 #video games

48 notes · View notes

no6secretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

No.6 - Children of the Sea

Happy Holidays and an awesome New Year, @aoicanvas! I really hope you enjoy this fic! It’s me, @glorifiedscapegoat, and I’m really excited to share this with you. The concept I had kept giving me ideas, so I found myself just writing and writing for a while, and before I knew it the word count was as high as it was. I hope that’s all right!

⁂

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” — Jacques Cousteau

“Here’s your turbo,” Safu declared, sitting down opposite Shion at the booth. They were at their favorite café on the other side of Kronos, perched at one of the large window-seats overlooking the bay.

It was one of Shion’s favorite places, simply for its amazing view of the ocean. The sapphire blue waves lapped against the edge of the pier, the shush-shush sound of the ocean sending comforting prickles down his spine. During the early morning hours, the sunlight glistened across the smooth surface, the pale blue sky streaked with pale pinks and vibrant oranges.

“Oh,” Shion said in surprise as Safu slid the green foam cup across the table toward him. “Thank you. I ordered a decaf, though.”

“I canceled it. You looked like you could use the caffeine.”

Shion exhaled through his nose, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good to argue. He thanked Safu, popped back the heat-saver from the plastic cover, then took a hesitant sip of the coffee. Safu had doused it with enough creamer and granulated sugar to keep the bitter bite of the espresso from stinging his tongue, but Shion could still feel the caffeine buzzing through him.

“Speaking of caffeine,” Safu said, taking a sip of her own coffee. Having been friends for as long as they had, Shion knew that Safu took her coffee as black as the night sky in the middle of the city, devoid of stars due to the constant streaks of artificial lighting. Shion’s nose wrinkled just thinking about it. He’d never been able to get past the bitterness of the coffee beans. “You might want to bring one to go once you finish that one. Don’t you have the new wave of summer interns starting today?”

Shion exhaled, all traces of his previous good mood fluttering out the door. “Don’t remind me.”

Summers were a difficult time for the West Block Aquarium and, more importantly, its staff. Kronos was a buzzing tourist town, and the summer months brought about college students, wealthy benefactors, and worst of all, summer interns.

“Poor thing,” Safu remarked, taking another sip of her coffee. “Well, maybe it won’t be so bad. Who knows? The interns this year could be… delightful.”

They both shuddered in unison. Shion and Safu had been friends since they were little—Grade 1, to be exact, after Safu got in trouble for punching two boys in the face who called Shion “girly” for his pretty white hair—and both had gone on to pursue careers where interns came and went through a constant revolving door.

Though Shion had obtained full-time employment as a pseudo marine biologist at the West Block Aquarium, Safu had went on to pursue a medical degree working alongside children. Her talent rested with biology (of the mammalian variety, not the aquatic), but despite the clear differences in their professions, Shion and Safu shared one similar headache: summer interns.

“So, how’s your mom doing?” Safu asked.

“She’s all right,” Shion replied. “Just getting ready for the summer rush. Tourists and all that.”

“She’s a saint.” Safu lifted her coffee cup with a solemn expression. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through my undergraduate without the croissants she sent in her care packages.”

Shion huffed out a laugh and took another sip of his coffee. He could already feel the caffeine working its way through his veins.

He allowed a bit of silence to fall around him, the only reprieve he’d get today. As soon as he left for work in an hour, his day would be consumed with learning the group dynamic in this summer’s early wave of interns, squeezing work in between answering questions for the flood of customers arriving for the first day of the summer season, and banging his head against the glass walls of the tanks he was in charge of maintaining.

Shion felt something soft rest on top of his head. He glanced up to see Safu tapping her fingers against his temple, softly going, “pomf” to herself.

He leaned back out of reach, fighting back a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out where I can purchase a brush strong enough to tame that mop of yours.” Safu took her hand back, flashing a smile. “It’s such a pretty color, and it’s a shame it just sticks up all over the place.”

“Well, it’s not my fault. I spend most of the time in the water. It’s hard to find a shampoo that can handle all that water damage.”

“Damage?” Safu reached out again and patted Shion on the top of the head. “This isn’t damage. You are the only person alive who can spend seventy-five percent of their life in water and come out with hair this soft.”

“Stop it,” Shion said, but it was light-hearted. His hair had always been a point of conflict in his life. Since the moment he was born—sporting snowy hair and bright ruby eyes—Shion had always fought off rude stares and invasive questions. His mother had helped him construct several convincing lies to help discourage people from continuing to pester him. These lies had ranged from childhood illness in Grades 1 through 4, and then expensive dye jobs during his time as a teenager. Shion had never liked the thought of dyeing his hair, but lying to folks that his bizarre hair and eye color were the results of a bottle of Manic Panic and colored contacts kept them from prying and discovering the truth.

Though, even if Shion did break down and tell people the truth—that his father was a merperson who’d seduced his human mother years ago before splitting without a trace, leaving her with a hybrid son whose hair and eyes and ability to breathe underwater were his only connection to his heritage—he doubted anyone would ever believe him.

Except for Safu.

When Shion finally broke down and told Safu the truth, she’d taken the information with a smile. Coming to terms that there were other creatures dwelling in her world came simply. Safu remarked that new species were being discovered all the time. Of course it made sense that there could be merpeople. The ocean hadn’t been completely explored, after all.

Sometimes Shion wondered why a relationship with Safu had never occurred to him. She was a beautiful girl, and always had been; petite with straight brown hair that fell to her shoulders (she’d let it grow out in recent years), dark eyes that saw everything, and a friendly smile that invited people to let their guard down. More than that, Safu was amazingly kind… to the people she liked. She never judged anyone unless they gave her a reason to assume they were judging her, and she was fiercely protective of her friends.

When they were teenagers, Safu had expressed feelings for Shion that he hadn’t been able to reciprocate. Maybe it was because Safu was accustomed to rejection, or maybe it was because she was just a wonderful, loving person, but Shion’s gentle apology in his inability to return her feelings hadn’t stopped her from remaining his best friend.

And when Shion came staggering home one night and called her, squealing with excitement that he’d found someone like him—someone from the sea—Safu had squealed and gushed with him.

Shion shook the thought away before he could dwell on it. Remembering the summers he spent between the ages of sixteen and nineteen were painful for him. He’d formed a romance with a boy from the sea, a boy Shion could picture himself spending the rest of his life with, and then, without explanation or reason, he’d simply vanished into thin air. Zip. Poof. Gone. As if he’d never been there in the first place.

"Hey, Shion. Earth to Shion.”

He looked up. “Huh?”

Safu took one look at his face, and instantly, she knew. “Thinking about Nezumi again?”

Hearing his name sent a knife through Shion’s heart. “No,” he said, but the lie was pointless. He’d never been any good at telling lies to Safu.

Safu clicked her tongue. When Nezumi stopped showing up at the beach, Safu had been furious. She ranted and raved for months about him, furious that he could break Shion’s heart like that. When the next summer came and he still didn’t show up, Safu’s anger cooled into concern. When another year passed, she and Shion mutually agreed that something awful must have happened to Nezumi and tried to mourn.

“Do you want to talk about it,” she said gently, “or change the subject?”

“Change the subject, please.”

“Of course.” Safu took a deep breath, composing her thoughts, and then she said, somewhat loudly, “Well, it won’t be so bad, right? How long do summer internships last at the aquarium, again?”

“Three months,” Shion said, grateful for the change in topic. He took all the pent-up feelings he still had toward Nezumi, even now, and shoved them to the side. If they festered there and turned into a cancerous tumor, he’d deal with it when that time came.

“Ugh, lucky. Our internships last six months.”

“Aren’t all of your interns medical students, though?” Shion stole a brief glance out the window. He wondered if he would catch a familiar flash of black and silver, and then promptly scolded himself for daring to hope.

“Yes, and most of them are lovely. But then you have those ones.” Safu rolled her eyes, and Shion instantly knew which ones she meant.

The children of wealthy parents whose only major contribution to the field was that they spent a lot of money and therefore expected that their children could sail through the program without any effort. Shion had dealt with plenty of those types, too, working at the aquarium. Wealthy donors often assumed a nice dosage of cash would land their children a high-paying, low-effort job once they finished their degree program. Shion lost count of the number of arguments he and other coworkers had had with interns whose ultimate defense was the phrase: “Do you have any idea who my parents are?”

"Maybe this year will be different,” Shion said, not at all confident. He’d been working full-time at the West Block Aquarium for two years, since he turned twenty-two, and not once had a summer internship term been “different”.

“It could be,” Safu replied solemnly. She and Shion shared a mutual nod, and then smiled.

⁂

With traffic, it was a forty-minute drive across downtown Kronos, and another three minutes to find a halfway decent parking space in front of the West Block Aquarium that didn’t result in Shion needing to sprint across the parking lot like a lunatic in order to clock in on time.

Shion smoothed his hands through his hair, pressing the tangled locks down against his skull. They bounced back up as he dropped his hands to his sides, and he gave up trying to look presentable.

His white hair, no matter how smooth or messy it was, always attracted attention from the college interns the aquarium employed. Most of them thankfully assumed it was just a dye job—an expensive, extremely thorough dye job, but a dye job nonetheless—but it elicited more than a few stares every year.

Shion scanned his ID badge at the employee entrance and ducked inside. He let the heavy metal door bang shut behind him, sighing as he stepped into the foyer of the employee lounge, cooled by the strong air conditioning unit Rikiga had installed. He tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash can, briefly considering using the Keurig to make himself another cup.

"Hey, Shion.”

Shion turned and spotted his coworker, Yamase, sitting at one of the little brown tables. He clutched a travel mug of tea—Yamase never liked drinking coffee, remarking that no matter how much creamer and sugar he doused it with, he could still taste the “disgusting bean water”—and he looked utterly exhausted.

Shion’s stomach plummeted. “Interns?”

“Interns,” Yamase agreed bitterly.

Shion huffed out a breath and went to the Keurig. “Please tell me there’s at least a few halfway decent ones.”

He prided himself on being an optimist—it was one of his best qualities, according to his mom, Safu, and everyone else he’d ever talked to, and Shion was pretty certain it was the primary reason Rikiga had given him the job in the first place—but something about summer interns made even someone with Shion’s extensive threshold for patience eager for the workday to end.

“Rikiga’s already deep into his cup,” Yamase explained, rolling his eyes. “Big surprise. Anyway, I’ve only met the first few, and supposedly, we’ve got two others starting tomorrow.”

“So, what exactly are we dealing with?” Shion popped a K-cup into the machine and hit brew. He shoved a paper cup beneath the dispenser and listened to the whir of the machine as the water heated up.

Yamase took a deep sip of his tea. “Well, there’s a girl who’s just started her second year at the community college who thinks she wants to go into marine biology. Kudos and all that, but she’s already expecting that we’ll hire her once she graduates since she’s interning with us.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah,” Yamase groaned. “You know how that’s gonna go. I wonder if we’ll have the parents down here again. You remember that?”

Shion shuddered. “How could I forget?” He could still hear the shrill sound of the woman’s voice as she shrieked at Rikiga in the lobby about why he’d rejected her daughter’s application for full-time employment after she’d “slaved away all summer at this dirty, stinking place, and for what?” Never mind that Shion had found her in the employee lounge multiple times during her shift, sneaking alcohol and trying to steal merchandise from the gift shop when she thought no one was looking.

“Maybe she’ll be a good fit,” Shion said, a little too hopefully.

“She bounces when she talks,” Yamase said drily.

"Excuse me?”

“Like full on hops on her heels.” Yamase gave a small demonstration, bouncing twice in his chair before widening his eyes and giving Shion a blank, dead stare. “She also talks like this.” He raised his voice up at the end, almost as if he were asking a question. “With an upward inflection at the end of it. As if she has no idea what she’s doing here.”

“That is so creepy,” Shion shuddered. “Please stop.”

“You think that’s creepy. Try listening to her do it.” Yamase sighed and took a deep gulp from his travel mug. “The lights are definitely on, but no one’s been home for years.”

Shion pinched the bridge of his nose. Wonderful. Just what the aquarium needed. He plucked his cup from the Keurig and dumped a healthy heaping of sugar and creamer packets into the cup.

“The new hire for the gift shop’s hot, though,” Yamase said.

Shion raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Don’t worry—he’s our age,” Yamase assured. “I checked. Not in college, as far as I can tell. Just looking for some extra cash at a part-time job or something. And you know I’m not really into guys, but dang, something about this guy just… I don’t know. Just wait until you see him.” Yamase exhaled. “It’s his eyes, man.”

Shion huffed out a laugh and took a sip of his coffee. After the turbo Safu had ordered for him, it felt watered down and weak, but Shion savored the buzz of caffeine.

“He must be something, then,” Shion said, “if you’ve noticed him.”

“You have no idea. You’re single, right? Maybe you have a shot.”

Shion clicked his tongue. “You sound like Safu.”

"Well, maybe you should start listening to us!” Yamase tipped his head back and finished off the last of his tea. “Maybe we should strong-arm your mother into it. I’m sure that’d make you start looking.”

Shion couldn’t help but smile. He’d tried dating during his undergraduate, and it hadn’t worked. All the men he went out with made snide comments about his hair— “Do the carpets match the drapes? Ha ha, just kidding. Unless…?”—or thought his fascination with sea life bordered on obsessive. Shion wouldn’t have felt comfortable letting them know the truth: that his “obsession” with sea life stemmed from the fact that he came from the same place.

And besides, none of them had made him feel the way Nezumi had.

Not only did Nezumi come from the ocean—Shion could picture the black and blue scales on his long, elegant tail perfectly, like obsidian and sapphires, and his beautiful silver eyes, like the edge of a blade in the sunlight—he never thought Shion’s ramblings were bizarre. He laughed at him, sure, but it was good-natured and beautiful, like the chiming of bells. He could swim faster and deeper than Shion, and he brought him pretty shells and oysters containing pearls from the bottom of the sea where Shion couldn’t swim without raising more than a few eyebrows.

During their summer interactions as teenagers, Shion had never been able to convince Nezumi to come onto the shore. He knew it was possible—his own father had done it years ago—but whenever he asked, Nezumi quickly changed the subject.

Shion’s heart ached, his eyes stinging. The last time he saw Nezumi, they had been eighteen years old. He could still feel the brush of Nezumi’s lips against his own, tasting of saltwater. Shion could have kissed him forever.

Shion quickly shook the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to get caught up on thoughts of Nezumi anymore. He needed to focus on the new interns and aquarium employees.

Yamase rose and rinsed his travel mug in the sink. The dark blue of his janitor’s uniform stood out against the stark gray walls of the employee lounge. “Well, count yourself lucky you don’t have to deal with most of the interns. You spend most of your time in Number Six. I’m the one who’s gotta spend the whole day trapped in the gift shop.”

