#i can see him practicing accents and then going onto the bridge and having trouble switching back and the rest of the crew are like

[hydr0phius]

If the Pantorans have Australian accents and Thrawn is often mistaken for a Pantoran, does this mean he attempts an Aussie accent if he ever decides to play into that assumption?

[fics-n-stuff]

Deep Breaths

For @inquistitorebony, see request here

Pairing: Kaz Brekker × Reader

Summary: Y/N's anxiety gets the best of them on a job, but thankfully Kaz knows how to handle it.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Panic attacks, brief violence, fake blood, explosions

A/N: Ahh I'm so sorry this took me so long to write!! I had writer's block and I thought I was getting out of my slump but then it just got so much worse again. I had to try so hard to get this finished and I genuinely can't tell if it's good or not, so I really hope you enjoy it 🤞🏽❤

You knew the plan. At least, you thought you knew the plan. You could never be sure with Kaz. Regardless, you were in place where he’d told you to be, weapons concealed in your outfit and Jesper at your side.

“This is crazy. You realise this is crazy, right?” You said, peering around the corner of the alley to get a view of the bridge and the crowds of locals and tourists alike.

“Everything we do is crazy.” Jesper replied with a smirk. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Sometimes you had to wonder how you ended up here, working for Kaz Brekker of all people. The answer to that question was that Jesper had dragged you into it, but then came the question of how the hell you and Jesper had become friends in the first place. That answer was more complicated.

The university of Ketterdam was where your parents had sent you to keep you out of trouble, to get an education so that you could do something useful and conventional with your life. Unfortunately for them, you only succeeded in getting yourself into trouble. Jesper had been the root of that. He was the one who had encouraged you to join him and a group of students on that first night out in East Stave.

You’d managed to stay in university longer than him, but the pull of adventure that the Barrel offered eventually got the better of you. When Jesper fell in deep with the gambling halls and turned to Kaz and the Dregs, you had followed after him for no reason other than the thrill. Which was strange, considering the immense anxiety that you carried through life.

Jesper had questioned it at the time, and sometimes continued to question you on it, but you couldn’t explain it to him. The type of thrill that your exploits with the Dregs provided wasn’t the type that triggered your anxiety, generally speaking. Talking to people was your weak point, fighting or stealing from them was usually fine.

Kaz had been skeptical about you at first, but Jesper was adamant that he should bring you onboard. It wasn’t long before he came to see that you certainly had your uses and you worked in a team, especially with Jesper at your side. He never mentioned your anxiety, but nothing slipped past Kaz. He definitely knew even before he had witnessed the full effect of it, and you had noticed long ago how he tended to keep you off of jobs that might cause you to panic.

“I see the signal from Nina.” Jesper said, eyes on a flash of light coming from a window up the street. “Get ready.”

“Born ready.” You smirked.

“I’ve been rubbing off on you. I’m not sure I like what I’ve created.” He commented, and you rolled your eyes.

“Distraction time, Jes.” You said, bursting a capsule of fake blood between your teeth and slamming another one against you chest before stumbling out of the alleyway. Your nice, white shirt now had a fresh red stain, blood running down you chin, and you looked just like a well-to-do tourist who had run into the wrong crowd.

“Help!” You heard Jesper shout in Zemini right behind you, and eyes began to turn in your direction. “We’ve been attacked!”

“Somebody get help!” You followed up in a fake Zemini accent, which Jesper had earlier remarked upon as being scarily accurate. It was right then that the stadwatch patrol that you had been sent out to distract in the first place rounded the corner. “Guards! Help!”

The stadwatch turned to the source of the commotion, and rushed immediately over to you. That was something that they wouldn’t do if you were dressed in your regular Barrel attire.

“In Ghezen's name, what happened?” One of them exclaimed. Jesper began rambling in Zemini, doing a very good job of acting frantic with his hand on the tailored bruises around his eye and over his cheek. You caught a glimpse of Kaz emerging out of the next street down, completely unnoticed thanks to your distraction.

“Do you speak Kerch?” A guard asked you after being unable to get anything helpful out of Jesper.

“Yes, yes I speak Kerch.” You answered, straining your voice as if you were in pain. “They came out of nowhere, attacked us and stole our things.”

The guard reached out to move your shirt, and you let out a scream of pain to deter him. It worked and he jumped back, eyes wide and afraid.

“We need to get you to a medik.” He said quickly, and you nodded. You turned to Jesper and recited the Zemini sentence that you had practiced all morning, just incase an onlooker happened to actually be Zemini.

“Give me some help, I can't walk like this.” You said. He nodded, shaking his arm out of the grip of the other stadwatch guard and reaching out to pick you up. Practically effortless with all that farmer’s strength.

“Alright, follow us.” The guard said, but as he took the first step there was a deafening bang and a huge plume of smoke from the street around the corner.

Perfect timing, Wylan.

Panic overtook the street, the stadwatch guards turning their attention from you to the smoke rising over the buildings. They started shouting to the people around, trying to keep them calm.

Another blast sounded, and now people were running. Jesper set you down, and you patted over the pistol concealed in your jacket just in case.

“Let’s get moving.” Jesper said, as quietly as he could for you to still hear him over the commotion. You nodded, your heart beating fast as people stormed past you. You didn’t like big crowds, and there were more people here than it had initially appeared. There was a handkerchief in your pocket, and you took it out and wiped the fake blood off of your face.

The two of you began following the flow of the crowd, when suddenly there was a flash of light and a cloud of dust flew towards you as another blast went off up ahead.

That wasn’t part of the plan.

Your heart jumped and your breathing immediately quickened as the people who had been running that way now pressed back towards you. Jesper grabbed your arm, seeing the panic that was beginning to fill your eyes. The explosions weren’t creating any damage, just a loud bang and a lot of smoke, but these people didn’t know that and they wanted to get as far from them as possible as fast as possible.

“We’ll go around.” Jesper said, tugging on your arm to pull you after him as he made a beeline for the nearest alleyway.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you let Jesper drag you through the alley onto the next street across, which was just as crowded with panicked people. He pulled you along behind him as he wove through the crowd towards the rendezvous point, your mind spinning and your chest tight. You didn’t even realise that you were there until he pushed you back against a wall and moved you to sit down on the ground.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me.” He said, a firm hand on your shoulder. “Deep breaths, okay?” He turned to look over his shoulder at Kaz and Wylan. “What happened? Why was there a third explosion?”

“Things didn’t go exactly according to plan.” Kaz replied. “We had to prolong the distraction to get away.”

“I always keep extra equipment on me; I gave it to Inej and told her to set it off further up from the bridge if we ran into trouble. It was the best option we had.” Wylan added.

“Right, well, tell that to Y/N's anxiety.” Jesper huffed.

“Jesper, you and Wylan have to keep going.” Kaz said.

“What? Look at Y/N, I’m not leaving-"

“Now, Jesper, or all of this has been for nothing.”

“But Y/N was supposed to come with us.” Wylan fretted.

“You’ll make it work. Now go, I’ll deal with Y/N.”

“This is my best friend, Kaz.” Jesper said, leaving your side to approach Kaz, practically squaring up to him. “This isn’t a problem you can solve with planning and scheming, this is a serious human issue and you don’t have a great record with those.”

“I have it handled, Jesper.” Kaz responded firmly.

“Go, Jesper.” You spoke up, elbows rested on drawn up knees, your chest rising and falling heavily. You nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He looked at you, concern on his face, but eventually sighed and nodded back.

“Alright.” He said, stepping back over and lightly patting your head comfortingly. “Come on, merchling.”

Jesper and Wylan moved on to the next step of the plan, leaving you and Kaz alone. He took a seat on the floor against the wall opposite you in the small space, his bad leg outstretched in front of him and his cane resting across his lap. You looked at him, the edges of your vision still blurry.

“I apologise for not warning you ahead of time.” He said after a moment. “I should have accounted for the fact that such a surprise would have a negative impact on you.”

Kaz was generally cold – unaffectionate and pragmatic – but you had a suspicion that he’d always secretly had a soft spot for you. He was considerate of your feelings; he was even almost nice to you when nobody else was around. You quite liked the Kaz that you got to see. It was different to the Kaz that Jesper always complained about.

“What could have possibly given the impression that I was impacted negatively?” You managed to joke, but you choked on your laugh as your body desperately tried to fill your lungs.

“Hey, look at me.” Kaz said before you could start hyperventilating again. “Put your knees down, open up your chest.” You complied, and your body thanked you for the action as some of the strain in your chest alleviated.

“Sometimes I wonder why the hell I put myself in these situations.” You panted.

“I did warn you against it, but you seemed determined to follow in Jesper's footsteps.” He replied. “You’ve made a pretty good go of it regardless. Hold your breath for a second, you’re still breathing too fast.”

You followed the instruction, drawing a deep breath and holding it in your chest for a few seconds, and when you let it out your breathing was slower.

“This is stupid.” You muttered. “I should be over this by now, it’s pathetic.”

“No it’s not.” Kaz said plainly. “It’s something you’ve experienced for a long time, it’s not just going to go away.”

“No one else let’s their problems get in the way on a job.”

“That’s not true, it just happens differently. You still have some fake blood on your face by the way.” It would be dry by now, no point trying to wipe it off with a handkerchief, so you simply shrugged.

“What does that mean, ‘it happens differently’?”

“If you pay close attention you’ll notice.” He answered vaguely. “Though, I know you’re very aware of the hurdle that the gambling halls pose to Jesper. That’s caused some trouble on jobs in the past.” You chuckled lightly, nodding in agreement.

You sat in silence for a while, focused on evening out your breathing. Kaz wasn’t good at dealing with emotions so you would expect that he wouldn’t be very good at dealing with your panic attacks, but actually his straightforward approach was pretty effective. Maybe his voice was just so commanding that even your anxiety couldn’t help but do what he said.

Generally, Kaz acted like the panic attack wasn’t happening. Just like today, other than to give you an instruction to calm you down he would just talk to you like he normally would. It was usually helpful, a good distraction or something like that.

There was one time, however, that Kaz had been more worried about you than you had thought was possible. It hadn’t been on a job, just a normal night at the Crow Club. You had been trying to drag Jesper away from the cards table when a fight had broken out. Being a member of the Dregs, and so technically a sort-of employee of the gambling hall, you had stepped in to try and break it up.

You weren’t intimidated by the fact that one of the men was at least twice your size, you had held your own against that before, and knowing that there was security that would step in soon had you assured that all would be fine. But when you placed a hand on one of the men’s shoulder – not the big guy, one of the other men in the fight – to try and stop him from going towards the man he had decided was his enemy, he had turned on you with such speed that you had no chance to defend yourself before his hand closed around your neck.

Your memory was a little spotty from that point on. You remembered being slammed against a wall, maybe even lifted off the ground. Jesper drew his gun, and you’re sure that if shooting customers wasn’t so frowned upon that he wouldn’t have hesitated to fire.

It didn’t last long. His outburst had effectively ended the fight that had been taking place and turned the attention of every assisting party to you. The man holding you had been taken down by a few swift hits from the hulking Dregs member that Kaz liked to have as security, and by that point Dirtyhands himself had been drawn out of his little office in the back by the commotion.

To hear Jesper tell it, it was like your body hadn’t realised that your airway was no longer being compressed and you just weren’t really breathing. Kaz had instructed Jesper and the security guard to get you up and into the back office before demanding an explanation from the person closest to him.

You didn’t see Kaz break the man’s hand with his cane, but you remember hearing the scream.

Once it was just you, Kaz and Jesper in the office, Kaz’s demeanor changed instantly. Not that you were really cognizant enough to notice right away, but Jesper wouldn’t shut up about it for a little while. What had seemed, while out on the floor of the gambling hall, just to be a Barrel boss squashing a disruption to his business and doling out payback on behalf of a friend turned into seething rage, which in turn became a constant look of concern as he intently watched Jesper coax you to start breathing properly.

Jesper had business to attend to later that night, so after a while it was just you and Kaz sat in the office. He fetched you a glass of water and sat with you until you were feeling better, never taking his eyes off of you. You had told him about your anxiety, but until then he had never seen it in full effect.

Since that day he had been more in tune with that part of you, learning how to tell when you were having a bad day and remembering what kinds if things made you panic. If he caught you when your anxiety was spiking he would stay and just talk to you. It was nice of him.

“Sit up straight.” Kaz said, and you were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt the tip of his cane pressing gently against your shoulder. You realised how far you had curled in on yourself and leaned back against the wall. Kaz had drilled it into your head that opening up your posture would help you breathe better, but sometimes you needed reminding anyway. “How are feeling?”

“Better.” You mumbled with a slight nod.

“How are the edges of your vision? Still fuzzy?”

“A tiny bit.” You answered, trying not to smile at the fact that he remembered how your vision went fuzzy when you had a panic attack. “If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you bother with me?” The question had been weighing on your mind for a long time, but in the past few weeks it had felt like it had been pressing for you to actually ask. You thought that Kaz liked you, but at the same you couldn’t think of a reason for that to be true.

“What do you mean by that?” Kaz asked, his head tilting a minuscule amount and his brow furrowing ever so slightly in curiosity.

“I mean, why do you keep me around? Why do you bring me on jobs? Why do you bother learning how to take care of me? Maybe at first it was for Jesper's sake but surely that can’t be the case now, so why?”

Kaz watched you for a moment, folded his hands in his lap and cleared his throat.

“You’re a valuable member of the team.” He answered matter-of-factly. “You work well with others, you’re a fast learner, you seem to genuinely enjoy being a member of the Dregs most of the time. As for why I’ve learned to take care of you, well, what kind of a leader would I be if I didn’t? You know me, I like to know everything that there possibly is to know when it comes to my business and my team.”

“Right.” You nodded. “That makes sense.”

“You don’t like that answer.”

“What?”

“I know you well enough to know what your face does when you’re unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. What is it that you wanted me to say?” His question made you feel suddenly quite embarrassed, and you averted you eyes with a shrug.

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought that maybe you actually liked me. You know, as a friend.” You mumbled. You glanced back at Kaz long enough to see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

“If I told you that I liked you, would it make you feel better?” He asked. He wasn’t being sarcastic or mocking you, but you still became even more embarrassed.

“Forget about it, it doesn’t matter. I’m feeling much better now so we should probably start moving-"

“Y/N.” Kaz interrupted, and you froze mid-motion of standing up. “I do like you, but I don’t have friends.”

He moved to stand up, and you finished getting to your feet. You watched him use his cane as leverage to get up off the floor, and if it had been anyone else but Kaz you would have offered a hand to help him up.

“You do too have friends.” You replied with a tiny smile. “You, Jesper and Inej are a trio of best friends if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I thought Jesper was your best friend.”

“People can have more than one best friend, Kaz.”

“The more friends you have, the more leverage your enemies have against you. That’s why I don’t have any.” He stated, taking the first step. You assumed that you would be heading to where he was supposed to meet Nina and Matthias. He was late – just how late you weren’t sure, the passage of time alluded you during panic attacks – but they probably weren’t all too worried.

“I think you just tell yourself that we’re not your friends so that you feel better about having a weak spot.” You said, teasing slightly. “Do you like me as much as you like Jesper?”

“I like you more than Jesper. You’re less of a thorn in my side.”

“Aw, Kaz! That’s so sweet.” You smiled. He scoffed.

“I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.”

“Can I ask you one more question?” You inquired, and Kaz sighed before humming an agreement. “Do you maybe like me for a different reason than that I’m less annoying than Jesper?”

There was a beat of silence, and Kaz inhaled.

“I enjoy having you around.” He answered vaguely, but you could see in his eyes in the sidelong look that he gave you that it was deeper than that. You smiled, satisfied and not needing to push.

“Good. Me too.” You muttered, and the two of you continued walking, side by side.

[mickeyhenrysgf]

Same Old Mistakes

Summary: Lee Bodecker is jealous of your new relationship with Arvin Russell

Pairings: Modern Day! Arvin Russell x reader, Modern Day! Lee Bodecker x reader

Warnings: manipulation, age gap (reader is in college 20), cheating , dub con, unprotected sex, degrading language, dark themes, please don’t read if you’re not 18+ or these warnings make you uncomfortable.

Author’s note: this is kind of a sequel to my other one shot Party Favors from my old account. You don’t really have to read it though to understand. Anyways, someone commented the reader should fuck Arvin & well I put my own twist on it because I love Lee way too much.

It’s been a month since Sheriff Bodecker was called to stop your party. You wished you could erase the memories from the night. Lee always had a soft spot for you but you took his kindness for granted.

In exchange for not getting turned in for your noise complaint, you had to get on your knees for the Sheriff. To think the sheriff would even care about you or even your pleasures was a silly idea. He cares about one thing and one thing only. Controlling everyone in the town. But, that was a month ago. You stayed clear from misconduct, you didn’t want to see his face ever again.

Now, you were somewhat happy. You were finally interested in someone around your age. His name was Arvin Russell. Everyday after class, he waited for you in his old beat up truck. Arvin didn’t go to college but you didn’t mind. He had small jobs here and there where he would even save some of his money to buy you small things. It was his way of showing that he really liked you. Maybe, you could see yourself falling for him...

“Got your s’ favorite” Arvin announced in his Southern accent that you loved. He had a cheeky smile as he took out a sandwich from his metal lunchbox. A new meal was always waiting for you after class.

You smiled brightly, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Arvin pouted softly as he pointed to his lips and you chuckled giving him a kiss on the lips which he rightly deserved.

“You’re the best, Arvin!” you pressed another kiss to his nose. A tint of red started to cover his ears. He truly was one of the sweetest boys you met in town. You cherished it.

But, he wasn’t just sweet. He also knew how to woo a girl in bed...

“Holy fuck—!” You moaned, your eyes rolled back as Arvin pounded into you. The headboard colliding with the wall with every thrust. Arvin had a smirk plastered on his face. This was his favorite thing to do. Pleasure you.

“atta girl... doing so good for me...” he mumbled against your lips, his thumb swiping against your clit as his hips rutted into you. He grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders creating a even more pleasurable experience.

“You close, my pretty girl—? Gunna cum for me, yeah?” Your hands pulled onto his locks and your mouth widened without a sound signaling your release as Arvin grunted heavily. With a few more thrusts, he emptied himself in the condom and pulled out of you, collapsing onto the bed. The condom thrown into the nearby trash can.

He pulled your sweaty body onto his, he watched as you panted against his chest. His heart swelled from the effect you had on him.

“I want you to be my girl for real...” he finally whispered softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. You looked up at him.

“Like— your girlfriend?”

“Mmhm—“ he mumbled and you smiled brightly, leaning forward and kissing him deeply.

As Lee Bodecker parked his car at the gas station, he saw a couple in a car not too far from where he was. The two shadows talked for a moment before they kissed each other on the nose. He couldn’t quite make out who they were but he figured it was young love. He rolled his eyes, until he noticed something. His eyes squinted and he moved his seat up, until his belly pressed against the wheel. It was you.

“Here, get yourself something. We still got a few hours left.” Arvin insisted handing you money.

“Baby... I can buy it on my own, it’s fine” you protested pushing his hand away slightly. He shook his head.

“Please. I don’t mind... how about you order us two hot sandwiches, so then you don’t feel so bad” you sighed heavily, looking down at the money in his hand.

“Fine but this is the last time, babe.”

Arvin hushed you softly, settling the money in your palm. He kissed the bridge of your nose and then your lips. The act itself warming you from within.

“I gotta pump the gas and fill the tires which is going take a while. See you in 15. Now go on.” You nodded and settled out of the car, walking into the convenient store.

You looked around the store. Arvin did say you would be on the road for some time. Everything looked good but you really didn’t want to waste all of his money. As you continued to look, the store doorbell rung signaling a new costumer had arrived.

Lee Bodecker walked into the store with a new sense of confidence. The girl who had been ignoring him for weeks had finally crossed paths with him again. He tilted his hat at the store manager before he walked towards you.

He found himself sliding into the same aisle where you were in. You were two busy bending down and looking at different flavors of chips to notice his presence behind you. His eyes roamed your backside and he bit his lip at the curve of your ass. If only he could push himself right against it.

You turned around to head into the next aisle but you collided into a taller figure. The chips in your hand fell onto the ground. You quickly scrambled to pick them up but a hand stopped you.

“No need Y/N... the pleasure is mine” you could recognize the accent from miles away.

Your heart practically stopped as you stood up to meet eyes with Lee who casually winked at you. That was the problem with the sheriff. He sweet talked you, then used you, and then did it all over again.

“I haven’t seen you in forever. Seems like you are doing everything in your power to not get into trouble...” he chuckled darkly, his eyes stayed on yours.

“Uh- yeah. I guess you can say that. Trouble is just not my thing anymore” you shrugged, looking around the store trying your best to ignore him.

Other customers continued to shop. They didn’t mind the presence of the sheriff.

“I bet.” Lee continued.

“You know... we never talked about that night between us.” You stopped in your tracks as Lee said those words. Memories from a month ago rushing back.

“Shit, you move on quick. Already sucking another man’s cock, huh?” He bended slightly to whisper in your ear just enough for you to hear. His lips grazed against your ear ever so slightly which made you shudder.

You quickly stepped away from him. Your relationship with Arvin was fairly new. He couldn’t have possibly known.

“What are you talking about?!”

“I saw you and Arvin in the car just now” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Congratulations... but he’s uh- a handful” Lee joked, his jaw clenching. You turned on your heel but Lee grabbed your arm tightly. Almost to the point of a potential bruise.

“Lee, stop. You’re hurting me...” you sneered through your teeth. He looked around the store before he grabbed you to the back and pulled you into the store’s bathroom, quickly locking the two of you in there.

“Lee-! You can’t just-! I have to go to back to Arvin!” You pushed his slightly protruding belly, trying to make your way to the door but he pulled you back.

“First off, it’s sheriff to you now. And second of all you don’t leave until I’m done talking to you. Or we can have a repeat from the party. You hear me?” He threatened, his eyes much darker from when he first greeted you.

You gulped lightly, throwing your hands to the side. Protesting wouldn’t get you anywhere. Just let him talk and you’ll be within Arvin’s arms in a few.

“Did you tell him about us?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“What? No. Why would I do that?” Lee laughed softly, taking off his sheriff’s hat and running his fingers through his hands.

There was nothing to tell Arvin. But, Lee thought otherwise. He pushed you back against the wall, as you stared up at him.

“Because if I was him, I would want to know that my girl goes around sucking the sheriff’s dick and then begs him to fuck her”

“T-that was one time... and it was the p-past...” his words hit you one after the other. He was shaming you for an act he manipulated you into doing. Tears started to prickle at the corner of your eyes.

You were a good person. You deserved Arvin. Lee just loved playing the role of the knight in shining armor who pretended to fix your bad behavior every single time.

“Just the past” he repeated with an uncertainty in his voice. His thumb pressed against your lips like old times but you turned your head.

He rolled his eyes at your actions.

“You were such a bad girl. But, who always left you off with a warning? Hmmm? Any other sheriff would have thrown you in the back of the cop car, while you wait for mommy and daddy to pick you up!”

His hands roamed your body as he continued to speak.

“You avoided me for a whole month because you knew you wanted me and you were afraid” he sighed heavily, glaring at you.

Maybe. He was right. But you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet at least.

“Arvin... really, Y/N?” Lee sighed, pushing away from you in disbelief.

“I like him, Sheriff. He’s a good person. He treats me right. He actually likes me and takes care of me!” You pleaded as your eyes followed him as he paced along the small bathroom.

A tear slipped against your cheek. The doorknob was so close, you could make a run if you were fast enough.

“Do you love him?” He questioned, a hint of jealousy present in his tone.

“I-I don’t know...” Lee turned around and placed himself back on you.

“I can make you feel so much better than he can...” his nose pressed against your neck, as his hands grabbed your waist.

The attraction you had for Lee was still here. It almost made you feel sick inside. If he really cared for you, he wouldn’t do this. But, his words were messing with you. A voice in your head even tried to convince you to listen to him.

“Y/N, let me show what I should have done on the night of the Halloween party” his lips ghosted over yours and pressed onto you softly. He deepened the kiss and you allowed it at first.

Lee Bodecker was finally kissing you. Something you craved for the longest. But, it felt wrong. You struggled and pushed him away.

“Stop—!” You were out of breath as you took a beeline towards the door but Lee grabbed your hair and yanked you back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” He barked, and you winced in pain at his grip. When he heard your whine, he reluctantly let go but kept his arm around your body.

“I’m in a r-relationship, sheriff!” You stammered, scared to even look him in the eyes. Lee tilted your chin up, his eyes now softer. He had to think of his next actions carefully.

He was playing his favorite game on you.

“God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I got carried away” his arms cradled you in his embrace. His lips kissed your temple. His manners switched instantly. He knew playing the role of the bad wolf wouldn’t win you over.

“I care for you so much, darlin’ and Arvin... he’s not the one for you. He’s done a lot of bad things” Lee said softly, his thumb wiped your tears and cupped your face. If you were going to believe anything, you’d believe Lee & his job.

You raised an eyebrow. Arvin never expressed his wrongdoings. Yeah, he beat up a few bullies from school but they deserved it. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so uncomfortable in Lee’s embrace. Lee noticed this as your posture softened.

This was his chance.

“Really? Like what?”

“Oh, darlin’ if I tell ya— you’ll be scared of the poor boy. I don’t want that.” He informed, his lips pressed against your forehead again.

He was reeling you in with every word. This time you actually felt butterflies in your stomach.

If Arvin was a bad man, as the sheriff explained, then maybe Lee was actually protecting you.

“Please, sheriff... Please, tell me—” His eyes widened at your pleas. Something in him awakened. His cock stirred in his pants, a hard on soon to form. You sounded like an angel to him. He wished you would beg some more.

“You really wanna know—“ he teased, his hands falling to your sides, down your back, and right before your ass. You nodded, pushing into him some more. He bit his lip, his cock straining against his trousers.

“Well, he’s good with his Luger pistol, I’ll tell you that—“ he half joked. Lee tested the waters and suddenly put his hands on your ass. To his surprise, you didn’t move away. It’s not like you didn’t feel his hands either. You were just too busy, caught up in wanting to know more. But, it also did feel good, which you didn’t dare to admit.

He wanted to just bend you over the bathroom sink and have his way already. Just a few more lines and he’d be there.

“Remember that pastor in town who passed away a while ago—“

You nodded recollecting the only town’s gossip. You never went to church, but you remembered hearing the death on the television. It was one of the only major events that happened in Knockemstiff. Lee’s hands squeezed your ass softly and then wandered up your shirt.

“W-what does the pastor have to with a-anything?” You mumbled, holding in your moans at Lee’s actions. His hands cupped your covered breasts and began to grope them. In one swift movement, your bra was off and Lee was pinching your nipples. You gasped, arching yourself towards him.

“Shhh... getting to the best part. Just listen.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses against your neck and you finally moaned. Victory. Lee even started to get carried away and grinded against you.

You knew how wrong this was. It was overwhelming. If Arvin ever found out what was taking place, he’d leave you. This had to stay a secret.

“You’re taking too long!” you whined, feeling the sheriff’s hands and body engulf you. Although it was turning you on, you had to get back to Arvin.

“What did I just say? Don’t rush me” he bellowed, as he shoved two fingers in your mouth. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. He’s done this before at the night of the party. You played along with him and swirled your tongue around his digits.

You just needed to know what Arvin did. You had to see if he was worth it. But, you were surely testing Lee’s patience. He needed your pussy now.

“Turns out your precious boyfriend was a part of the murder...” he popped his fingers out your mouth, already undoing your jeans and pushing them down. He pushed your panties to the side and rubbed your clit with his soaked fingers. You bit your lip, throwing your head back and Lee chuckled at your body’s response. He turned your body around, the two of you now looking into the mirror.