Shion cracked a smile. Number Six was the main tank in the direct center of the aquarium, the first major exhibit available as soon as customers walked through the door. Shion’s primary job was to jump into the tank every couple of hours, toss smelt and other dead things at the bigger fish, ensure that the pH levels were safe, and make sure the sand tigers didn’t bully the nurse sharks. Shion never would have pegged sharks to have some weird social hierarchy, but it was there. He’d lost count of the times he’d had to chase away the sand tiger with the blunt snout (who he’d affectionally nicknamed Snubby) from the large nurse shark (Nurse Anne) with the chunk bitten out of her dorsal fin.

Number Six was also known to Yamase and the other janitors as the BFT: the Big Fucking Tank. Shion didn’t like calling it that, but he supposed when the janitors spent most of their shift spraying Windex on the glass and wiping away fingerprints and saliva—seriously, did little kids lick everything?—it made sense they would come to hate it.

The majority of the interns and summer hires started out as cashiers in the gift shop. During his dips in Number Six, Shion could spot the little alcove through the glass, watching as the interns in their bright green tee-shirts displaying the West Block Aquarium logo fumbled through each transaction.

“I wonder if the wannabee marine biologist will try to jump in the tank with you,” Yamase said, eyeing Shion in his periphery. “She doesn’t seem thrilled about the idea of starting as a cashier.”

“They all start out as cashiers,” Shion replied, taking another sip of his coffee. It had already begun to go cold. “She shouldn’t expect special treatment. Retail work can be humbling.”

"Is it twisted that I love watching the rich kids get screamed at by entitled jerks?” Yamase’s dark eyes flashed as he turned to face Shion. “Like, I know retail’s rough and all, but some of these kids are so fucking bratty, and seeing the looks on their faces when they realize that no one cares about how much money they have just warms my heart.”

Shion shook his head. “You’re awful,” he said, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Yup, and you’re equally as awful. I know you enjoy it, too.” Yamase put his travel mug back into the cupboard where the rest of the employees kept their spare mugs. “Well, I need to get out there and make sure the place is ready for opening. Finish up your coffee. You’re gonna need it. You know they’re probably gonna ask about the hair.”

“And the eyes,” Shion sighed. “They always do.”

“You could dye it.”

“Safu would literally kill me.”

Yamase rolled his eyes. “She might, but wouldn’t it be better than dealing with another wave of ‘wait, they let marine biologists dye their hair? Can you wear contacts underwater? Duuuuude.’”

Shion fought back a shudder. Too many times he’d had to deflect questions surrounding his odd hair color and the piercing shade of his irises. Albinism was a rare trait in humans, and Shion’s skin wasn’t nearly pale enough to pass for it. The odd red marking on his skin—scaled, if people looked close enough, which Shion never let anyone do—definitely shattered the illusion. Shion had hoped people would have a bit of common decency and not ask such invasive questions, but he was often disappointed. Almost every summer, someone cornered him in the break room and demanded to know why his hair was so white, what made his eyes red, how many bleaches did it take to achieve that color, did people think he was less professional because he looked like he was cosplaying all the time?

Sometimes Shion wondered if he should joke that he was a merman. Well, half a merman, anyway.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he could hear Nezumi’s voice snap, “Child of the Sea! Not merman. That’s a human word.” His mood instantly darkened, and Shion shook his head.

“Child of the Sea” was the preferred term in the underwater community, or so Shion had been told. Only human beings used words like “mermaid” and “merman”. Despite the wave of sorrow that Shion felt whenever the thought of Nezumi came rushing back, he couldn’t help the small flicker of warmth that kindled itself in his heart.

“Well,” Yamase sighed. “I’m heading back. Rip the Band-Aid off.”

“All right.”

“See you in a few,” Yamase replied with a wave, ducking out into the hallway. “Good luck!”

Shion exhaled and took another sip of his cool coffee. Summer interns. At least he had a reprieve from them when he dove into the tank. He took a few moments to sip his coffee, reveling in the silence he knew would soon be broken. Ah, well. It was only eight-thirty in the morning. Seven o’clock would come soon enough.

⁂

Shion finished his coffee, pulled on his white lab coat, and trotted out to the main foyer. The West Block Aquarium opened at ten o’clock on the dot—despite his active drinking and usual forgetfulness, Rikiga was oddly punctual—and the first hour would be spent preparing for the shift and greeting the interns and summer help.

Shion plastered a big smile on his face and tried to be positive. Summer interns were frustrating, but he had to remember that he was once in their shoes, too. Several years ago, he’d been a bright-eyed intern working at this same aquarium. Ignoring his obvious one-up over the other interns—primarily the fact that he could breathe underwater (secretly, of course) and understood ocean life in a way that astounded his professors and quickly moved him through his undergraduate degree with flying colors—he’d enjoyed working alongside other interns.

As he hurried toward the main foyer, stationed direction in front of Number Six, he couldn’t help but marvel at the decorations welcoming the new wave of summer customers. Bright plastic statues of sea lions and talking starfish lined the floors, gesturing toward the hallways and announcing exhibits. Neat signs with fun facts and information about the exhibit inhabitants sat in front of glass cages, and the sound of rushing water sounded like music to Shion’s ears.

Shion trotted almost everywhere. His colleagues joked that he was always in a hurry. Shion didn’t know if it was because he moved faster in the water than on land, even without the function of a tail, but he couldn’t help it. He jogged everywhere he went: meetings, feedings, the break room. Sometimes he worried he looked ridiculous—a young man in a white lab coat with obviously dyed hair (ha) jogging like a toddler through the aquarium—but if he did, no one commented one way or the other about it.

The four-story tank, illuminated with bright LED lights at the base and on each conjoining floor, wrapping upward in a slanted ramp like a makeshift spiral staircase, rose into view as Shion stepped out into the main exhibit. The brightly-colored tropical fish swam lazily through the teal water, their dark eyes staring blankly out at Shion as he approached the two individuals standing near the door, awaiting his arrival.

Shion swallowed the wave of frustration that surged inside him, caging it behind his clenched teeth as he kept the smile plastered on his face His colleagues had left him to deal with the new interns on his own.

Ha ha, funny.

As he approached the two interns—a young woman with vibrant pink hair (clearly a dye job, and a rather inexpensive one, at that, if the blond roots at the top were any indication) and a young man with dark hair yanked back into a ponytail, both dressed in the bright green West Block Aquarium staff shirt—the girl broke away from the tank and came sprinting up toward Shion.

“Oh, hi!” she shrieked, her voice piercing through the vacant walls of the aquarium. It carried, so sharp and sudden that Shion felt as if a knife had been drilled into his ear.

He flinched—the other intern did, too—and jerked to a halt.

“You must be Shion, right? Mr. Rikiga mentioned you’d be stopping by!” The girl clapped her hands, as if the idea of meeting Shion was too exciting to be contained inside her little body. “I’m so excited to be working with you! My name’s Miyamoto Emi, but my friends call me Emi-chan. Oh, darn, can I call you Shion, or is that too informal? Gosh, this is so exciting!”

Shion gawked down at the girl, unsure of what to say. She looked about twenty years old, short in a way that was noticeable even to someone like Shion. He wasn’t very tall, himself—he rose to a respectable five-feet-seven-inches—and this girl rose to the middle of his chest. She tipped her head back to look into his face, her dark brown eyes wide with excitement, and yep, there was the bouncing Yamase had mentioned. With each syllable that left her mouth, she rose an inch off the ground and then came down hard on her heels. She wore a pair of black flip-flops (definitely not regulation, according to the employee handbook, which Rikiga definitely didn’t enforce), and the rubber soles thumped rhythmically on the solid tile floor.

“Mr. Rikiga said you were a marine biologist,” Emi went on. “That must be so exciting. I’ve wanted to be a marine biologist since I was a little girl. I’ve always loved turtles, and I just wanna be able to work with them. Oh, wow!” Her eyes widened further—how was that possible?—and she stared at Shion’s white hair.

His stomach plummeted.

“Your hair—” she said, a shriek building in her throat. Shion could see it. Her shoulders quaked beneath the force of it, her whole body unable to contain the sheer joy that came from seeing Shion’s pristine white hair coupled with his lab coat. “Where do you get your hair done? Do you do it yourself? My friend Mariko did my hair”—she grabbed a lock of her own pink hair and shoved it toward Shion—“but it doesn’t look nearly as good as yours does!”

“Um, thank you.” Shion gave her a wobbly smile. This was a new development. Sometimes the interns were cold and stand-offish, and sometimes they were uninterested in the position.

This, however? This was new.

Shion felt his head spinning as he tried to focus on the girl bouncing in front of him. He glanced over her shoulder, seeking out the second intern. The young man was staring at Emi as if she’d just exploded and scattered across the foyer in an array of glitter. His hair framed his face, long and pulled into a high ponytail. He had a narrow, pale face, and Shion wondered briefly if this was the young man Yamase had mentioned back in the break room. He squinted over Emi’s head—where did she get the energy to keep bouncing like this?—examining the young man’s face to see what about him Yamase had been so taken by.

The young man was tall and thin, his hair a dark shade of black that Shion suspected would look blue in certain lighting. Even with the fluorescent bulbs in the aquarium itself, he could pick out the few pale gray strands and blue bits that made the young man’s hair beautiful rather than plain. His skin was far too pale for the lime-green of the staff shirt, and it made him look sickly and washed out.

He lifted his head to give Shion a look that clearly read ‘Poor you’, and Shion managed to get a good look at his eyes.

It’s his eyes, man.

Two bright silver coins stared back at Shion, narrowed in a way that Shion recognized as someone trying to figure out where they recognized someone from. His stomach twisted. Flecks of blue and white danced behind a pale of solid silver glass, shifting depending on his mood. When he was happy, they were vibrant and luminous. When he was aggravated, they darkened like the sky over a stormy sea. Shion had seen them in almost every variant, and he stood there, dumbstruck, as the young man stared into his face, too—taking in his bright red irises, the red marking wrapped around his throat, and his vibrant white hair—and finally, finally recognized him.

His jaw dropped. It was an almost comical look, but he managed to make it look beautiful. He unfolded his arms from across his chest, letting them fall limply at his sides.

“Shion?” he said.

His voice. His voice. Shion could still hear it in his memories. The peals of laughter, the shouts whenever they argued, the gentle songs he sang. All of it came flooding back in a crushing wave that made Shion feel as if he were drowning. His lungs were designed to pull oxygen both on land and beneath the surface. Shion would never know how it felt to drown in earnest—but standing across from Nezumi, the boy he’d fallen in love with in his youth, the boy who’d claimed his first kiss, the boy who’d left one day and never come back, Shion wondered if this was how it felt to have all the air knocked out of him once and for all.

Emi’s bright smile never left her face, but her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh. Do you know two each other?” She looked over her shoulder at the young man—at Nezumi—and clapped her hands. “That’s so exciting!”

“Um,” Shion said, taking a trembling step backward. The room around him crushed inward, the air tight and thick. He swallowed once, finding it difficult to breathe. “Yes, um…”

Nezumi’s shocked expression shifted into concern, and Shion felt himself edging toward a full-on breakdown. Shards of glass punched through his stomach, heat and pain radiating through each pulse point in his body until it was all he could feel. He couldn’t sense the solid tiles beneath his feet or the air conditioner churning above his head. His vision tunneled, blocking out everything except the young man standing in front of him—standing! On legs!—in his ridiculous staff tee shirt and his khaki pants, looking every bit like the beautiful, otherworldly creature he was once he stepped into the ocean.

“Ah, w-well,” Shion managed, the words heavy as stones on his tongue. “W-welcome to the West Block Aquarium. So nice to be working with you both. Um, I have to, ah, feed the fish in the BFT now. Ah, I mean, in Number Six. The big tank behind you. Yup, that’s Number Six. I’m sure Mr. Rikiga will tell you all about it as part of the tour.”

“Shion,” Nezumi said, and his voice was equally as wobbly. He took a step forward, and panic surged through Shion’s body like an injection of ice water.

”Goodbye!” Shion spun on his heel and fled back toward the break room. There was an elevator in the far back, reserved for employee usage and available for disabled customers, and if Shion input the code into the panel, it would go to the floor linking to the observatory room for Number Six. It wasn’t available to the public, reserved for marine biologists like Shion to record the pH balances of the tank and the weights of each animal.

His shoes smacked against the tile as he hurried toward the hallway leading to the elevator. The twisting halls that stretched past the rooms dedicated to shells and the horseshoe crab touch tank—popular with the children and high school customers—and Shion rounded them quickly, searching desperately for the signs leading to the elevator.

“Shion, wait!”

Shion whirled and saw Nezumi hurrying up the ramp toward him. He stumbled a bit as he ran, as if he’d been sitting down for a long time and his legs hadn’t quite adjusted to movement. The fluorescent lights caught against the strands of his hair, and the lime green of the staff shirt clashed horribly with his khaki pants and pale skin.

He looked ridiculous. He looked amazing. He looked—

Alive.

“You’re alive,” Shion said, his voice sounding stupid in his ears.

Nezumi stumbled to a stop a few steps in front of him. He was wearing heavy black combat boots (completely against regulation, since the soles weren’t non-marking), and one pant leg of his cargo pants was tucked in while the other hung frustratingly loose around his ankle. “Yeah,” he said, sounding equally as stupid and just as wonderful as Shion remembered. “Yeah, I’m alive.”

“But—” Shion fumbled for something, anything, and came up short. “You—you vanished! You stopped coming to the beach.”

Nezumi winced. “I know.”

The prickles of cold were replaced with agitation that dug like thorns in his body. “I waited for you,” he said, low and harsh. “Every day for months. Years. And you—you never came back.”

Nezumi flinched back as if Shion had ripped one of the decorative plywood sea turtles off the wall and chucked it at him. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Shion barked out a laugh. “Five years of no contact—nothing—and now you show up here, at my work, to tell me you’re sorry?”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Nezumi said.

“Then why are you here? You sure as hell can’t be a university student!”

Nezumi’s silver eyes flashed in the vibrant LED lights. “I’ve never heard you swear before,” he murmured wondrously, as if it was the most amazing thing in the world.

“Don’t change the subject!” Shion growled. “Where the hell do you get off just—”

“I wanted to come back,” Nezumi interjected. He didn’t raise his voice (which only aggravated Shion further), and he kept his hands at his side. Shion couldn’t help staring at each of his long, elegant fingers, remembering how they felt running over his cheek or brushing through his hair while they swam.

“Then why didn’t you?” Shion’s heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing through his ears. “You kissed me, said goodnight, and then you just vanished. For five years, Nezumi.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Nezumi said, raising his voice just a little. Shion could hear it in his voice that he was struggling not to yell, that he didn’t really have the right to yell. “Something happened, and as much as you meant to me, I couldn’t just—”

Those words stabbed through Shion’s chest like arrows. It’d taken Nezumi three years—three long, painful years—to finally say the words I love you. Shion hadn’t held it against him. Nezumi didn’t express his feelings through words. He translated them in his actions. Shion felt his love in the way he found ways to maintain physical contact when they were together. He felt Nezumi’s love each time Nezumi brought him pretty shells from the deeper parts of the ocean floor.

Shion knew how much he meant to Nezumi. And as angry as he was at Nezumi’s unexpected disappearance, the fact that he was here now must have meant something.