“What?”

“Your little boyfriend killed the pastor.” Lee’s eyes studied yours as they widened through mirror. He nodded, moving your hair away from your neck. His fingers danced against the skin, goosebumps forming.

“T-that can’t be true-“ you murmured, as Lee began to place sloppy wet kisses over your exposed skin.

Arvin Russell was a good man. If he killed someone, there had to be a good reason.

One thing Lee was good at was creating his own version of the truth.

Your thoughts were clouded from Lee’s actions. It was all too much, but you couldn’t push away from Lee even if you wanted to.

“Well, start believing darlin’— you need a real man. Someone who is gunna take care of ya— That boy just gunna mess with your damn head...” The next thing you heard was the sound of the sheriff’s belt being unbuckled and his pants dropping. You sucked in a breath, already knowing what would happen next. There was no need to turn around.

“You’re not gunna run away now, are you?” He teased, as his cock ran through your folds, collecting your wetness. You gasped lightly biting down on your lip, shaking your head.

“That’s a good girl. Now, hold on, sheriff’s gunna make you feel real good.” He smirked motioning you to hold onto the sink as he slowly entered you. Your hands tightened around the sink as you moaned at how thick he was.

“Fuck!” You both announced as Lee fully bottomed out holding onto your hips. His thrusts quickly falling into a steady pace, as he pulled your hair back.

“So tight and wet-! Whose this pussy belong to huh?” His hand fell onto your right cheek, and then your left, until it made a type of red shade. It was the right amount of pain and pleasure.

You wanted to say his name but your mind kept drifting to Arvin. He was probably worried sick. 15 minutes definitely had already passed.

Lee scoffed as if he somehow could read your thoughts. His thrusts became deeper and rougher, his hand wrapping around your throat.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!” Lee spat, his voice was deeper, almost animalistic.

“My cock is in this dirty cunt—! Not him!” Before you could reply he slapped your ass with a stronger force.

“It belongs to you!” you whimpered, tears falling from your eyes. He groaned, his lips sucking and licking against your neck. He was close but he wanted you to cum with him. His fingers once again giving your clit attention which was a little too harsh.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, slowly but surely the only one on your mind was Lee and how good his cock felt around you.

“God, I’m going to make you my little whore. Your pretty face and cunt stuffed with my cock whenever I like, say yes” He grunted, his fingers digging into your hips and to his surprise you wiggled your ass against him. Even clenched around him. You were too lost in the ecstasy. He’s got you now.

“Yes—! Yes, I’ll be your whore!” you practically begged, humiliated by your words but it felt too good.

“Going to fill this cunt up now— and tomorrow and the day after that. You’ll love it.“ he grunted through his teeth.

“Please—!” You moaned, the only sounds consisted of heavy panting and his cock pounding in and out of you. The mirror already fogged.

“Cum with me!” He groaned, his final thrust helping you reach your orgasm. Moments later, Lee was stilling inside you and painting your walls which felt like forever, some of his cum seeping down your thighs.

He leaned over and wiped down the mirror. Your appearance was much messier from when you got there. Tear stained cheeks, make up ruined, & messy hair. You looked horrible but to Lee you looked like a doll. The sight already making his cock hard again.

He turned you around and lifted you up on the sink. “Mine” he observed, the coldness from the sink made you wince. Lee propped your mouth open and spat inside.

“Swallow.” And you gladly did as he pulled you into a forceful kiss, teeth and tongue clashing. His hands played with your breasts as the two of you moaned in pleasure.

He officially ruined you... and claimed you.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked one final time as he broke the sloppy kiss, saliva disconnecting from yours and his mouth.

“You... sheriff.” He nodded proudly, grabbing his boxers and trousers from the floor, and dressed himself. He picked up your panties and stuffed them into his pocket. You began to protest but he hushed you.

“You’ll get these back after you leave him... Don’t keep me waiting, honey.” Lee announced sternly, kissing you again and then leaving you alone in the bathroom.

Your propped yourself off the sink, your legs shakily going over to grab your jeans to put them on quickly. You splashed some water on your face but it didn’t change anything. Your hair covered your new forming hickies but it couldn’t take away your post sex look.

You nervously opened the bathroom door and walked back into the main area of the store. The store was quiet and the sheriff was already gone.

“Baby—! There you are—“ Arvin’s voice startled you from behind as he hurried over to you and pulled you into his arms. His hands cupping your face. “What happened?” He questioned, concern written all over his face.

“I was in the bathroom I-uh- have a really bad stomach ache. I don’t know. It came out of nowhere...” you mumbled, holding onto your stomach. Somehow trying to convince him that was the reason for your horrible appearance. He signed in relief, rocking your body back and forth.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home...”

Arvin was oblivious. Maybe, he was too in love and just believed anything that came out of your mouth. You were thankful for that. His hands interlaced with yours, as you both walked out the store, a limp in your step.

The sheriff’s car was parked in the front just like he said he would. He told you in the bathroom he would wait for you.

Most importantly, To leave Arvin.

The two of you locked eyes. The sight in front of him filled him up with jealousy. He saw the way you were limping. Proudly, caused by him. But here you were laced hand in hand with Arvin.

If you weren’t going to leave him, then Lee would take matters into his own hands. The sheriff stepped out his car, stopping you & Arvin. His hands on his hips as he tilted his hat up.

“Something wrong, Sheriff?” Arvin asked, holding you close.

“Just need to have a few words with Miss Y/N at my office. Something about her family came up. Won’t be too long and nothing for you to worry about. I’ll take her home to you— later” he drawled out the last words, his eyes filled with anger and his jaw clenched, you were in for it.

[reincarnated70sbaby]

maritime madness

led zeppelin x reader

warnings: swearing, drug use

an: so I was sailing yesterday and I was thinking about this the entire time I might have nearly capsized the boat

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this” I spoke, staring out at the large blue yacht that rested on the waters of Normandy. It all started the day before, when we were all throwing around tripped out ideas in our hotel room.

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” Jimmy asked. I sat by his side, my head resting on his bony shoulder. My dose of LSD had just kicked it, and as it was my first time it probably hit me quicker than the others. I tried to speak, but it felt like every time I moved my mouth, it felt like I would stretch my mouth out of shape, like putty.

“Let’s go explore that cathedral, the big massive one, y’know? The one with the hunchback. Maybe we could bump into him or something”

As soon as the words left Robert’s lips, our entire entourage burst out in giggles. I myself, was having hard time controlling my breathing. I had to rest my head in Jimmy’s lap, Jimmy being doubled down over me clutching his stomach.

“Percy, you dumb fucker, y-you know that’s not a real story” Jonesy informed, all his words all broken up by loud chuckles.

Roberts jaw immediately dropped open in shock, along with his eyes widening and brown trashing in confusion.

“Nah, yeah it was, the uh, the hunchman did the um, bells. Yeah, the bells”

“No he didn’t, because he never existed you nonce. It’s a fairytale from the 19th century” Jimmy piped in, adding his extensive knowledge of mythology and folklore into the conversation.

“But me ma said he existed, you’re gonna say my mum lied to me all those years?”

“Well obviously Perce, it’s just a bedtime story” Jonesy added, still chuckling to himself at Robert’s gullible nature.

“Fine then, someone else give an idea since all of mine always get ridiculed” Robert stated, crossing his arms and craning his head back against the footboard of the bed and staring at the ceiling in a huff.

“How about Père Lachaise?”

“What the actual fuck is pear la chair Pagey?” Bonzo asked, pronouncing the words all wrong in his thick Englishman accent.

“It’s Père Lachaise” Jimmy corrected in a perfect French accent, “and it’s a graveyard in Paris, loads of famous people are buried there - Oscar Wilde, Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf”

“Jimmy you must be as mad as Morrison to think we would waste our day off in a fucking dead person museum. Jesus Christ how did we pick you up” Bonzo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, what about Mont Saint-Michel? It’s this cool island off of the coast. There’s a bridge but once the tide comes in you can’t get in or out. Wouldn’t that be good craic eh?” Jonesy suggested

“No” Bonzo, Jimmy and Robert all said at the same time.

“Ah! You’ve been outnumbered Mr Jones haha. Maybe you and I could go out another time Jonny boy, we could go exploring and see the spirits trapped on the island” I said with a chuckle, the psychedelic in my system making this whole situation very funny.

“Jesus Christ what the fuck did she even say. That her first time on acid?” Robert asked to Jimmy.

“Must’ve been, it hit her pretty quickly” Jimmy replied, staring into my largely dilated pupils. He swore he could’ve seen something dancing in my pupils, but maybe that was just the drug in him.

We all sat in silence for a couple minutes, all of us enjoying our high.

“Innnnnnnnnnnnnnn fourteen hundred ninety two, Columbus sailed the ocean blueeee” I sang, the lyrics being the only words of a song I could think of to fill the silence. A beat of silence passed and I wondered if everybody suddenly passed out, either into sleep or another dimension.

As I started the next line, everyone else joined in with me. We eventually finished the entire song, even an encore requested by the boys. I sung the encore in a horrendous, deep operatic voice while prancing round the hotel room. A round of applause sounded, and I took my theatrical bows in front of my supportive crowd.

“That’s It! I know what we can do tomorrow. God that is a good idea!” Bonzo declared, jumping up to his feet, not before nearly tumbling backwards.

“Go on then Bonz, don’t leave us guessing mate” Jonesy suggested, breaking the dramatic silence that had ensued.

“Rent a yacht! We can go out early in the morning and stay overnight since our flight back home is in the evening anyway! All we need to do is hire a skipper or something”

We all were stoked at idea of having a private boat to ourselves. Sure, none of the boys were experienced sailors, but that’s what a professional skipper was for, driving rich people around in yachts right?

“Do we really have to do this” I said, making our way through the marina to our yacht.

“The skipper will probably dive off the boat when we get started tonight” Jonesy commented, sharing my lack of enthusiasm for the maritime adventure. “We should have ditched them and gone to Mont Saint-Michel”. I only hummed in response, dragging my overnight suitcase over the gaps in the planks of wood on the dock.

“Um yeah, about that skipper. We couldn’t exactly book one on such short notice” Cole confessed.

“What the actual fuck Cole? Are we just supposed to sail ourselves and drown? I can’t tie a knot to save my bloody life” Robert shrieked. We all stopped in our tracks and turned to the tour manager, glaring at him through our sunglasses.

“Of course not Percy, why would we do that to our cash cows hm? And this is a motorboat, no ropes involved. It’s basically like driving a car. In water. In fact, all you need to drive it is a drivers license, which I’m positive you all have judging by your expansive car choices. Forgot to mention that myself and Peter have opted out” With that note, Cole dropped the yacht keys into Bonzo’s hand and scuttled away.

We all stood there, bags in hand, confusion over our faces as we watched Cole’s figure disappear behind the hundred of other boats.

“Well shit” Jonesy said, the sourness in his voice barely hidden.

“Let’s just go check it out, we don’t even have to leave the marina if we can drive it, we’ll just park out all night” Bonzo affirmed, being unusually optimistic.

We all found the boat and as the boys started embarking aboard, I thought out loud.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Cmon darling, let’s just see what it’s like. If you hate it we’ll do something else” Jimmy compromised, outstretching his hand to me.

The boat bobbed a bit on the water as I stepped on.

“It’s not hating it I’m worried about, I was practically raised on a boat Jim, I’m just not sure 4 rockstars and a boat is a great combination”

“It’s okay we won’t go too hard, at least one of us won’t, I guess. Anyway, you were raised on a boat? Like a houseboat or something?”

“No, my dad was a skipper. Whenever he was home from trips, he would teach my and my siblings to sail. Y’know the whole nine yards, all the different knots, pulling in the ropes, steering, navigating charts. It’s just been a while since I’ve been on one and I hope I can remember everything”

“Gosh you are fabulous, my dear, I learn something new about you everyday” Jimmy said, pulling me in for a kiss. There was a loud bang of the engine, which we both jumped apart at.

“What the fuck are they at now, Christ” Jimmy sighed.

“Here, go set down our stuff in the biggest room, I’ll go see what they’re messing with”

We both parted, Jimmy heading downstairs, myself climbing onto the helm.

“Oi, Bonz, Percy, step away from the wheel until I get us out of this parking lot” I commanded. Both Robert and Bonzo looked at me funny, before slowly raising their arms and stepping away.

“And you know better?” Bonzo asked, still not sure where my bossiness came from.

“I think I do, unless you have your skipper license on hand?”

“Wait, you have a sailing license?” Robert interjected.

“I actually don’t, but I know everything you need to not drown. My father was a sailor and he taught me how to run a boat. Thank god we have a motorboat, as we might’ve been a little trouble if we have a proper sailing yacht. If we were, it wouldn’t have been as relaxing as simply steering a wheel” I answered, switching the engine on.

We warmed up the engine for a couple minutes, then casted off and finally escaped the madness of the marina. Soon were out on the French coastline. We continued sailing perpendicular to the coast, not wanting to stray too far. All the boys took turns steering, with Jonesy being the best skipper in-training out of all of them. Only once had we had anchored the boat again was the real party going to start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

if only sailing was this easy in reality 😒

anyway I’m gonna do a spicier part 2 riiight now😎

leave any comments/ideas down below!!!!

navigation

tag list : @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey @dreamersdrowse

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Three: Chasing Waterfalls

a/n: Welcome back!! Another huge thank you for the sweet words and love you have shown to part 2! I'm so glad to hear from those of you who are enjoying the story so far :') Things are starting to get interesting, so I hope you'll stay tuned! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to come chat with me after you have finished reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, drug/alcohol mention

Word Count: 5.3k

catch up on parts one and two

Alani watches the stream of salt descend gracefully into the salt-shaker like a mini waterfall, her mind still replaying the events of the past couple of weeks. It has been fourteen days, 336 hours, and 20,160 minutes since the last time she saw Harry, not that she was counting. The image of him getting smaller in her rearview mirror as she drove away from the recording studio is still fresh in her mind. Two weeks and all she has to show for it is three sentences in her notebook, most of which is material she had already known prior to the interview. Alani supposes that this fact should trouble her more than it does, with her future at Rolling Stone depending on much more than the smoothie preferences of Harry Styles; but all she can dwell on at the moment is the serene image of them standing side by side, pinkies nearly touching, making a wish on the most vibrant rainbow she had ever seen. What does concern her, however, are the events that immediately followed their arrival back at Napua.

“Maybe next time we should do this in a neutral location,” Harry had offered, stepping out of the Range Rover. “Less distractions,”

Alani’s brows shot up at the words, not quite believing that she had heard him right. “Next time?”

“You can’t possibly have gotten everything you needed from that,” he scoffed, leaning against the passenger door. Alani had fully prepared to butter him up in order to extend their time beyond the initial one interview agreement, but she hadn’t expected it to be this easy, especially after his dismissal of her attempted humor and begrudging lunch invitation.

“Well, no, but I thought-”

“Okay, so we’ll do this again,” he shrugged, “No biggie,”

Alani felt a wave of relief, and a twinge of excitement, rush over her at the prospect of securing another interview with Harry. Offering him a grateful smile, she nodded and agreed.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you, again, for agreeing to this,”

Harry’s furrowed brow didn’t budge, nor did his set jaw and pouted lips. He simply offered a small bow of his head and a ringed finger through his dark locks.

“Sure. Wouldn’t wanna be the reason you fail,”

“Thanks,” she replied through a forced laugh.

Alani had almost forgotten about the cover she devised to get Harry to agree to the exclusive. A part of her wondered how willing he would have been to participate had he known her true intentions of submitting the final piece to Rolling Stone, but the better part of her judgement knew there was too much at stake to fold her cards now. Besides, Harry had to have known that any work linked to his name would get some sort of public attention, regardless of the original intentions. At least, that was what Alani planned to say if things went south.

“So you can just... text me, I guess,” she proposed cautiously. “When you’re free?”

“Will do,” Harry nodded. “But I think that requires us to exchange phone numbers first,”

“Right,”

Alani pulled her phone from the back pocket of her shorts and opened the contacts app before holding it out to Harry. Carefully, he punched his digits and handed it back, smirking when he was greeted by the image of irresistible watery eyes and floppy ears beneath the time.

“Cute dog,” he remarked while Alani finished typing her own number into his phone.

A soft smile spread across her lips as the image of her furry companion drifted into her mind.

“Oh, thanks. His name’s Freddie,”

“D’you name all your belongings after 70s rock stars?” Harry teased, flashing a dimpled grin.

“As a matter of fact,” Alani played along. “I’m about to go take a sip from Mick Jagger in my car,”

Immediately, Alani regretted her choice of words, though the bright ringing of Harry’s laughter soothed some of the embarrassment.

She winced, nose scrunched. “I guess there’s no taking that one back, huh?”

“Not a chance,”

Clutching her bag closer and sliding her sunglasses back onto the bridge of her nose, Alani took a step back and sighed.

“And with that, I bid you adieu.”

“Au revoir.”

Two weeks and still radio silence from Harry. Alani had begun to wonder whether she had input her phone number correctly in the first place, or if her penchant for embarrassing herself had ruined all chances of Harry making good on his promises.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you want salted fries you’re gonna have to wait for your turn at the salt mound, just like everyone else,” the voice of Alani’s sister breaks through her thoughts. Somewhere between reliving her last interaction with Harry and anticipating their impending reunion, Alani’s hand had drifted slightly off course of the salt shaker, resulting in a rather impressive mountain of salt forming on the countertop.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Alani retorts, annoyed at the mess she’ll have to clean up.

“Seemed like you were in the zone, or possibly sleepwalking—and you know what they say about disturbing sleepwalkers,” Pua says simply, unaffected by her sister’s irritation. “Plus, I thought it would be funny, and I was right,”

Alani sweeps the salt into a garbage can below, her mind already drifting back to her afternoon with Harry, when her sister speaks up again.

“He hasn’t called yet?”

This catches Alani’s attention, but she only shakes her head dejectedly in response.

“I thought your date went well,” Pua muses, thinking back to the way her sister had practically floated through the house upon her return.

“It wasn’t a date,” Alani corrects firmly, perhaps trying to convince herself, as well.

Pua scoffs, lifting herself to sit on the countertop. “So you made me cover a four hour shift for nothing?”

“It’s strictly professional and he’s busy,” Alani sighs. “That’s just how these things go,”

“Did he let you listen to his new music?” the younger sister asks, eyes widening.

Alani rolls her eyes and resumes twisting the caps back onto the filled salt shakers. “No,”

“Did you ask him why he left One Direction?”

“No,”

“Is he single?”

“I don’t know,” Alani huffs, turning to face her smug little sister. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Ask him what?” a familiar accented voice cuts in behind her.

Alani whips around to face Harry, a familiar dent between his brows and dark sunglasses shielding her from the intensity of his stare.

“Ask my dad if I can go to the..movies—tonight,” Pua chimes in. “With my friends. I have those,”

Harry smirks, lifting his sunglasses up to address her. “S’that so?”

“Yup,” she confirms, popping the “p” and crossing her arms. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Curiosity runs in the family, I see,” he remarks with amusement. “Shoot,”

“Is your phone working?”

“Why don’t you go call dad and ask him about the movies? I’ll cover the register,” Alani interrupts, shooting a glare over her shoulder as her sister saunters into the kitchen with a satisfied grin on her round face.

“Ignore her, she’s fifteen,”

“The most honest age in my experience,” Harry observes with a twinge of guilt settling in the pit of his stomach.

Alani pushes any thoughts about Harry, beyond the fact that he’s standing in front of her, to the side and puts on her best customer service voice. “What can I get started for you today?”

“A green smoothie, please,” he says, searching for her eyes that are occupied with the register buttons. “And the rest of your afternoon, if you’re free,”

Alani pauses and allows her gaze to meet his. She senses a hint of apology behind his emerald eyes, a welcome change to the storminess that often clouds them.

“I don’t know,” she starts slowly, despite the fact that every bone in her body is screaming at her to go. “I gotta finish up here,”

“What time are you off?”

Alani mulls his question over, silently deciding whether to tell the truth or not. Ultimately, retribution for her bruised ego is the only reason she can come up with for lying. She knows that it isn’t logical to be upset with him due to the fact that their relationship is strictly professional. Harry owes her nothing; in fact, him agreeing to meet with her the first time was, as she pointed out on several occasions, entirely a favor on his end. Despite this fact, Alani couldn’t help the disappointment she had felt the very next day when he hadn’t even texted his name to make sure that he had the right number. And she can’t help how she feels now, two weeks later, looking into his big, dumb eyes that are begging for her forgiveness. She missed him. Against her better judgment, and for reasons she can’t explain, Alani misses Harry, so she chooses honesty.

“Four,”

“Great,” he perks up, victoriously. “Then I’ll have the green smoothie, and keep ‘em coming,”

“You’re gonna stay here that long?” Alani asks, eyes darting to the 1:11 displayed on her watch.

Harry holds up a teal paperback with cassette tapes stacked on the cover. “Got some reading material to keep me company,”

“Love is a Mix Tape,” she reads the yellow cursive looped at the bottom of the cover aloud with a nod.

“Ever read it?” he questions, flipping through the pages.

“Can’t say that I have,”

“Well then you can borrow it sometime.” Harry says finally, turning on his heel in the direction of a table near the window.

Alani half expects him to leave and come back closer to their allotted time, but he simply sits near the window with the book in front of him and the straw of his drink resting against his pouted bottom lip. Customers come and go, tables are cleared, and the sunlight spills into different corners of the room, but Harry remains perfectly unchanged as if he were a fixture of the room itself. His presence is both comforting and unnerving to Alani, who glides around the room taking orders and serving food. Meanwhile, Harry does his very best to focus on the words in front of him, but the letters jumble together like alphabet soup amidst his wandering thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he follows Alani as she gracefully moves from one table to the next, flashing a warm smile at each guest who enters. He notices the tapping of her pen to whatever Beach Boys song plays over the stereo and the way she bites the inside of her cheek when making change at the register. The more details he stores in his mind, the deeper the sinking feeling burrows into his stomach. It had taken every ounce of willpower and over twenty unsent text messages to stay away, but Harry needed to put space between them for both of their sakes. He didn’t dare flatter himself with the thought of her having feelings for him, but he didn’t mind her company and that hadn’t done him much good these days. Harry knew that eventually he would have to bite the bullet and keep his word, and he decided that a temporary writer’s block was as good a time as any to do so.

“What ever happened to that girl?” Jeff had asked the evening prior, responding to an email from the recording label.

Harry feigned ignorance and continued to doodle something in his notebook, though he knew exactly who his manager was referring to. “What girl?”

“Dark hair, pretty, made you blush like a 12 year old,”

“I did not,'' Harry defended, scribbling a little more harshly. “‘S nothing. Was just helpin’ her out,”

Jeff snorted with an accusational brow raised.

“How romantic,”

“Jesus, not like that!”

“All I’m saying,” Jeff conceded. “Is that you seem a little uptight these days, and the music shows,”

Harry pondered this for a minute, his pen stilling to look over the lyrics, or lack thereof, on the page.

“You should be having a little fun, that’s literally what we came here for,” Jeff continued. “Get out of this fuckin’ studio and be a normal 22 year-old. You deserve it.”

So Harry had decided to go out, telling himself that he was merely listening to a friend’s advice for the sake of his music and sanity. But a part of him also desperately wanted to see Alani, even if he didn’t really know why.

As the clock strikes four, Alani sucks in a deep breath and turns to her sister slicing bananas in the kitchen.

“I’m going out,”

“Figured,” Pua responds, unphased. “I’ll cover for you,”

“I owe you.”

“Get me tickets to his next concert and we’ll call it even.”

Alani rolls her eyes, amused, and presses a chaste kiss to her sister’s temple before grabbing her bag off the hook and heading out. When she emerges in the dining area, Harry is already waiting at the counter with his broad shoulders turned away from her. She taps him gently and feels dizzy when he turns to her with a faint dimpled smile.

“Ready to roll?” he asks.

“Ready.”

When the two are comfortably situated in the Range Rover, Harry scans the parking lot and pulls away onto Mamalahoa Highway.

“Where’s Stevie?” he questions, his lower lip pinched between his index finger and thumb in concentration.

“Oh I walk to the restaurant,” Alani explains. “Don’t live too far,”

“Explains why you ditched your sister,”

“I did not ditch her!” Alani defends with a light laugh.

“Kinda did,”

She shakes her head in mock offense as the corners of Harry’s lips turn up. “My dad will pick her up after work, she’ll be fine,”

“Not to accuse you of nepotism,” he hesitates. “But I thought maybe your dad worked at the café. Family business?”

“He owns it, yeah, but he also works as the head chef at Honu. It’s a resort,” Alani continues. “But I’ll have you know that my waitressing skills are highly qualified, regardless of the nepotism,”

“And your mum?”

“She’s a doctor—pediatric surgeon,”

“That’s amazing,” Harry comments, glancing down at the GPS.

“Yeah, she is,” Alani agrees, her own eyes darting to the screen before attempting to analyze her surroundings. “Hey, where are we going?”

The rings on Harry’s right hand tap gently on the steering wheel as he responds carefully, withholding any hints.

“To the best interview spot I could think of. Go there sometimes to work on the album,”

“So there is an album,” Alani wiggles her brows.

“Off the record,” he clarifies. “But.. potentially,”

She scoffs at his insistence to maintain secrecy.

“Really?”

“We’re almost there.” Harry consoles, referring primarily to their destination, but perhaps speaking personally, as well. Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning and chooses to nod silently in acceptance.

The next few minutes of their drive are filled by humming along to whatever song drifts through the stereo, most notably Paul McCartney and George Harrison, which inspires a lively back and forth about the ranking of ex-Beatles members.

“It goes Paul, George, Ringo, and John,” Alani states matter-of-factly. “There’s no other answer,”

Harry shoots her an incredulous look before responding. “Are you seriously putting Ringo Starr before John Lennon?”

“John Lennon was an abusive asshole,” Alani defends. “Plus he wrote, like, one good song-”

“More than one song—”

“I said a good song. ‘Good’ being the keyword,”

Harry can’t hold back his endearment at her reasoning, so he shakes his head with a wide grin plastered on his face and decides to take one last swing at the hornet’s nest.“He’s still a legend,”

“Isn’t it weird,” Alani muses with a far-away look in her eyes. “That someday, someone’s gonna have this conversation about you?”

Harry doesn’t respond right away, weighing her words and how they settle in his bones. It doesn’t offend him in the slightest, he’s heard far worse, but there is still something strange about comparing himself to musicians he considers to be his icons. Despite all the hard work and sacrifices he’s made over the past five years, he still sees himself as the lucky little kid from Holmes Chapel underneath it all.

“I’m sorry,” Alani speaks up when Harry doesn’t respond. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, no it’s okay,” He reassures her. “I was just thinking... ‘bout what you said. I guess I don’t really think about it like that,”

“Oh,” is all she says, still waiting for him to elaborate. After a beat, Harry begins again in his characteristically slow way of speaking that Alani finds charming.

“It’s just that,” he begins, tugging on his lower lip. “Obviously I can’t ignore, you know, the impact that all of it had. But to me it was just… I don’t know. In my head it’s not really on the same level,”

Alani nods, though she can’t say it’s with complete understanding. In this moment, she truly feels the weight of their completely different worlds and how she may never be able to fully sympathize with that part of Harry’s life. She certainly hadn’t been under any impression that she would, but she still feels a bit embarrassed for the closeness she had begun to feel to him in their moments spent together. A sinking feeling settles into Alani’s stomach at the thought that maybe she was making a mistake, despite the constant self-reminders that everything they were doing was completely professional. Don’t get too close, she writes on a mental post-it note, sticking it to the forefront of her mind.