Shion opened his mouth to speak—to say what, he didn’t know—and Emi came trotting down the hallway, huffing and puffing as if it’d taken all her energy to catch up with them.

“There—,” she gasped dramatically, doubling over and pressing her hand against her chest. “There you two are! Why did you run away?”

Nezumi glanced over at her, and Shion took the opportunity to escape. “It’s nothing. Nezumi’s an old friend” —he didn’t miss the way Nezumi flinched— “and things were… well, it’s complicated. But this isn’t the place for it.”

Emi’s dark brown eyes widened. “Ooh?” She looked at Shion, then at Nezumi, and then back. She clapped her hands together. “What’s this? A secret romance?”

“The hell?” Nezumi muttered, despite everything.

“Emi,” Shion said firmly, “now is neither the time nor the place. Now,” he added, looking at the clock suspended from the wall. “I believe you two are due for orientation. Mr. Rikiga will be expecting you.”

“Ooh, you’re right! We don’t wanna be late!” Emi spun on her heel and reached out for Nezumi’s wrist. “Come on, uh, Nezumi, was it? Weird. We’re gonna be late!”

Nezumi withdrew his wrist from Emi’s reach and turned to look at Shion. “I’m out at noon,” he said carefully. Shion’s shoulders shot to his ears, the words slicing through him like a bullet. “Can we talk then?”

“I’m not free until after the aquarium closes,” Shion replied. He didn’t know why he said it, but it wouldn’t do him any good to lie. Nezumi would probably figure out his schedule soon enough anyway.

“That’s fine. How about I meet you here after work?” Nezumi lowered his voice so that Emi, already skipping back toward the main foyer, wouldn’t overhear. “I get it if you tell me to fuck off, but… I’d like to explain myself.”

“All right,” Shion mumbled. “I’ll meet you outside the employee entrance at seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be here,” Nezumi said. There was so much strength and conviction in his voice that Shion couldn’t help but meet his eye. The fluorescent lights caught in his irises as he repeated, slower, “I will be here, Shion.”

“Sure,” Shion whispered, and he watched as Nezumi turned and headed back toward the foyer. He seemed to stumble a bit, but even that seemed inhumanly graceful. Shion’s heart ached as he watched him leave.

Eventually, his duties as a dedicated marine biologist convinced him to seek out the elevator, punch in the code to the Number Six observatory floor, and strip out of his lab coat, button-down, and slacks in favor of his West Block Aquarium scuba suit. Dark blue with lime green accents, it was Shion’s least favorite piece of work equipment, simply for its pointlessness. He was a Child of the Sea—at least fifty percent of him was—and scuba gear was wasted on someone who could breathe underwater.

But he couldn’t exactly drop into the forty-foot tank without his gear in front of tourists.

Shion struggled into his scuba suit, his heart hammering a thousand miles a minute. His hands shook as he zipped up his wetsuit, fumbling with the useless air tank (he could breathe underwater, damn it, but the tourists and the interns and his boss couldn’t know that) and all the tubes in their proper place to pump oxygen uselessly into his lungs.

Shion sat on the edge of the top level of Number Six, his vision blurring red and gray. His bright yellow swim fins felt ridiculous and artificial—even though Shion had never been able to grow a tail of his own, his legs more than strong enough to propel him through the water—and his whole body buzzed with anxiety. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself in a way that proved to be completely ineffective, and then he tumbled backward into Number Six.

Sinking down into the depths, Shion let the cold water collapse around him and smother the heat of embarrassment and anger and relief that churned inside him. He sank downward through a small school of colorful fish and past Trudgealong (a withered sea turtle with a no-nonsense attitude), squeezing his eyes closed behind the useless face mask and trying to breathe.

Goddammit.

Nezumi’s shocked face flashed behind his closed eyelids. His voice echoed in Shion’s skull like a pissed off bee, and no matter how hard Shion fought it, he couldn’t help but remember how it had felt to sink beneath the waves with Nezumi guiding him by the wrist, propelling them both along the coral reefs much more quickly than Shion could move on his own.

Shion shook away the thoughts and focused on eying the occupants of Number Six and taking mental notes on their overall health.

For the most part, the fish and assorted sharks looked decent. Shion could sense the increased buzz of excitement radiating from them; he couldn’t “speak to fish”, and Nezumi had confirmed that no Child of the Sea could. He could, however, sense when they were comfortable or agitated.

The fish in Number Six enjoyed the summer rush far more than the staff at the West Block Aquarium did. Snubby, for example, seemed to enjoy preening in front of children who remarked on his crooked teeth and blunt nose with loud shouts to their parents and pointing fingers. These were Snubby’s point of pride, and he swam quickly around the tank to ensure everyone got a good look. If Snubby were a human or a Child of the Sea, Shion felt the two of them wouldn’t get along very well. Fortunately, for both of them, Snubby couldn’t talk.

Beneath the cool saltwater, the red marking wrapped around Shion’s body chilled. These were the only “scales” Shion had on his body, and something about being in the water gave them a more aquatic appearance. The otherwise smooth red marking bristled and slotted with patterns, and if Shion ran his bare finger over it, it would feel bumpy and slick. The vibrant color made him wonder if this would be the color his tale would be if he could grow one in water. Sometimes he disliked not being able to grow one the way Nezumi and other Children of the Sea could, but Nezumi had never made him feel bad for it. In fact, Nezumi claimed, based on the stories he’d been told, Shion was lucky. The tradeoff for most Children of the Sea was that while they could grow tails in water, their legs were weak on land. Some of the most graceful Children of the Sea turned into complete klutzes on the surface.

As a teenager, Shion had laughed himself sick at the prospect of beautiful, elegant Nezumi being reduced to a tripping mess on the land. He often wondered if that was why Nezumi would never come up on land. Nezumi was a proud creature, and Shion often wondered if his pride could survive face-planting on the sand.

But now Nezumi was on land.

Shion shook his head. Don’t think about it right now.

Shion bit down on the breathing apparatus stuffed in his mouth. Something deep inside him made him glance down to the foyer through the clear, teal water. Through the glass several floors down, Shion could see Emi and Nezumi standing in front of Rikiga. Shion watched his boss lazily drift his hand through the air, giving them both the same spiel he gave each intern at the beginning of their first shift. Emi continued to bounce on the balls of her feet, looking ready to explode into a thousand pieces. And Nezumi…

Nezumi looked up into the tank. His eyes met Shion’s, even several stories down, and he lifted his hand to wave at him.

Shion didn’t know what compelled him, but he lifted his gloved hand and waved back.

⁂

At fifteen past seven, when the aquarium had officially closed and the majority of the staff had clocked out and gone home, Shion stood outside the employee entrance, arms wrapped around himself in a desperate attempt to keep from falling apart.

Seven-thirty. Nezumi had promised to come back to the aquarium at seven-thirty and meet Shion at the employee entrance.

Shion eyed the cars zipping down the street on the opposite end of the empty parking lot. The West Block Aquarium emptied out pretty quick after the doors closed. None of the staff were eager to pull extra hours, and Rikiga didn’t offer overtime. Shion was an exception—the only one on Rikiga’s staff who was salary—and if Rikiga happened to spot his car still in the lot, it wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows.

He leaned back against the brick wall, the warm stones heating the fabric of his lab coat. He didn��t know why he bothered wearing it. Shion spent most of his time submerged in the tanks, but the lab coat made him feel normal. Human. He didn’t mind being a hybrid, not at all, but it was lonely not having someone like him to confide in.

Shion flexed his fingers. He still remembered the day he and Nezumi met. Shion had been walking down the beach—because what else was a gainfully unemployed sixteen-year-old to do on a sunny summer day in a bustling tourist town—and growing anxious amidst the screaming toddlers and indifferent mothers in their floppy sunhats, Shion had sought out a place where he could dive underwater and go missing for a bit.

Diving under the waves and vanishing, however, wouldn’t work with an audience. People stared at him because of his weird hair (even in a tourist town where teenagers dyeing their hair ridiculous colors was well within the norm), and if he went underwater and didn’t resurface, he’d have the Coast Guard called on him in no time.

Climbing the rocks clustered on the left side of the beach and walking another mile from the main beach, Shion sought out a strip of soft white beach where he could sprint in and vanish. The broken pier attached to the boardwalk (abandoned for months after a nasty embezzling scandal leaked to the press) rose into view, and Shion’s mood brightened.

He ducked beneath the pier, preparing to slip beneath the waves—and lo and behold, tangled in a net and cursing up a storm had been Nezumi.

A fisherman’s net had tangled around him as he skimmed the bottom of the water, and Nezumi had managed to break the net from the boat (rightfully confusing the fishermen in the process, who must have assumed they’d wrangled a shark), but the tight coils had knotted around his fins. Unwilling to be a sitting duck for a bigger predator (believe it or not, Children of the Sea were not the top of the food chain), Nezumi had desperately sought a strip of beach where he could safely work on pulling the net off his tail.

Immediately springing into action, Shion had deftly untangled the knots, whispering to Nezumi that he’d have him free in no time. His mind buzzed with excitement—someone like him was sitting right there—but it didn’t feel like an appropriate time to gush.

Nezumi, who’d growled at Shion when he first approached, went painfully still. His silver eyes, so beautiful and unlike anything Shion had ever seen before, watched each movement of his hands as he worked the net carefully off his fins. Shion fought his own urges to brush his fingers against the dark black and blue scales, jealous and enamored of something he should have had but didn’t, and after a few minutes of careful working, he tossed the vicious net aside and said, brightly, “There! You’re free.”

“Much obliged,” Nezumi muttered, and then, before Shion could blink, Nezumi’s hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked him into the water.

The shock of the cool ocean made Shion gasp; that had probably been Nezumi’s intention. With a few powerful flicks of his tail, Nezumi propelled them away from the shore, banking downward into the deeper ends of the shallows.

“You saved me, human,” Nezumi’s voice purred in his ear, sending goosebumps skittering down his bare arms. “So, I suppose it’s only fair to reward you.”

Drowning is a reward? Shion had thought. He’d opened his mouth to tell Nezumi that drowning wouldn’t work on him, that he wasn’t human—and Nezumi’s mouth closed over his own.

Shion’s eyes widened. Nezumi’s mouth was cool, but his soft lips sent waves of warmth through each nerve ending in Shion’s body. His eyes slid shut, the gentle shifts of the ocean waves rustling above his head. Tendrils of Nezumi’s long, dark hair brushed against his cheeks. Shion fought the urge to reach his hands out and brush his fingers through it, wondering at how soft it would feel.

An eternity later, Nezumi drew back, his arms still wrapped around Shion’s shoulders. Shion swallowed a mouthful of seawater and opened his eyes.

Nezumi’s silver eyes hovered a few inches in front of his own. He looked down at Shion—still alive, still staring at him in wonder—and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “You…” he said slowly. “You’re not drowning.”

“I am not.”

“You’re… like me?”

"Yeah. Well, half, anyway.”

“Oh,” Nezumi said, and that had been the beginning of it all.

From the moment Shion laid eyes on Nezumi, he’d known there was something different about him. Not just because he had a tail and looked like a god, but because he wasn’t like anyone else Shion had ever met in his life.

Nezumi had a vicious sense of humor. Nezumi was sarcastic and cold. He mocked Shion and poked fun at his wetsuit—black with bright red accents, because it made him feel at least somewhat attractive and it was comfortable—and he never understood how Shion could enjoy walking around on land when there was a whole ocean to explore.

But there was so much more to Nezumi than his sarcasm. He loved listening to stories. His laugh sounded like bells. He sang songs when he and Shion were alone, and he knocked Safu off her surfboard as a joke until she kicked him in the shoulder and tried to wrestle him underwater, both of them shrieking with laughter.

“Shion!”

He lifted his head, startled from his memories, and spotted Nezumi hurrying across the parking lot.

It was strange, seeing him with a pair of legs rather than a long black tail, but at least he’d changed out of the vibrant green tee-shirt Rikiga insisted his staff members wear to be more visible. Shion had never been more grateful than the day he’d been given permission to wear whatever he wanted as long as he wore a lab coat over it during work hours. As the son of Rikiga’s good friend (Crush, Safu insisted, and Shion gallantly ignored her), Shion received something akin to “special treatment” from Rikiga, though he never asked for it.

He was still wearing the cargo pants and black boots he’d been wearing earlier, but in place of the tee shirt was a black leather jacket that Shion had to admit looked stunning on him. It mixed well with his long, dark hair and piercing eyes; it was a wonder that he’d made it to the aquarium at all. How did he get through each day without a horde of people swarming around him?

Shion looked down at his cell phone. The screen flashed its white numbers, announcing seven-twenty-five. Shion’s heart skipped a bit, and he tried to compose himself as Nezumi trotted up beside him.

“You’re early,” he said softly.

“Didn’t want to risk being late,” Nezumi replied. “You don’t deserve that.”

Shion huffed through his nose. “Let’s go inside. We can talk there.”

“OK,” Nezumi mumbled.

Shion let them in the employee entrance. He shut the door behind them, then made a bee line for the elevator leading up to the observatory room near Number Six.

“Where are you going?” Nezumi called after him.

“Let’s go to Number Six,” Shion called back. “It’ll be easier to talk if we don’t worry about people walking in on us.”

“The aquarium’s closed, though.” Nezumi caught up to him rather quickly. He strode beside Shion, his long legs easily keeping pace with Shion’s brisk stride. “Who’d walk in?”

"Well, hopefully, no one. But you never know what employees have left things behind. So it’d be better not to be talking about… things where people could overhear.”

“Good point,” Nezumi murmured.

The elevator ride up to the observatory room was silent and awkward. Shion shifted from one foot to the other, and Nezumi lingered on the far end of the little room to give him space. Shion could feel those piercing silver eyes sliding toward him, then quickly darting away when Shion tried to look back. It sent prickles through his body, and he clenched his fists to focus on something else.

When the elevator dinged and signaled their arrival at the observatory, Nezumi stepped out of the room and half-jogged across the tile floor and toward the top of the tank. The lights had been dimmed, only a few bulbs bright and illuminating the dome. Nezumi quickly unzipped the black leather jacket and tossed it casually to the floor, revealing a long-sleeved yellow shirt beneath it.

“Nezumi?” Shion asked.

Nezumi didn’t answer. He shucked off his shirt, and beneath it he wore a black sleeveless shirt that Shion suspected was meant to keep him from being bare-chested in the water.

“Um,” Shion said, feeling his face heating up. “What exactly are you doing?”

"Proof,” Nezumi called over his shoulder. He swooped down to undo his black boots, kicking them off into the corner beside Number Six’s main pool.

“Proof of what?” Shion asked, but Nezumi didn’t answer. He unbuttoned his pants, and Shion quickly looked away. His face burned, and only when he heard the sound of water splashing did he turn back.

Nezumi popped back up, grabbing the side of the tank and folding his arms on top of it. He rested his chin on his wrists and looked up at Shion. His silver eyes (exactly as Shion remembered, even years later) glittered in the fluorescent lights. His hair was still in a ponytail, several strands falling down over where his ears would be.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew it was really me,” Nezumi said, and with a flick of his tail, he sent a few droplets of water raining down over Shion’s head.