“We’re here,” Harry pipes up.

Too wrapped up in her own thoughts, Alani hadn’t noticed when they pulled into the parking lot at ‘Akaka Falls and it took her a moment to adjust.

“This is the place?” she questions hesitantly.

“Yeah,”

“This is where you come to write?”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to stay chained to the studio,” Harry teases with his hands raised in mock surrender.

“No,” Alani breathes out a light laugh, rolling her eyes. “I just mean… I don’t know what I expected.”

“That was the point.” he explains with a devious smile that makes her let out a proper laugh.

************

“Did you know,” Alani starts, the tips of her fingers reaching out to stroke the petal of an especially vibrant red flower. “That Georgia O'Keeffe had a show in New York City during the 40s with twenty paintings of different flowers that she observed right in this very park?”

“I didn’t,” Harry admits. “Who needs a tour guide when we’ve got you?”

“I have a copy of the waterfall one she did in my room,” Alani continues. “But I’d love to see the real thing some day,”

Harry scans the landscape, eyes settling over the winding stairs that lead them further to the falls and the rest area where he frequently hides away. “Is it still on display?”

“Last I checked, yes,” she nods. “At the New York Botanical Garden,”

“How are you not even a bit winded?” he chuckles, hands on his hips as he pauses and takes a moment to breathe.

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry with a teasing glint already present in her deep brown eyes.

“I thought you came here all the time to write,” she says with a raised brow.

“And I thought it was against the journalist code to berate your subjects,” he shoots back. “But here we are,”

“Touché,” Alani concedes. “But I’m not a journalist yet so I guess the rules don’t apply to me,”

Harry thanks his lucky stars that she turns on her heel back down the steps before she can witness the fond grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He savors the image of the greenery that complements her olive skin and how the gentle breeze dances through her curls before following behind.

Alani takes a deep breath once they reach the lookout and soaks in the familiar view. No matter how many times she visits the national park, the first sight of the 442 feet of cascading water always leaves her eyes a little misty.

“What brings you here?” she asks, turning to Harry whose sunglasses are perched at the crown of his head to leave the view unobstructed.

His jaw clenches and his Adam’s apple bobs, but he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his head to Alani and searches her face with a crease between his brows.

“That,” he responds, pointing to the glossy sheen over her eyes. “That feeling. Felt it the first time I came here, still do,”

He turns back to face the roaring water before them and Alani takes this moment to study the sharp angles of his profile. She takes note of the sunlight peering through his sea glass irises and waits patiently for him to continue.

“Makes you feel lucky to be alive,” Harry says finally. “And a little small, but in a good way. Like everything bad that ever happened to you doesn’t matter because none of it’s real, is it? But this… this is real,”

Alani feels like the air has been sucked from her chest and her eyes burn a hole straight through Harry’s temple. He doesn’t budge, despite the overwhelming urge to face her again, because he knows that if he does, he’ll lose his nerve.

“Damn,” is all Alani croaks out when she finally catches her breath.

Harry’s stony expression falters as he cracks a small, relenting smile. “D’reckon that’s what TLC were on about when they wrote that song?”

“I think you’re on the right track, yeah,” Alani agrees with a light laugh. “Though I think they were talking a little bit more about drugs, but I like your thing too,”

“Thanks,” Harry smirks. “Now you see why I come here to write,”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that one,” she concedes.

“Speaking of writing,” he starts, walking away from the lookout and over to a rest area with a few tables and benches. “I think we were here to help you write,”

Alani follows and takes a seat on the bench across from him, the setting sun beating against her back and outlining her in golden light that Harry feels couldn’t be more poetic.

She retrieves a notebook, her phone, and a pen from her bag and sprawls them out across the table top. Harry notices that each item is colored a varying shade of pink, but he decides to keep that detail filed at the back of his mind instead of investigating further.

“Same deal as last time, voice notes for quotational accuracy,” Alani reminds him. She looks over her list of questions to pick a starting point, but suddenly none of them seem relevant, so she takes a moment to collect her thoughts and says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Earlier when I said this wasn’t what I was expecting,” she begins. “You said ‘that was the point��. Why?”

Harry turns this question over in his mind, caught off guard by the seemingly trivial detail. “I dunno. I guess.. Maybe I just like the surprise,”

“To be surprised, or to surprise others?”

“Both,”

“Why do you like to surprise others?”

He ponders this for a second and takes a deep breath. “I think it’s because it doesn’t happen that often,”

“What do you mean?” Alani prys.

“Well,” Harry begins carefully, sifting through his brain for the right words. “Ever since the whole band thing blew up, I’ve had this strange feeling that everyone knows everything about me, like there’s nothing left to discover,”

Alani watches as he twirls the ring around his wedding finger, a silver rose that has always caught her eye.

“Maybe that sounds self absorbed,” he simpers.

“It’s not,” Alani reassures him.

Harry meets her eyes appreciatively before resuming. “I still remember the first time someone recognized me,”

“What was that like?”

“Bizarre,” he chuckles to himself. “She was very nice, but the entire time I couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it all was. It’s like, you know when someone you met once or twice comes up to you and you don’t remember their name at all? S’bit awkward ‘cos you feel like you should know something about them, too— level the playing field. ‘Cept no matter how hard you wrack your brain, the information’s never gonna come, even though they know everything about you,”

“But they don’t,” Alani cuts in. “Not really,”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, his eyes narrowed. “But sometimes they feel like they do, which might be worse,”

Alani taps her pen against her bottom lip and nods, a gentle hum leaving her throat as she registers his words.

“Didn’t think about it like that,”

“S’not so much about the fans,” Harry continues. “Because I feel like there’s lots of things I wanna share with them through the music. It’s… everyone else, I guess,”

“I don’t think it’s abnormal to want your privacy,” Alani comments. “To want to share things on your own terms. It’s human,”

“But isn’t that what it means to be loved?” he asks, chin resting in his palm. “To be known?”

Alani picks up on a glimmer of challenge behind Harry’s eyes, as if he is the one conducting the interview and trying to extract information from her.

“There’s a difference between knowing something about someone,” she argues. “And knowing someone,”

“It’s like Prince,” Harry says suddenly, an excited fire behind his emerald eyes. “Who knows anything about Prince besides the fact that he’s a fuckin’ great musician? I sure as hell don’t, but all you wanna do is know more, and that’s what makes him so magical. It’s mysterious… I like that,”

Alani snorts and looks up from her notes scrawled on the page. “Did you just describe Prince like your manic-pixie dream girl?”

“No,” Harry defends with an amused laugh. “Well, not intentionally anyway,”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes with a wave of her hand. “No, I know what you mean. It’s like keeping the rock-star persona separate from your real life, makes it all more alluring,”

Harry nods, running a hand through his hair and shaking it out before securing his sunglasses back at the top of his head. “Yeah,”

“But earlier you also said you wanted to share some things with the fans,” Alani begins again, going back to her chicken scratch notes. “What kinds of things were you referring to?”

“Real life stuff,” he offers. “Mostly the not-so-great things. ‘Cos I mean no one wants to hear me sing about going to bars and how great everything is. The champagne popping,”

Harry trails off as his fingers smooth over the cross pendant hanging around his neck.

“I mean, I don’t wanna hear my favorite musicians talk about that, at least. I wanna know ‘how did you feel when you were alone in that hotel room, because you chose to be alone?’”

The wind begins to pick up more noticeably and the pages of Alani’s notebook flutter wildly, threatening to escape. Too wrapped up in their conversation, the pair hadn’t noticed the dwindling tourists or the cumulonimbus clouds hovering above. Harry squints up at the darkening sky and it peers back at him with equal contempt . He springs to his feet, quickly gathering some of Alani’s things for her.

“We gotta go,”

They quickly scurry and the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance quickens their pace up the steps. The adrenaline coursing through Alani’s veins masks the burning in her quads and calves, but Harry’s steady panting gives away his exertion. They’re almost halfway up the long trail of steps when another thunderclap pierces through the sky above them and sends a jolt through their bodies. One speckle of rain hits the pavement in front of Alani’s quick feet, and then another, and another, until the sky opens up and they are caught in the downpour. Alani shrieks and the sound makes Harry belly laugh, a hand instinctively reaching out to the middle of her back to brace her.

“Careful,” He calls out above the deafening rain. “Watch your step!”

Somehow over the sound of the rain and her own heavy breathing, Alani still manages to come up with a witty remark.

“Imagine the headlines!” she shouts over her shoulder. “‘Popstar Lures Innocent Civilian to Her Untimely Demise’,”

Alani doesn’t say anything about his palm still pressed securely against the small of her back, but the warmth of it spreads through her fingers and toes. They continue up the steps, each breathing a sigh of relief when the top is in sight. Harry reaches out for her hand when they make it to the landing, and she accepts it gladly, before they bolt to the parking lot where the lone Range Rover is parked. Once inside, a fit of laughter erupts from the both of them.

“What a cliché,” Harry comments. “Getting caught in the rain,”

Alani sighs. “Too bad we don’t have piña coladas,”

“We could maybe do something about that,” he shrugs.

Alani reaches for her phone and queues up the next song, which brings a cheshire grin to Harry’s face when he hears the familiar drums.

“Wasn’t what I meant, but okay,” he rolls his eyes, turning up the car’s heater before heading back out onto the highway.

“This song’s kinda fucked up when you think about it,” Alani muses, swaying in her seat. “But the chorus is fun,”

“S’all that matters when you’re sloshed,”

“Sorry about your seats, they’re gonna be soaked,” Alani apologizes as her wet socks squelch around in her shoes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves the concern away. “Occupational hazard.”

The drive to Alani’s house from ‘Akaka Falls is only 25 minutes and the two of them spend most of the time lost in their own thoughts, letting the car heater soothe their chilly bones. Alani watches the rain droplets race down the window pane and turns over some of Harry’s words in her mind. His comment about the waterfalls sticks out like a shell emerging from the sand. She begins to think that it perfectly captures this time in his life as he searches for something real amidst the chaos of fame. It’s an angle she’s keen to run with once she has the time to sort through her notes and write, but her thoughts also drift towards the waterfalls in her own life that she’s been chasing. Naturally, she thinks about Rolling Stone and what she hopes New York City will bring her. Adventure, she thinks at first, digging deeper when that doesn’t quite suffice. Success, getting warmer. Purpose, bingo. Alani sinks into her seat with a contented sigh.

“Piña coladas,” Harry hums once they’ve pulled up to Alani’s driveway. “Next time, we’re definitely getting piña coladas,”

Alani isn’t as surprised by his suggestion of meeting up for a third time, though it still sends her heartbeat through the roof. She tries not to think too hard about the implications.

“On you,” she teases.

“Of course,”

“Thanks again,” Alani says, turning to face him. “We covered a lot of material today,”

Harry flashes a shy smile in response. “Sorry ‘bout...your clothes. I should’ve checked the weather,”

“Occupational hazard,” she shrugs, mirroring his words from earlier. “So I guess I’ll just see you around then?”

“Yeah,” he swallows, suddenly aware of her proximity. “I mean are we still doing this—the interviews?”

Alani stops smoothing out her damp waves, feeling as if she had overstepped. “If that’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry reassures her. “I’m available—I mean for your writing I’m—”

He stumbles over his words and Alani eases the slightest bit knowing that he’s nervous, too.

“Just let me know, whenever.” he says finally, regaining his composure.

“Will do.” she nods slowly.

Alani’s eyes dart to Harry’s lips briefly, lingering just long enough that Harry notices, but too quick for him to justify closing the gap. Before he knows it, he’s missed his chance and she’s slipping out of the car, closing the door with a sense of finality that makes his stomach drop.

Alani makes her way up to the house, gravel crunching under her feet and head pounding.

Don’t get too close, she reminds herself. Don’t go chasing waterfalls.

Next Chapter

[just-asks-and-beats]

Let’s Set Sail

Lycan woke up slowly, stretching as he continue to lay on the soft grass. He sat up and looked over to Gray, who was lying unmoving beneath the tree. A flash of worry shot through him as he realised just how still Gray looked. He crawled over and pocked at him, no response was given. They panicked a little more as they shook Gray, then practically shoved him into the trunk of the tree.

“WAKE UP PLEASE DONT BE DEAD!” he shouted. This finally got a reaction out of the sleepy gray shape, who groaned and looked around in a half-conscious panic. His movements were sluggish, as if all his energy had been drained, but he still found it in him to sit up… He somehow managed to feel even worse than yesterday, maybe because all the adrenaline keeping him going was gone. Hopefully he’d find some spite within him sooner or later to give him a reason to keep moving. Lycan let out a sigh of relief as Gray finally moved and sat up.

“Hey, I know you’re still tired, and I have no idea what time it is, but we should get goin’. No offense but if you looked bad yesterday, then you look horrible today. We really gotta get you to the volcano.” Lycan looked worriedly at Gray, the dark circles beneath his eyes seeming even more pronounced. Gray simply grunted and leaned on the trunk of the tree, taking a while to stand up. Lycan crouched on the ground and signalled for Gray to get on his shoulders, the beach wasn’t very far away, and with the bridge being closed because of some issues Lycan had hardly heard or cared to find out more about, finding Ship was their only option. Gray climbed onto Lycan’s shoulders, slouching a bit, and the two were on their way again.

(this is a kinda long story segment sorry lmao)

The beach was either a lively place, or a desolate one, not much of an in-between. The two could only hope it would be quiet today. As they approached the beach hey heard the hustle and bustle of many other shapes, just their luck. They tried to stay on the sidelines and as nonchalant as possible, with little to no cover out on the open sand. Lycan opened the cloak just a bit, enough so they could see but not be seen. It took a little while of walking and almost bumping into a few shapes, but they eventually saw Ship discussing something with some other sailor.

“Ok, I know you’re, like, exhausted so just let me do the talking, all you gotta do is move your mouth. I’ll try to talk a little slowly so you can try to sync up your movements to the words. Kinda stupid but just do your best.” Lycan instructed. All Gray let out was a small “mhm”, spending all other energy and brainpower on keeping himself upright so he won’t bring Lycan down with him. They walked over to Ship, keeping a little distance so he couldn’t immediately tell the voice was coming from lower than Gray’s face.

“Um, hello. Sorry to bother you but w- I’ve come to request a ride on one of your fine vessels. A short trip, nothing too treacherous whatsoever, simply someone who will take me from point A to point B. If you would be so kind it would make me most gratuitous.” Lycan tried to make his voice sound deeper and more mature, and use weird sophisticated words like he’d heard Barracuda use every now and then. He thought it made him sound stupid though, and made a mental note to never say “gratuitous” again. Gray was too tired and awkward to really pay attention to what was going on, other than the fact that shapes were looking at him. He didn’t like that. He especially didn’t like it when Ship looked at him, finding it hard to keep his cool. However, Lycan’s change in attitude and word use reminded him of someone, he smiled a little bit while loosely mouthing what Lycan was saying. Ship took a moment to look the stranger up and down. Gray head, blue legs and tail. Looks like some strange plant species they’d never seen before. They adjusted their eye patch and seemed to think for a moment before shrugging.

“Well I’m not much one for ferryin’, but I s’ppose a short favor really can’t be too bad. Where can I take ye, lad? Wherever it is I’d be willin to bring ye there for a small price and a short trip.” They spoke with a slight accent, peering at the stranger before them. Lycan’s tail wagged slightly, happy his plan was already going so well.

“The volcano please, and I do apologise if this is causing any inconvenience, I saw the bridge was out so you’re really my only option.” Lycan and Gray both felt a drop in optimism as a look of surprise overtook Ship’s face.

“The volcano!? Well.. y’see.. shapes have been stayin’ away from ‘ere for a little while now… There’s been rumours o’ some leftovers of the corruption there or somethin’ like that. Not sure what’s true and what isn’t, but I believe the resident grump’s been makin’ things a bit hard on those who want to visit. We’re working’ on getting the lad to come ‘round, but he hasn’t budged yet. I really don’t recommend going there lest yer ready if he tells ye to piss off, and his warnins ain’t always been verbal.” As Ship explained the reasons why going to the volcano would be a bad idea, Lycan and Gray realized at once who that “resident grump” must be… Barracuda. Gray felt that pit of guilt forming in his stomach once again. Lycan felt worried about if he would be welcome back. He and Barracuda had already butted heads for the time he was staying there, if Barracuda was now even more irritable, he might take one look at Lycan and pelt him with rocks until he leaves. He gulped before responding.

“Ah… It‘s certainly unfortunate to hear that, but you see getting to the volcano is very important to me. I… uh… left my wedding ring there! I simply cant leave it behind, my wife has been berating me about being such a clutz for months!” It was a terribly lie, but it was the first that came to mind so they just went with it. Ship gave a look of surprise, then understanding.

“Aye… I can see how important of a trip that would be. Ok, I’ll take ye, but just be sure to find it and leave as soon as you can, I’ll leave my vessel waiting around the outskirts of the island and come in with ye, I don’t want ye dealing with ol’ Grumps alone.”

“Wait, n-no!” Lycan realised how much of an idiot he was, retrieving an item was more of a short term in-and-out visit, and that certainly wasn’t what either him or Gray needed. He sighed then thought up another story, feeling nervous and pressured by Ship’s confused look. He could only imagine how scared he was making Gray right now.

“Uh, look… I may have lied to you about that previous story. You see, I’m actually an old friend of Barracuda’s family, though over the years we sort of lost touch. I heard about this… incident he was involved in and felt it would be only right to come out and check on him. Please, I just need someone to discretely take me there so I can stay with him and make sure everything will be ok.” Lycan hoped desperately that this new story would be convincing enough for Ship. Gray, on the other hand had to deal with that knot of guilt in his stomach worsening. This whole situation was so draining, and that look of pity which formed onto Ship’s face certainly didn’t help. He usually hated looks like that, but maybe this time it was a good thing, it might mean Ship was buying Lycan’s story.

“…Alright I understand. I’ll take ye there free of charge, just… please do what you can to calm him. We only want peace, and to move on from all that mess.” Ship sighed and walked over to the dock, a sky blue sailboat tied up there.

“This certainly ain’t my most impressive vessel, but she does the job just fine for quick errands!” They hopped on and motioned for the stranger to follow. Lycan and Gray let a wave of relief wash over them, though the journey was only just beginning, they had to get through the trip to the volcano and dealing with Barracuda first before they could really rest. Lycan boarded and sat down slowly, doing his best to stay steady so Gray wouldn’t be jostled and fall.

“Thank you very much, it really means a lot to me.” Despite the previous lies, Lycan meant every word of this. Ship just smiled at them as they prepped everything for sailing. Once the boat was in order and undocked, beginning to venture away from the shore, they turned back to the stranger in their boat.

“Ye know, ye never did tell me yer name, and I’m not sure I told ye mine either! Well Ye can call me Ship! A fitting name for a sea captain, I know. I’m proud of it.” Thye puffed their chest out then offered a hand to the stranger, awaiting a response. Lycan froze. They thought and thought and thought, but nothing good came to them. He had done so well with everything else, why was this what was giving him trouble!? They silently panicked until he felt Gray sort of reluctantly tap them on the head and try to make some sort of gesture without moving too much. It was a little hard to understand but Lycan thought he got the picture, reaching his pink-free hand out to shake Ship’s.

“Call me Gray.”

[shattered-mirror-fanfic]

Took way too long but it’s here, enjoy!

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/82349017

Chapter below the cut for my readers who don’t prefer Ao3

Henry walked back onto the campgrounds, books in hand with Frisk following close behind. It was close to becoming 1 o’clock to their surprise. 

“Guess we spent longer in the library than we thought, guess we gotta apologise to Toriel about being almost a half hour late home” Henry spoke, knowing he was in trouble for keeping Frisk away for so long.

“Mom most likely won’t mind if she knows that you were keeping me safe Mr. Henry” Frisk replied smiling. Henry nodded and the two entered the camp that was their temporary home.

“Hey kid, I’m gonna pop your books in your tent ok? Why don’t you got snatch us some lunch?” Henry asked. Frisk nodded and hurried over to the camps center to see if Toriel had any leftover pie for them. After Henry left Frisk’s books in their tent he made his way over to the medical tent, only to see Right Hand Man inside, sitting on a chair next to the table where a large container was, holding the fragments of their chief’s soul. 

“Hey ‘enry” The man said, in a surprisingly soft tone. Heny set the book down on the table and pulled out a chair, sitting on it a tad awkwardly with it’s back in front of him. 

“What’s up boss? Is the chief’s death really hitting that hard?” Henry questioned.

“He’s not-! No, he’s not dead.” The Right Hand Man argued. Henry frowned, knowing something was off.

“Well if he’s not dead, then how come his prized medallion is draped over the tank with his broken soul?” The white-haired man asked, tilting his head to the side.

“You shut your damned mouth or ah swear…” Right spoke with his thick australian accent adding an extra layer of intimidation. 

“Okaaay, you’re going through some stuff, I’ll let you be.” Henry quickly responded. He sat up and walked out of the tent quickly to avoid getting Right Hand Man in more of a huff, just to bump into a familiar short yellow lizard. “Oh hey Doc, sorry ‘bout that.” 

“I-it’s fine, have you seen the Right Hand Man? I meant to talk to him about your boss's soul.” She asked. 

“Mister five stages of grief is in there.” Henry answered, pointing a thumb back to the tent he was just in. “Actually, have you seen Ellie? Meant to ask her something.”

The scientist twiddled her thumbs a bit before answering. “No, but she did leave a note saying she would be back by dinner, I have no idea where she is though”

“Damnit Ellie, be more specific next time.” Henry muttered.

~~~

Ellie wasn’t too fond of her soul trait. PERSEVERANCE had the lamest magic in her opinion, DETERMINATION could bend time, BRAVERY could teleport, JUSTICE could make people tell the truth, KINDNESS could heal and make shields, PATIENCE could freeze in place to avoid damage, INTEGRITY could change gravity, but PERSEVERANCE...it could only make plans based on a few minutes of worth of events. It sounds ok at first but in practice it’s not that great. Luckily, this came in handy for plotting a surprise sneak attack against your local government camp after they killed your boss. 

The red-head was positioned behind a bush up on a short cliff only a bit away from said government camp. She pulled out her walkie talkie and leaned in.

“Hey Svensson, you got the coordinates for the government rats?” She asked, in response she got a groan.

“Yes I did, and I am still your superior, so it’s Mr. Svensson to you.” He complained on his end. 

“Well Mr. Pain in the ass, ready to beam down the rocket launcher?”

“For the third time, you aren’t getting a rocket launcher. I’m sending down Burt, Carol and a few others.”

“Man, do you not trust me with explosives?”

“Not after the ‘Me and Henry are going to rob a chuck e cheese’ incident.”

“It was fun and it was one time!” She all but shouted into the device. She turned it off and looked back at the camp. So maybe exploding it isn’t a great idea. Ellie glanced over at one of the tents that was larger than the rest, and had a large red medical cross. Bingo.

~~~

“Hey Chara, can I ask you something? Do you know what happened to Asr-” Frisk started.

“No, we don’t mention him.” Chara said, cutting them off. Frisk set down their fork on the plate. 

“Okaaay, then what about Flowey?” Frisk reiterated. 

“Didn’t he want to stay behind? I mean, he thought he wouldn’t survive out here without a soul.” 

“Well what if he was wrong Chara?”

“Don’t tell me you actually cared about that little bugger! He tried to kill you, Frisk!” 

The child sighed and stared up at their ghost companion. 

“He can change, he’s done it before, and he can do it again.”

~~~

The flower in question sat among his non-sentient copies in the beginning of the underground. Or was it the end? He didn’t know, and didn’t care. Flowey sighed, and stared up at the entrance to the underground. No one ever visited him, after all, he tried to kill everyone and steal their souls to become a god. That was only the second time. How would anyone forgive him? No one would. Why would anyone care about him though? He only hurts, it’s all he’s good for. 

No. He won’t hurt again. The golden flower promised himself this, He pondered to himself about how to get out easily. Through personal research he deemed he could only travel for five minutes under the earth before needing to pop back out for at least another minute, as well as, it was difficult staying on the side of a wall without some proper hold. Thinking, Flowey noticed a vine that had fallen some time after the barrier broke. That’ll do. 

Flowey popped down under the ground then resurfaced under the vine. He wrapped one of his own vines on it and slid up it like a snake, reaching the top in under a few minutes. He looked out at the mid afternoon sun, basking in the potential photosynthesis he would gain if he just gave up and stayed a flower forever. But no, he had to keep going. 

After scanning the area a bit he noticed a camp in the distance that took up a hidden clearing. So that's where they went. He thought to himself. But hey, the worst case scenario is that it was a human camp, but he could blend in as some of the natural buttercups that grew around the mountain. It would take a while until he got there, but he knew it would be the start of his redemption.

~~~

“Ok would you rather fight an elephant sized axolotl or a hundred axolotl sized elephants? Honestly, either would do for me.” Chara asked, smiling.

“Am I allowed to spare either? If not then an elephant sized axolotl, it would give up to get to water.” Frisk answered. Henry laughed and leaned back.

“Nah, a hundred axolotl sized elephants, that way they won’t crush you on the way to the water.” He spoke. “Plus, I ain’t a pacifist, I won’t have a burden on my shoulder.” 

“But those are innocent elephants!” Frisked shouted. 

“What if they had caused the deaths of thousands? Then would you reconsider?”

“You’re cruel sometimes Chara.” Henry chuckled. Frisk smiled and knew, maybe more humans were like the toppats, they didn’t seem that bad. 

“Gasp, I, the dead child sharing a soul with another child, is cruel.”

“Ok, ok, you two, reel it in, we’re meant to have a nice picnic, minus the food.” Frisk laughed. It was nice after most of their life living by themself as an orphan, to finally have a family. Sure, they didn’t have an exact father figure, but they had a mom in Toriel, a sibling in Chara, and now an older brother in Henry. It was everything they could ever dream of. 

“Sorry Frisk.” Chara apologized sarcastically. 

“Sorry kid, plus Chara isn’t as cruel as another demon I know.” Henry apologized, gazing at the air next to him like he was gesturing towards someone. But no, player was off minding their own weird business off somewhere that Henry didn’t care. They couldn’t do anything with Henry being there as a physical form. With this, they were most likely trying to chase a squirrel up a tree to find it’s home to (attempt to) destroy it. 

“Speaking of whom, you said you’re in a similar boat to us, yeah? Well, haven’t seen your little soul buddy, where are they?” The red ghost asked, folding their arms. “Seriously, the fact you can see me means you aren’t lying, are you just in stage one?”

“No, they just don’t like people, and people don’t like them. They also much prefer tormenting squirrels than answering questions about elephants and axolotls.” Henry addressed. Chara scrunched their face while Henry just smiled. 

That’s when the two humans felt something off, Frisk in specific heard dirt churning. Chara looked at them oddly as they weren’t sitting to feel the disturbance. That’s when a golden buttercup popped out of the ground. 

“Well, that’s not normal, or I’ve been on the orbital station for too long.” The adult said, questioning himself. That’s when the flower turned its head, showing its face.

“That damned flower got out!” 

“Nice to see you too Chara.” The flower spoke. “Anyways, Howdy! I’m Flowey, Flowey the Flower!” 

“I can tell.” Henry sarcastically responded. 

“Oh goodie goodie, the smiley trashbag comedian has a human twin.” Flowey spoke with a caustic remark, while Chara proceeded to lose their mind laughing at the realization of the similarities. “Anywho, I actually came here to say something.”

“What is it Flowey?” Frisk asked.

“Well…..” He paused. Why couldn’t he do it? He recited what he wanted to say on the way over, he knew he wanted to apologise, but the words wouldn’t form. He couldn’t say sorry, he couldn’t tell them the promise he made to himself...