His tail.

Shion’s heart stopped. When Shion met Nezumi, the first thing he’d noticed (after the eyes) had been his tail. Unlike the bright blues and greens of Disney and childhood picture books, Nezumi’s tale was dark black and flecked with deep blue. The fins were wider and longer at the base, almost lace-like and elegant. Beneath the surface of the water, Shion couldn’t seen what they looked like at the hips (he was still wearing the lime green West Block Aquarium staff tee shirt, which didn’t suit him at all), but from his memory, he knew that the scales melded into flesh around his navel.

Shion crouched beside the tank, his stomach tightening. “Why now?”

Nezumi’s tail sank back below the surface of the water. Shion could see it swaying idly back and forth, the way a human might churn their feet lazily to keep themselves afloat in calm seas.

Shion knew Nezumi’s tail would be cold if he touched it. So would his skin. Nezumi was always cold. Not his personality, but—all right, sometimes his personality, too, but mostly his skin and tail were cool whenever Shion touched them. Even years later, he could remember the way it felt to smooth his hand over Nezumi’s hip, counting the blue scales peppered throughout. Nezumi’s tail reminded him of obsidian, black at first glance, with flecks of gray and purple and blue when it moved and the light shifted across it.

Nezumi’s eyes lowered to the floor between them. A harsh silence fell around them, punctuated only by the buzzing of the lights overhead and the glug-glug of the industrial-sized water filter.

“I didn’t mean to disappear for so long,” Nezumi explained, and his voice held so much conviction that Shion didn’t doubt him.

“You said that.”

“When I went back, something… happened.”

Shion raised an eyebrow.

Nezumi’s fingers wove into his damp bangs, which were so long they fell over his left eye, and gave them a yank. Shion’s heart clenched; he recognized it as an old habit Nezumi had when they were teenagers, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. His nails were still pale and long, neat despite the distinct lack of access to quality salon service beneath the ocean’s waves.

“A human found the town where I lived,” he said quietly. “Under the ocean. When I wasn’t visiting you at the beach.”

Shion felt something clamp around his heart.

He knew what it meant if humans discovered the existence of the Children of the Sea. Humans, as much as Shion might have liked to believe otherwise, couldn’t stand knowing that there were resources they hadn’t been able to exploit. And the existence of merpeople would be a scientific miracle—enough that some greedy bastard would utilize it to try and earn millions.

“What happened?” Shion whispered. He hadn’t recalled seeing any breaking news headlines about merpeople; he definitely would have seen something like that, unless the government came swooping in to silence it.

Nezumi’s tail twitched under the water, clearly agitated. “Instead of running to the news,” he said through his teeth, “this idiot decided to try and capture one of us and bring them to the shore as evidence. Needless to say, the rest of us didn’t take kindly to that.”

“I’d imagine not.”

“But what we didn’t count on,” Nezumi said, his voice lowering, “was the oil.” He rested his hand flat on the water’s surface, letting it bounce gently beneath the water and then lifting it back up. “He emptied a container of oil into the water—not sure where he got it—and lit a match. I didn’t know it was that flammable.”

Shion listened as Nezumi explained how the flames had burned the Children of the Sea, who were unaccustomed to the sensation due to their inexperience with burning things. The oil doused them and made them sink below, unable to swim and avoid the flames. The water didn’t seem to stop it, the sticky substance creating an odd shield that didn’t mix well with the water, keeping the two materials separate from each other.

His heart ached at the thought of all the Children of the Sea who had suffered—according to Nezumi’s whispered story, the whole town had gone down in flames. A decent chunk of them had managed to escape, Nezumi included, but the majority of them…

The majority of them had burned to death.

“I’m sorry,” Shion whispered as Nezumi lapsed into uncomfortable silence. “Oh, Nezumi, I’m so sorry.”

“I was so angry,” Nezumi replied. “When I woke up and realized what had happened, I was so angry I couldn’t think of anything else. I was hurt. I was scared. And I couldn’t think of anything except how much I hated humans.”

Shion frowned. Nezumi’s dislike for humans wasn’t new to him. And fortunately, Nezumi had never spat Shion’s half-human heritage in his face. If anything, he seemed as fascinated by Shion’s legs as Shion was about his tail. The only difference was that Nezumi could have had a pair of his own—he stubbornly chose not to—and Shion had never been able to pop a tail no matter how many (embarrassing) times he’d attempted.

“When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was,” Nezumi went on. “All I knew was that my back hurt and everyone else I knew was dead. For a while things were just… bad. I couldn’t move, and when I tried, it just made me realize that there was a chance I was going to die, too, and I hated it. After a while, I could move, and I just left.”

“Left?” Shion echoed.

“I couldn’t stand being there,” Nezumi said under his breath. “Everywhere I looked I could see all the people I knew, and then I remembered that because of one greedy fucking human, they were gone. We took him down with us—Sasori, I think, yanked him off the boat and drowned him—but it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t matter that he was dead, too. It didn’t matter that, miraculously, I’d survived whatever the hell he did to us. It just didn’t matter.”

Shion swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes stung.

“I wanted to come back,” Nezumi went on, his voice painfully soft. Shion had to strain to hear him. “I wanted to at least tell you why I was going. But every time I thought about going back to that place, something just made me leave. It’s not an excuse, and I know it’s not a good enough reason to make you think that I just abandoned you, but I couldn’t—couldn’t get past the anger. I hated everyone. I hated myself. I was so angry, and there was no coming back from it. And I didn’t…” He waved his hands, agitated, the words slipping away from him. He huffed and said, “I didn’t want to take it out on you. It’s so fucking stupid, but I didn’t want to shout at you and blame you, and I was so angry with humans that I knew I would. If I saw you then, I’d only see the human part of you and blame you for things you had nothing to do with. That’s not fair. I know it’s not. And I’m not asking you to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me, either.”

“Then why come back?” Shion whispered. He’d moved forward, almost like an instinct, and sat at the edge of the tank, a few inches from Nezumi’s face. “Why come back at all?”

“Because I missed you,” Nezumi whispered back, as strong and as sure as if he’d simply stated the color of the morning sky. “I missed you. When the anger cooled, you were all I could think about. I had no way of knowing if you were even still here, or if you’d even want to see me after I just left, but if there was a chance, I wanted to take it.”

Shion’s throat tightened. He swallowed around the lump that had lodged there and ordered himself not to cry. He was angry. He was supposed to be angry. And yet, beneath the anger was wave after wave of relief that Nezumi was alive.

“So… the aquarium?”

Nezumi shrugged. “It seemed like a good job for a Child of the Sea. I filled out the application and they called me back. I didn’t know you were working here. But once I got a job and… established myself here, I wanted to find you.”

“Established yourself?”

“I wanted a way to prove to you that I wanted to stay. If you told me to fuck off and never wanted to see me again, I would understand. But I wanted a way to prove to you that I intend to stay this time.”

Shion’s hands tightened around the lip of the tank. Emotions whirled inside him like a tsunami, and he felt as if he was caught in the middle of it, unable to surface. Stinging tears prickled at the backs of his eyes, and he forced back the urge to cry. Once he started, he knew he’d never stop. He scraped the back of his hand beneath his eyes, widening them just a bit to keep from crying.

He was still angry. Of course he was. But he couldn’t imagine how badly it hurt. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if his mother’s bakery burnt down, with her and Safu and everyone else he knew trapped inside.

He took a deep breath, feeling it catching inside his chest around the ball of anger and sorrow and raw fucking hope that’d nestled within.

"Where are you staying?” Shion murmured.

Nezumi perked up, but kept his voice steady as he answered, “A motel down on Seventh Street. By the boardwalk. You remember.”

“I do.” Shion pressed his lips together. “It’s not too far from my house. What’s your schedule?”

"I’m off tomorrow, but I think I’m working open to close on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The old man says hours will pick up some time, but he wasn’t specific.”

“Do you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” Nezumi answered, much too quickly, and Shion couldn’t help the laugh that cracked out of his throat. “I can barely walk—don’t laugh at me. This is serious.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Shion said, but his lips were tugging upward at the corners. He had to admit, despite everything that’d happened, it was pretty fucking funny. Nezumi—elegant, perfect, beautiful, wonderful Nezumi, whose every movement was the physical definition of grace—was clumsy on the land.

“Yes, you are,” Nezumi groused, but when Shion stole a glance up into his face, he was smiling, too.

God, his smile.

Even after all these years, he was still as beautiful as the day Shion met him.

“Well,” Shion said, and dammit, if his voice wobbled, Nezumi better not comment on it. “The boardwalk’s on my way to the aquarium, and if you’re working about the same schedule as me, I wouldn’t mind picking you up and bringing you home.”

Nezumi’s eyes widened.

“I’m not ready to forgive you just yet,” Shion explained. “You really hurt me. I understand why you left, but I wish you had just… I don’t know, said something to me so I didn’t think you were dead. I know that might be petty of me, given what happened, and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s not petty,” Nezumi assured. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah, but you almost died.” Shion exhaled through his nose. “And I missed you, too.”

Nezumi laughed; it crackled a bit at the edges, and Shion couldn’t help it. He leaned forward, his arms reaching out—and miraculously, Nezumi reached back. Shion slid his arms around Nezumi’s shoulders and rested his forehead against the crook of Nezumi’s neck. He smelled like sea salt and an odd floral scent Shion had never been able to identify but could always remember. Despite being half fish, Nezumi never smelled like anything Shion would have expected.

Nezumi’s arms tightened around his shoulders and squeezed back. “I really did miss you,” he murmured against the top of Shion’s head.

“I missed you, too,” Shion said, and it was true. As angry and hurt as he was with Nezumi’s sudden disappearance, nothing about that had changed. “I’m not ready to go back to the way things were, and I can’t promise that I will be…”

“That’s fine,” Nezumi assured, burying his face in Shion’s hair. “I’m just glad to be here, in whatever way you’ll have me.”

This was more emotion and honesty than Shion had ever gotten out of Nezumi about his feelings, and it felt as if a sudden, burning heat had cracked through the darkness in his heart. His memories of his summers spent as a teenager came flooding back to him, and all at once, he was back on the beach, stretched out on a scratchy beach blanket with Nezumi’s arms wrapped around him. His tail rested over Shion’s legs, comfortingly cool in the midsummer heat, and heavy in a way that reminded Shion of a weighted blanket.

Nothing about it was perfect. Shion knew this. The frustration and pain wouldn’t disappear overnight, and just because Nezumi apologized didn’t mean he was free and clear of blame. But for a few moments, wrapped in his arms, Shion understood that at least he was back and they could work through it together.

He sighed, pressed himself against Nezumi’s cool, solid body, and reveled in the realization that yes, he was back. He was back, and he wanted to be here. The shush-shush of the water in Number Six fell around them, creating a comfortable mimicry of the waves that’d collapsed over Shion’s head the day Nezumi hauled him into the ocean and tried to drown him. Shion closed his eyes, tightened his grip on Nezumi’s shoulders, and for the first time in years, could finally breathe.

#no6 #no 6 #no.6 #no. 6 #no6secretsanta #aoicanvas #glorifiedscapegoat #fanfiction #submission

11 notes · View notes

brokenjardaantech · 3 years ago

Text

absorbance of the deep (chapter 2: an actual meeting)

written for a mermay prompts challenge. my prompt is ‘monochromatic.’

previous chapter can be found here.

also on ao3

---

Despite having run away from Simon in the face of danger, Josh somehow became his friend. It wasn’t that Daniel trusted him - Simon is quite certain that he trusts no one with his twin brother to this day - but given the school’s tendency to separate twins, it was impossible for Daniel to keep an eye on his twin brother who had a tendency to disappear for the whole night and then reappearing at weird places such as the pier behind the lighthouse which couldn’t be accessed without passing through the house itself and therefore should’ve been sighted by their mother, or the park which was located at the other side of the village and was impossible for a child to walk alone to without being spotted by one of the many nosy and concerned residents. That was where Josh came in: someone to look after a child who had less awareness of his surroundings than the chemical soup powered by underwater volcanoes. The ethics of handing a child whose brain wasn’t quite normal to another child instead of having an actual adult to take care of him was debatable, but at that time Simon only cared about two things: being in the ocean and learning about the ocean, and since Josh was a convenient source for the latter both due to his abundance of ocean-related books and the fact that he could explain things Simon hadn’t understand initially until he did, that meant Josh was Simon’s best friend and anyone who dared to question it would be subjected to a light hand smack. ‘Because sometimes people just need a bit of a physical reminder,’ Daniel explained as he taught where Simon should hit. ‘Don’t be afraid to use it. They probably can’t distinguish between the two of us anyway.’

But Simon knew that adults were both smarter and more stupid than they thought and he wasn’t going to test which one applied to the category of ‘distinguishing between the Phillips twins,’ so he never did much apart from the abovementioned light smack: just enough to warn others to stop questioning him and his best friend, and not heavy enough that it would be mistaken as aggression. Besides, he was supposed to be the quiet and docile among his classmates, and small, silent Simon who read as much as Josh the resident genius, slapping people? Impossible.

He couldn’t help but felt that the sea approved of him defending himself and Josh, so that was a bonus. And yes, ever since his offering was accepted and he was swept away by the waves for the first time and visited the cave and had his brains burnt up, there had been a bond between his mind and the very waters that surrounded their village, nurtured generations of villagers, took care of Simon so much better than his parents ever did; by the time he was in secondary school, most of his parents' energy were devoted to making sure that Daniel didn’t get into trouble for Simon’s behalf or pretending that Simon’s differences with normal people didn’t exist, and truth to be told he preferred the solitude it offered over anything else. Him doing his homework sitting on the beach with a thick sketchbook some students from the previous grade left in the classroom bookshelf as his table was a common sight.

It didn’t last long, however, because the arrival of a certain girl with hair matching her fiery personality in their village.

North came from ‘outside,’ which to Simon’s village could mean anything from the neighbouring town to the other side of the world of all he knew, and he was certain that he would’ve known where she came from if he had paid attention to the gossip, but once more he was too busy letting Josh do his homework and flipping over rocks for that one crab that the ocean told him to find for it and then promptly being distracted by the way the sand collapse under its own weight. He couldn’t resist touching it and it crumbled, and he now felt bad because he buried a crab alive. He turned towards the first person he saw and let out a distressed whimper.

‘It’ll dig itself out,’ the voice surprised him because it wasn’t Josh’s, and when he looked up, he saw North standing close to him directly on top of another tunnel entrance. His first instinct was, of course, to scream and flail his arms because that seemed to be the only thing he did people understood, but then again it was North. North, who kicked his bully in his balls when they ganged up on him and tried to snatch his newest book away; North, who together with Josh were the only ones patient enough to explain things to him outside school hour; North, who actually listened to Josh when he told her that Simon didn’t like loud sounds and would like her to speak quieter, unlike the others who almost always got louder because apparently Simon losing control and hurting himself was something funny. Sometimes North would drag him out of it and shove him into a locker so that he could cool down, but sometimes, with her blood boiling almost as hot as her hair, she would become one of them except on Simon’s side, grabbing whatever object she could put her hands on and wreaking havoc in her immediate vicinity, and Simon felt lucky that he had Josh to pull him out of those episodes; he probably wouldn’t be alive if his friend hadn’t dragged him away from the fight because his body’s response to danger was to freeze instead of running away like normal people do. He was afraid of North in a way, he thought as he eyed the bar stock poking out from her backpack, but at the same time he knew that Josh’s pacifism and the ‘abandon everything and run’ plan couldn’t save them from every single situation they would encounter, so they had to rely on North as long as she was willing to be on their side as one of the odd ones out.

That was, of course, only applicable to when the entire world seemed to be against them. Those were the moments Simon hated. There were also moments Simon cherished, moments of tranquillity, of acceptance, of just the three of them hanging out like there were no one else in the world apart from themselves and the sea which Simon felt too connected to to exclude from anything.

As the ‘new one,’ North was the one the teachers didn’t know very well and therefore was easily ignored just like Simon whom they had learnt not to force to speak, and if she were to disappear for a day or two every now and then… virtually no one apart from Simon and Josh noticed. The first time she did it they were worried sick and Simon had to throw himself into the sea and let the current carry him to his cave just to catch a few hours of sleep and wake up being carried back to his family’s house’s pier. The two of them were groggy and tired when Daniel dragged him to school, but seeing North in her usual seat was an oddly comforting sight as Josh handed him a new book he borrowed from the library so that he had something to distract himself with during the classes which he had never been interested in anyway, and the day went by the usual blur of loud noises and hiding in corners and Josh being the unofficial teacher’s assistant and North being unusually pleasant and happy. He suggested going to the beach because he needed to unwind and he missed the feeling of sand gliding on his skin so that was where they went, finding their usual spot and doing their usual thing like Josh doing his homework and North copying him and Simon letting the two of them work while he wandered around the empty beach barefooted so that he could sink his toes into the sand and feel the water caress his feet. As the tide breathed, the connection between his mind and… the other side strengthened and weakened, and the familiarity of the tug and pull calmed him down from the chaos of school and one of his best friends disappearing and then reappearing with no notice whatsoever. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was standing in the cave the ocean created for him a few years back, that he was in a space where he could be truly safe from the assault of the outside world.

He missed the deep blue he saw and could only see in the deepest part of the sea.

‘Simon?’

He lost track of how long he stood in the cool water, but when North’s voice rang out pleasant and without its usual fire in his ear, his toes were already numb from the cold. He opened his eyes and saw that she was standing at the edge of the tide where she wouldn’t get wet, and in her hand was something Simon had never seen before. She beckoned him over by holding it up.

‘I got this for you,’ Simon took it while he was still standing in the water so that he didn’t lose the only link he had with the sea. ‘It’s technically a pair of noise-cancelling headphones but… I don’t think you have a phone, do you?’

He hung the headphones on his arm to free up his hand and retrieve the stack of cards from his pocket. It was Josh’s idea, having a set of notecards with the most common words and phrases with him in case he found himself unable to speak (which was most of his life, if he had to be honest) so that he could communicate with other people, and so far the system worked pretty well because it wasn’t like he talked to a lot of people anyway. [i - don’t], he said. The headphones nearly slid off his arm a few times as he fumbled with the chain of cards. [what - is - it]

‘I know the others like to scream and shout even though you don’t like it, so I thought… if you can’t change them, might as well do something to protect yourself. Try it out. I wanna see if it works.’

He put the cards away and slid the headphones over his ear. Suddenly the ringing in his ear intensified, he couldn’t hear the tide crashing into the beach, there was only himself and nothing else, and he yanked off the headphones faster than he had ever moved before and collapsed on his knees. He couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from the ocean he loved so much. It would be like losing a lung. Or his brain itself.

‘Alright, maybe we shouldn’t have tried it here,’ he heard North loud and clear. ‘We’ll try it at school when it’s really noisy. It’ll work better that way.’

But Simon wasn’t listening anymore. All he could focus on was the weight of the headphones in his hand, the cold seawater soaking his trousers and lapping higher and higher much quicker than it should, and then Josh was saying something, North was shouting, and Simon did not understand; the sea was merely welcoming him into its cold embrace, so why were they terrified of it even though they knew the sea was special to him? Why did they seem to be so against it?

They’ll understand. They have to understand.

It was the same voice again, the voice that spoke to him years ago when he offered the octopus to the ocean as… he didn’t even know. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, one that his young mind came up with after witnessing so many people took from the sea without paying it back, and he had a feeling that he was being rewarded for his loyalty and devotion. He closed his eyes again, letting the headphones slip away from his hands and the waves carry him to his sanctuary, as connected as he could be with the other half of his very being without physically turning into a puddle of water washed away and diluted by a body of water so large and turbulent that he would cease to be himself.

The thought wasn’t as terrifying as it should be.

He let the soft sand warm him and the sound of running water wash away his insecurities and pain away before opening his eyes to the familiar pattern of his cave. Or their cave, he realised as he turned and saw another boy of his age lying so close to him on his side. Skin the colour of bronze, cheekbone and nose dotted with freckles of a darker shade, eyes the green just like the sea on occasions, dark hair interwoven with blue strands braided close to his scalp on the top of his head while the rest were trimmed into a fade cut, Simon didn’t even need to be in his safe space to realise that he was beautiful. It was supposed to be their first meeting, but when the other boy clasped Simon’s hand in his own, the touch did not feel foreign at all, and he watched as the boy raised his hand (so, so pale and skeletal despite being outdoors whenever he could and eating all the food he was allowed to) to his lips and kissed its back. Warmth blooms within his skin from the contact, and he wasn’t sure if it was because his entire body was heating up from his emotions or something else. Perhaps both.

‘We meet at last,’ the boy that felt like the sea breathed into Simon’s knuckles. ‘My name is Markus. Sorry for the abrupt ride. Our connection was lost for the first time since you gave me that octopus and I… panicked. I apologise. I hope it’s fine.’

Simon wanted to tell his companion - Markus, apparently - that it was more than fine, but with one of his hands captive and the other still unable to move from where it was buried in the sand because it was just so comfortable and he wasn’t ready to leave yet, he couldn’t access his stack of cards, and so he nodded and let the corner of his mouth twitch. Josh said that it was as close to a smile everyone could get out of Simon. Right now he was comfortable, he was in his safe space, and it wasn’t like the sea himself was going to tell him how to smile and emote, right?

‘You are my other half, Simon,’ Markus said, and it didn’t even occur to Simon until much later that he shouldn’t know his name. ‘I just want to make sure that you’re safe.’

Simon nodded again because he understood. The sea never lied to him before.

‘Spend the rest of the day with me? I’ll show you the way back before dinnertime.’

You don’t have to, Simon wanted to say. I would rather be with you, he also wanted to say. Forever.

As if sensing his thoughts, Markus shook his head, getting sand into his braids. ‘Not yet, my polaris,’ it sounded strange coming from the voice of a twelve-year-old - at least approximately - the contrast between his breaking voice jarring with how old he sounded, but somehow it made sense on Markus who, to Simon, was the embodiment of the boundless ocean. His free hand brushed Simon’s neck as he brought Simon’s to his own. ‘Feel this?’ He let go of Simon so that Simon could explore Markus’ neck on his own, and indeed he felt ridges that did not belong to a human’s neck under the pads of his fingers. ‘They’re my gills. I can easily give you your own so that you can come here but… I saw how the others are treating you already, and I didn’t.’

I don’t care, Simon wanted to say, but as the silence between them grew and his head became clearer from being safe and warm, he realised that whatever he was experiencing then wasn’t normal. He couldn’t always rely on North and Josh and Daniel for protection because the past two days were exactly demonstrations of that, that they wouldn’t be at his side forever, that sometimes, even though they meant well, they still didn’t understand him as good as the sea did and could hurt him unintentionally. Having strange scars on his neck would only worsen whatever he was going through.

Okay. I’ll wait for you.

‘I’m sorry, Simon.’

Don’t be.

Markus scooted closer. The sand cooled down to a pleasant temperature. Still holding Simon’s hand, Markus supported himself on his arm and kissed his temple, and a small part of Simon wished that he had kissed him on his lips instead. So Markus did. Just a small one that was no more than a short press of skin, but even as Markus pulled back, he didn’t go far, their foreheads touching as they drifted between the land of the living and slumber as one, their fingers intertwined on soft sand. It was peaceful in a way Simon didn’t think he had been before.

He only let himself feel a slight tinge of disappointment when he woke up on the pier later that day because he knew that the sea would be back for him.

#simarkus #dbh simon #dbh markus #dbh north #dbh josh #dbh daniel #dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human

3 notes · View notes

aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

A Light in the Storm

Ship: Geralt x Jaskier

Warnings: Panic attacks, passing out

Premise: Jaskier, having just joined Geralt, is excited for new adventures. Unfortunately for him panic strikes at an inopportune moment, and his adventure, not to mention his relationship with the Witcher, is thrown into question.

Author’s Note: The ending might be a bit brusque, but I thought that going on would be a bit irrelevant to the core of the story, as well as to the development of the characters. I might release the rest of it as an epilogue, tell me if you'd like that!

If you want to know the true story this is based off, as well as if you wish to read my thanks to those who've read my most recent fanfiction before this, please read the endnote. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

Ao3 link in reblog

If Jaskier had to decide the worst part of losing mobility in basically one’s entire body, being unable to even sit properly, much less climb or move about, was probably the worst bit of it. Lying down, hissing in pain as he propped up his elbow in a way that hurt less, because a baseline of pain was a given at this point, Jaskier lay his head back upon the pillows and wondered where it all went wrong. Not that he didn’t know, he knew the exact moment everything went wrong, and it was the first time he’d ever seen something get struck by lightning.

He’d been about twelve at the time, and it’d been an offshoot building for one of his parents’ manors. Lightning had struck the wooden roof, and the fire torched the whole thing to ground, as well as a wing of the greater manor and about half of the gardens. The whole family as well as the servants had run outside in a panic, and it was hours before the blaze had been put out. The memory had seared into Jaskier’ss brain, as had the unfortunate side effect of panic attacks which, in the worst cases, resulted in him passing out.

Of course such a handicap at least had the benefit of being easy enough to hide. The odd thunderstorm, though it set his heart and mind racing, usually didn’t result in something as drastic as fainting, most panic attacks didn’t. So when he’d set off with his new witcher friend, or whatever Geralt was calling them, Jaskier didn’t consider the possibility that one such attack might surface. Besides, he wasn’t a teenager anymore, surely he’d grown out of it! Unfortunately for Jaskier, hubris is not, in fact, stronger than fear.

They’d been up in the mountains when the troubles really started. The first flashes of lightning had set the hairs on Jaskier’s neck straight up, but counting it the storm seemed a good thirty miles away, and surely it would all be okay. His tentative optimism had been destroyed pretty quickly however, and when Jaskier saw a flash of lightning, willowy and branching like an infernal tree, he knew that it was a matter of time before the panic caught up with him. “Geralt…” he called out to his companion.

“Hmm?” Came the familiar reply. Normally Jaskier thought the Witcher’s reticence to speak was vaguely hilarious, and definitely adorable, but in that moment he felt sure that, had he also been on horse, Geralt would’ve been two seconds away from getting strangled. Gritting his teeth and attempting to keep his tone light, Jaskier pressed on.

“I think we ought to find shelter, wait for the storm to ride itself out. The thunder must be unpleasant to witchers, no?” He looked at Geralt, who was glancing towards the storm, the storm whose growing strength seemed directly congruent to Jaskier’s panic, and silently pleaded that he’d said something of some sense, that he might be able to save his pride before he lost it forever.

“It’s far enough, it won’t bother us. Besides,” Geralt glanced back at Jaskier, a vague smirk painted on his face, “Roach and I have both seen and heard much worse.”

“Of course you have.” Jaskier muttered to himself, realizing that the possibility of a simple escape was simply not going to happen, and wondering if he could just willpower himself out of the situation. Surely he could tell his brain to just… not? Continuing on the mountainous trek, and flinching every time he say a flash of lightning out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier almost thought that he might be able to make it, for they were about to turn away from the highest cliffs, and thus the unobstructed view of the storm, when another flash of lightning, this one seeming must closer, hit a group of trees, which promptly burst into flames.

“Geralt…” Jaskier gasped out, for the familiar feeling of heat was rushing to his head and the world was beginning both to fizz out of his vision, seeming mosre and more like he’d been dunked underwater.

“Jaskier?” Geralt shifted in his saddle. Jaskier stumbled forward, almost losing his footing, his knees seeming to go out beneath him.

“Alcohol-” He managed to make it that far before some unseen obstacle hit the tip of his boots, and, listing slightly to the side, his eyes closed and he was enveloped by heat.

Jaskier came to, feeling quite groggy, lying on his back, his arms bent around his head. He immediately felt the return of the hot, floating feeling, and closed his eyes, waiting for the cool, open air to come back to him; only then would he be safe. Attempting to sit up after the first few cooling moments, Jaskier found he could barely do such a thing before immediately having to bend over again, as everything around him swam.

“Jaskier!” The voice came to him belatedly. Too weak and unsure to look up Jaskier gave a short “uhm” back, assuring Geralt that Jaskier was, indeed, alive. A wineskin was shoved into his face, the pungent smell snapping a bit of the heat and static back, and Jaskier grabbed onto it, drinking deeply, despite the taste being, charitably, something akin to piss. He gasped for air after a few seconds, the confusion slowly wearing off, but the adrenaline still too prominent for him to care much about his situation, at least care any farther than the battle to keep awake, for he’d truly failed to fight it off the first time.

“How long.” He croaked out at last, still staring down, his head in his arms. He was vaguely beginning to register the stinging pain, which surrounded his left elbow, right knee, right shoulder, and various parts of his hands.

“Five minutes or so, eight maximum.” Jaskier sighed, but he was grateful that the man hadn’t simply rode off, leaving the poor bard to, well, Jaskier wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure what to do now, unwilling to ask how much damage this whole thing was going to do to his new relationship with his companion. For, as he was quickly becoming aware, Jaskier had just presented a most embarrassing scene, and, almost in preparation for Geralt’s inevitable scorn, embers of resentment began to flicker.

“Sorry I inconvenienced you like this.” He knew his tone probably sounded like a whining old man, or perhaps a wchild who’d shouted for a bit too long, but everything was beginning to hurt a lot more, and Jaskier could barely find the energy to raise his head up, much less deal with such complicated things as the breakdown of a barely started acquaintance. “I’ll be fine now.” He gingerly stood up, but the panic attack was gone, as suddenly as it’d arrived, and Jaskier found that he felt perfectly fine. Ignoring Geralt’s questions and gruff assurances that they could wait, accepting only to ride on Roach for some time, Jaskier quickly had them setting off again, wanting nothing at the moment but to find someplace where he could sleep for twelve hours, and dreading nothing but what would inevitably happen after that.