He just was incapable of feeling true remorse. 

“Of course, typical unfeeling flower. Will want everyone’s attention, then goes silent. Typical.”

“Chara! That was rude!” Frisk scolded. Flowey sighed, and popped back into the ground. Maybe it wasn’t time to repair that burnt bridge.

When Flowey popped back up, he moved himself next to a large tent near the edge of the clearing (as indicated by the large trees next to the tent). Chara was right, I have no soul, I can’t feel… Thoughts like that raced through his mind, he wanted to be better, but without a soul it was useless.

He stared around for something to do when he saw a tall man, leaning against a tree with a cigarette in his hand. 

“Hey, Smokey! Y’know you’re gonna get yourself killed with that!” Flowey snarked loudly at the man. Right Hand Man looked down at the flower with a cold gaze. 

“Wow Einstein, you’ve cracked the code and can leave the simulation now, hurray.” He laughed. Flowey was not amused. Instead he slid up the tree Right was leaning on and sat on one of the low branches. “And hey, ‘anks for the concern, but ah don’t get cigarettes that have tar in ‘em. So I’m lung cancer safe.”

“Huh, didn’t know those existed, anyways, I’m Flowey!” The buttercup had returned to his normal jovial mood.

“Nice to meet ya Flowey, I’m Right Hand Man.” 

“What kind of name is that?”

“What kind of name is Flowey?”

“Touché” The two chuckled a bit, then Flowey asked the question that he completely forgot about in favor of introductions. “Say, why are you smoking in the first place?” 

“Everytime I light a new one, ah ask myself the same thing. Then I remember my best friend is dead, there’s no HOPE left for anyone, and no amount of what if’s are gonna bring him back!” RIght started before going off into a tangent and yelling to himself. 