When a town had finally been found and they’d arrived at the stables, Jaskier realized that maybe he should’ve just walked. Bending his knee hurt like hell, but it was the slightest movement of his left arm that had his nerves screaming in pain. Stiffly swinging his right leg over, Jaskier fell out of the saddle, and probably would’ve hit the ground, if Geralt weren’t there to catch him.

“You need to get a doctor.” Geralt’s voice seemed even gruffer than usual, and Jaskier fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“What I need first and foremost is a bath, and to rebandage everything again, do you witchers not use regular herbs to fight infection? Or is it a liquid diet for you all.” Lifting himself up Jaskier gave a short “thank you” to Geralt, before walking off, or attempting to at least, his pathetic hobbling goin the speed of about 0.005 miles per hour. His pride was smarting, now that the danger of a relapse was next to none, and the stares of the townspeople hardly helped one bit. Scowling, Jaskier stared at the slight step that one needed to cross to get into the inn, but before he could screw up his courage to get his leg up he was suddenly hauled up off the ground, and straight into Geralt’s arms.

“You need a doctor.” The Witcher reiterated, and this time Jaskier said nothing, silently admitting that Geralt did have a point, even if it was one that the bard would rather not admit. His arms both flaring, not to mention his dangling knee, every step Geralt took had Jaskier swearing in pain, and slightly worried that he tumble out of the other man’s arms. Thankfully Geralt seemed an expert in carrying wounded people, and even managed to grasp under Jaskier’s arm, to his great relief. Ignoring the stares, it wasn’t every day a quiet village saw a man with silver hair carrying another man who looked like he’d just gotten the shit beat out of him, Jaskier closed his eyes, and silently wondered how fast the Witcher was going to drop him once the danger had passed.

The apothecary, for there were no real doctors in a place like this, made quick work, and even quicker examination of the bard, and soon Jaskier was given his promised bath, before being shuffled into a rough bed, pillows propping up his leg, left arm, and head. His hands had also been bandaged, the apothecary having asked what kind of cat Jaskier had gotten mixed up with after seeing the cuts in his fingers. It would be a while before he’d be back on his lute. It was that, more than anything else, which frustrated Jaskier, for even after his hands healed there was still the matter of his elbow, having been dislocated and badly bruised, which resulted in most movements, even bending, being impossible before and now, the apothecary having set the bones back into place, incredibly painful. Music was everything to Jaskier, and the thought of how much time he’d have to spend away from it put him in the blackest of moods.

There was another thing that kept Jaskier from drifting off to sleep, no matter how much his body screamed at him to rest. That, of course, was the matter of Geralt. So far the Witcher hadn’t said much. He’d listened to the apothecary’s orders as to how Jaskier was to rest, before silently carrying him back to the inn, his only words being to the man behind the bar, asking for a room and hot water. After helping Jaskier strip and bathe, something the bard would never stop feeling embarrassed about, Geralt put Jaskier to bed, before walking out the door without another word. Nothing more than half an hour could’ve actually passed since then, but to Jaskier the minutes felt like hours, and enough time had passed for him to live out a variety of scenarios on how Geralt’s leaving was going to go. Jaskier at least hoped that Geralt would tell him, rather than perhaps just ditching him to ride off in search of less pathetic companions.

Eventually Jaskier must’ve fallen asleep, for after what seemed merely like a blink of the eye the world had suddenly turned to night, and Geralt was back, with a wide variety of supplies, which crowded the table in the room. The Witcher himself was staring down at Jaskier, who attempted a small smile, one that the Witcher didn’t mirror. He looked as stone faced as ever, but he was back, and that had to count for something, right?

“Geralt-” Jaskier began, but the Witcher shook his head, before walking over to the table and picking up something.

“Poultice, for the cuts on your hand. It’ll bring the swelling down, and hopefully prevent infection.” He reached out his free hand, and Jaskier tentatively placed his own hand in Geralt’s palm. Unwrapping the bandages, Geralt spread out the slightly warm onto the bard’s palm, and Jaskier sighed, for despite the heat it did indeed seem to be drawing out the pain.

“Glad you know something of herbs.” He looked to Geralt, who smirked slightly.

“We witchers don’t solely rely on, what did you call it, a liquid diet?”

“Well thank the gods for that!” Jaskier exclaimed emphatically, before growing serious, for if they had to part, he’d rather it’d be on his own terms. “You don’t have to stay with me Geralt. Thank you for bringing me here, for your help with the innkeeper and the herbs, and stripping me down to my braies…” he paused, hoping that his face wasn’t as red as it felt, or at least that Geralt wouldn’t take much notice of it, “but I can take care of myself now. I know you weren’t thrilled to have my company in the beginning, and that a witcher can’t very well take on a companion liable to faint at every passing storm. I cannot blame you if you leave, but I’d like you to at least give me notice, that way I’ll not expect you back.” Realizing he’d been speaking so quickly he’d forgotten to breathe Jaskier choked out the last words before a long intake of breath, followed by a sigh. He looked at the Witcher, who was staring back, brows furrowed slightly.

“I’m not leaving you.” The words were short and brusque, and Jaskier was beginning to feel irritated. Why was the man making this harder than it already was? The last thing Jaskier needed was pity nannying.

“Damn it Geralt I’m bruised, not paralyzed. I’ll be perfectly fine in a day or two, and good as new in a few weeks!” Pulling his hand out of the Witcher’s his elbow grazed the mattress, and Jaskier let out a hiss of pain. Rearranging himself, Jaskier then turned back to his companion, who now was most certainly annoyed, as was evident from the frown contorting his face.

“Last I checked perfectly fine people aren’t hurt by pillows. I’m not leaving, and that’s final.”

“You say that now, but what about when I’m better, huh Geralt? You really expect me to think that you won’t leave the minute I can walk? There’s no point in pretending otherwise, so stop trying to act like your plans for staying go past a week!” Jaskier felt he’d probably said too much, but he’d already collapsed in front of Geralt. Whatever dignity he’d had in regards to the Witcher had definitely disappeared the moment he’d required reviving after a thunderstorm.

“Do you think so little of me and my kind as that?” Geralt’s tone was gruff again, half incoherent by hurt, gravelly and low. “I’m going to abandon you in the middle of fucking nowhere. And I’m not going to listen to you throw accusations at me. If you want me to leave I will, but I’m not going to act out your twisted scenarios to save your pride.”

“This has nothing to do with pride!” Jaskier burst out, though he wasn’t being entirely true, for indeed there was a part of him that smarted at the idea of Geralt knowing about how badly he reacted to storms, that resented the idea of adventures being thwarted by a single incident such as this. Geralt was evidently as unconvinced as Jaskier, and simply raised an eye. s

Trying to find better words Jaskier sighed. His head was pounding by now, and he wanted to do nothing more than go back to sleep, for starting this conversation now seemed like a horrible idea. “I want to keep traveling with you,” he restarted, “but I don’t want either you or myself hampered by this. I joined you because you smelt of adventure, remember? I’m not about to be coddled, or for you to keep me out of pity while you secretly resent my presence. Or for you to leave me in town every time you go out. If I wanted that I would’ve stayed home.”

“I won’t do that.” Geralt replied. “And I wouldn’t give up the Path for your fear of storms. But I also won’t simply leave you. I won’t coddle you, and I won’t abandon you. Happy?”

“And if there’s another storm?”

“Then I’ll load you up on liquor. Isn’t that what you were asking for before you fell?”

“It does help.” Jaskier admitted. “But are you sure you’d be willing to jump through all those hoops? I don’t want you to resent me.”

“I am. And I won’t.” The answers were as simple as the assurance he wasn’t going to leave, but this time Jaskier felt slightly hopeful, not to mention wildly lucky and a bit in disbelief.

“Why?” He ventured, for he had to know, had no illusions that Geralt was the kind of man who would do this to anyone in need. Not the same man who decked Jaskier in the stomach the first time they met.

“Because I want to.” Geralt replied, before turning towards the table, a sign that the real answer wasn’t going to be revealed anytime soon. Content with that Jaskier let his head loll back on the pillows and once again drifted off to sleep.

End note: Two days ago I passed out in a parking lot after getting vaccinated (get your shots y'all I've passed out before but am still up to date) and decided hey when life gives you lemons! Due to the unfortunate state of medicine in the Witcher universe I changed shots to lightning. Coincidentally earlier this summer a transformer (the electricity kind) was struck by lightning and two garages and a house burned down on my block. Write what you know, amiright?

My deepest thanks to the 10 people who liked/reblogged my last fanfiction. I realize it was a bit of an incoherent music rant, so I'm so glad that at least some people found it enjoyable. You guys are the best!

28 notes · View notes

cicada-bones · 4 years ago

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 20: Together

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Before they even made it over the threshold of the kitchen door, Emrys was upon them. “I’ve never seen such a sorry sight,” the old male hissed. “Blood and dirt and leaves over every inch of you both.”

He wasn’t wrong. And Emrys seemed to sense an easy victory. Their confrontation earlier had apparently only emboldened him. Not that Rowan was going to challenge the old male – Rowan deserved what he got. Not only for endangering all of them this afternoon, but for what he’d said to Aelin last night, what he’d said to her these past weeks.

Rowan could see Luca huddled by the fire, and the boy seemed alright. There wasn’t any visible damage anyways, and that was enough for Rowan. He wondered if the boy had told Emrys and Malakai about what had happened. He doubted it – Emrys was upset, but not that upset.

“No better than alley cats, brawling at all hours of the day and night,” the old male said, slamming two bowls of stew onto the worktable which Rowan sat before without a word of protest. “Eat, both of you. And then get cleaned up. Elentiya, you’re off kitchen duty tonight and tomorrow.”

Aelin was still standing in the entryway, and she seemed like she was about to protest, but Emrys held out a hand to stop her. “I don’t want you bleeding on everything. You’ll be more trouble than you’re worth.”

Rowan was already digging in to the warm stew. Perhaps it was just because of the near-death experience, or the burns currently throbbing on his arms, but it tasted even better than usual. Rich and tender and delectable.

Aelin sat next to him on the bench, swearing viciously, her face scrunched up in pain and anger. Rowan clenched his jaw. He couldn’t tell if the curses were from pain or irritation at Emrys’ declaration or if they were directed towards himself.

She stretched her right leg, wincing and cursing again. That had been the leg he’d kicked. A small measure of shame stole through him. It didn’t matter whether the curses were from pain or not – they were definitely for him.

“Clean out your mouth, too, while you’re at it,” Emrys snapped from the hearth.

A moment passed while Aelin seemed to settle into the bench, still wincing and looking at Emrys and Malakai as if she was planning on biting their heads off. Then she began to eat, and shifted back into her human form.

Emrys approached bearing a loaf of bread, saying, “Makes no difference to me whether your ears are pointy or round, or what your teeth look like. But,” he added, looking at Rowan, “I can’t deny I’m glad to see you got in a few punches this time.”

Rowan snapped his head up, meeting the old male’s gaze. His eyes seemed to say, You deserved far worse for what you’ve done to that child.

Emrys’ voice was hard, but not cruel. More...stern, as he said, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of beating each other into a pulp?”

Malakai stiffened, but Emrys went on in spite of his mate’s obvious anxiety. “What good does it accomplish, other than providing me with a scullery maid whose face scares the wits out of our sentries? You think any of us like to hear you two cursing and screaming every afternoon? The language you use is enough to curdle all the milk in Wendlyn.”

The atmosphere in the kitchen was tense, and Rowan knew they were all expecting him to be furious, to react in some way to the challenge the old male was setting. To lash out.

Instead, Rowan just lowered his head and mumbled an apology into his stew.

Surprise, and wicked amusement flashed through Aelin’s scent. Rowan almost thought he saw her lips curl into a fierce grin out of the corner of his eyes. But before he could glance up and confirm the look, Aelin stood and walked over to kneel at the old male’s feet.

She apologized profusely, to Emrys, Luca, and Malakai. For disrespecting their kindness, for hurting them with her careless words, for walking out on them that morning. Shame wafted through her scent, riddling it through with its noxious reek.

Malakai and Luca quietly muttered their acceptance, though Emrys only nodded. He was still wary. Hurt even. The grief from that morning had not yet left him, and though he had clearly forgiven her, it would be a while before everything was alright once more.

Emrys lowered his hand to help her from her crouch, saying, “I accept your apology, Elentiya. And I know you mean it, because I know who you are. All the elder Fae here do, for we knew your mother. She worked here in her youth. Fighting to convince the Fae of Doranelle that the demi-Fae should have a place in their realm.”

Aelin kept very still as Emrys spoke, and unlike Rowan, she didn’t seem all that surprised by the revelation. Though she was obviously discomforted by it, as she always was by the truth of her identity.

They ate the rest of their dinner in near-silence, and soon the kitchens began to fill for the evening, demi-Fae entering for the nightly meal and hearthside storytelling. Only a few did a double take upon seeing Aelin and Rowan together on the bench, their eyes glancing over their swollen and lacerated faces, covered in each other’s blood.

When Aelin stood to wash up after the meal, Rowan joined her, surprise coloring her scent and widening her eyes. He ignored it.

They washed the dishes together in quiet companionship, with only the sound of the swish of water and clink of china. But after only a few minutes of this, Aelin spoke, breaking the silence. “We had an adventure today.”

Rowan’s eyes shot up. She was looking right at Emrys, her eyes shining, and Luca was grinning with pure delight from the corner table. Malakai however, was not amused.

Malakai set down his spoon and said, “Let me guess: it had something to do with that roar that sent the livestock into pandemonium.”

Aelin’s eyes crinkled. “What do you know of a creature that dwells in the lake under …” She glanced at Rowan questioningly.

“Bald Mountain. And he can’t know that story,” Rowan said dismissively. “No one does.”

Emrys stared right back at him, his face tight with anger. “I am a Story Keeper,” he said indignantly, “And that means that the tales I collect might not come from Fae or human mouths, but I hear them anyway.”

Emrys sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him and obviously settling in to tell the night’s tale. Rowan couldn’t help but feel skeptical. His mother’s story had been passed through his family – and tales of Brannon and Athril were frowned upon in Doranelle. No matter how wise this male was, he couldn’t know what Rowan did. Could he?

“I heard one story, years ago,” Emrys began, “From a fool who thought he could cross the Cambrian Mountains and enter Maeve’s realm without invitation. He was on his way back, barely clinging to life thanks to Maeve’s wild wolves in the passes, so we brought him here while we sent for the healers.”

Malakai murmured, “So that’s why you wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace.” Emrys gave his mate a wry smile, their eyes meeting in a shared look of love and deep affection. Obviously, this was how they had met, all those years ago.

Emrys continued. “He had a fierce infection, so at the time I thought it might have been a fever dream, but he told me he found a cave at the base of the Bald Mountain. He camped there, because it was raining and cold and he planned to be off at first light. Still, he felt like something was watching him from the lake. He drifted off, and awoke only because the ripples were lapping against the shore – ripples from the center of the lake. And just beyond the light of his fire, out in the deep, he spied something swimming. Bigger than a tree or any beast he’d ever seen.”

“Oh, it was horrific,” Luca cut in, his voice bright and excited.

“You said you were out with Bas and the other scouts on border patrol today!” Emrys gave Rowan a look that suggested he’d better test his next meal for poison.

Rowan kept his gaze even and level, and soon Emrys was once again lost in thought, absorbed by his tale. Though perhaps his face now had a slightly darker cast. Damn that talkative child.

“What the fool learned that night was this: the creature was almost as old as the mountain itself. It claimed to have been born in another world, but had slipped into this one when the gods were looking elsewhere. It had preyed upon Fae and humans until a mighty Fae warrior challenged it. And before the warrior was through, he carved one of the creature’s eyes out – for spite or sport – and cursed the beast, so that as long as that mountain stood, the creature would be forced to live beneath it.”

Emrys paused for a moment. Rowan had been wrong – Emrys knew whereof he spoke, even if he didn’t know the specifics. Didn’t know that it had been Athril and Brannon who had battled the monster, and cursed it. But perhaps Rowan could use this to his advantage.

“So it has dwelled in the labyrinth of underwater caves under the mountain. It has no name – for it forgot what it was called long ago, and those who meet it do not return home.”

Rowan stared directly at Emrys, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. His chest ached slightly, the blood oath twisting as he pushed at its restrictions. Rowan glanced at Aelin, making sure she was listening, then asked, “Who was the warrior who carved out its eye?”

“The fool didn’t know, and neither did the beast. But the language it spoke was Fae – an archaic form of the Old Language, almost indecipherable. It could remember the gold ring he bore, but not what he looked like.”

Aelin started, her fingers reaching for the ring in her pocket. If she did not already understand, she soon would. The ring she bore was Athril’s, the sword Brannon’s. She would put it together, and could plan. Could figure out how to use this weapon he had given her – a weapon to bargain with.

It was all Rowan could do for her, all he could give her to defend herself against Maeve during their inevitable meeting. Perhaps, if she played her cards exactly right, Aelin could walk out of the city of rivers better off than she had entered it.

Rowan reached for a glass of water, the next dish in the long line of washing. He had forgotten just how mind-numbing the task was. But as he moved, the sleeve of his jacket shifted, and brushed against his throbbing wrists. The burns were even worse, the skin red and inflamed. He couldn’t hold in a wince, and he thought Aelin might have noticed.

But before either of them could say anything, Aelin to express remorse or Rowan to reject her sympathy, Emrys interrupted them, pinning Rowan down with a hard stare. “No more adventures.”

Instead of meeting the old male’s hard eyes, Rowan turned to look at Luca. Though the boy was indignant, his body tense with irritation at Emrys’ overprotectiveness, he was barely more than a child. And Rowan had nearly gotten him killed today.

“Agreed.”

But the old male didn’t back down. “And no more brawling.”

This time, Rowan met Aelin’s fierce gaze, uncertainty coursing through him. It felt as though he and Aelin had launched themselves over a cliff and into empty space, and he had no idea what the hell the bottom of the chasm would look like.

So he kept his face blank as he said, “We’ll try.”

···

Rowan went up to his rooms in silence, his every step burdened by the screaming pain in his wrists. But he refused to go the healers, nor to sneak into the storeroom where they kept their salves and tinctures. Or to heal the burns with his own magic.

Instead, he just trudged up the stairs, pushing open his door and collapsing on his bed, exhausted. He hadn’t slept last night, and the day had been long. Perhaps one of the longest of his very long life.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

His muscles refused to relax, his mind endlessly circling. The same images kept reappearing behind his eyes: Luca scrambling, his eyes wide with terror; the creature’s red eye appearing through the hole in the ice; and Aelin, standing barely inches from the lake monster, her shoulders set, half in a crouch, utterly defenseless but ready to protect the boy with her life if it proved necessary.

Aelin, not an assassin, but a warrior. A soldier.

Rowan lay awake on his bed for nearly an hour before he gave up and moved to sit in the chair beside the worktable. His fingers automatically reached for anything he could use to distract himself, and they happened upon the map of the western edge of Doranelle. The map of the area between Mistward and the sea, where the locations of each of the five dead demi-Fae were carefully marked.

But the ink swam before his eyes.

His wrists ached all the way down to the bones, but that wasn’t what distracted him. Instead he was thinking of the feeling of weightlessness that still coursed through him. As if he were falling, had lost his tether and was treading water, far out to sea. As if he were lost, and did not know the way.

Rowan didn’t think he’d known for a long while.

He’d wandered aimlessly for so long, traveling without stars or compass to guide him for so many years that he’d become numb to it. It hadn’t bothered him, the aimlessness, the purposelessness. He hadn’t even thought about it.

Now, it was as though a candle had been lit, the fog cleared. It was like he had been slowly brought back to consciousness after a long sleep, and now he had absolutely no idea where he was.

And all the while, Aelin’s fierce eyes, her smell, the very taste of her blood, echoed within him. A nagging, persistent reminder. I am here, I am here, I am here.

A soft knock at the door.

“What?” Rowan snapped, jerked from his brooding.

The door clicked open, allowing the intruder’s scent to waft into the small space. Once again, Aelin had decided to pay him a visit. It was like his thoughts had manifested her from the ether.

Only tonight, with this visit, Aelin’s scent was entwined with a faint, tentative guilt. A soft, cloying odor heavy on his tongue – like dust and rotten fruit. Entirely opposite to last nights’ intrusion.

She pushed the door open soundlessly, and made one short step into the small space. Rowan turned to face her as she took in every detail of his quarters, surprised to find that this time, he wasn’t infuriated by her imposition.

“What do you want?”

Aelin said nothing at first, her eyes roving over his bare chest, her face blank. She took in every detail of his tattoo, cataloguing his every scar. There was no desire in her gaze, only a mild curiosity. So Rowan tolerated her look, waiting until her gaze stopped to rest on the burns she’d given him, now aching red manacles around his wrists.

She tossed the salve to him. “I thought you might want this.”

He caught it with one hand, but his eyes remained on her. “I deserved it.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad.”

He turned the tin over and over between his fingers. He didn’t understand why she would care about his pain. “Is this a bribe?”

“Give it back, if you’re going to be a pain in my ass.” She held out her hand for the tin, but instead of handing it over, Rowan closed it in his fist, then set it on the worktable.

“You could heal yourself, you know. Heal me, too. Nothing major, but you have that gift.”

Aelin hesitated, her brow furrowed. “It’s – it’s the drop of water affinity I inherited from Mab’s line. My mother –” another pause, this time with a grimace of pain, “told me that the drop of water in my magic was my salvation – and sense of self-preservation.”

Rowan nodded, and she continued, “I wanted to learn to use it like the other healers – long ago, I mean. But never was allowed to. They said…well, it wouldn’t be all that useful, since I didn’t have much of it, and Queens don’t become healers.”

Aelin’s words tapered off, her gaze turned inwards, remembering. Rowan almost felt as though it was he who was intruding, though it was she who had come, uninvited, to his rooms twice in two days.

It was awkwardness that caused his next words to fall from his mouth, “Go to bed. Since you’re banned from the kitchen tomorrow, we’re training at dawn.”

Aelin turned without another word, but as she moved her scent filled with a deep ache, almost sorrow, and her ashes coated his throat.

Rowan had learned more about the princess this past day than he had in all of the previous weeks. Still, there was much to learn, much to uncover. But his picture of her was far more complete, far less impressionistic than it had been even yesterday.

She had given him a few of her truths, a few of the secrets she held close to her heart. And he had given her nothing in return. She knew nothing of him – not his age, his family, his purpose, his history. Rowan knew of some of the death that weighed on her heart, but she knew nothing of what weighed on his. Knew nothing of Lyria.

And it didn’t seem…fair, somehow. Didn’t seem like an even exchange.

Rowan felt that he owed Aelin, but it was more than that. He couldn’t bear for her to leave, for both of them to fall asleep that night, with these words still dammed up inside him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the princess not knowing, not understanding why. Rowan knew about her grief, but she had no idea that it was shared. That they both had been left alone.

So before Aelin could walk out of his room Rowan spoke.

“Wait. Shut the door.”

There was a pause, but then the door clicked, and Rowan heard the rustle of clothes and groan of wood as Aelin leaned against the entrance, waiting for him to speak.

He breathed deep. Once. Twice. Again.

“When my mate died, it took me a very, very long time to come back.”

A breath from behind him. “How long ago?” she asked.

“Two hundred three years, twenty-seven days ago.”

It was either fate or luck or the gods themselves that had Rowan first meet Aelin on the anniversary of Lyria’s death. Or maybe Maeve had planned it that way on purpose. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her.

Rowan gestured to his tattoo. “This tells the story of how it happened. Of the shame I’ll carry until my last breath.”

Cold understanding emanated from Aelin. “Others come to you to have their own grief and shame tattooed on them.”

“Gavriel lost three of his soldiers in an ambush in the northern mountains. They were slaughtered. He survived. For as long as he’s been a warrior, he’s tattooed himself with the names of those under his command who have fallen. But where the blame lies has little to do with the point of the markings.”

“Were you to blame?” a soft, level question. From one killer to another. Rowan turned slowly to face her, not quite all the way, but enough to give her a sidelong glance.

“Yes. When I was young, I was…ferocious in my efforts to win valor for myself and my bloodline. Wherever Maeve sent me on campaigns, I went. Along the way, I mated a female of our race. Lyria.”

It had been so long since he said her name aloud, so long since he spoke of her without someone flinching, or skirting around it, avoiding it like the plague. Afraid of Rowan’s reaction. But Aelin’s even gaze did not shift one inch.

“She sold flowers in the market in Doranelle. Maeve disapproved, but…when you meet your mate, there is nothing you can do to alter it. She was mine, and no one could tell me otherwise. Mating her cost me Maeve’s favor, and I still yearned so badly to prove myself. So when war came calling and Maeve offered me a chance to redeem myself, I took it. Lyria begged me not to go. But I was so arrogant, so misguided, that I left her at our mountain home and went off to war. I left her alone.”

For the first time, Rowan’s eyes met Aelin’s, and in them, Rowan could almost see her words from the previous night echoing through her mind. You left me.

Her face softened, but it wasn’t in pity. It was in understanding.

“I was gone for months, winning all that glory I so foolishly sought. And then we got word that our enemies had been secretly trying to gain entrance to Doranelle through the mountain passes.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, and scratched at his face. He had never given this story to anybody, had never needed to, and the words and images and memories cracked the ice in his veins and shot him through with acid.

“I flew home. As fast as I’d ever flown. When I got there, I found that…found she had been with child. And they had slaughtered her anyway, and burnt our house to cinders. When you lose a mate, you don’t …” he shook his head, his jaw clenched tight, his heart in his throat.

“I lost all sense of self, of time and place. I hunted them down, all the males who hurt her. I took a long while killing them. She was pregnant – had been pregnant since I’d left her. But I’d been so enamored with my own foolish agenda that I hadn’t scented it on her. I left my pregnant mate alone.”

Aelin’s voice broke as she asked him the question, that same question he had thrown at her in the woods that evening. “What did you do after you killed them?”

“For ten years, I did nothing. I vanished. I went mad. Beyond mad. I felt nothing at all. I just…left. I wandered the world, in and out of my forms, hardly marking the seasons, eating only when my hawk told me it needed to feed or it would die. I would have let myself die – except I…couldn’t bring myself …” the words trailed off, the memories almost overwhelming.

Rowan cleared his throat. “I might have stayed that way forever, but Maeve tracked me down. She said it was enough time spent in mourning, and that I was to serve her as prince and commander – to work with a handful of other warriors to protect the realm. It was the first time I had spoken to anyone since that day I found Lyria. The first time I’d heard my name – or remembered it.”

“So you went with her?” a wry question.

“I had nothing. No one. At that point, I hoped serving her might get me killed, and then I could see Lyria again. So when I returned to Doranelle, I wrote the story of my shame on my flesh. And then I bound myself to Maeve with the blood oath, and have served her since.”

They sat in silence for one long moment, both pulled deep within themselves. It was a companionable silence, one of shared grief and pain. A silence that Rowan had only ever shared with Gavriel.

Then Aelin spoke, her voice hesitant again. “How – how did you come back from that kind of loss?” Her face was open, her eyes wide. An honest, earnest question. One he had no answer to.

“I didn’t. For a long while I couldn’t. I think I’m still … not back. I might never be.”

Aelin nodded, her lips pressed tight, and glanced away from him and towards the window. Her scent roiled with that ancient grief, a sadness that marked her, aged her far beyond her years. Silver lined her eyes.

Rowan knew that her face was a mirror to his. That it always had been.

Aelin knew what is was to be crippled at your very core, understood the icy grief that coated his every word, his every step, because she had her own to match. And with that realization, with that inescapable truth, Rowan couldn’t help but trust her.

To trust this foreign princess with a small piece of his shattered heart. To trust that she would take it without grinding it into dust. That Aelin could see that deep, dark part of himself and would not look away from it. That perhaps, he no longer had to be so completely alone.

“But maybe,” the words escaped him quietly, softly. Aelin turned to look back at him. “Maybe we could find the way back together.”

“I think,” she said, “I would like that very much.”

The soft, tentative whisper was a brush of heat over his icy heart. The first rays of dawn over the snow-capped mountains. Deep in his chest, Rowan felt the aching warmth of hope yawn its golden head, the strongest he could remember feeling since the death of his mate.

Rowan held out his hand. “Together, then.”

For one small, infinite moment, Aelin hesitated, studying his hand intently. But then she reached out a small, scarred palm and took his outstretched hand in hers.

“Together,” she said, her voice defiant, yet soft.

Perhaps it was an illusion of the faint firelight, but as Aelin took his hand, Rowan thought he could see the gold in her eyes flicker and twitch, a living flame coaxed from slumber.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#WatE repost

16 notes · View notes

clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

Note

bella! I don't know if you're taking requests/prompts? but if you ever feel like writing anything based on just friends by saint morgan, that'd be cool? xD (whichever ship you think it fits, but it reminds me of that cake fic you wrote based on "silent confessions at the foot of your bed") anyway yeah that's all

shal !! it took me two months but i finally got around to writing this. since you mentioned g&c cake i made it cake, and yes i did loop the song the entire time i was writing it (29 times!). also i have to say, EXCELLENT taste. listening to that song 29 times really made me love it. also i recommend listening to it while reading for optimal experience. anyway i hope i did it justice <3

They go to the river.

River is a generous word for what’s really a racing stream, but the ambience is nice. It’s a warm Tuesday in December, and Calum’s restless for adventure. Luke can tell — somehow Luke can always tell; Calum doesn’t think he’s an open book but Luke only needs to give him a critical once-over before he’s got Calum figured out — so Luke suggests they go to the river, and Calum eagerly agrees.

Neither of them bothers to put on better clothes for swimming. They’re not really planning to swim, though it might happen anyway. It’s just nice to be outside on a gorgeous day like this. And Calum will take any and all opportunities to spend time with Luke.

“Dare you to go in,” he says as they approach the bank. Luke laughs.