“Hey big guy, calm down, there’s got to be some way to bring him back, yeah? Do you have his soul?” 

~~~

Honestly, Flowey didn’t expect a yes, and he especially didn’t expect it to be stuck in such disrepair. 

“Holy mother of asgore! What’d you do to him?!” He exclaimed. 

“Only managed to get ‘im in by the time he was like this.” Right answered truthfully. He put a hand on the tank, rubbing it thoughtfully while the flower starred from his new-found perch on the Right Hand Man’s shoulder. 

“Man, rough timing, eh? Anyways, do you perchance have a pot I could dip into? Soil is much more comfortable.” Flowey requested. Right sighed and kneeled down and grabbed a clay pot from under the table that had been left, he went outside and scooped a bit of dirt in before planting Flowey in it. He went back inside and set the pot next to Reginald’s soul tank before sitting onto the chair still left out from the events of earlier today.

“So, did you know that most likely if his being still exists somewhere, like the void, he would be in complete agony? I mean, I myself wouldn’t know as I have no soul, plus I’m a monster, but probably a broken soul would mean a world of pain?” The plant addressed, looking up at the top of the tent before facing the Aussie with the last point. 

“Reg is strong, he can take it, he’s been through worse.” Right replied sternly.

“I’m just saying, if you really cared, you would be working your butt off trying to get him out of this state.”

“Shut it flower boy, Ah don’t need to hear how much of a failure I am.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Flowey retorted, managing to bounce his pot closer to the tank. Two vines shot out of the pot, waving about frantically, acting like arms to demonstrate his frustration. Damn his subconscious want of misery in others, he would definitely need to work on that later. “I’m not saying you failed! I’m just saying you’re lounging around crying about your problems instead of fixing them! There’s plenty of things you could do!” 

“Well do YOU have any smart ideas? Or are ya just goin’ to be a thorn in mah side?!” The toppat argued back. Flowey stewed for a moment before spotting a leather book on the other end of the table, noticing a keyword, soul. He reached for it with a vine.

“Correction, buttercups don’t have thorns. Plus, this book here may do the trick!” He pulled the book to him with immense speed. Too immense in fact that it hit the glass of the soul preserving tank. It wobbled for a moment before tilting off the table. 

Smash!

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 28- In Shadow

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Returning to his hometown, Etho hs to balance his past with his present, as well as keep Keralis and Grian from embarrassing him in from of his old teacher and town. 

_______________________________

Etho always thought he was a handful- he may act mature, but his mind is full of mischief that would make even a criminal stumble. But dragging Keralis and Grian through the misty swamps of his home, he realizes there are more ways than one to cause trouble. 

Keralis goes sloshing away, swallowed up by the fog. The only way Etho knows he still exists is by the loud splash of the bug wizard, followed by a string of curses in his thick accent. Keralis returns to Etho’s side, wrestling a stag beetle and cooing at how lovely it looks. 

Grian on the other hand, Etho couldn’t get to shut up. “I think I have half the swamp in my boots.” 

“You could just fly.” Etho points out. 

“But I can’t see anything!” Grian’s whine echoes through the thick copse of trees, bouncing off submerged ferns and aged wood. “How do you even know where you’re going?” 

“Secret ninja techniques.” Etho muses, following the trail at his feet. Beneath the water, he can feel ridges carved into the stone, under the silt. Guiding him to his hometown. 

Keralis’s eyes get wider than usual at the sound of a branch snapping in the distance. He whips his head around, pulling on his hat and brushing closer to Etho. “Are you sure we’re alone?”

“We’re not.” Etho grins. Both Grian and Keralis whimper, searching the fog like they’re trying to see a ghost. They might as well be. “The town knows we’re coming. They’ve already seen us, even if we haven’t seen them.” 

“Ninjas.” Grian whispers. The trio continues in silence, or at least as silent as Grian and Keralis can be, sludging through the swamp. Grian chatters with himself and the bug wizard, his voice bouncing up cypress trees as tall as towers, clambering over the roots. He gets a foot tangled in the submerged vines, and goes headfirst into the slow moving brown water with a yelp. “Etho, when the hell are we going to get to this town? I haven’t seen any signs that we’re even close.” 

“Ah, yeah. I haven’t seen a spot of dry ground this whole time.” Keralis adds. “Are they on stilts? How does a town like that stay out of the swamp?” 

Etho feels the carved markings beneath his feet turn into a radiating circle, like a ripple across the surface. He stops, grabbing Keralis and Grian, a grin appearing on his unmasked face. “We’re here.” 

Grian turns around in a full circle, looking at the copse of trees. “Uhhh, are you okay Etho? This looks the same as every other part of the swamp.”

“Maybe it’s hidden in the fog? Fog magic?” Keralis waves his arms around as if he’s attempting to feel around in the dark. 

Etho leans against a root, grinning. “Try looking up.” 

Grian does so, and gasps. 

Above their head, a town hovers over them. Lantern lights split through the fog, unveiling themselves like a stage curtain, warm yellow glows dancing off the wood and paper. Beneath the strung lantern lights, dancing will-o-the-wisps above their heads, bridges of plank and rope connect tree to tree and guide the townsfolk across the swamp without making a sound. 

The fog continues to disappear, and the town of Shellor unmasks in ripples. Homes and businesses nestled in the massive trunks of the trees or perched on the expansive branches, the open air filtering the earth and water tone of the swamp air through bars, abodes, shops, and shrines. For a second, Grian wishes Mumbo was here to rant about the engineering marvel above his head. How much time it must’ve taken to build a town in the sky, where they even get the fire from, and hidden out of sight, out of sound. He never even realized they were walking beneath it. 

“How...how do we get up there?” Keralis tips his head, holding onto his hat so it doesn’t slip off. 

“Normally, adults can just climb up ourselves.” Etho launches from the root, grabbing hold of a branch and swinging himself up, higher and higher. “And Grian can fly, obviously. But- I’ll grab the basket.” 

“Basket?” Keralis watches the two disappear among the intertwining bridges. A second later, something is dropping back to the ground. It’s not a basket he thought it would be. It’s a lift of sorts. The wood floats like driftwood on the murky swamp water, the walls opening to invite Keralis in. He clambers on the wood panel, surprised to find that the weight hardly even shifts. Even when the walls pull back up around him and the basket starts to rise, he feels like he’s on solid ground. It’s the smoothest lift he’s even been on, something that would put Darlon to shame. 

Etho and Grian have their heads poking over the railing as Keralis rises up. “A pretty neat invention, huh?” Etho laughs, running a finger along the rope, watching the pulley system release the weight a distance away. “It’s not used often anymore, really just for when kids need to get down, supplies, the like.” 

Keralis stumbles onto the bridge. The warm glow of lantern light invites him deeper into Shellor, and the scent of food makes his stomach growl. Spices that dance with the mist, a warm rumble of quiet laughter from the nearby restaurant. But everyone’s movements are lithe and silent, even if their talking isn’t. Everyone in the town walks without a sound, like cats stalking their prey. Exactly how Etho walks, constantly spooking Keralis when he’s in the middle of reading or baking. 

It quiets down, and even Etho pauses. Grian and Keralis turn around, surprised to find Etho prostrating before a shrine. They never took him to be the god-worshipping kind. But they sit down next to him, looking at the shrine. It’s made of stone- how that got up here, neither of them can guess. Lanterns are kept aglow and the crescent shaped bowl protected with a carved wooden gazebo. After a few moments, Etho speaks. “Manys, god of the moon. Patron to Shellor, teacher to the art of stealth. I remember my first lesson to harness my power was to watch the full moonlight travel across the swampwater. Silent, but present.” 

“Is that how you learned to be a shadow ninja?” Keralis whispers while Grian lights a dying candle. 

“Nope.” Etho chuckles. “I definitely took a more...physical approach.” 

“Etho!” All three hermits stiffen at the shrill shriek of the shop owner a few bridges down. “I knew you’d come back! Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about all that candy you stole!” 

“Ah, that’s what you mean.” Grian muses, watching as Etho is given an earful by the man. It’s the first time Keralis and Grian have ever seen Etho embarrassed, the pale skin under his white hair blushing red, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Mr. Toku, I think Etho has heard well enough.” A warm voice, quiet but persistent, cuts through the berating tirade. Before her first syllable was uttered, Keralis and Grian knew this was someone of importance. An unusual sense of raging peace, like sitting next to a swollen waterfall in the middle of a forest, exudes from the woman like an aura. She turns, and immediately sweeps Etho into a hug. “It is good to have you home, my pupil.” 

“Hello Reverent Nama.” Etho squeaks, hardly able to breathe against such a tight hug. A weak smile appears on his face, the one person he missed most when he left being his teacher, the head monk of Shellor. Nama. He doesn’t even remember her real name, he’s always called her Nama. 

“Look at you, so tall! You grew like a shoot, Etho.” She grabs his cheek, looking at the scars on his face. “I still remember the day your magic first showed itself. Have you been using my teachings, anak ko?” 

“Nama, I remember it all. But you know me.” He offers a sly grin, but nods silently. “I still like to watch the moon, though.” 

“The best teacher, and the mother always with you.” Nama’s voice dips into a lower octave at her sagely advice, before rising back up as a smile creases her warm, deep toned skin. “But you must be starving, walking through the swamp. Come, bring your friends.” 

She waves her hands, blue and white robes beckoning the weary travelers deeper into the town. A glint of lantern light catches Grian’s attention, and his eyes go as wide as saucers at the sight before him. The biggest gong he’s ever seen in his life. Taller than Grian, even with his wings stretched high above his head, the silver metal glimmering like the moon at the center of the town. Archways decorate and dance around the massive instrument. Grian’s drawn to the gong like a moth to the flame. 

Only to be thwarted by Etho. He grabs Grian by the collar, dragging him back in line with Reverent Nama and the other monks. Keralis giggles and teases Grian even as they enter the raised, thatched house. Bowed roofs similar to the arches and pagodas they saw before protect angular, woven walls and open windows. The swamp breeze filters through the mat-strewn floor as Nama opens the sliding door. Nama disappears into an upper level, before returning with a steaming teapot and five different plates of food. The boys sit at the low table, suddenly alone with the leader of Shellor. Silent as shadows, her peers had disappeared. Like ninjas. “I assume this is not just a family visit.” 

“How did you know?” Keralis croons, sipping on the warm tea poured before him. His eyes light up at the fried, wrapped treat set on his plate. His massive bug eyes only unnerve Nama, repositioning in her seat at the sight of such strange friends Etho brought. 

“Etho isn’t exactly the visiting kind. A practical pupil, even to the day he left.” 

“Nama, you of all people know how to gather information. You see what the moon sees.” She nods at Etho’s words. It’s not hyperbole- it’s her magic. “Surely you have information about husk monsters attacking all over Lairyon.” 

“Why does that interest you, Etho?” Nama gazes over the rim of her teacup.

“We intend to stop it.” Grian states, flat and plain. Etho seethes, sending imaginary daggers at the blond angel before him. He needs to be more subtle than that! 

“Finally, someone to take up the mantle.” She responds. “I have heard worrisome things, are you three sure you can handle such a task?” When all of them nod, she continues. “Then you need to start here- husks have been attempting to enter Shellor for the past few days. They have broken through our mist barrier, but have been unable to reach the town. I do not think they will stop trying until they reach the bridges.”

“They want to steal your magic, your power. They’ll kill you all.” Etho growls. 

“Exactly as what my informants told me. Do you boys think you could defeat an army of mindless creatures?” She pauses, looking at their faces. Seeing the glint in their eyes and knowing. “Excuse me, I have underestimated you. It seems you have already done so before.” 

“We’ll need more than just your information, Reverent Nama. We need supplies, tools of stealth that only Shellor can create. We need to use every advantage we can find to stop these husks. To stop-”

“To stop Magistrate Dolios, yes.” Nama nods, a growl breaking through her neutral expression. “Whatever you and your friends need, I will be happy to give. But for now, eat! Tell me, anak ko, who are your friends here.” She leans over to Etho. “Is the one with the large eyes okay? Is he some sort of hybrid?” 

Etho chuckles, and welcomes the warm food of home into his body. He missed the taste of good palabok, wishing at least one other hermit could cook his hometown’s food like Nama could. He introduces Keralis, quickly explaining his magic, then moving onto Grian. Even Nama, in all her wise counselling, was shocked to learn he was an angel mage. She knew they existed, beneath the watchful eyes of the moon, but to see one in front of her? And in a guild as wayward as Etho describes? 

Their plates are filled as fast as they’re emptied, food appearing out of what felt like nowhere. Etho smiles as he hears laughter rise from his friends and teacher. He left Shellor because he felt restrained. But to be home? It felt freeing, now that he’s an adult. Now that he has his guild, he feels more connected to here than ever before. They continue talking well into the night, until the fog fades and the moon observes the quiet swamp. 

Nama closes her eyes, falling into a quiet meditation at the dinner table. But when her eyes open, it’s anything but calm. She rises so fast her knees almost spill the table over, robes fluttering like leaves in the wind. “They’re here. Oh gods, they’re already at the barrier.

“You wanted lessons in stealth? Well, lesson number one- don’t let your enemy see you.” Nama motions for another monk, and he casts his magic circle. In one deep breath, he inhales the magic. And a gust of wind from his lips blows out every single candle. Only the full moonlight bears illumination upon the town. 

And the distant crack of lightning, an ashen storm visible through the spindly cypress trees.

Townsfolk shuffle in the dark, accustomed but alarmed. Night is when Shellor is most alive, lanterns lit and moon in full view. Nama sends her monks to scout ahead, to be the first line of defense, before marching towards the center of town. 

Towards the gong. It reflects the moonlight, blue luminescence titillating across the silver instrument. A mallet the length of Nama’s arm is plucked from the arch, but she pauses. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Etho practically holding Grian back, the angle bouncing in his boots. Like so many of her other pupils, and who is she to deny him something so exciting? She hands the mallet into Grian’s hand. He wastes no time putting it to work. With wings unfurling and hovering at the center of the circle. One mighty reel backwards, he swings. The mallet strikes the metal, and both Grian and the gong reverberate in response. A low, loud ringing warns the entire town they’re under attack. Grian still feels the sensation of the strike in his arms even after he lands. 

“The husks aren’t after anything in particular- they just want as much magic as possible.” Etho warns, pulling free his kusarigama, watching the darkness. In the distance, a blood curdling howl of a banshee turns even his blood cold. He doesn’t want to face that beast on good terms, much less a creepy husk version. 

“How can you stop them?” Nama questions, dipping her arms into her robes. She doesn’t need a weapon to be dangerous. 

“There’s no crystal.” Keralis warns. “But there is a darkness storm.” He points to the distant canopy, black clouds roiling across the sky. 

“We just have to defeat them. One by one, it will weaken the storm and purge the land of their presence.” Grian flutters over the side of the bridge, looking down. Below, among the swamp water and cypress roots, monsters and mages scrabble up the aged cypress wood. Throwing themselves higher and higher, unlike Etho’s smooth agility to the town. “No matter what, don’t let your fighters get caught by the husks. They’ll turn into one.” 

“Stealth is our trade, angel.” Nama hums, arm reappearing and offering up supplies to the trio. Smoke bombs, firecrackers, magical climbing gear for Keralis, an enchanted mirror to Grian. “We shall do our best, but you three are clearly the masters in this battle.” 

Nama steps back, and bows. Pride swells in Etho’s chest, almost causing him to tear up. If he didn’t hear the snarls of darkness consumed being of pure anger, hatred, and power, he probably would’ve. He’s never seen Reverent Nama bow to anyone else before. 

And then she’s gone. Disappearing among her robes, the hermits next see her down at the roots. Battling with a cold rage, like sunlight reflecting off the moon. Etho hands a few smoke bombs to his friends, grinning. “Let’s raise hell, shall we?”

[mariinara]

REDAMANCY. (Sam Drake x Reader) PROLOGUE.

A/N: Oh, sweet mother Theresa.. I've been holding this secret for so long. The idea came to me when @the-winchesterboys pitched it as just a fluff request, but I decided to make a whole series out of it. So, I can proudly say that this is a sort of collaboration that gave birth to my first Sam Drake fic. ♡

Tags: @the-drakeboys , @the-winchesterboys , @missdictatorme , @samdrakeftw , @hrgnm , @purplezebra68 , @s4mdrake , @unchartedterritoria

Summary: You're a retired treasure-hunter who had brief history with Sam before the events of Panama, after which you were heartbroken, but met your current fiance, Connor Walsh. You get an unexpected call from a certain someone, asking you to embark on one last adventure together through London and Morocco to uncover a childhood mystery, during which you confront each other, reflect on your past, and rekindle the relationship that might cost you your pretend peaceful life.

Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/Comedy

Rating: 18+

(PROLOGUE, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

  Location: United States, Boston suburbs.

                       __________________

Your paint roller glided smoothly across the wall of your new study room, the wetness glistening with the bright ray of sunlight from your open window. You found yourself smiling in comfort whilst covering the white, dusty pasty color with a refreshing coat of the faintest shade of beige: a color that beautifully complimented the oak-wood theme of your furniture. It was also a color that represented conservativeness, neutrality, and serenity-- The very same traits that you’ve decided to embrace as a new years’ resolution. You knew it was going to be by no means an easy task. 

If you would’ve displayed any of those traits in the profession you’d left behind, you would’ve been dead. 

You’ve always been an excessive, adventurous, fiery, driven human being. It ran in your veins-- this treasure-hunting hogwash. Whether your expeditions proved fruitful or not, you grew obsessed with that adrenaline surge that rushed through you. That little thrill that came with uncovering world secrets or stumbling upon a marvelous find. The extreme enjoyment you got out of surviving a situation that so clearly was against your odds. The way goosebumps riddled your sweaty skin as you leaped from one cliff to the other. Holding onto a rope for dear life as you swung across. You got off on those sort of reckless heroics, but ever since you met him and you’d clicked immediately, his docile nature immediately rubbed off on you. 

There you were, painting your study while reminiscing about your time in Shambhala, where you and your fiance-- Connor -- met. He was a journalist who came along with Elena and her cameraman Jeff and, from what the relationship between him and Elena suggested, they were both co-workers and rivals. He’d gotten there to uncover Lazarevic’s malicious plot first and was doing okay until Elena and Jeff showed up. Though the bickering between them was childish, Connor was an extremely calm, collected, and understanding human being when it counted. Besides that, he was smart, clever, focused, practical, and he was handsome in a very nerdy way. 

He looked like your typical, struggling journalist. He was tall, pasty skin and rosy cheeks. Sort of broad and built. Always had a shirt on that was slightly crinkled at the hem, since he’d get sick of having it tucked into his pants and would yank it out. A habit you grew to smile at and shake your head. His bright green, curious eyes were framed with a pair of glasses that only a semi-visually impaired person would wear. The lenses were so thick that they formed sort of a weight on the bridge of his nose that would eventually leave red marks where they sat. 

He was nowhere near your type of man. As far as Nathan - the man whom you took care of for a long time before he stumbled upon Elena - knew, your type happened to be that sort of man with an infuriatingly charming air about him. Tall, broad, had tattoos that held meaning to him only. Thick Boston accent and a shit-eating grin that made you roll your eyes but smile, nonetheless. The kind of man that made you weak in the knees with just a wink or a suggestive eyebrow raise. 

A heartbreaker, who ripped away every shred of happiness when he left you almost sixteen years ago to wallow in self-doubt and pure despair. The type of man who both gave meaning to your life at one point, but ended up completely ruining you at another. And by the time he’d made a surprising appearance in your lives, you were a changed woman who had a loving boyfriend who made you forget about all of your past troubles. Your heart aches and most of all, Samuel Drake.

It was a little over a year ago since the last time you'd seen him and though Connor had no idea about your past, Sam had a pretty good picture about your relationship with Connor. Boyfriend of almost six years, about to be engaged to you. The works. 

Sam felt like a complete stranger to you and you were no longer the woman he'd fallen in love with. Or at least you thought so. 

He was so foreign to you, even though he was the exact same person. But you were simply not. Back at Libertalia, you couldn't even bear to talk to him for more than a minute and you didn't know why. It was like talking to a phantom. A figment of your imagination. Looking at him reminded you of all the days you couldn't breathe when his memorial day rolled in every year. It reminded you how broken and dysfunctional you were for the first five years of him not holding you or saying something clever to make you laugh in utter embarrassment. It made you remember how cold you were when you slept on the bed you once shared with him, with his side of the bed empty and untouched for years on end. The years and years of therapy and PTSD. 

Looking at him reminded you of everything that you worked so hard to forget and while you knew that it wasn't fair for him, it was just as unfair to you. 

You finally had your life together and you didn't want anything or anyone standing in the way.

Not even him. 

The fact that you'd parted ways on a bad note as well the last time you'd seen each other didn't at all help. 

Libertalia was an adventure you thoroughly enjoyed and loved deeply. You even had some souvenirs and trinkets from there. But the reason you went there altogether was because you didn't want Sam to die again. To leave you and Nathan. The incentive was purely dutiful since you grew up with both of them, but nothing more. 

Or at least you thought so.

You took a few steps back, your eyes studying the freshly painted wall. Slowly, a satisfied smile crept up to your lips as you wiped your forehead from the sweat, being careful so as to not get your paint-covered fingers on your face. Your hands then wiped against the front of your stained apron with a deep sigh, "God, I'm good." You told yourself with a proud smirk and whipped your head around once you heard the sound of a heavy, cardboard box slump on the floor. Your eyes trailed up to be met with Connor's green ones and he smiled as he stretched his back and walked towards you. He was standing next to you, his arm around your waist, holding you close to his side as he stared at your handiwork.

"Wow.." He chuckled with an impressed nod, "This looks great."

You rested your head on his shoulder, a big smile on your face, "You sound surprised." 

He paused a little, "I am–" You lifted your head and playfully glared at him, making him laugh lightly, "Just a little. Calm down..!" 

With a sigh and a shake of your head, you patted his ass with your dry paint-covered hand and he jumped a little, letting out a small surprised noise, "Alright, then, nerd." You ripped yourself from him and looked around, seeing all those boxes that you needed to empty. They were covering the floor from the entrance of the study to the hallway outside and even the kitchen's island had smaller boxes on top, full of utensils and everything from the kitchen of your old apartment, "That's all of 'em?" You asked, sort of hopeful that you wouldn't have to unpack another one of those nightmares.

"Yep." Connor responded, "I'm hungry, though. How 'bout dinner first?" He suggested and you couldn't be more relieved since you were starved.

"Sounds good."

Your fiance smiled sweetly at you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips that lasted for a while before he pulled away, "I'll go get started with the kitchen stuff, then."

You smiled back at him, your eyes trailing down to look at the messy collar of his shirt, only for your hand to adjust it and smoothen down the shoulders, "Alright, dear."

And he was off to the kitchen, maneuvering around boxes as he did. You watched him for a couple of seconds, feeling as if your life was finally falling into place. That everything was perfect. That you were healed.

As if God didn't want that for you, your cellphone rang in your back pocket, almost startling you. With an exasperated sigh, you untied your apron and crumpled it in your hands, reaching in for your phone with the other. 

Upon seeing the caller ID, your demons crawled back up to gnaw the back of your brain. Your eyes widened briefly and you glanced towards the empty hallway Connor passed through earlier. You contemplated not answering, but knowing him, he was probably in trouble.

Your thumb hovered above the 'reject' icon, your brows furrowed and your heart thumping violently against your ribcage, as if begging to jump out. And against your better judgement, you swiped the 'accept' icon, pulling the phone to your ear slowly and giving your back to the door. 

You heard what sounded like a sigh of relief on the other line. 

"I thought you'd never answer."

You paused for a second, rubbing your forehead with your fingers, "It was tempting."

He chuckled, somewhat bitterly, "Why didn't you?"

You rested your hand on your hip, your eyes flickering all around the room, as if searching for an answer, but you found yourself talking without even thinking, "Because I feel obligated not to." You responded, "You don't usually call, either, so you must be in some sort of trouble."

You heard silence from him for a second, "You know why I don't call. I dunno how your guy would react."

You raised a brow, glancing over your shoulder at the door to make sure Connor wasn't close, "And you thought now's a good time because..?"

"Because I need you."

You inhaled deeply at his reply. A dreadful feeling resided in the pit of your stomach. Something about the way he said that didn't rest well with you, but you knew what he meant.

You looked up to the ceiling, trying your best to bite back a mean response, "What do you want, Sam?"

"Right.." You heard shuffling on his end, sounding like papers and clanking glass, "I'll get to the point."

"Please."

"Remember when we were younger? That book I used to love."

Of course you remembered. You'd stay up all night with Sam, sitting on a bench under streetlights, listening to his stories from the book he so loved. He was so theatrical, acting everything out, doing the pirate accents, deepening his voice, hiding one eye with his hand to give the effect of an eye patch.

How could you possibly forget?

"A general history of the robberies and murders of the most notorious pirates." You responded with a small, wistful smile that you weren't aware of, "Yeah."

"Remember when I said how it was complete bullshit?" 

"You were pretty disappointed.." You muttered in amusement, going over to your desk to sit on the edge.

Sam chuckled lightly, "Then you remember my never-ending babbling about Red Rackham's treasure."

"Sam." You stopped him, feeling the uncomfortable feeling bubbling up to claw at your chest, "Where's this going?" You cautiously asked, narrowing your eyes at nothing in particular.

Another long pause came from him, and with each passing second, you felt your anxiety bubble up more.

"I know where it got sunk."

"Where what got sunk?"

"The unicorn."

You pinched the bridge of your nose at the familiar name of the sunken pirate ship and shook your head, "You can't possibly be doing this on my moving day." You tried to keep your voice low but your dismay was extremely clear and you could almost see him frowning at your tone.

"Moving day?" He asked. You suddenly remembered how transparent he was. He did no effort to hide his bitterness and you could so clearly hear it.

You shook your head and decided to divert the subject, "I don't do that kinda thing anymore, Sam. You know that." 

He snorted, "Since when?"

"Since Libertalia." You retorted, "Since Connor, Sam. He doesn't do that sorta thing, either."

"That–That is good for him, but I know for a fact that that's not who you are."

You let out a humourless laugh and threw your hand up in frustration, "I'm not waiting for you to tell me who I am; I know what I want."

"No, you don't."

You were about to snap at him, but something stopped you. What would you say to that? Was this really who you were? The way Sam put it made you doubt almost everything. 

"Doesn't matter, Sam. I'm happy, okay?"

"You may be now, but the more you fight it, the more you're gonna hate him and hate your life, sweetheart." 

"What are you trying to do?" You asked, in a surrendered voice, your hand tightening around your phone.

"Give you a chance." He replied easily, not even giving it a thought, "This is our story. Our treasure. You were obsessed with this as much as I was. Your journal, your hand drawn maps.." He paused, "I still have 'em.."

You shook your head, feeling your resolve crumble with the sentence he added at the end, looking down at your feet, "What am I gonna tell Connor..?"

"You'll figure somethin' out." He said, his voice a bit hopeful, knowing that he broke your thick skin a bit, "C'mon. Whaddya say..? You and me. One last time?"

You inhaled deeply. 

He was right. You have been obsessed with finding that treasure for the longest time as wanderlust-struck teenagers. It was like your Everest. But you never got around to it, since it all reminded you of him. You didn't want to embark on that journey without him by your side. And now that he was there, you could finally finish the book of journeys. To fulfill the last of your wishes. 

Maybe then you'd be able to live happily with Connor, without having to deal with the burden of having something missing.

And so, you smiled and nodded to yourself, "Okay." You responded simply, earning a relieved chuckle from him, "Sully's gonna be there, though, right?"

"You could say that."

You frowned, "What's that mean?" 

"He'll be there at some point." He vaguely replied, making you roll your eyes, "Just make sure you're there by tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night..?" You asked, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, feeling the fatigue roll over you stronger than ever, "Where do I need to go?"

"London. Bloomsbury." 

You ripped a paper from your notebook, holding the phone against your ear with your shoulder, and grabbed a pen, yanking off the cover with your teeth and writing down the address.

"Okay.." You muttered.

"Euro hotel. The room's under Victor's name. You know what to do."

You felt your heart beating faster as you wrote the last letter, with the small P.S. about the reservation name. 

You let out a shaky breath and held the phone in your hand again, straightening up, "Got it. I'll be there at nine."

"Perfect." You could practically hear the grin in his voice, "See ya soon, sweetheart." 

You smiled softly and nodded, "See you soon.." 

You held the phone against your ear until it went blank and that's when you realized what you've just gotten yourself into.

There you were again. With no self-control when you heard the words treasure and adventure. You were so caught up in the childhood memories that you didn't think of what you'd actually tell Connor and, for some reason, the truth wasn't an option.. 

You heard him calling out your name from the kitchen and you quickly whipped your head towards the door, inhaling deeply to calm your jagged nerves. You found yourself fiddling with the engagement ring on your finger and you looked down at your hands, pursing your lips together tightly.

'No backing out now..' You thought.

You exhaled and forced a smile to your face, "Comin', honey!" You called out cheerfully, quickly stuffing the note with the address in your back pocket, hurrying out of the study room.

[milokno]

The Morrígan — Five...

Summary: Although the other ship had sent out a distress signal, no one aboard Vishpala II had responded when Marvin and Chase had tried to contact them again.

There was only silence.

It had been deafening.

/ / /

This fic was inspired by this edit made by @oh-itskitkat!! thank you again for the inspiration, and I hope you like what came from it!

Warnings for this chapter: blood, horror elements, and death

Read it on Ao3 here: x

/ / /

It’s been four months since Chase last saw his kids. Sure, he’s got photographs, and he’s seen the kids through a computer screen— heard their little voices as they talked to him during their weekly calls. So he knows he won’t forget their faces, won’t forget how when they laugh at something he’s said his lips split into a wide grin at the sound.

While he might be able to see his kids, it’s been a little over a hundred days since he got to be with them. It’s been months since he got to braid his daughter’s hair, and since he got to sing his son to sleep.

On the bright side, Chase only has three months, one week, and five days until his feet will touch the earth again. All he has to do is make it through another one hundred and four days and he can see his kids. Just another hundred days and he can see the trees and feel the ground beneath his feet. Then he can hear the rain pouring outside their house and feel the thunder rumble in his bones.

Then he can see Stacy.

He longs for the brush of her lips against his own. He can still feel her if he concentrates hard enough. How her lips, stained red from the lipstick she’d been applying when Chase had interrupted her, would curl into a smile. How the bubbly laughter that fell from those lips made Chase’s eyes light up like the neon signs that hung on the window outside the laundromat they went to when they’d first moved in together.

Chase rolls over so he’s lying on his back, rather than his side. He’s aware that he’s going to have to crawl out from the warmth of his bed soon. He’s awake, has been staring out into the expanse of space and stars and nothing beside him for a few minutes already. The only thing between Chase and all that nothing is a thick layer of glass. It’s only when another memory of Stacy and the kids begins to gnaw at him that he decides it’s time to stop moping.

He stretches his arms high above his head, fingers curling as his back wails in agony. Chapped lips part in a long, drawn out yawn, and the fabric of the white t-shirt he’s wearing is tugged upwards, revealing a bit of the pale skin of his stomach to the empty, cold air of the Morrígan.

His bare feet tap on the floor as he makes his way towards the common room. He knows he’s not the first one awake— the bed tucked into the wall to the left of his own had been empty, which means that Henrik’s also awake, at least.

Chase doesn’t like being alone, here, on the Morrígan. Space is already so empty, so devoid of anything, and he wants to spend as little time alone as he can.

As expected, Henrik’s sitting at the table in the common room. He can smell the other man’s coffee from the other side of the room— it’s practically strong enough to wake Chase up without him even having to drink any. With how much caffeine Henrik gets into his system on a daily basis, it’s a surprise he ever manages to fall asleep at all.

The bags under his eyes, visible behind the thin-rimmed, circular glasses he wears, would make Chase wonder if he ever does sleep. He’s heard the man snore, though, so he knows for a fact that the man can sleep. Unfortunately.

He watches as Henrik pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. The glasses look incredibly large on his face, and, without the beard, Chase is positive he’d look like a little kid.

An angry, yelling kid, but a kid, nonetheless.

The chair Henrik’s sitting on has been pulled out so he can prop his socked feet up onto the table. Chase would scrunch his nose up at the sight of his feet on the table— they eat there, for Christ’s sake— if it weren’t for the look on Henrik’s face. There’s something somber about the sight of him. Something that nearly makes him forget what he’d have been scrunching his nose up at in the first place.

Chase doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence.

His own selfish need to not be alone right now gets the better of him, though, and he continues to step into the common room. He yawns again, as he walks, but he stifles the noise behind the back of his hand this time. As Chase nears the table, the other man looks up. His feet slide off the table and smack onto the floor with a thud.

He decides to not think too much about the thing the other man is cradling in his hands— hiding from him, Chase realizes— or the glassy, wet look in his eyes.

Looks like they’d both been reminiscing this morning.

“Good morning, Brody,” Henrik’s voice is strained, and it’s gruffer than usual. His accent is thick, like a fog concealing any emotion that would’ve normally been surrounding his words. Chase continues to stare into red-rimmed eyes, and he doesn’t look away until Henrik averts his gaze back down to the mug on the table in front of him.

Chase walks past the table, towards the counter where the coffee pot is. BB, Commander Marvin’s cat, is sprawled out on the counter. He pets the cat’s head, gently, before pulling a mug down from the cabinet. He pours the murky, black liquid into the cup, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when the smell of overly strong coffee wafts up and smacks him in the face.

“Mornin’.” He turns his body around so he’s facing Henrik— who’s now holding his coffee mug with his right hand. If his grip was any tighter, Chase is pretty sure the cup would shatter. He brings his own mug up to his lips so he can blow on the liquid to cool it down. When he takes a sip, it leaves a bad aftertaste on his tongue. He continues, “D’you sleep okay, Hen?”

Henrik nods.

The bags under his eyes beg to differ, but Chase won’t press him— not today. Today’s rough for the both of them.

Rather than pulling out another chair, he sits on top of the table to Henrik’s right. He places his coffee cup beside his thigh, where he’ll most likely forget about it until he pours it down the drain. The German’s eyes flicker up to his. Once their eyes meet, Chase asks, “Are the others awake?”

Henrik hums around the coffee on his tongue. He swallows the drink before he says, “Jackson is awake. Saw him heading to the showers a couple of minutes before you got up.”

“How about Captain and Tennille?” Marvin and Jackie.

“Been listening to Jackson’s old records, again, have you?”

“His music taste is exquisite.” He says, deadpan. When Henrik laughs, a grin forms across Chase’s lips. “Do you plan on answerin’ my question, or am I gonna have to find them myself?”

Henrik’s eyes are practically glowing behind his glasses, and a small smirk is playing on his lips, “Ah, yes. I think those two are doing quite alright.” It’s Chase’s turn to laugh. It’s a loud sort of noise that erupts from his throat. Henrik continues, his own laughter causing him to stumble over his words, “If you— if you know what I mean.”

Chase, of course, knows exactly what Henrik means.

Marvin, commander of the Morrígan, and Jackie have been dating for some time. The only reason the rest of the crew knows at all is because poor Jameson had walked in on them a month into the mission. It had taken weeks for Chase to get any details out of him, but it was worth it.

They sit there, together, for a few minutes. Their smiles are still plastered to their faces, and their cheeks are flushed pink from laughter. It’s quiet, now, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s comforting, in a way.

The word Chase is looking for is bittersweet.

He takes another sip of his coffee. As he lowers the cup from his lips, his eyes flicker back to Henrik. The other man opens his mouth to speak.

“Brody—” Chase’s last name spills from Henrik’s parted lips. The other man’s eyebrows press together above his eyes as he struggles to find the words he wants. He blinks a couple times, and when he opens his mouth again a small noise forms in his throat.

Before Henrik can get another word out, though, he’s interrupted by SAM, the Morrígan’s AI system.

SAM’s voice echoes through the common room. It’s calm, mechanical. There’s something interesting in the way their voice is able to bend and contort itself around each syllable, while still maintaining zero emotion. Chase’s eyes widen as he tries to comprehend the words, and Henrik appears to be struggling to understand as well.

His voice is shaking, slightly, when he says, “Can you repeat that, please, SAM?”

There’s an incoming distress signal from Vishpala II.

Chase pushes himself into a standing position with his palms. The floor is cold, unforgiving, on his bare feet. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see that Henrik’s standing as well. The lock eyes, for just a second.

His coffee cup, as well as Henrik’s, are left, forgotten, on the table.

In the blink of an eye, the two men are walking towards the front of the Morrígan— towards the cockpit. They’re walking briskly, and the taps their feet are making against the floor are audible.

For only a crew of five people, The Morrígan is big. In times like this, Chase wishes it were smaller.

In-between the common room and the cockpit is the bathrooms. Jackson’s standing at the door, eyes wide as he watches Chase and Henrik near him. His hair is still wet from his shower, and the sleeves of the shirt he’s wearing are rolled up to his elbows. He must not have been able to hear SAM in the shower, because the towel he has thrown over his forearm sways as he signs, What’s going on?

Beside him, Henrik hastily signs back an answer. He speaks as he signs, “One of ISRO’s has trouble.”

Jackson turns to toss the towel into the bathroom, lacking the time to care for where it lands. He exits the bathroom and follows after them, having to sprint to catch up.

Marvin and Jackie are already in the cockpit. Marvin’s got their arms folded across their chest, and they twist their head to nod at Chase and the others when they step into the room. Jackie’s leaning over the computer, typing something that Chase can’t make out from where he’s standing.

Chase turns his attention back to Marvin. “Commander?”

“No one’s been able to contact any of the crew on Vishpala II for weeks.” They sign as they speak, and they back up slowly so they’re standing beside Jackie at the computers. “Not us and not anybody back home, either.”

Strange, Jameson signs.

Marvin hums in agreement, before continuing, “Folks at home have asked us to check it out. We’re nearby, after all. All we have to do is make sure everything’s alright.”

“Make sure everybody is alive.” Henrik adds.

The commander looks solemn at his addition, though they don’t deny it.

“Jackson, prepare the ship for any survivors.” Out of the corners of his eyes, Chase can see him nod. He exits the cockpit through the door they’d entered through together a few moments before. Marvin turns to look at Jackie, who’s still standing at the computer beside them, “Give me the exact location of the Vishpala II.” Another nod.

“Brody, Schneeplestein.” There’s something apologetic in the press of Marvin’s lips, and Chase almost doesn’t want them to speak. He already knows what they’re going to say. “Happy Father’s Day.”

—

From the outside, the Vishpala II looks perfectly normal. There’s no visible damage on the exterior of the ship, and there’s nothing that stands out as inherently wrong at all. Despite this, Chase knows that something isn’t right.

Although the other ship had sent out a distress signal, no one aboard Vishpala II had responded when Marvin and Chase had tried to contact them again. They’d received no response when they’d informed the other crew that they were going to connect— and then board— their ship.

There was only silence.

It had been deafening.

While Henrik and Jameson were busy preparing the Morrígan for any possible injured members of the other ship’s crew, Chase was left in the cockpit with Marvin and Jackie. The moment they’d connected the ships together, he’d volunteered to go. Jackie had quickly said that he’d go as well, though Marvin seemed far more hesitant to let him go than they had Chase.

He’d left the cockpit after that, as to give Marvin and Jackie some privacy.

The walk to the airlock had been quiet, uneventful.

If it hadn’t been for his heart hammering away in his chest, Chase might’ve been able to forget about the Vishpala II, as well as the ship’s crew. He might’ve been able to drown out the sound of Marvin’s and Jackie’s hushed argument behind him. But he can’t.

Chase veers to the left, and he’s standing at the airlock door. There’s a keypad on the wall beside it. He quickly smashes four of the buttons, his eyes unfocused, before he clicks the little, green circle at the bottom. There’s a long beep, followed by a loud, whirring noise, and then the door is sliding open. He steps into the airlock, and the door shuts behind him with a click.

He’s halfway through putting on his spacesuit— one of three total on the Morrígan—  when the airlock door opens again. Chase turns his head to stare at Jackie, who steps inside with a small nod. Silently, Jackie begins to put on his own suit.

Chase notices the tear tracks on the other man’s cheeks, though he decides against mentioning it.

For the second time, the door slides shut.

They continue to put on their suits. Jackie’s gaze keeps flickering from his suit and up to the door opposite the one they’d entered through. After he repeats the action a few times, he murmurs, “Vishpala’s on the other side, huh?”

Chase hums, and he stands. He grabs a helmet from the shelf behind him and places it onto his head. The visor lights up, showing Chase his vitals, as well as the temperature and oxygen levels outside the suit.

When he turns his head back to Jackie, the other man is putting on his helmet as well. His visor lights up, and then he’s standing next to Chase.

Jackie tilts his head— the way he imagines a puppy might— and lifts his gloved fist up to the space in-between the two of them. A grin spreads across his lips when he says, “Good luck in there, bro average.” His tone is light, but Chase can see through it. He’s scared. They both are.

Chase knocks his own fist against Jackie’s.

”Right back at ya.” His voice is shaky, though he tries his best to twist his lips together into a small smile.

Chase takes a couple steps forward, so he’s standing in front of the keypad of the other side of the airlock. He sucks in a long, shaky breath through slightly parted lips, and then he’s inputting the code. There’s a long beep, just like before, and then the door lets out a buzz. Chase can feel the noise in his bones, and in the way his stomach drops.

The door slides open and the two men are met with darkness. The lights from the airlock flood into the other ship, coating everything it can reach in a golden glow.

Jackie, despite being behind Chase, is the first to step onto the Vishpala II.

“Oxygen levels are stable,” Jackie murmurs, though he doesn’t remove his helmet.

Chase steps onto the Vishpala II.

The airlock door slides shut behind them, and then they’re in darkness.

Besides his own breathing, as well as Jackie’s, the ship is silent. And for a ship with a crew of seven people— seven people who no one has been able to contact for weeks— something about the calmness is wrong. Chase motions to the left side of the hallway before tapping his chest with gloved fingers. Jackie nods his head, once, before tilting his head to the right and pointing at himself.

He starts walking down the hall, which curves slightly to the right as it goes. He’s moving slowly, as though if he went any faster he’d get lost in the shadows. When he glances over his shoulder, he can see Jackie walking the other way, at the other end of the hall.

Most of the doors in the hallway are locked, but Chase peers his head into the few rooms that he can get into. All the rooms are empty, and if it weren’t for the fact that the ship is a mess, Chase would’ve assumed no one had ever been aboard the Vishpala II at all.

After a few minutes, he finds another room that he can get into. With, Chase steps into the room. It’s a lounge, of sorts— similar to the common room on the Morrígan. There are chairs thrown about the room, and there’s a table propped up against one of the doors to Chase’s left.

He takes another step into the room, still only a few feet from the door he’s entered through.

There’s a chair on the ground in front of him, but there’s something behind it that Chase’s eyes are stuck on. Admittedly, it takes him a few moments to realize what it is. When he does realize, however, he stares at it, eyes wide and unblinking.

Blood.

It’s blood.

His eyes drift upwards, slowly, so he’s staring at something else.

There’s a figure standing in the center of the room. It’s hidden by shadows, and Chase can’t make anything out in the dark. There’s a faint, blue outline around it, and two little, glowing dots at the top of the figure.

Eyes.

Chase continues to stare at it, he doesn’t think he could look away if he wanted to.

He’s losing his mind, he’s sure of it. He’s seeing thing that aren’t really there.

Chase backs out of the room, slowly. His eyes never leave the figure in the shadows.

Distantly, to his left, he hears Jackie scream.

“Brody!”

The thing’s face— or, at least, what Chase assumes is a face— turns. It slowly twists to the side, towards the direction where Jackie had screamed. A strangled gasp is torn from Chase’s throat. He nearly falls backwards in his haste to get to Jackie, to get away.

Chase has never run so fast in his life. His eyes are so wide, he can’t see— fuck, it’s so dark. His breathing’s so loud it’s drowning out the sound of his footsteps. He’d call out for Jackie, but his throat isn’t working.

He passes the airlock.

He finds Jackie standing in the middle of the hallway. When he’s within reach, he grabs onto his shoulders, whether it’s in an attempt to ground himself or to get Jackie’s attention, he doesn’t know. There’s a thousand words on Chase’s tongue, but he can’t speak.

Jackie won’t make eye contact. He won’t look away from the door in front of him.

With a gloved hand, Chase pushes the door open.

There, on the other side of the door, is the crew of Vishpala II.

They’re dead.

 / / /

tagslist: @spudmcloughlin @immabethehero @dreamerr-art @bupine @florenceisfalling @kfjack @anxiousghostie

[thenafics]

Evil Author Day -- 2020

I saw this going around and I both wanted to feel included and have several WIPs that are probably not going to see the light of day for a long time. Most of these have titles already because I am incapable of writing a fic without having a title first~~~

1. Trouble in the Henhouse- AKA Red Hood joins the Suicide Squad

       Amanda Waller thinks she might have made a mistake with the newest member to her team. She’s let the fox into the hen house, except her hens are insane criminals and her fox is a bat who also happens to be an insane criminal. The metaphor starts to deteriorate quickly, but the point remains, this choice might have been the worst one she’s made in a good long while. He is an accident waiting to happen and one of the most deadly assets she has ever managed to get her hands on. He doesn’t kill for money, like Deadshot, or hunger, like Croc, or even some deranged showmanship, like Harley does or Joker’s Daughter did. He kills when he thinks it’s right, because he thinks the target deserves it and that is the most terrifying thing to find in a highly trained killer she’s putting onto a team with a lot of the same type of people he has a habit of offing. Whoops.

2. Ghosts of our Better Natures 

       Tim can tell the instant that Scarecrow’s formula really starts to kick in. He sees the way Jason’s body language shifts, his muscles pulling his limbs in tighter, in spite of the restraints holding him down. Judging from the smirk just visible on Scarecrow’s sack-cloth face, he notices too. “Is my new formula finally kicking in?” His high, grating voice overlays over the sounds of Jason’s harsh breathing. “Looks like the big, bad drug lord has a bit of a tolerance. I doubt I’ll even need to use half as much on your little friend over there.” Scarecrow gestures broadly at Tim where he’s tied up against the wall and then claps his hands with fake glee. “I know what we’ll do! We’ll use all of the extra I’m saving on him for you!”        Jason wrenches at his restraints, eyes wild behind his domino mask, but he remains uncharacteristically silent. He looks over at Tim and another wave of panic seems to crash over him. His struggles increase in strength to the point where Tim can hear the groaning of the rusty bolts holding Jason down.

3. Rafters for Roustabouts- JayRoy based on a piece of fanart I saw and can no longer find

       Roy remembers when Jason was just a skinny little twig of a thing trailing after  Nightwing with his spindly limbs and closed off smiles. The first time they’d met, Jason had looked up at him and blushed so hard that Roy was a little worried he might pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. Jason was in the Tower pretty infrequently, but any time he was there, Roy could be sure to find him either abandoning Dick for Donna (who he had immediately latched onto, like a baby bird imprinting on what it thinks is its mother) or acting as Roy’s shadow. Roy could often tell when Jason was visiting well before Dick told him because of the glimpses of inky black hair he would catch out of the corner of his eye. Eventually Roy got tired of waiting for Jason to stop being so shy. “Hey, Jason, I know you’ve got that whole stealth thing going for you, but it’s much easier to make friends if you just talk to people.”        There was a muted thump and a little yelp as Jason fell down from the rafter he’d been perched on. Roy made his way over to him and crouched down to look more closely at Jason. The younger boy was blushing furiously and had his hands pressed firmly over his eyes, almost as if he thought if he couldn’t see Roy, Roy might not see him. Roy let out a little huff of laughter. “You’re just a little shy, aren’t you Jaybird?”        Jason just burrowed further into his hands and seemed ready to just wait until Roy left so that he could tend to his bruised pride and tailbone.

4.   Chapter 2 of Release of Liability- My very self indulgent Dresden Files fusion au that nobody asked for or wanted. *Knowledge of the Dresden Files universe up to like, book one/two is v. helpful*

Wayne manor is steeped in the type of magic that can make a place a living thing. This is the home of one of the most powerful wizards in America and has been the home of an incredibly powerful magical family for centuries. There’s history in these walls beyond what the outside world will ever know. All of the wall fixtures are old fashioned gas lamps retrofitted with lightbulbs. It’s a darker paint job and some cobwebs away from being the house from the Addam’s family.

Bruce Wayne himself leads me further into the house and to what I assume must be his office. An older man appears almost the exact moment we sit down and offers tea in a clipped British accent. He disappears as silently as he appeared and rematerializes just moments later carrying a tray laden with tea and those fancy little sandwiches they always show on the BBC. Wayne thanks him and dismisses him with a soft “Thank you,” before the man is gone again.

“So, Mr.Dresden, I hear you’re good at finding lost things.”

“I tend to be. Though I have to wonder what use a practitioner of your caliber could have for my services. With all of Gotham at your disposal.”

“The situation requires a somewhat delicate approach.” I can’t help but snort in response. Delicate and I go together like oil and water. I am not who anyone should call for delicate, subtle, or any synonyms of that ilk. Wayne gives a wry smile and little laugh of his own.

“I misspoke. Not delicate, detached. I am well known to Gotham. You are not. I’ve heard wildcard is somewhat your area of expertise.”

“I’m not going to take offense at that because it’s true. What’s missing?”

Bruce Wayne fixes me with a paralyzing gaze and speaks two words that let me know this is going to be one of those cases that sticks with me.

“My son.”

Bruce Wayne is famous for several things in the magical community. His childhood trauma of witnessing his parents’ murder would make a YA author weep and left him the sole heir to one of America’s most notable magical lineages. That alone made him a Name, capital letter intended, in the world of the mystical. He also worked hard to actually become one of the most influential wizards in America and run Gotham with an iron fist. The most notable thing about Bruce Wayne however, is not either of those. It is his incredible and almost suspicious number of extremely powerful adopted children. A disturbing number of which share his jet black hair and blue eyes. I hope it’s just a weird narcissistic rich person thing.

He is well known to be very protective of his bevy of apprentices. To the point where he’d actually knocked out another wizard with a vicious right hook for making an untoward comment about his eldest son. It was a glorious day and I am thankful to have been within enough distance of the scene to see it go down. I am also thankful to have been far enough away that his fury didn’t turn to me. If something has happened to one of his beloved children, I have no doubts that Mr. Wayne will do whatever is necessary to save them. After the death of his second apprentice he’d practically torn apart the world at its seams in his grief.

5.  Windows for Bricks-  

“I’m here to pick up Damian. I guess I’m one of his emergency contacts and the lady on the phone said to sign in here before I could take him home.” Jason says to the nurse by the front of the sterile smelling room.

“Oh, are you,” she looks down at her computer screen “Jason Head?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Jason shifts uncomfortably.

“And you are his … “

“Brother. Same mom.”

“I see. We get Damian in here a lot so I see the resemblance. You have the same eyes”

6. Dialogue Snippet- Dick and Steph on the topic of ass envy

“He’s just jealous of my ass.”

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no?” Dick sounds affronted.

“Have you seen his ass?,” Steph gestures expansively in the shape of an ass. A woman at the next table over glares. “Jay has no reason to be jealous Dick.”

“What.”

“And those thighs… unf.” The lady the next table over glares harder at the noise Steph makes.

“Ohmygod,” Dick buries his head in his hands. “Please stop.”

“What? I'm just saying, he's got no reason to be jealous when the dude is bammin slammin bootylicious”

“I'm pretending I don't know you. Can Tim take you back already?”

“Fine. But take a peek next time you and your ass feel so high and mighty”

7. Innocence for Sinners- JayDick prawn. I wrote this at the request of a friend. Very much not what I usually write, kind of nervous about posting it

*warning for Mature rating*

When he thinks about it, of course it makes sense to Dick that Jason is a virgin. He died before he’d even turned eighteen and spent a few years after that being either brain dead or criminally insane. It was really only in the past three or so years that Jason could be counted among the semi-rational members of the population and he had been so busy during that time span that there was no earthly way he had done anything. Still, Dick couldn’t help but be a little surprised when Jason pushes away from their kiss, while Dick’s hand rubs gentle circles over his crotch, and gasps out “No one’s ever touched me like that before.” 

Dick pauses and pulls back fully, his weight between Jason’s spread legs still pinning the younger man to the bed.

“What do you mean Jason?,” he asks, seeking verbal confirmation for his suspicions. Jason blushes prettily and turns his head to one side, as if to escape the weight of Dick’s eyes. Dick reaches out and turns Jason’s face back towards him. His eyes trace the delicate flush that brings out the freckles across the bridge of Jason’s nose and blown out pupils in sea green eyes.

 “Jason, are you a virgin?Am I going to be your first?” Jason blushes even further at the questions and nods mutely. Dick feels a rush of possessiveness pass through him at the idea of brash, rebellious, Jason being his. It only makes sense, after all, Jason had spent years wearing Dick’s colors and a month or so trying on the Nightwing suit for size. Of course Jason should be his in some other way. Dick leans back forward and kisses up Jason’s neck, ending up right by his ear.

“I’m going to ruin you for anybody else, little wing.” Jason shudders and lets out a soft moan as Dick scrapes his teeth against his neck in punctuation.

 “Please,” Jason breathes out. Dick growls quietly and surges up to kiss Jason. He weaves his fingers through the curls of Jason’s hair and pulls slightly. Immediately, Jason gasps into Dick’s mouth and arches his back up off the bed. Dick chuckles and pulls harder. He is rewarded with a moan and a shudder from Jason.

“You like that Jaybird? When I pull your hair?” Dick laughs against Jason’s mouth when Jason nods with downcast eyes. “Let’s find out what else you like.”

Dick leaves one hand in Jason’s hair and worms the other up under Jason’s shirt, brushing over the hard lines of muscle and scar tissue. He thumbs over one of Jason’s nipples gently and feels a slight shudder run through Jason’s body. Taking that as a positive sign, he rolls it between his index finger and thumb. Jason gasps and tosses his head back, breaking the kiss. 

“Dick,” he gasps out, “That feels so, ah, good.” Dick smirks and rolls the nipple again “Aaaaaaah.” Dick pulls his other hand from Jason’s hair and starts using it to push Jason’s shirt up while he brings his mouth down to Jason’s stomach, kissing over the places where his hands had traced over.

“Wait, Dick!,” Jason calls out, panting for breath. Dick looks up at Jason’s flushed face. “I… I have a lot of scars there. Some of them might not be ones that you want to see…” Jason trails off towards the end of his sentence and avoids eye contact with Dick until Dick uses his free hand to gently pull Jason to face him. Dick can see in this flustered and blushing Jason the same boy who had been so shyly admiring of him all those years ago. This shy virginal Jason is far more little red riding hood than the big bad wolf that the Red Hood pretends to be.

“I want all of you Jason. All of you.” Dick says softly. He gently pulls the shirt all the way off of Jason, manipulating the younger man’s arms so that he can remove it. Once the shirt is off, he kisses up Jason’s chest to the top of the Y-shaped scar that stretches from collarbone to collarbone and bisects his body from mid-chest to belly button. Dick mouths gently across the raised tissue and grinds his hips down against Jason’s. Jason can only gasp wordlessly in response as Dick uses his right hand to trace down and past the long tail of the scar to the top of Jason’s jeans. He pops the button and undoes the fly with one hand. When he starts to shimmy Jason’s jeans and boxers down, Jason lifts his hips and practically whines. Dick slides down Jason’s body and sits up in order to pull the pants off all the way before settling himself back between his legs. 

“Your thighs are gorgeous.” Dick doesn��t even try to hold back a moan at all the exposed skin before him, some spots criss-crossed with thin lines left from slashes and stab wounds or spotted with starbursts from gunshots. He takes a moment to appreciate the way Jason’s waist cuts in and then flares out to almost feminine hips and thick, muscular thighs. Dick slides his hands under the small of Jason’s back and inches them down to the top of Jason’s ass.

“Really? You like them?” Jason asks, blushing.

“Babe, I love them. It should be against the law for you to wear pants. It’s practically a crime to keep all this hidden under your jeans.” Dick kneads at the soft flesh of Jason’s ass.

“Says the one who’s all covered up,” Jason gasps out. There’s Dick’s Jason, blushing and innocent, but still talking back. 

“Let’s fix that then,” Dick chuckles and slowly removes his hands, giving one last squeeze on his way. Dick peels off his t-shirt, deliberately twisting his body and putting on a show for Jason who watches with rapt attention. Dick smiles softly at the awestruck look on Jason’s face before making quick work of the clasps on his pants and shimmying out of them completely. Dick bends down and starts to kiss up Jason’s left leg, starting at his calves and working up to his thighs. Once he gets to the sensitive skin on Jason’s inner thighs, he takes his time pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin there. Dick scrapes his teeth against the skin as he pulls away from a kiss about halfway up Jason’s thigh and feels the strong muscles underneath tremble. Smirking, he repeats the action and looks up to watch Jason. The younger vigilante is struggling to hold his composure, but Dick wants to watch him fall apart completely. So he lowers his mouth back down to Jason’s thighs and bites down. At that, Jason arches off the bed hard and lets out the loudest moan Dick has heard from him so far.

8. Runneth Over and all that Jazz- incomplete work for day 7 of Omega Jason Todd Week -Lactation kink au heavily inspired by  @whumpbby and @daemoninwhiteround2 and all their stuff. A little R rated

If it weren’t for his chest, Jason would be nearly impossible to recognise as an omega. He’s taller and more muscular than most omegas so with his deep voice, no one would ever guess. If it weren’t for his body’s absolute betrayal. Jason, like pretty much all adult omegas, produces milk. It’s meant to help reinforce pack bonds and keep pups adopted into a pack fed. That’s not the problem, that part of it is manageable with absorbent pads in shirts and semi-regular use of a breast pump. It sucks, but it’s not the problem. The problem is that Jason’s pack bonds are weak, so his body will let down and start producing milk on a hair trigger. He’s peak fertile age and tangentially part of a mostly alpha pack, but not bonded well enough to balance his hormones, so his body has decided to try and tempt his pack into bonds with milk.

It’s a nuisance. He hears Bruce’s voice on the radio and a little dribble of milk escapes. Dick and Tim get into an argument and he can feel his breasts swelling with more milk. Cass gets injured and he ends up having to sneak off to change his shirt when she cuddles up to him for comfort. He saw Damian cry once and that was enough to get him leaking like a fountain and avoiding the bats for a few days. He knows at least one of them can probably smell the milk on him, but they have the good graces not to mention it so long as he doesn’t. 

So Jason distances himself from the pack. He figures if he doesn’t see them, his body won’t decide to go into hormone overdrive. Except it just ends up compounding the problem. More time away from the pack means even weaker pack bonds, which ends up kicking his hormones into even higher gear than they would have been. Soon, Jason’s having to empty his milk every day, then twice a day, then eventually he has to break in the middle of patrol to empty his breasts so they aren’t incredibly sore as he’s flipping around rooftops. He switches from plain absorbent undershirts to nursing undershirts in all black so that if he leaks it won’t show. It’s gotten way out of hand but the only way to fix it is to either break his pack bonds entirely, which might make it worse, or go to the pack and suffer through some potentially very embarrassing bonding.

He shudders at the thought of his pack finally drinking from him. The vulnerability it would bring stirs up something like panic in his stomach mixed equally with want. Letting them know that he can be manipulated just because of a biological response would put him at a huge disadvantage. If they knew he could be made to let down and go into a pheromone drenched haze with some carefully chosen vocalizations they could use it to their advantage when Jason inevitably pisses one of them off. Still, something has to be done, his chest hurts so much that when he got hit there on patrol, he almost blacked out.

He decides to go to Tim first. The slightly younger man is the easiest for Jason to get along with, and despite his tendency for general sneakery, he has enough respect for what Jason does that he probably won’t use it against him too much. It’s a risk, but the potential for relief from the pain of his swollen nipples and frequent breast pump use are enough to take it. Tim is practical and doesn’t seem like the type to get physically aggressive. Even if he does, his small stature means that Jason should be able to escape. Hopefully he won’t be weird about it. Fingers crossed.

Jason knocks on the door of Tim’s apartment, about an hour before patrol typically starts. Tim answers the door looking sleep deprived as always with a mug of coffee in one hand. Jason gives him a sheepish smile and a half hearted wave, after which Tim gestures him into the apartment, one eyebrow raised in question. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

“Hi Jason. It’s been awhile. What are you doing here?” Just the sound of Tim’s voice is making his chest swell a little.

“Can’t I just come visit?”

“Of course you can, you know I like your company. You just usually … don’t. So… ”

Tim pins Jason in place with his calculating stare as he waits for a response. The silence is incredibly awkward for Jason because every second that passes he can feel the slight swelling inch closer and closer to potential leakage. He finally breaks when he feels a small dribble of milk start to leak from one nipple.

“I need your help.”

“A case?”

“No… “ Jason trails off, still unsure.

“Are you okay Jason?” Tim sets his coffee down and sits next to Jason on the couch. Their arms brush and Jason fucking gushes. If Tim couldn’t smell the milk on him before, he sure as hell can now if the way he sniffs the air is any indication.

“What’s wrong Jay? Why are you, umm, … “

“Leaking?”

Tim nods, nostrils flaring as a blush steals across his face.

“I’m letting down at the drop of a hat right now. I’m overproducing so much that I have to stop in the middle of patrols to pump. It hurts real bad.” Jason couldn't stop the whine from leaking into his tone if he tried. Tim unconsciously responds with a swell of alpha scent. The pheromones set Jason off again and he gasps as he involuntarily lets even more milk escape.

“Jason,” Tim’s voice is practically a whisper. “How can I help?” Jason takes a moment to steady himself under the force of Tim’s gaze, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his reaction to the answer.

“ I need you to drink enough to solidify our pack bond.” 

Tim makes an interested little noise in the back of his throat and places one delicate hand over Jason’s on his lap. He gives a gentle squeeze

“Are you making enough to do it in one go?”

“Were you even paying attention? Yes. I’m producing enough for the whole pack.”

“Why me? If you go off pack hierarchy aren’t you supposed to go to Bruce? Even if you don’t trust Bruce, you could have gone to Dick or Barbara.”

“If you’re not willing, I won’t pressure you.” Jason’s voice is flat as he starts to stand, but he’s stopped by Tim’s suddenly much stronger grip pulling him back to the couch.

“I never said that. I just want to know why you chose me before I potentially upset pack structure.”

“ ‘M more comfortable,” Jason mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “Dick’s too clingy and Babs still thinks I’m crazy most of the time. You’re … nice to me. Helpful.”

“You’re nice to me too Jason. We take care of each other.”

An unfamiliar throaty purr starts up in the back of Jason’s throat as Tim gently presses his shoulders back into the couch. He pushes up Jason’s shirt, making sure to be extra careful right around the chest area. An accidental brush from the back of his hand as he pulls the shirt off causes a whimper to interrupt Jason’s purring. Tim shushes him gently as he sets the shirt to the side in a crumpled ball. Jason glares at him until Tim sighs and folds the shirt semi-neatly. He rearranges himself until he’s draped halfway over Jason’s lap, face centimeters from touching Jason’s chest. Tim stares unashamedly at the plump flesh where he can see the wetness where milk has already escaped. 

[cakesunflower]

Fall From Grace [C.H. AU] Part 1

A/N: sooo if any of y’all remember, i had a fanfic called Fall From Grace and i ended up deleting it because i lost inspo. but i just decided to pick it up again bc i got motivated to write it again. so this entire part 1 consists of the 8 chapters that used to be on here, roughly over 24.8k words. part 2 will be everything that comes after, so if you’d read the 8 chaps that used to be on here, this part may seem familiar bc it’s literally the same thing. happy reading!

-----UPDATE: once again tumblr has fucked up and i realized a little too late. please do not read this on desktop, because parts of the story seem to be missing from it. read it on the MOBILE APP. that way, you get the FULL version. this website is so dumb.-----

READ!!! ON!!! MOBILE!!!!!

Part 1

“YOU CAN’T BE serious,” Calum Hood laughed, though even he could hear the slight nervous tinge that slipped into his tone as he stared at his parents, utterly baffled and taken aback at what he just heard. He was sure his parents were kidding, but the stoic expressions on their faces had Calum’s gut twisting in dread.

“Does it look like we’re joking, Calum?” His mother responded, staring at her son in practiced disappointment. He was twenty-three years old, she shouldn’t have to treat him like he was some teenager making mistakes. Yet, here they were, doing exactly that because Calum hadn’t left them with any other choice.

Calum’s hands curled into fists, the same hands that had the initials of the very parents that were doing this to him tattooed on them, exhaling a sharp, affronted breath. “What the hell am I supposed to do in North Carolina?” he demanded, his voice that only carried a hint of his Australian accent deepening with the irritation that ran through his veins.

“Stay away from the limelight you’ve attracted to yourself,” his father answered, not at all perturbed by Calum’s annoyance as he nodded towards the several tabloid magazines on the table between them, all slapped with headlines and pictures of Calum that did not paint him, or his family, well. His dad lifted his chin, continuing, “Your grandparents already have a room ready for you; they expect you at the airport tomorrow evening.”

Calum couldn’t believe this. He loved his parents, he truly did, but having this being done to him made him seriously question their love for him. They would argue they weren’t doing this to him but for him, but in this moment it was all the same to Calum. So what if he got into some trouble here and there—that didn’t justify them sending him to a town that barely had the population of his alma mater. He may be out of school, but it was still the summer—Calum would be damned if he had to spend it in fucking Bridgelake, North Carolina. He wasn’t a child. They couldn’t just ship him off as a way of getting rid of the problem.

He crossed his arms over his chest, the short sleeves of his shirt straining against his muscles as he tautly stated,  You can’t make me go there, let alone spend the entire summer.”

“Actually, we can,” his dad countered smoothly, his accent thicker than his son’s as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, leaning back on the couch. Calum remained where he stood, only his gaze flickering towards his dad. “I still have control over your accounts and I’m freezing most of your assets.” Calum froze, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat at the news and muscles tightening in anger. “You’re lucky I’m even sending you across the country in first class. You’ll have limited access to your account; should you run out, your grandparents will give you an allowance as they see fit.”

Calum was sure there would be bruises left on his arms from how tightly he was gripping them, still crossed over his chest as he felt even the material of his rings biting into his skin. Was his dad serious? Part of Calum still hoped that this was some kind of prank his parents were pulling on him, but each passing second had the ball of dread sinking lower in his stomach and his anger over this whole thing spiking.

Before he could get another word out, his mother spoke up once more, this time her voice soft and carrying maternal gentleness. “Sweetheart, you’re out until odd hours of the night and you’re showing up to company events either high out of your mind or drunk off your feet. If you’re not doing that, you’re getting involved with some girl or another or getting kicked out of places for acting out. You’re bringing bad attention to your father’s company and more importantly, to yourself.”

A dull ache formed in Calum’s mouth from clenching his jaw so hard as his mother listed off everything he’s done in the past few months. The partying, the drinking, the drugs—he’s always done that, but he’s always been smart about it. But with each shot of whiskey, drag of a cigarette or hit of a blunt had more and more of Calum’s common sense slipping away and soon enough, he didn’t care who saw him doing what.

Though, he’s pretty sure the recent scandal of some girl he met once leaking messages, videos and pictures of a very nude Calum was the last straw for his parents.

Still, he couldn’t help but grumble, “What happened to there being no such thing as bad press?”

“You’re being careless,” his father snapped, making Calum tighten his jaw once more. “This decision is final, Calum. Maybe staying off the grid in a no-name town will help you realize there’s more to life than getting high or partying every Goddamn night. Besides, it’ll give you some time to spend with your grandparents—it’s been a while since you saw them.”

Calum exhaled sharply through his nose, aggravation running thicker than blood in his veins. He didn’t mind seeing his grandparents; he missed them a lot, actually. But the mere thought of leaving his Los Angeles home to stay in some small-ass North Carolina town for three months made him want to smoke three packs out. He was pissed and, frankly, mildly embarrassed that his parents were treating him like he was thirteen instead of twenty-three. But more so pissed because he had plans with his friends for the summer and now what? He was being dropped in the middle of nowhere?

Fucking hell.

                                           ✩✩✩✩✩

After a seven and a half hour flight with a stop in Charlotte, Calum’s plane finally landed in Wilmington, North Carolina around eight at night. The airport was ridiculously small—the plane from Charlotte to Wilmington didn’t even have first class, though since the flight was only an hour long, Calum didn’t mind too much. But when he greeted his grandfather with a hug after collecting his bags and stepped outside of the airport, a heavy sigh escaped him at the sight of the pouring rain. Los Angeles would never treat him this way.

Though, Calum would admit, the rain was definitely a startling depiction of his mood ever since his parents dropped this news on him.

“Oh, come on, pal. It’s not gonna be like this every day,” Grandpa Daniel assured Calum with a clap on his back, opening up the umbrella as the two of them made their way through the parking lot to where his car was parked. It wasn’t busy and not many people were around, so only the sound of rain pattering against the ground and the rattling of the luggage cart wheels could be heard. “You’ll see the sunshine soon.”