“Darers go first.”

“Fine.” There’s no way Calum’s getting in; it’s warm but not that warm, and he doesn’t want to be cold the rest of the afternoon. Maybe he can manipulate Luke into getting in, though. He’s seen Luke caught in a rainstorm before, so he knows from experience that nobody looks quite as pretty while drenched.

It’s too late for Calum to pretend he’s not thinking it, or convince himself that he doesn’t have the world’s worst crush on Luke, so he’s learning just to let himself indulge when he can.

“You so won’t,” Luke scoffs. Then he shrugs. “It’s nice out, though. Maybe in a little bit.”

Calum concedes this with a tilt of the head, and in tandem they sit down on the grass nearby, claiming a shady spot under a tall tree. Luke leans back, stretching his arms behind his head like a pillow, and closes his eyes. Calum props himself up on his elbow and watches Luke.

Some people are winter people, best framed against clean white snow and wrapped up in layers. Luke is a summer person. His skin gleams under the sun, eyes and sky competing to be bluest. T-shirts and shorts suit him best, and even hidden in the shade of the tree, he’s dappled with sunlight through the leaves. Pretty is hardly sufficient; he’s one of the most beautiful people Calum’s ever met, ever seen in his life.

They don’t talk for a minute. Luke’s eyes flutter open, as if by accident, but when he sees Calum they stay open. “What?”

“What, what?”

“Don’t stare at me,” Luke says, pink-cheeked.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Luke says immediately, and then, “but just — don’t.”

Calum shifts so he’s on his back, side by side with Luke but not quite touching. “Fine, weirdo.”

“You’re the one who was staring!”

“Well, you’re the one who made it weird.”

“It’s weird to stare at your friends.”

“I don’t think it is. Not when they look like you.”

Luke is quiet. “Still,” he finally says, and that’s a soft rejection, but it had been a soft attempt anyway, so Calum takes it with a grain of salt.

Another couple minutes pass. It’s not humid, but the warmth lingering in the air makes Calum feel a bit drowsy, so he closes his eyes also, allowing them both to soak in the summer silence.

Luke breaks it by saying, “Um, this is a stupid question, but we’re really friends, right?”

Calum frowns without opening his eyes. “Of course we are,” he says. “That is a stupid question.”

“I guess you wouldn’t tell me if we weren’t,” Luke continues, like he hasn’t heard Calum.

“I wouldn’t be friends with you at all if we weren’t,” Calum argues. He opens his eyes and turns once again onto his side to look at Luke, who’s now gazing up at the branches above them. “What are you even saying?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says. He’s blushing deeply. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Why do you ask?” Calum presses. “What are you thinking about?”

Luke shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

It’s obviously not nothing — Luke’s leg is bouncing, the way it does whenever he gets nervous — but Calum can’t imagine he’ll get any further with the third degree, so he backs off.

“I’m gonna get in the water,” he decides. He’s not totally sure what makes him say it, but it gets the result he’d hoped for: Luke purses his lips and says, “Me too, then.”

They both get to their feet and brush themselves off. “Is there dirt on my back?” Calum asks, turning out and attempting to look over his shoulder.

Luke steps behind him. “A bit, yeah,” he says. With one hand he braces Calum’s shoulder, and the other brushes the dirt off Calum’s t-shirt. Calum swallows, trying not to squirm under Luke’s firm grasp. As soon as he’s done, Luke moves away, and Calum reaches for the collar of his shirt and pulls it off.

Luke makes a noise. “What are you doing?”

Calum turns to him. “I’m not getting my shirt wet, I’ll just be colder,” he says, drawing his eyebrows together.

Luke bites his lip. “Oh. That makes sense.”

It does make sense, but it also does exactly what Calum had intended. After a moment’s hesitation, Luke also tugs his shirt off, and they both head for the stream.

The current is slow today, and when Calum trudges into the water it goes up to the middle of his stomach. He bends his knees and watches Luke slowly wade in after him, staring once again. Luke is skinny, but there’s something sculpted about him, like none of him is by accident; like someone built him, or sketched him with a ruler and then brought him to life, clean lines and sharp edges. Calum is dying to touch him, just to see if his skin is as hot as the sunlight it’s made of, if dragging a hand down his arm makes him bleed, if his hair is as soft as it looks.

More than all of that, Calum wants to kiss him, so much he thinks he might lose his mind if he doesn’t get to.

Luke sinks low in the water, digging his heels into the riverbed so he doesn’t drift away. Calum lets the current bring him closer.

“Kinda cold,” Luke says, giggling. Calum looks at him and can’t look away.

“Kinda,” he says. “Bet you’re glad you’re not wearing a shirt now.”

“I am,” Luke acquiesces. “You’re a genius, Calum.”

“That is true. I am a genius.” There’s a pause. “You should dunk your head,” Calum says. “We should both. On three.”

“Really? You want to put your head in this water?”

“It’s just water.”

Luke ponders this but fails to come up with a decent counter-argument. “Fine,” he says. “Promise you’ll actually do it?”

“It was my idea,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

“On three, then.” Luke bobs up and down. “One, two — three!”

True to his word, Calum submerges himself completely, then surfaces and shakes his head out. Luke has also kept his word, and his hair is plastered ridiculously to his forehead until he reaches up and pushes it back with one hand. The light is threading itself through the sheen of water over Luke’s shoulders and chest. Calum is helpless against it; Luke was made to be gazed at, and Calum is just a lucky spectator.

“You’re staring again,” Luke says quietly. Calum smiles and floats nearer to him.

“Yes I am,” he says easily. “You’re very easy to stare at.”

Luke’s cheeks turn red. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Luke says, flustered. “Because — I don’t know.”

“Do you want me not to?”

“Not to…what?”

Calum bites his lip, waving a hand underwater and sending the flow this way and that. “Whatever it is you’re telling me not to do.”

Luke shakes his head. “It’s just — never mind.”

“You can tell me, you know,” Calum says. Luke’s not moving away, which is a good sign, so Calum straightens up. He feels like he’s towering over Luke until Luke also straightens up, and then, hesitantly, Calum takes a step closer. One more step and they’ll be touching; one more step for Calum to be the first person ever to make contact with the sun. “You don’t have to say never mind. I want to know.”

Luke looks away, down at the rocks and sand under their feet. “My mum says she thinks you’re trouble.”

That’s not what Calum had been expecting. “What?” he says, strained. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Luke mumbles. “She says she thinks you’re going to be one of those people who takes the shy kid under their wing and then just ditches him a few weeks later. Like, one of those popular kids.”

Calum makes an offended noise. “I would never do that!”

“She’s looking out for me,” Luke says, and he sounds tired. “I mean, I…I’ve never really had close friends, so I think she’s just being overprotective. I don’t know. She got in my head. That’s why I asked you that, earlier.”

“Luke, I’d never. You know I’d never. We’re really friends. You’re one of my best friends.” Calum takes a deep breath. “You believe me, right?”

Luke finally lifts his gaze to meet Calum’s. “Yeah, I do. I just don’t think my mum will. I tried to tell her that and she wouldn’t listen.”

Calum is itching to take that last step, but there’s something stopping him. Maybe it’s just the look on Luke’s face. “Is she — does she hate me?”

Luke shrugs. “It’s more like she really doesn’t trust you. So…I guess that’s the same. Sorry, Calum. I mean — I like you, though. And I know she’s wrong.” Something occurs to Calum. “Does she know you’re with me right now?”

Luke laughs a bit, though it’s clear he doesn’t find it funny. “No, uh…I told her we’re not friends, anymore.” He winces. “I know that’s — I know that’s not — I’m a coward, you know? But —”

“It’s okay,” Calum says with difficulty. “You don’t want to upset her.”

“It’s more like I just wanted her to stop shit-talking you,” Luke says. “She doesn’t talk about you anymore, so.”

“That’s good.” Calum bites his lip, hesitant. “I thought you were going to say it was something to do with, like, hanging out with the gay kid or something.”

Luke’s face twists into an expression of horror. “No! Calum, no way.” He breathes a nervous laugh. “She couldn’t have a problem with that anyway. I also, um, like boys, and she’s never said anything about that.”

Calum blinks. “You do?”

Through the water, Calum can see Luke kicking up pebbles. “Yeah,” he says. “I thought I said.”

“You didn’t. Just boys, or…?”

“And girls,” Luke says. “But, um, it’s a bit — it’s not like I’ve ever dated anyone, or kissed anyone, or anything, so, you know, I could be wrong.”

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

Luke blushes with his whole body, Calum notices, with distant amusement. It creeps up his neck and tints his ears before crossing his cheeks. “Uh, no.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Calum does a quick pro-con analysis, but in the end it’s nothing but hope and recklessness that makes him ask: “Do you want to?”

“Obviously I want to,” Luke says, rolling his eyes.

“No, I mean.” Calum licks his lips, which feel suddenly dry. “Do you want to right now. With me.”

The quiet that follows is the heaviest Calum’s ever been in. It stacks itself onto Calum’s shoulders, daring him to cave, to back down even an inch, but Calum just stands still and watches Luke. If he doesn’t want to, he can always say no. He has to know that Calum will back off if he says no.

Luke swallows hard. “Really?” Calum nods once, holding his breath. There’s another moment of silence while Luke studies his face, and finally he says, “Okay. If you’re sure.”

Calum’s never been more sure of anything in his life. At last the invisible barrier breaks down, and Calum takes the final step to bridge the distance between them. “Stop me if, um, whenever,” he says. Luke nods. Calum settles his hands delicately on Luke’s shoulders — electricity racing up his arms — and Luke moves his hands uncertainly around for a second, so Calum grabs his wrists and settles them on his own waist. “Okay?”

“Sorry,” Luke mutters. Calum shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

“It’s all good,” he says. “Can I…”

Luke nods slowly, so Calum wastes no time. He leans in and Luke meets him in the middle, and for a second everything in the world stops moving, stops existing, except Luke’s mouth on Calum’s, clumsy and unsure but decidedly Luke, who Calum’s wanted to kiss basically since they met.

Not only is it exceptional for a first kiss, it’s exceptional for a kiss at all. Calum quickly wraps his arms around Luke’s neck and Luke’s wind around Calum’s waist, pressed together at almost every point. Despite the chill from the breeze catching on their damp skin, Calum feels like he’s on fire. If this is what it’s like to touch the sun, Calum never wants to stop. He’d burn himself up to kiss Luke forever.

Though Luke had been tentative at first, he surrenders immediately when Calum slides his tongue over Luke’s bottom lip, with a small sigh that makes Calum’s heart skip a beat, or cease altogether. Around them, the current pushes the two of them impossibly closer together; when Luke’s tongue finds its way into Calum’s mouth, Calum fails to suppress a shiver, and immediately Luke breaks away, concerned.

“Are you cold?” he asks breathlessly.

Calum laughs and shakes his head. “Not even a little bit,” he says, and pulls Luke back in.

The feeling of Luke under his fingertips is overwhelming, and Calum is sure that without the kiss grounding him, he’d float away entirely, or disintegrate, or burst into flames. He feels like he’ll do one of those things as it is, or maybe all three. Kissing Luke is also overwhelming, but in a completely different way, because it’s a two-way street. He’s kissing Luke, but Luke is also kissing him.

(Shamelessly, hungrily, lips and teeth and tongue against Calum’s. Calum has a hard time believing that this is Luke’s first kiss. Nobody should be this good on their first try.)

Eventually, and with a gasp, Luke breaks it again. Calum chases his lips for a last kiss, something soft, because as far as he knows he’ll never get to kiss Luke again. It fills him with dread to think it, but this had ostensibly only been a first-kiss offer, and now they’ve checked that box.

(They’ve destroyed the box. The box is in tatters. The box isn’t even recognizably a box anymore.)

Both of them stand there, unmoving as the stream brushes up against their skin, breathing heavily in each other’s space. Calum can’t think of anything at all to say, and Luke says nothing either; for a long time they just stay there, reluctant to separate and equally reluctant to shatter the silence. If they acknowledge it, then they have to move past it. Calum doesn’t want that. He wants to live in this moment for the rest of his life, to always be suspended in the moment just after kissing Luke, when he can still taste him.

Luke opens his mouth finally, and what he says is, “Oh. Um. Thank you.”

Despair floods Calum. “It wasn’t a favor,” he blurts out. Luke frowns in confusion. “I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. We don’t have to again if you don’t want to, but you should know.”

Luke exhales. “Oh.” His gaze skids lower, away from Calum’s eyes. Calum becomes hyper-aware of how close they still are. Luke hasn’t made any effort to move away, and Calum certainly doesn’t want to. That has to be a good sign, right? “I — um.” He takes a sharp breath. “My mum…”

Fuck. Luke’s fucking mum. Calum’s never hated anyone more. “So don’t tell her,” Calum says.

Luke looks up at him. “I couldn’t do that to you. I don’t want to be with you like that.”

For a second, Calum’s throat closes up with the bulk of words building up, question marks all trying to force their way between his teeth, tangling up his tongue. “Wh— do you want to be with me at all?”

“Of course I do,” Luke says timidly. “I’m just. I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “It’s kind of scary.”

“Yeah,” Calum says, infusing his voice with as much comfort as he can muster while reeling from the force of Luke’s answer. Of course I do. “Yeah. It’s scary. Sure. Especially if it’s a secret. If it’s too, um, too much — I don’t want to put you in a position —”

“No, no,” Luke says. “I’m saying I want to anyway.” The blush has taken up permanent residence on his face, but somehow Luke’s voice is clear and unflinching. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

Calum wavers. “Are you sure, Luke? It’s kind of a, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Luke says firmly. His eyes flit around Calum’s face, maybe searching for something. “We should probably, like, get out of the…the water.”

Calum tightens his arms around Luke’s neck, leaning his forehead against Luke’s. His heart is beating irregularly, and it might be from the cold, but it’s probably not. “Or we could not.”

Luke chuckles weakly. “We’ll catch cold or something.”

“It’s December,” Calum says, barely a breath. “Live a little.”

Luke doesn’t answer him, but he surges forward and kisses Calum with none of the reservations he’d had minutes earlier, and if the current washed them both away right now, or sunk them under and mysteriously claimed their lives, Calum knows he’d die happy.

#calum hood #luke hemmings #cake #cake fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #i am queueing this lol #so i have no idea when it'll post lmao but i'm queuing (queueing?) it on october 29 at 8:30pm #so. that'll be fun whenever it posts #shal i have to say. GREAT song #the VIBES of this fic. especially with the song on a loop. mmmm #well chosen. VERY well chosen #also shoutout to iba for literally listening to the song with me....like.......just listening with me to just friends on a loop #iba i can't believe you did that you're the best and i would kill for you #i don't know if this shares the vibes of the g&c fic but i hope it satisfies anyway #xoxoxoxo i am breezing through these #i might move it up in the queue so it doesnt go after my currently 32 queued posts #we'll see #who KNOWS what i'll do! not me that's for sure #and now i am going to go make myself some ramen for dinner #bye lol #wheniminouterspace #ask #answered

15 notes · View notes