Calum hiked the strap of his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder, hands gripping the bar of the cart as he pushed it along. “It’s not L.A. sunshine,” he grumbled under his breath.

Grandpa Daniel heard him over the rain. “Sun’s the same everywhere, Cal. Only difference is you’ll see it here three hours sooner.”

Rolling his dark eyes, Calum didn’t say anything in response as they finally reached his grandfather’s station wagon, putting all of his luggage in the trunk and refusing Grandpa Daniel’s help before quickly making his way over to the front seat. He had his hood up under his leather jacket, which his grandfather made fun of him for wearing because who wore leather jackets and hoodies during the summer? Apparently Calum.

The drive from Wilmington to Bridgelake didn’t take too long, especially with Calum’s grandfather playing Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin through the car, but that didn’t stop Calum from drearily staring out the raindrop stained windows. They drove through the somewhat busy roads, the small houses and stores nothing but shadows in the night yet a sharp reminder to Calum that he wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore. Even during the night when no one was out and about because of the rain, Calum could see the difference in this town and the city he loved; the fact that it was raining on his first night here was probably a sign on how the rest of his so-called summer was going to go.

Shit, he couldn’t believe his parents did this to him.

It wasn’t long until his grandfather was pulling the car onto the gravel driveway of one story house that Calum couldn’t help but compare to a hotel suite. Correction—he’s stayed in suites larger than his grandparents’ home, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them that. By the time they had arrived, the rain had slowed and the house was a shadowy structure save for the light Calum saw through the window on the house and on the front door.

This time Grandpa Daniel grasped Calum’s duffel and one of the suitcases while Calum carried the other two by the handles, following his grandfather up the steps as the mild drizzle pelted at his jacket and hood. “Here we are,” Grandpa Daniel breathed out, shooting his grandson, who was almost a head taller than him, a grin as he used his keys to unlock the front door. “Home sweet home.”

Calum took in a preparing breath. Not what he would call it.

                                              ✩✩✩✩✩

Olivia wished she was used to the stares that often followed her when she left the comfort of her home, feeling the judgmental gazes burning into her skin like they have been for the past four years. Sure, they weren’t as bad as when she was eighteen, but apparently some people still thought to visualize their opinions whenever Olivia came into view, and all she could do was ignore them and not feed into their contempt.

So she pasted on a smile, kept her head up as much as she could bring herself to, and went on with her day.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear the two women standing at the end of the cereal aisle, glancing over at Olivia as if she was a different species. Olivia sighed. Perks of living in a town with a total population matching that of a small school in a big city. Some weren’t as bad as others; they either didn’t care enough to send a glare Olivia’s way every time she stepped out of her apartment or they had moved on altogether, but there would always be some people in Bridgelake that would hate seeing Olivia out and about in the same streets as them.

She could only hope her fourteen year old sister, Alana, wasn’t as hyper aware of others’ stares as she was.

“Alright, I got my Loopies, can we go now?” Alana smiled innocently as she dropped the box of Froot Loops into the cart, staring at her older sister with a hopeful expression.

Olivia raised bemused eyebrows, chin dropping slightly. “Okay, first of all—you’re fourteen. When are you gonna stop calling them Loopies?” Alana rolled her eyes, waving Olivia off, who continued, “And we still have half the grocery list left. Keep it moving.”

Alana’s shoulders dropped with a huff and Olivia had to suppress her amused smile. Her younger sister wasn’t really a fan of going grocery shopping—when whatever Alana wanted was in the cart, she was ready to leave, and sometimes the only way to quell her was to promise a McFlurry from the in-house McDonald’s up front.

Alana walked beside Olivia as she moved the cart along, making their way out of the aisle—they walked past the two women, who noticeably quieted as the two girls walked past and Olivia didn’t spare them a glance, her stomach twisting in annoyance—and towards the back of Walmart. But as they made their way to the wall of milk and juices, another cart made its way through an aisle to their left, causing Olivia to stop short so the two carts didn’t collide.

“Olivia, honey, almost ran right into you!” Came the voice of Claudia Hood, an elderly woman who adored Olivia and Alana as much as they adored her. She was in her late sixties but always on her feet, active especially at the animal shelter she ran. Olivia had met her years ago when she used to volunteer at the shelter when she was in high school, which Alana now volunteers at. “Already time for your weekly shopping, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Olivia responded before shooting her sister a dry smile. “Alana wasted all the eggs trying to bake a cake so, you know, it was time.”

Amusement danced in Claudia’s dark eyes, eyebrows raising. “Did it turn out well, at least?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Alana scowled at Olivia for her negative answer, the older one just smiling innocently as Claudia laughed at the sisters. “My grandson arrived last night so I brought him with me to stock up on anything he may want to eat,” she informed with a shake of her head. “I’m getting all the healthy food and he’s off somewhere getting snacks.” Claudia then glanced around, a slight furrow in her eyebrows. “Though, he’s been off for some time. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gotten himself lost.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows at that, her maternal instincts derived from practically raising her sister for the past four years sending a tiny rush of worry through her at the thought of Claudia’s grandson being lost somewhere in here. Despite the size of the town, the Walmart here was intimidatingly big and easy to get lost in.

“Oh, there he is!” Claudia’s voice suddenly exclaimed, making Olivia look at her as she raised her hand, looking straight ahead as she called, “Calum, over here, love!”

Following Claudia’s gaze, Olivia had expected to see a young boy, maybe even a teenager, since Claudia had never disclosed her grandson’s age. What she hadn’t expected, however, was a six foot tall man with dark curls and tattoos inking his arm that carried some bags of chips and fingers decorated with rings that held a case of beer making his way over. Olivia blinked at the sight of the startlingly handsome guy who was probably around her age, with golden skin and deep, dark brown eyes, making his way down as if he owned the place and didn’t give a shit about it.

He had a bored expression on his face, plump lips pressed together as he approached them and dumped what he carried in his grandmother’s cart with a clatter. “Olivia, Alana, this is my grandson Calum,” Claudia introduced with a smile, gesturing to the man who was a good two heads taller than her. Maybe more. “Calum, this is Olivia and Alana.”

“Hi,” Alana chirped happily, while Olivia offered a polite smile of her own. Calum’s gaze flickered to the younger of the two, his lips twitching into the smallest of smiles, before he looked at Olivia. She felt herself stiffen slightly under his gaze, feeling as though he was looking right through her, and she forced herself to break his intense gaze. Olivia was used to people staring at her—she wasn’t used to people looking at her.

“He’s staying with us for the summer,” Claudia said, bringing Olivia’s attention back to the elderly woman, who smiled happily, “So you’ll be seeing lots of him around town.”

“‘M not exactly a social butterfly, Grams,” Calum’s low voice spoke, crossing his arms over his chest and Olivia tried not to notice how his biceps bulged under the tight black shirt that read GUCCI across his broad chest. She did, however, notice the hint of a lisp in his accented yet raspy voice; Olivia didn’t know someone’s voice could hold so many traits.

“Really, now?” Claudia raised an eyebrow, shooting her grandson an amused yet skeptical look as she clicked her tongue. “That’s not what your father tells me.”

Olivia’s eyebrows lifted curiously, if not by what Claudia said then by the reaction it elicited from Calum, which consisted of his sharp jaw clenching tightly—how could someone have baby-like chubby cheeks but a jaw sharp enough to cut glass?—while turning his head away from his grandmother. He almost reminded Olivia of a petulant child, which would be amusing if it weren’t for the muscle jumping in his jaw.

Calum, on the other hand, was seething with irritation because he didn’t need his dad talking to his grandparents about what Calum got up to. Let them see it on TV, the Internet, or on magazines like the rest of the world. Other people’s words were less incriminating than his own father’s. Calum knew he had no room to be angry about his grandparents learning what he had gotten up to—they may live in the middle of nowhere but they still had Internet and a TV, they could easily find out what Calum got himself wrapped up in—but the last thing he wanted was his parents gossiping to his grandparents about him.

His mood sour, more so than it already was, Calum’s jaw remained tight, ignoring the dull ache his teeth soon began experiencing. Olivia found herself looking at him again as Alana and Claudia talked about one of the dogs at the shelter, wondering what Claudia could’ve meant by her words that had gotten Calum so blatantly pissed off. She didn’t know him at all, but she knew an angry person when she saw one.

Calum just radiated a bad energy at this point, and Olivia felt a bit uncomfortable being around someone who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here, too used to people giving that vibe when she was near, so Olivia quickly yet politely interrupted Claudia and Alana’s conversation. “Sorry, guys, but we still have some grocery left and gotta stop at the library before it closes,” Olivia smiled apologetically, thanking the universe that her excuse wasn’t really a lie. They did have to do those things and it was coming close to the public library’s closing time, but she hadn’t been in a rush until after meeting Calum.

“Oh, sure, sure, honey,” Claudia nodded, gesturing for the girls to run off.

Alana waved goodbye as Olivia pushed her cart forward, forcing herself to bring her gaze over to Calum, feeling her heart thump particularly harshly when she saw his dark eyed gaze already on her. She forced a smile on her face as she said, “It was nice meeting you, Calum.” He blinked before nodding once, not bothering with a verbal response. Jeez, what was up with him? Shooting a wider, more genuine smile to Claudia, Olivia added, “I’ll see you later!”

The two girls moved along after bidding goodbye, though Olivia could still hear Claudia admonish Calum behind her. “You could at least say a friendly goodbye, Calum. No grandson of mine is going to walk around as if he’s learned no manners.”

Olivia didn’t hear Calum’s response as they kept moving. She didn’t see Claudia or her grandson again as they continued shopping, though Olivia bit the inside of her cheek when she thought about him for a moment. He definitely looked like a city guy; tight shirt and jeans despite the eighty degree weather outside, and she had even noticed his expensive looking boots. Who wore polished black boots to Walmart?

“Claudia’s grandson’s cute, don’t you think?” Alana hummed as they finally got to the self-checkout, loading the items on the belt as Olivia scanned them.

Olivia shot her a glance, trying not to think of the dark eyes and inked skin. “Kind of old for you, isn’t he?”

Her fourteen year old sister rolled her eyes but Olivia didn’t miss the flush in her cheeks, once again trying to hide her amused grin as she double bagged the gallon of milk.

Bridgelake rarely ever got new residents, even if Calum was a temporary one for the summer, Olivia would be lying if she wasn’t curious about the new guy. Even if he did seem like he had a stick shoved up his ass. He was Claudia and Daniel’s grandson, and Olivia and Alana were close with them and enjoyed being around them. Especially because they were such happy, genuinely kind people and were two of the few people who didn’t turn Olivia and Alana away when the accident happened four years ago. So with grandparents like that, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder why Calum seemed to look like he perpetually woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

                                                 ✩✩✩✩✩

Calum could quite honestly name only two things that didn’t make his stay in Bridgelake as intolerable as it potentially could. The first thing was seeing his grandparents and the second was getting to hang out with their German Shepherd, Bruno. His mood remained sour since he arrived from the airport, but even Calum couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he greeted his grandfather at the airport and then his grandmother and Bruno at the house.

If there were two things that could put a smile on Calum’s face, it was family and dogs—even when the former were making him want to put his head through a wall.

He’s been in Bridgelake for three days, and was already fielding calls and messages left and right from his friends back in Los Angeles, asking him where the hell he was. Really, he told his three best friends already about his punishment, all of whom laughed their asses off at Calum’s expense, and everyone else was just wondering where their party provider friend ran off to. Calum sometimes wondered if those people were actually his friends or just wanted him around for the parties he threw and the alcohol he provided.

Technically, he knew the answer, but didn’t want to think about it.

But really—Calum would rather be partying it up with his real and fake friends back home than slouching in his grandfather’s La-Z-Boy, aggravated that he quite literally had nothing to do here. There was always something going on in Los Angeles, so Bridgelake being dryer than dirt was making Calum irrationally irritated. He liked being entertained, he liked going out in L.A. with his friends—none of which could happen here. Being left alone with his own thoughts was a pastime he’d rather not indulge himself in. Especially when they reminded him of how truly alone he was.

As if reading his lamenting mood, Calum’s grandfather spoke up, “You know Bridgelake may not be your fancy big city, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to do here, pal.”

Calum leaned his head back in the recliner haphazardly, as if it took too much effort to hold it up so he lolled it to sideways to raise a bemused eyebrow at Gramps, who was sitting on the couch to Calum’s right. “Oh, yeah?” he snorted in disbelief. “Like what?”

Gramps looked up from the book he was reading, gaze landing on Calum. “Well,” he began, taking off his reading glasses. “There’s the cinemas, a new bowling alley opened up a few months ago and—oh, there’s also the beach. That’s something you should definitely be familiar with, eh?”

Calum rarely ever went to the beach in Los Angeles, only when there was a bonfire or if someone was throwing a party at their beach house. But, really, was that list his grandfather just gave him supposed to impress him? It was pathetic—it was nothing. If Calum wanted, he could do all of that in one day and the rest of the three months would be spent in bored misery. “No clubs? Bars?”

His grandfather rolled his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint but we don’t have any of your Californian clubs here.” Then he pointed at Calum with his glasses. “We do have a few bars around town—though, they don’t open until five.”

It was only eleven-thirty in the morning and Calum was two seconds away from calling up his parents and demanding a flight back home. He might as well just smoke to keep himself entertained for a few moments. Calum let out a deep groan, sinking lower into the recliner as he stared up at the ceiling, eyes following the quick movements of the fan whirring around. “Why don’t you go to the shelter, then?” Gramps suggested with a sigh. “I’m sure your grams wouldn’t mind help with the animals.”

It was comical how Calum perked up at the mention of animals—some of the very few things that could put him in a good mood. Maybe being surrounded by little balls of fur would help distract him from being in this miserable town.

So Calum stood up with a huff, ignoring the satisfied expression on his grandfather’s face as he walked out of the living room, past the dining room and kitchen and headed down the end of the hall where his room was. Honestly, it was literally smaller than his bathroom back home, but he wasn’t going to tell his grandparents that. It baffled Calum how his family lived in a house that had a garage the size of his grandparents’ entire home, and they stuck to living in this small space. They had the money and the means, Calum knew, so living here was their choice. He didn’t—couldn’t—understand why.

Once he had put on his jeans, boots and favorite leather jacket over his Led Zeppelin shirt, he left the house after taking the keys to his grandfather’s truck that he was allowed to drive. It was rustic and a deep red color, the engine sputtering to life and not at all familiar to Calum’s ears since he was so used to hearing the roar of his BMW back home, but it’d have to do, he lamented.

The town was small and his grandfather had given him directions to the shelter, which was on First Street, so Calum drove with the air conditioner blasting against his face. It was hot out, and his outfit probably didn’t help, but Calum was used to the California heat so the North Carolina weather really was nothing in comparison.

He drove through the surprisingly busy streets, past houses, restaurants, salons, farmers markets and parks and he almost felt suffocated by how strong the small town vibe this place carried was. Sure, Los Angeles was packed with people and New York was even worse, but something about big cities comforted Calum. He could feel lost and have his own headspace if he wanted, even if eventually his face ended up in front of some tabloid or another. Small towns may be isolated, but even inside them a person had a low chance of getting lost amongst everyone else unlike in a big city. Small towns weren’t as private as his cities were.

It wasn’t hard to find his grandmother’s animal shelter; right in between a bookstore and a photography one, with a blue and white sign labeled New Homes with a paw print in the corner of it. Finding a parking space, Calum stepped out with sunglasses shielding his eyes, shoving the keys in his jeans pocket as he stepped onto the sidewalk before pushing open the door.

Immediately, the many smells of an abundance of animals greeted Calum’s nose, as well as the occasional barking and meowing that overpowered any other sound. It was a spacious place, with the left and right walls lined up with little dens for cats and dogs, roomy enough for them to fit in comfortably with a caged gate to keep them inside. There were playpens in the middle and a counter in the front where all the paperwork was done, and there was a doorway in the back that led to the bathing area, behind the shelves of pet food, toys, and other care products for sale.

Calum took off his sunglasses, taking in the sight of two young kids sitting in one of the playpens, overjoyed to be playing with labrador puppies, and a few adults looking around as he hung his glasses on his neckline. He instantly felt himself drawing closer to the dens where the dogs were, the biggest ones on the ground and the smaller ones higher up on the shelf.

“Hi, buddy,” he murmured quietly, sticking his fingers through one of the den cages where a basset hound sat, tilting his head towards Calum’s fingers to brush up against them. The corner of Calum’s lips tugged up at the puppy trying to get closer to him even with the cage separating them. “You’re pretty cute, huh?”

“Calum, honey,” his grandmother’s voice sounded, making his hand drop from the cage, much to the puppy’s dismay as Calum turned around, watching as his grandmother smiled and made her way over. “Dan told me you were coming. Got bored of sitting around the house, hm?” she asked knowingly, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Calum shoved his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket, feeling the cool metal of his bracelets on either wrist rest against his skin. “Something like that,” he vaguely responded, his attention drawn towards the playpen when the young girl let out a delighted squeal because a puppy was happily licking at her face. Even Calum had to admit it was a heartwarming sight.

“Can you do me a favor, love?” Grams brought his attention back, making him look down at the short woman with dark blonde hair speckled with grey. He lifted his eyebrows silently. “Head off into the back storage room and there’s bags of dog food sitting on a top shelf. Can’t miss it. Bring over two and put them on that shelf over there, will you?”

He wanted to tell her he was just here to see the animals, not be put to work, but the hopeful look on his grandmother’s face had him swallowing his words. So with a nod, he turned to head to the back room, though he still rolled his dark eyes in exasperation. Calum passed all of the other animals, weaving through some of the people loitering around the store as he entered the back. He walked past a bathing area, nose wrinkling at the unsurprising smell of wet dog before reaching another door, where he saw an abundance of products that he saw some of in the actual store.

Catching sight of the large packages of food, Calum picked up two of them and hoisted them on his right shoulder effortlessly, right hand resting on top of it to keep the two pile steady as he made his way back. Once he spotted the shelf he was supposed to put them on, he put the two packages there on display, habitually dusting his hands off together as he turned to make his way back to where his grandmother was, though stopping when the shop door swung open and in came two familiar faces.

It was the two girls from Walmart the other day. Calum had to admit, the older one was ridiculously attractive with brilliant blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and full lips Calum couldn’t help but notice. She—Olivia, her name Calum remembered—was definitely a sight for sore eyes in a town like this, and while Calum had the opportunity to be a decent human being to her, his sour mood prompted him to keep his mouth shut when she appeared. His grandmother had given him an earful for that.

Calum watched as Olivia entered the store behind her younger sister, Alana, who wore the same light blue shirt the other workers in the store did. The two talked to his grandmother for a bit before Alana went off to the side to the cages, leaving just Olivia with his grams as he made his way over.  

“—can’t really afford it, so she wanted me to ask you if she could increase her volunteering hours just by a little bit,” Olivia was saying as Calum leisurely made his way over, watching as the brunette ran her fingers through her wavy hair to push it back. She let out a quiet sigh. “I promised her she could go next year, but she was still pretty disappointed and I feel bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re doing such a wonderful job raising her—I’m sure Alana understands,” Grams reassured with a smile, giving Olivia’s hand a squeeze right behind she noticed Calum’s presence once he reached them. “Oh, Olivia, you remember my grandson.”

As if I could forget. Olivia smiled at him, the same smile she offered at Walmart that Calum hadn’t even bothered to return, and didn’t feel inclined to do so now because of the heavy weight on his shoulders. His grandmother delivered a sharp yet subtle jab to his side, causing the 6’1” man to grimace slightly before forcing a small smile. “Yeah, good to see you again,” Olivia greeted kindly.

She came off as kind of shy, Calum couldn’t help but observe, especially with how her fingers were fiddling with the strap of her purse. He also noticed how Olivia wore little to no makeup, which was quite a difference from the many women he knew back at home, and while that wasn’t something Calum noticed nor cared about, he couldn’t help but think how Olivia was one of the most attractive girls he’s ever seen.

Calum wanted to snort at himself; what was he supposed to do with that thought? Then again, he figured if he was going to suffer in Bridgelake for three months, then he might as well have something nice to look at.

Suddenly Grams let out a small laugh. “Looks like the retriever pups are having a field day with Alana.”

Calum looked at his grandmother, seeing that she was looking past him and followed her gaze where he saw Alana cradling two of the Golden Retriever puppies, who were happily licking away at her face. “They’re livin’ the dream,” Calum’s low voice sounded, eyes on the sight. He wasn’t sure if he meant his words of if they were supposed to be some kind of sarcastic dig at the fact that he’s most certainly not living his dream in this town.

Olivia peered at him, taking in the curly tousle of his hair and the sharp line of his jaw as he stood tall with shoulders squared and hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Seriously—how was he wearing that in eighty degree weather? She felt constricted in the capris she was currently wearing. “Yeah,” Olivia found herself slowly speaking, wondering if he was up for holding a conversation. She wasn’t sure if Calum wasn’t the talkative type or if his obvious dislike of the town had him keeping to himself. “Our apartment building doesn’t allow pets so Alana gets her fill volunteering here.”

The smallest of smiles curled at Calum’s lips hearing that, gaze flickering to Olivia. She was also watching Alana, and just by the fond look on her face Calum could tell how much she loved her sister. It made Calum miss his own, who was living her life in New York, as he pursed his lips. Maybe if his parents hadn’t sent him here he could’ve gone to see her.

“Anyways, I should get going to work,” Olivia said, shooting Claudia a smile. “I’ll be back during my lunch break to pick her up.”

Calum watched as Grams shot Olivia a mildly exasperated look. “You know Alana likes staying here for more than just a few hours, especially now that her hours are going to increase,” she said with a light laugh. “I’m more than willing to drop her home.”

Olivia’s lips parted and for a brief second Calum saw the hopeful look flash across her eyes before she worried, “Are you sure?”

Grams shot her a look. “Olivia.”

Then the blue eyed girl grinned, taking a relieved breath as she hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder. “Alright, thank you, Claudia,” Olivia breathed as she walked backwards towards the door. “I’ll see you,” she added with a wave as Grams called back a goodbye and Calum merely pulled at the front of his jacket, hands still fisted into the pocket, as a makeshift wave.

Calum watched after her as she disappeared down the sidewalk, unable to process even a single thought since his grandmother sighed next to him. “Such a hardworking girl, bless her heart.”

He glanced at her, quirking an eyebrow as she moved over to the counter, opening up a binder full of lists that Calum didn’t spare a look at as he lazily followed Grams. “So you, uh, know her well?”

Grams hummed, eyes on the binder. “Oh, yes, for a few years now. It’s unfair what’s happened to her and her sister.”

Calum blinked, unsure of what she meant as he glanced over his shoulder where Alana was playing with the puppies before asking confusedly, “What do you mean?”

A sigh left Grams, left arm folded on top of the counter as she looked up at her grandson. “There was a horrible accident four years ago,” she began quietly, voice lowered so no one else would listen in as Calum found himself leaning in slightly. “The girls’ parents were involved. Their father, Sid, was drunk and had gotten behind the wheel. Swerved into another vehicle and ended up injuring one of the other people involved, and killing three others. One of them was the girls’ mother, Jana.”

Eyes wide, Calum stared at his grandmother in disbelief, her words an unexpected head spinner. That was definitely he hadn’t seen coming, and suddenly Calum’s chest felt tight as he thought of Olivia and Alana, and how he couldn’t possibly imagine what they must have felt, what they must feel, with a past like that.

Grams had a sad, heartbroken look in her eye, gaze distant as her brows furrowed slightly. “Sid’s serving a fifteen to life sentence. Olivia was eighteen when it happened so she got custody of Alana, since the poor girls had no family to take them in. They stayed with a family friend but their mum and grandparents left money for them so Olivia sold their family home and got an apartment for herself and Alana. Been raising her sister ever since.”

He didn’t know Olivia or Alana, but Calum’s jaw dangerously tightened at Grams’ words, feeling a heaviness in his chest at the thought of the two girls being alone after something as horrible as that. Calum couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to live in a world where their father was imprisoned for unintentionally killing their mother, and an uncomfortable shiver traveled down his spine. He didn’t want to even think about something like that; the fact that it was those girls’ lives was horrific, gut twisting uneasily as his throat worked to keep it from tightening.

“But it’s a small town,” Grams continued, bringing Calum’s attention back to her, watching as her thin eyebrows furrowed together in a distasteful frown as she shook her head. “People talk—they haven’t stopped. Many see Olivia and Alana and it’s a reminder that their father killed three people they all knew and loved, even if one of them was the girls’ mother. Give the poor things nasty eyes as if it’s their fault everything happened. People talk and stare and Olivia hears and sees it all and all she does is keep a smile and mind her own business and look after her sister. For someone who’s only twenty-two, she’s been doing an amazing job with Alana. I just wish people would let them be.” she sighed, a dismayed expression washing over her aged face. “That’s one of the harsh things about living in a place as small as Bridgelake—everyone knows everyone and when something like that happens, they never stop talking about it.”

That’s one thing he loved about Grams—and Gramps—that they were both laid back. They had done their duty with Calum’s dad, raising him to be the best he could be, which he did by becoming a successful entrepreneur who owned hundreds of hotels and banks around the world and was constantly attributing his career to his parents, and weren’t at all judgemental or strict or anything like that.

As Grams’ words settled in Calum’s mind, his hands clenched into tighter fists in the pockets of his jacket. Calum was used to having people talk about him, what with him being on every gossip site and magazine issue weekly, but that didn’t mean it didn’t annoy the shit out of him or that he enjoyed people staring at him as if he was an exhibit at the zoo. Some people, his parents sometimes included, thought he was purposefully getting drunk or high or caught doing the walk of shame from one girl’s house to another for the attention when in reality, he was just trying to live his damn life. But of course everyone needed a picture, needed a story to publish, and they were all about him being a party animal with girls hanging off each arm. Not too shabby, sure, but certainly annoying. Certainly the kind of person his parents weren’t too proud of.

He hated the tabloids talking about him—he was well aware he could just stopping putting himself into those situations but he just didn’t want to because he didn’t want to live by anyone’s standards but his own—and he wondered if that’s how Olivia felt with the people in this small-ass town gossiping about her. It was a horrible thing that happened, but it wasn’t her or her sister’s fault. How did everyone blaming them for it make any sense?

And when Grams told him how Olivia’s just kept her head held high in the face of the disapproval stares and plastered a smile on her face for the sake of her sister, told him how she tried to protect Alana as best as she could, Calum felt a twinge of guilt scratching at his gut. He knew he had come off as standoffish and rude towards Olivia. He may have a partying problem and Bridgelake may be the last place on Earth he wants to be, but Calum Hood wasn’t an asshole. At least, not to people who didn’t deserve it. And Olivia most certainly didn’t. Not when all she was trying to do was make a life for herself and her sister.

                                              ✩✩✩✩✩

Olivia shot her best friend, Addy, an exasperated look, who merely returned it with her blue eyes widening hopefully and lower lip jutting out pleadingly. But Olivia averted her gaze, cheek resting against her palm as she ate her Chinese food.

“Come on, Liv, you’ve got no plans and Alana has a sleepover,” Addy begged, sitting across from her at the small. They were both on their lunch break from work, sitting outside at one of the local Chinese restaurants under an umbrella to shield them from the mid afternoon sun. “We haven’t gotten dumb drunk in so long, it’ll be great!”

Olivia’s lips pursed, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow as she swallowed her spoonful of fried rice and orange chicken. “You’re not really selling that too well. I don’t wanna get dumb drunk.”

“Why not?” Addy pouted, her voice a high pitched whine that made Olivia’s lips twitch into a smile. “You’re literally going to be sitting in your living room binge watching Suits for the millionth time. If you ask me, getting drunk with your best friend sounds so much more appealing.”

“Not if Alana wants me to pick her up or something,” Olivia countered pointedly. When her sister was younger, she’d end up calling in the middle of the night because she couldn’t sleep anywhere but her own bed. But over the years Alana became better about sleeping over her friends’ houses, but Olivia would rather be sober for the night just in case Alana’s issues rose up against and she needed to be picked up. And since Uber wasn’t a big thing in Bridgelake and Alana hated bothering her friends’ parents, Olivia was her only ride.

Addy threw her head back with a groan, frustration with her best friend’s refusal of joining her nighttime outing. It’s not like she and Olivia didn’t hang out often—they always did, especially after Addy returned from school since she was a year younger—but their meetups mostly consisted of grabbing lunch or dinner. But Addy yearned for a fun girls night out at the local bar, which there weren’t many of because after her mom’s death, Olivia didn’t drink as often, especially when her sister was under her care.

Sure, Addy had managed to drag Olivia all the way to Charlotte for a concert a few months ago and left Alana under Claudia and Daniel Hood’s care, but Addy couldn’t help but miss her best friend. She was well aware that Olivia’s responsibilities had changed since four years ago, forced to grow up a lot quicker than everyone else their age, but Addy would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit selfish.

Glancing at Addy, Olivia felt her chest tighten guiltily at the disappointed expression on her best friend’s face, rolling her lips into her mouth as she thought for a moment. She hadn’t had a proper night out in a bar in a long time, always opting to drink some wine in her apartment with Addy or by herself, which irreversibly meant either Addy would have to find someone else to go with her to the bar when she wanted to or wouldn’t go at all, settling for a night in with Olivia and sometimes Alana. Addy, and her family, have done so much for Olivia and Alana; letting them stay with them when the accident happened and having them over for every holiday and anything else. Maybe one night at a bar wouldn’t hurt.

“Alright, fine,” Olivia relented as she put down her fork, and Addy’s head snapped up, eyes widening in anticipation. “I’ll go but I can’t promise getting dumb drunk. Maybe slightly tipsy, but not out of my mind, okay?”

Hours later, Olivia wasn’t regretting her agreement of coming to the bar with Addy. Alana had assured her she would be fine at the sleepover, and while it was a Thursday night, the bar was still busy. Temperance was one of the two bars in town, the other one being all the way by the shore towards the outer part of Bridgelake, so Olivia and Addy frequented and preferred Temperance because of its proximity. If Olivia was being honest, she’d say she liked when the dive bar was so busy; lots of people in town would be gathered there for drinks or a round of pool or something, and sometimes it made her think that they lived in a big city with so many people in there rather than a practical village.

And while Olivia wasn’t exactly a well-liked person in their town, she still enjoyed being around people, didn’t really shrink under their gaze. You know. . . So long as they didn’t scowl at her too much. Though, her smile was a trained mask that always remained to fool.

Music mixed from the seventies and eighties played through the speakers, joining in with the hum of patrons chattering and the clinking of pool balls, as Olivia and Addy sat in a small booth along the wall. They had taken two shots of tequila and while Grace was nursing a cosmo, Olivia had opted for a Bacardi and coke—though, heavier on the coke in an attempt to overtake the disgustingly bitter taste of Bacardi.

“Is he good looking, though?” Addy asked with a raise of her eyebrows, lowering her glass as the curious expression overtook her face.

Olivia had just finished telling her about Calum, since Addy had been out of town visiting her grandparents and Olivia didn’t really want to tell her about Daniel and Claudia’s visiting grandson over the phone. She preferred having in-person conversations. “Ridiculously,” Olivia answered truthfully, making Addy blink excitedly as she sat up. “Tall, dark curly hair, golden skin with tattoos. . .” Addy grinned widely, thrilled at this new man-candy that just landed in their boring town. “But he’s kind of, like, in a perpetual state of annoyance.”

Addy tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” Olivia paused, sucking in a breath as she tried to gather her thoughts and leaned back in the booth, hands outstretched to hold her glass. “I mean, I only saw him twice but both times he looked irritated as fuck. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, honestly.”

Snorting, Addy raised her glass to her mouth once more, shooting Olivia a pointed look over the rim as she returned, “Can you blame him?” before taking a sip. “We live in Bumfuck, North Carolina.”

Olivia shrugged, her gaze wandering around the upbeat, packed bar that seemed to be lively with energy. “I’m used to it,” she mused.

“You don’t ever think of leaving? Living somewhere in a city with more than a schoolyard population?”

“I mean, if there’s an opportunity or if it’ll be good for Alana, then I’d be down to leave,” Olivia answered, returning her gaze to Addy’s blue eyes. “But I’m not actively looking to leave, you know? Can’t really afford it, anyways,” she added with a mumble as she brought her glass up. “Though, getting away from everyone here wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Addy nodded in understanding as Olivia took a sip of her drink, thinking over her words which were honest and true. Bridgelake may not be the most popular or bustling town, but it was home, and she liked it here. Despite everything that happened, and despite the fact that there were some people around her that shunned her for her father’s mistake. She understood their anger, knew where it was coming from, but it’s not like it was her and her sister that poured the alcohol down his throat or forced him to get behind the wheel.

Nonetheless, there still was a small pool of guilt that he took the lives of two other people, yet some townsfolk seemed to forget that she lost her mother, too. And every time she thought about that—which was everyday—Olivia felt her throat tighten more and more until she couldn’t breathe.

But there were still people in town that still loved her, looked after and cared for her and Alana. Olivia didn’t mind living in Bridgelake, she had a comfortable life, but if given a good enough reason to leave, she wouldn’t let the opportunity slip by without sparing it a thought or two.

She chatted with Addy some more about mundane topics; their jobs, some gossip they read about their favorite celebrities online or the latest town gossip. Addy took another sip of her drink, feeling warmth pool in her stomach because that’s all she consumed, as her gaze flickered past Olivia and towards the door of the bar which just opened.

“Oh, hey, it’s Mr. Hood—oh, my God, that’s his grandson?” Addy demanded, her eyes widening and jaw slackening at the sight in front of her.

Olivia sat up at her best friend’s stunned expression and words, looking over her own shoulder and blinking in realization because, yes, Daniel Hood just walked into the bar with his tall grandson in tow. She watched as Daniel greeted a number of patrons at the bar, shaking hands and grinning before gesturing over to the looming figure behind him, most likely introducing everyone to Calum.

Who, in turn, nodded and shook hands in greeting, left hand still shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket yet a small smile curled politely at his lips. The lighting in the bar consisted of overhead lamps above each booth, lights on the bar and the ones above the pool area, and as Calum and his grandfather sat on the available seats on the side of the bar facing Olivia, she couldn’t help but admire how soft the glow of the yellow lights made his skin appear almost golden.

“Yeah, that’s Calum,” Olivia finally confirmed with a nod.

Addy turned to look back at Olivia, since she had turned in her seat to unabashedly follow Daniel and Calum’s movements as they sat behind her. Olivia wanted to laugh at the wide eyed, dropped jaw look on her best friend’s face. Addy looked absolutely stunned. “That’s gotta be the hottest guy I’ve seen in my life,” she stated, her voice a rushed whisper as she leaned forward on the table. She threw another look over her shoulder. “Holy hell.”

Letting out a laugh, Olivia took another sip of her drink, nodding her head along slightly in agreement. Addy wasn’t wrong—Calum was startlingly good looking. Olivia noticed some of the other women in the bar look over at him, his presence demanding to be acknowledged even by him merely sitting on a barstool. She never met anyone who just drew attention to themselves without meaning to, so effortlessly.

“He really does look like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world,” Addy added with a snort, leaning back in the booth. “He also looks kind of familiar, which is weird because I don’t think I’d ever forget a face like that.”

Olivia raised a confused eyebrow and looked over at Calum once again, taking in the indifferent expression on his face as his ring clad fingers wrapped around a bottle of beer, not even bothering to take part in the conversation his grandfather was having with the two men sitting with them. His dark eyes were lazily wandering over his surroundings, taking in the old movie and band posters on the walls and the shelves of liquor behind the bar, not looking particularly impressed with anything. As for why he looked familiar to Addy, Olivia had no clue, and neither did the girl herself. Where could she have possibly seen Calum before?

Narrowing her eyes at him, the words slipped out of Olivia’s mouth before she could stop them. “He looks like he’s got a stick shoved up his ass.”

Addy nearly choked on her drink, letting out a laugh as she covered her mouth with her napkin and stared at Olivia in amusement. Her best friend rarely ever said anything negative about anyone—especially when she knew first hand what it was like to hear people talking shit about her—so when Olivia uttered the smallest of insults directed at someone, Addy found it a lot funnier than it was. Ever since the accident and everyone giving Olivia and Alana the evil eye, Olivia did her best to ignore it and focus on the positives, especially to put on a brave face for her sister. Olivia was a sweetheart, and if anyone acted out with her, she would just put on a fake smile and move along. Wherease Addy would tell them to fuck right off and not look at her best friend and her sister like that again; sometimes she wished Olivia would stick up for herself more.

“He sticks out like a sore thumb,” Addy hummed, drawing her attention back to Calum.

Olivia agreed, eyes once again finding the dark haired man. She watched as he raised the bottle to his lips, taking in the sharp line of his jaw and the strong column of his throat as he drank the beer. He made a distasteful expression as he drank it, clearly not happy with the taste. Calum stood out in not just the way he looked but the way he dressed; everyone in Bridgelake’s attire consisted of summer shorts and tees because of the hot weather and humidity, along with truckers caps because of the popular rest stop just a few miles out of town. And then there was Calum, dressed in pants, expensive looking boots and a leather jacket that had Olivia’s body temperature rising just by looking at it.

Suddenly, as if feeling her gaze on him, Calum’s head ticked over a smidge, dark eyes meeting Olivia’s green ones from across the bar, causing her to straighten in her seat at the sudden eye contact. She saw the mild recognition flash across his face, brief and gone within a second, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a bit surprised when Calum tipped his bottle towards her in acknowledgment before busying himself on his phone. It wasn’t much, but at least he greeted her in a way. It was something.

“You should talk to him,” Addy suggested, taking in that interaction and cracking a smile when Olivia stared at her in confusion. “What? You’re close with his grandparents and you’ve seen him, like, three times now.”

If anything, Olivia’s bewilderment intensified. “So that means I walk over and talk to him? He doesn’t look like he wants to talk.”

Addy shrugged. “Maybe he just needs a friend.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, one corner of her lips curling up into a suspicious smile. “And that friend has to be me?” Addy shrugged as if to say sure, why not? Olivia rolled her eyes. “Not tonight. I’m here with you; I’ll befriend the moody Australian some other day.”

Addy grinned excitedly. “Promise?”

“Just finish your cosmo.”

                                                    ✩✩✩✩✩

The shrill sound of Olivia’s phone ringing interrupted the sound of Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the television in the living room where Alana was watching it, and Olivia put her plate in the dishwasher before drying her hands and answering Addy’s call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, oh my God—I figured out why Calum seemed so familiar!” Addy’s voice rang through, not even bothering with a proper greeting.

Quirking an eyebrow, Olivia pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she loaded the dishwasher. If she was being honest, it had slipped her mind that Addy had commented that she recognized Calum the other day at the bar. “And why’s that?”

“He’s the son of David Hood!”

Olivia blinked. “Who?” Was that name supposed to mean something to her?

Addy clicked her tongue impatiently. “He’s the CEO and owner of Hood Tower Hotels! They own hotels and resorts around the world and are, like, super rich. Holy shit, I didn’t know Mr. and Mrs Hood’s family were a bunch of millionaires!”

Olivia prided herself in not letting the plate slip out of her grasp at Addy’s words, eyes widening in stunned surprise at this piece of information. Millionaires? If that was true, what the hell were Claudia and Daniel doing living in a town as small and insignificant as Bridgelake? Surely they had the money to live anywhere they wanted, and they chose this place? Did anyone else know about their family? Sure, it was none of Olivia’s business, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. She’s known these people for years and not once did they mention anything like this.

Though, she didn’t blame them, really. If Olivia or her family had that much money, she wouldn’t go around announcing it to everyone she met.

“There’s more,” Addy’s conspiratorial voice pulled Olivia out of her thoughts, making her quickly shut the dishwasher and dry her hands before leaning against the counter. “Apparently Calum’s gotten, like, a ton of articles written and pictures and videos of him partying it the fuck up. I’m talking, like, drunk off his ass, videos of him smoking pot and even, like pics and videos of him leaked by some girl he’d been hooking up with.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped, staring at the opposite wall of the kitchen where a square table for four sat in absent astonishment, processing Addy’s words. In the living room, she could hear Alana laughing at the show she was watching, oblivious to her sister in the midst of trying to process this information. Calum was from Los Angeles, Olivia knew, and from what Addy told her, it seemed like he lived that lifestyle in its full experience.

Honestly, it was surprising that that’s the kind of person Calum was. He seemed so withdrawn and quiet every time Olivia came across him that the fact he was that much of a partier seemed almost unbelievable. And he had pictures and videos of him leaked by some hook up? Olivia didn’t have to wonder what kinds those would be. If all of that, plus the drinking and weed, warranted for articles to be written about him that told the entire world of his activities, then Olivia couldn’t help but feel bad for Calum. He was a young adult living his life—he shouldn’t have to be judged for any of that by the world. She knew what it was like to have eyes and whispers follow you everywhere you go, but it was a whole new level in Calum’s case.

Was that why he kept to himself since arriving here? Olivia wondered if his life being exposed to everyone made Calum Bridgelake’s new recluse. But then Addy told her how right before Calum arrived to town, there had been articles and pictures concerning him getting kicked out of some restaurant for drunk and disorderly behavior. So it seemed that Calum wasn’t as much of a hermit as he was presenting himself to be.

Safe to say, Olivia’s curiosity and confusion regarding the Australian only intensified.

Moments later, Alana’s footsteps came running into the kitchen as she called, “Olivia!” The elder of the two turned around, Addy still on the line, as Alana held her phone up. “Mrs. Hood just called me—she said she tried calling you but the line was busy.”

“Oops,” Addy said on the line.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “What did she want?”

Then Alana grinned excitedly, bouncing on her heels. “She invited us over for dinner tonight. Said she’s gonna make a trifle for dessert!”

The thought of having dinner at Claudia’s house brought a smile to Olivia’s face, but then she suddenly remembered the new guest living in that house and Olivia’s mouth dried slightly. Addy gasped, seemingly having the same idea as she needlessly pointed out, “Oh, my God—you’re gonna have dinner with an L.A. boy!”

                                                ✩✩✩✩✩    

Familiar brown eyes stared back at Calum, full of a warmth and happiness that had him wondering if it was still there. Did people still see those things when they looked at him now, as opposed to when he was a young kid, like in this picture? He, for some reason, found himself lingering in the hallway of his grandparents’ home near the staircase, having just used the bathroom and absently stopping in front of the wall that had many pictures hung up.

They were all of his grandparents, aunts and uncles, parents, cousins, his sister and himself. The photograph Calum was currently staring at was one of himself, probably around four or five in age and a wide grin on his chubby cheeks, sitting on his grandfather’s lap. For the life of him he couldn’t remember when or where the picture was taken, but he still found himself smiling at it. He’d been here for nearly a week now, and hadn’t even stopped to look at the pictures until now.

“You know. . .” A hesitating, familiar voice sounded, prompting Calum to glance to his right where Olivia had entered the hallway. She and her sister had arrived to a dinner his grandmother had invited them to, which apparently wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Calum regarded her for a moment as she neared, pretty in a casual pale yellow sundress and a denim jacket on top, until she came to stand next to him. She was so much shorter than him, which was different, because a lot of the girls Calum knew back at home came up at least to his eyes or something. Olivia barely grazed his shoulders. “For a town as small as this one, you’re pretty good at hiding out. Are you trying to be the new Bridgelake recluse because we already have one. His name’s Mr. Dobrosky; he lives next to the public library and tries to steal books from the drop-off box.”

Oh, my God—seriously? Olivia tried not to cringe. Did she really have nothing better to talk about than poor old Mr. Dobrosky and his sticky fingers? In her defense, she didn’t know what to talk about with Calum because even though Addy had filled her in on some of his activities back in California, that didn’t mean she knew him as a person—just what he got up to with his friends. Olivia was just trying to do what Addy had told her to: befriend him. But she doubted comparing him to Mr. Dobrosky was going to help her in that case.

But, much to her surprise, Olivia watched Calum shrug his broad shoulders lightly, eyes trained on the pictures in front of them. She followed his gaze. How had she not connected that one of the little boys in the photos she’s seen a hundred times was him? In a low, cool voice Calum responded, “Not much to do around here that makes me want to leave the house.”

Olivia tilted her head to the side slightly. “How do you know what’s there to do if you don’t leave the house?” she countered with a life of a perfectly plucked brow, her tone taking a challenging, playful lilt to it that even surprised herself.

Brown eyes flickered to meet green as Calum turned to face her properly, tilting his head and answered her question with one of her own, “What is there to do in this small town?”

“Lots of things,” was Olivia’s instant reply, trying not to get too excited over the fact that Calum finally said more than three words to her, allowing her to hear a bit of his accent. He was quiet, contrary to what Addy had informed her of his partying habits, and that somehow made Olivia want to hear from him. “There’s a movie theater and an old drive-in theater that still runs, a bunch of parks that are good for jogging, the beach, a lake where you can go canoeing, the library—”

“Where Mr. Dobrosky tries to steal books from?” Calum cut her off with a quip, a smirk curling at his lips as he raised his eyebrows at her. His gaze was fixed on her face and the way she pressed her lips together to suppress the smile threatening to appear.

Olivia, on the other hand, picked up on the mirth dancing in his dark irises, feeling strangely giddy to see something other than casual indifference he’d been sporting since she met him. He was joking around with her, kind of. “Yeah,” she affirmed, letting go of her fingers behind her back and gesturing absently with one hand. “Charlotte’s also only a couple hours’ drive from here; there’s lots of museums there and lots of musicians come for their tour to the Music Pavillion and The Fillmore.”

She hoped she didn’t sound like some kind of pressuring weirdo, telling Calum all the things he could do. That wasn’t strange, right? She was just being friendly, like Addy had suggested for her to do. No harm in informing Calum of the places he could go to while he was here, right?

Apparently Calum didn’t think so as he lifted his chin a little. “D’you go to lots of concerts there?”

“A couple, yeah,” Olivia answered with a nod and a small smile. “I went to see The Weeknd a couple of months ago with my best friend. It was fun but. . .” She trailed off with a small shrug. “Coming back home was rough.”

Calum’s thick brows furrowed. “How come?”

Olivia’s eyes were trained on the photographs on the wall in front of them, taking in the familiar pictures of Claudia and Daniel’s family. Something in her heart tugged, remembering all of the pictures she took with her sister and parents before everything went to shit, and a ghost of a sad smile tilted her lips. “I don’t really like being away from Alana for too long. Your grandparents watched her while I went but I wanted to get back as soon as the show was over. Except showing up at their doorstep at four in the morning seemed like a dick move.”

She chuckled nervously—why did talking to Calum make her nervous?—as she thought of that night a few months ago. The concert had ended around half past midnight and she and Addy had driven to Charlotte for it. Addy was exhausted and wanted to stay at a motel for the night, even though Olivia wanted to get home for Alana. But Addy reminded her that traffic would be awful, and by the time they’d get back to Bridgelake it’d be four in the morning. So Olivia reluctantly stayed in Charlotte, sending Alana a text that she’d see her in the morning. She hated leaving her sister for too long. Their parents were gone, and Olivia didn’t want Alana to feel any kind of loss again.

Honestly, Olivia panicked over the distance between her and Alana before giving her little sister a chance to.

Then Olivia wondered if Calum knew about her parents, knew if she was Alana’s legal guardian, and quickly explained in case he didn’t, “It’s just the two of us so, like, I’m not fond of leaving her that much.”

There. That was straightforward and to the point, right? She didn’t care if Calum asked about her parents, it was public knowledge, and while she was ashamed of her father’s actions and she missed her mom so fucking much, that topic of conversation wasn’t taboo. Sure as hell wasn’t for the people of Bridgelake.

But Calum didn’t ask, not when he already knew the answer. Not when he already knew Olivia’s mum was dead because of her father’s mistake and that she and her sister were practically social pariahs in this town. His jaw clenched at the thought, especially when he thought of the fourteen year old he could hear giggling in the living room with his grandparents. Neither of them deserved this.

For a strange moment, Calum wondered where Olivia worked, if her job provided enough for her and her sister. Calum was never one to hold down a job—why would he even need one, with how much money his family has?—and he wasn’t interested in much. His parents—despite sending him across the country for his behavior—weren’t hard asses and didn’t expect Calum or his sister to take over the family business someday, so he didn’t have to worry over that.  He used to play soccer in high school until that merely became a hobby and something he was good at, and was admittedly interested in music. Both in writing and producing it, and in that moment he cursed himself for not bringing his guitar or bass with him to North Carolina. Maybe he could ask his parents to send it over.  

But money had never been an issue for Calum, and when he recalled the portion of the conversation between Olivia and his grandmother he heard at the shelter the other day, of her not being able to afford something for Alana, Calum felt a stab of sympathy. He never had to worry about not being able to afford something.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone!” His grandmother’s voice sounded throughout the house, and soon enough everyone was gathered in the dining room.

Gramps at the head, Olivia and Alana on one side and Calum sitting across from Olivia next to his grandmother on the other. The aroma of the food was delicious, effectively watering Calum’s mouth at the side of the pasta, rice, chicken and salad his grandmother had made. The first bite was as amazing as he figured.

Dinner conversation began almost immediately. “So, Livvy, how’s the boutique going?” Gramps questioned, causing Calum’s gaze to flicker up. Livvy? Were his grandparents really that close with Olivia and Alana?

“Pretty good,” Olivia answered with a smile. Guess that answered his pondering of her job. “We’re actually looking to expand, probably buying Mr. Bernard’s space next door.”

Gramps hummed in appraise and Calum watched as Alana nudged her sister. “Tell them about your promotion.”

Grams’ eyebrows raised at that. “Promotion?” she perked up, an excited glint in her eyes.

Olivia rolled her eyes, shooting Alana a look. “It’s just a rumor right now,” she told Calum’s grandparents with a small chuckle. “Apparently Val’s firing Heather and I’m the next choice for manager.” Calum noticed the way his grandparents both looked pleasantly surprised at this news as Olivia quickly emphasized, “But nothing’s been said yet. They’re just rumors, so I don’t know.”

She looked and sounded modest, as if she didn’t really believe that those rumors she was speaking of were true and that she would get the job. But Calum hadn’t missed the hopeful tone in her voice, and apparently neither had his grandfather as he scoffed, waving his fork. “Not promoting you would be a mistake on their part. You’re their hardest working employee and you, my dear, deserve it.”

Olivia rolled her lips into her mouth, though she was unsuccessful in hiding the smile as she dropped her gaze to her plate, cheeks pinkening. One glance at his grandparents and Calum knew they believed what Gramps said wholeheartedly, and Calum understood in that moment, answering his own question from seconds prior, that his grandparents’ relationship with the two sisters sitting across from him was a lot deeper than he figured. Grams and Gramps treated them the same way they treated him, and Calum instantly realized that they saw the two girls as family.

His gaze flickered to Olivia, saw the easy smile on her face as she conversed with his grandparents, and felt his own lips curl upwards a bit.

He hoped she would get that promotion.

                                               ✩✩✩✩✩

Sunday mornings consisted of Olivia waking up just around sunrise, freshening up, changing into her work out clothes and leaving the apartment. Alana was sound asleep, wouldn’t be up until noon, so Olivia walked the short distance to the nearby park where she did her Sunday morning jogs. With music playing in her ears, she began jogging on the path, the area empty as usual, just as she liked it. It was a cool morning for June, thanks to the beach just a few miles away, and the thin layer of sweat on the back of Olivia’s neck by the time she completed three laps was a bit chilling.

Olivia slowed to a stop to catch her breath, heart pounding in her chest as she took a few long gulps from her water bottle, the cool liquid thoroughly rejuvenating her dry throat. She squinted slightly, looking off in the distance; less than a handful of people were on their morning runs as well, some of them familiar to Olivia because of their similar routine.

Reaching to pull her phone out from the pocket of her thin hoodie, Olivia let out a small grunt of annoyance at the tangled headphones. Pausing the music, she pulled them out to begin the tedious process of untangling them, giving her a chance to hear a familiar voice call, “Bruno, slow down, bud!”

Before Olivia could even hope to register the voice, a familiar German Shepherd came running up to her, prompting Olivia to let out a startled gasp before she giggled joyously at the dog licking at her chin, his front paws on her chest to keep himself up as he showed her some love.

“Hi, buddy,” Olivia greeted Claudia and Daniel’s dog, fingers of her right hand tangled around her headphones while her left rubbed at Bruno’s face. “Whatcha doing out and about?”

This was the first time she’d ever seen him out at this time, but her question was soon answered as someone jogged up to them and that same familiar voice breathed out, “Sorry about him.” Olivia glanced away from Bruno, eyes landing on Calum standing right in front of them, wearing black athletic shorts and a green hoodie covering his large frame. “Didn’t expect him to run off like that.”

Olivia laughed lightly as Bruno got off her chest, circling between her and Calum’s feet before settling on the ground, peering up at them with dark eyes. She smiled at him before looking at Calum, taking in the way a few curls peeked out from under the black beanie he wore. “It’s okay,” she assured. “I’m never opposed to Bruno’s kisses.”

Calum chuckled, sliding the beanie down a bit at the back of his head. His eyes took in Olivia’s face as she smiled down at Bruno; her ponytail high and tight with few tendrils slipping out to frame her heart shaped face, cheeks slightly flushed pink from her running and face free of makeup. He would be lying if he said she didn’t look unadulteratedly pretty like this.

“So you took one of my options into consideration, hmm?” Olivia hummed, a smile tilting at her lips as Calum raised his eyebrows. “Looks like you found something to do here.”

Realization dawned on Calum as he let out a short laugh, remembering the dinner the other night when Olivia had listed off a bunch of things he could do in Bridgelake—going to the park being one of them. And she’d been right; Calum had woken up early this morning, annoyed that his eyes opened right when the sun was rising, and out of nowhere he remembered Olivia mentioning a bunch of parks around. So he brought Bruno to the nearest park and here they were—running into the very woman who practically motivated Calum out of the house.

“I did,” Calum conceded with a nod, the smile easily remaining on his face. It seemed almost effortless, to relax in front of Olivia. She seemed so open, so comforting; Calum found himself forgetting that he didn’t want to be in this town, that he was forced here, when she was there. Which was kind of head spinning and bewildering, but Calum didn’t seem to mind. “It helps that I’ve got good company,” he added one hand reaching down to rub at Bruno’s head.

“See?” Olivia smiled, tightening her ponytail. “How often did you get to do this in Los Angeles, huh?”

Not often, Calum realized. He preferred going to the gym he’d been a member of for years, because while he didn’t mind going on a hike every now and then, Calum found himself feeling more relaxed in a weight room than he did out on a jog in a park. Especially because there were often times where the paparazzi would spot him and while getting his picture taken outside of a club was one thing, Calum wasn’t fond of being photographed while he was going for a jog. So he didn’t.

“L.A. isn’t as bad as you think, you know,” Calum found himself saying, feeling strangely, or not so strangely, defensive of his hometown, his favorite place.

Olivia raised her eyebrows, not deaf to the protective lilt his voice took. “I never said it was bad,” she countered lightly with a slight tilt to her head. “I’m just saying—there’s probably things you could do or find here that you wouldn’t be able to in a big city like L.A.”

Calum couldn’t help himself. He let out a droll snort, rolling his eyes at Olivia’s words because he was having a hard time believing her. “Yeah? Like what?” he challenged, his slight accent lifting the last word a bit.

The attitude that he presented when she first ran into him at Walmart was shining through, Olivia noticed. Like being in Bridgelake was the worst possible thing that could happen to him, and she had foolishly hoped that he would no longer feel that way anymore. It’s been, what, two weeks since he’s been here? Shouldn’t he start warming up to the idea of having to be here for a couple of months? Olivia didn’t see what the big deal was, but she wasn’t one to be vocal about it.

So Olivia shrugged, hands on her hips. “Maybe if you got out of the house more, you’d see what a small town has to offer.” Then, with an almost conspiratorial grin, she added almost teasingly, “They can have just as much magic as your big cities, you know.”

But Calum wasn’t buying it as his chin lifted a bit. “I doubt it.”

“What’s the harm in trying to find out?” Olivia hummed with a single shake of her head, raising an eyebrow, not entirely deterred by his skepticism. “You’re stuck here, whether you like it or not, right? Why don’t you try to make the most of it without whining over L.A.?”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up, lips parting as he scoffed. “Excuse me?” he returned, unsure if he’d heard her right. Her tone wasn’t unkind but it most definitely made him sound like a brat, and Calum didn’t appreciate that. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I don’t whine.”

He was getting worked up, Olivia could tell, and while she wasn’t one to purposefully push people’s buttons, she would be lying if she said it wasn’t amusing seeing Calum get all tensed over something so mundane. “You look like you do,” Olivia retorted. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be here. Do you ever think about how that might make Claudia and Daniel feel?”

She touched a nerve, she knew, when she saw Calum’s face tighten and jaw clench, and she’d be intimidated if it weren’t for the fact that she’s been facing people’s angered, near disgusted expressions thrown towards her for years. And while she hadn’t really meant to annoy Calum, Olivia didn’t recoil from his scowl. She was used it. After a while, you just become immune to others’ distaste of you.

Truthfully, Olivia was a bit disappointed Calum was one of those people who gave her that look, even if it wasn’t for the same reason. Somehow a stranger looking at her that way stung more than it did when people she grew up in town did it to her. But she didn’t let it show. She was good at that.

“My grandparents have nothin’ to do with this,” Calum stated firmly, the way his arms crossed over his chest combined with his hoodie making him appear bigger than usual. “I’m happy to be with them.”

“You’re not very good at showing that.”

Calum scowled, unafraid of showing his irritation. He liked Olivia, thought she was sweet and kind and undeserving of whatever treatment people in this town may give her. But who the hell was she to say something like that to him? To just assume he wasn’t glad to see his grandparents? Bridgelake wasn’t his ideal vacation spot, sure, but being with his grandparents was definitely a plus point. So what if Calum wished they were together in Los Angeles rather than North Carolina? It was just a matter of preference.

He tilted his head, almost mockingly, asking with a sarcastic tint in his voice, “Then what d’you reckon I do?”

“Be appreciative of what’s around you,” Olivia answered simply because, to her, it really was simple. She’s faced enough loss in her life, dealt with too many people’s shit for too long to not be happy for what she does have. She misses her mom every day, hopes to keep her memory alive for her sister, and her cheeks often hurt from the forced smile she shoots towards those who are blatantly rude to her. But for Olivia, it always comes down to being grateful for what she has in front of her.

Honestly, things could’ve gone to even more shit than they already were with their mom dying and dad being imprisoned. Olivia could’ve shut down. But she had a younger sister to look after, one who she was solely responsible for, and Olivia wasn’t about to let anything or anyone tear them apart after the losses of their parents. She was grateful for still having Alana, and while living in a world where their mom wasn’t around and their dad was in prison and half the town hated them for what he did, Olivia was glad she was still around. Glad she still had her sister, her best friend, and people who still cared for them.

Upon hearing her words, Calum blinked, face relaxing and tension in his shoulders easing somewhat. He watched as Olivia squinted slightly, the early morning sunlight filtering through the trees and bathing her in a golden glow, blue eyes glinting against the light, giving her irises an almost golden sparkle of their own. And even though Calum was bothered with her insinuation that he didn’t like being around his grandparents, he couldn’t help but think how pretty she looked in the morning sunlight.

“I’m not saying you don’t enjoy your grandparents’ company,” Olivia spoke up once more, as if reading his thoughts. Or, well, part of his thoughts as her blue eyes locked with his brown. “I’m just saying. . . I’ve seen you out with them a few times already and each time you look miserable. And, like, I get it—Bridgelake is no L.A., but you can have just as much of a good time here as you can there. If you give it a shot, that is.”

There was logic behind her words, Calum knew. He also was aware that every time he ventured out with his grandparents, he wasn’t the most willing participant. Being with them was something Calum was up for, but every time he stepped out of the house he was struck with the fact he wasn’t in California and Calum could physically feel his body slump at the reminder. The city boy in him was probably never going to get used to the small town aesthetic Bridgelake wreaked of.

Still, Calum lifted his chin a little, arms still crossed over his chest as he defiantly told the blue eyed girl, “Show me.”

Olivia blinked, bewilderment flickering across her features with furrowed brows and confusedly pouty lips. “What?”

Calum’s gaze briefly glanced at her mouth, pink and inviting, before he averted it half a second later. It wasn’t the appropriate time—or thought?—but Calum couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that Olivia had such inviting lips and he couldn’t kiss them. He quickly refocused on his thoughts as he met her confused stare with a challenging one. “Show me how to have a good time in Bridgelake,” he dared with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not gonna happen being by myself. I need someone to keep me company.” Then, with a boyish smirk, Calum teasingly clarified, “I need someone to show me the magic of Bridgelake.”

Her lips parted at his words, not entirely expecting Calum to request—or demand, she wasn’t entirely sure about that—her to show him around. Olivia certainly remembered listing off a bunch of things for him to do in Bridgelake, but she didn’t think he’d want her to come along with him.

Gazing at Calum, Olivia’s throat worked as she saw the quirk of his brow and tilt of his lips. He looked both smug and challenging, and Olivia felt her cheeks heat up against his stare. A person should not have that much of an effect on another human being just by the way they were looking at them.

But still. . . Olivia lifted her own chin slightly, regarding Calum for a moment before finally agreeing, “Alright.” Both of Calum’s eyebrows shot up. Had he not expected her to agree easily? This time, Olivia offered an easy smile. “Are you free tonight?”

Calum scoffed through the smirk dancing on his lips. “What do you think?” he asked, sarcasm tinting his slightly accented tone. As if he had any other plans here.

Olivia’s heart thumped in her chest. “Then tonight it is.”

                                           ✩✩✩✩✩

“It’s a date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Alana’s right; it’s totally a date.”

Olivia shot an exasperated look towards her best friend and younger sister, who were both sat giggling on Olivia’s bed as if they were a bunch of middle schoolers. Well, Alana was, at least. But both Alana and Addy were teasing Olivia the entire time she got ready for her outing with Calum which was not a date, like the two of them were so convinced it was. And them constantly calling it a date didn’t do anything to ease the nerves swimming in her belly.

It was just a habit of Olivia’s, getting a bit nervous around boys, and it most certainly didn’t help that Calum was most definitely not the average boy she’d see around Bridgelake. He was the epitome of the tall, dark and handsome package and while Olivia found it dumb that she had the potential of getting anxious around someone that good looking, she couldn’t help it. Especially because the point of this night was to prove to Calum that he could have some fun in a small town, and Olivia hoped what she had picked out was going to be enough to at least start pushing him in the direction of seeing Bridgelake in a positive light. Not just as a prison.

“Stop calling it that,” Olivia huffed as she put her lipstick in her bag. She hadn’t done her makeup too heavily, and her outfit consisted of a baby blue romper and a denim jacket in case it got cold. “People only go on dates if they’re interested in each other—which we’re not.”

Addy scoffed with a roll of her eyes, dismissing what she considered Olivia’s negativity. “You never know,” she argued, leaning back against the headboard with her legs stretched out in front of her. With a comically suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, she added, “Maybe he’ll find the magic of Bridgelake in you.”

Olivia didn’t know whether to cringe at Addy’s words or shoot her a glare because she knew her best friend most definitely did not mean that in an innocent way, and while Alana wasn’t a baby, the mere topic of her own sex life in front of her sister wasn’t something she was too comfortable with.

Thankfully, Alana swooped in as she shot Addy a distasteful look. “You sound like a crappy Hallmark card.”

Addy shoved Alana as Olivia let out a laugh, wholeheartedly agreeing with the fourteen year old. Looking back at the older brunette, Addy asked, “Where are you guys going, anyway?”

“The Orbit,” Olivia answered, brushing the ends of her hair as she stood at the foot of the bed, facing the two sitting on it.

Alana sat up excitedly. “That’s cool. What play are they putting on?”

“West Side Story,” Olivia replied with an unamused snort, because the play of choice wasn’t too surprising. Every summer, putting on West Side Story was a must. The Orbit was an outdoor theater, where anyone interested could sign up to put on a play or act in it throughout the summer. They were all really good, in Olivia’s opinion, since she’d been going since she was a kid. She particularly enjoyed the town’s adaptation of Mamma Mia! which has been her favorite musical for as long as she could remember.

“What if Calum doesn’t like plays?” Addy asked as Olivia put the brush away.

Olivia paused for a moment. She’d thought of that, but she had told him she would show him how to enjoy the small town things, and the plays The Orbit put on always brought a smile to Olivia’s face. She hoped it would do the same for Calum. She shrugged. “He’s just gonna have to suck it up.”

But, really. Olivia hoped he liked plays. Or this could already start off bitterly.

                                                ✩✩✩✩✩

Once he pulled his grandfather’s truck into a vacant parking spot, Calum killed the engine before hopping out of the vehicle. He closed the door behind him, furrowed brows looking ahead and around him as he took in his surroundings, turning to lock the car. Slowly, almost unsure, Calum walked over the curb and towards the area where he saw most of the other people around headed towards. There was an entrance where Calum noticed people behind booths were sitting, and he realized it’s where tickets were being sold and bought as a line of people gathered there before moving on to the few steps that led down to where they could be seated.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, the gravel and road crunching under his boots as he slowly made his way over, unsure of where he was supposed to go. Calum’s dark eyes gazed around in hopes of finding the woman he was meant to meet, passing over the few curious looks being thrown his way. It definitely was a small town by the way some people were looking at him, unsure of who the hell he was.

Meanwhile, Calum was left wondering where the hell Olivia was. He obviously didn’t know about this place when she texted him, and so he had asked Grams, who had told him that The Orbit was one of the more popular locations in Bridgelake. She told him of the plays that were put on here, and Calum wasn’t going to lie—he was kind of interested. He didn’t go to any plays in California, only less than a handful of times when he went to New York to visit his sister, but those were Broadway productions.

He highly doubted he’d see the same level of sophistication at some outdoor theater in Bridgelake, North Carolina.

“See—that’s the face I was talking about.”

Calum blinked, looking around before his gaze went to the left where he saw Olivia approaching him. Immediately he took her in, her blue outfit and loose hair and killer legs before her words registered and he frowned in confusion. “What face?”

Olivia scoffed as she reached him, shaking her head a slightly to move away some locks of hair. “The I’d rather be anywhere but here face,” she countered with a knowing quirk of an eyebrow, as if she could read him easily. Calum bristled. She didn’t have to be so smug about it.

“I’m not wearing that face,” he defended, pursing his lips because even he could hear the bullshit in his voice. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to look like that; he may never have been to something like this, but Calum did find himself wanting to be here with Olivia. It was nice of her to hang out with him—she was a nice girl—and the least he could do was not look like he didn’t want to be here with her. He didn’t want to send that kind of message. “Just—” he huffed before glancing around and asking, “What’re we watching?”

Olivia pulled something out of her purse, Calum’s eyes catching sight of two tickets as she smiled. “West Side Story. Hope you like Romeo & Juliet adaptations,” she hummed while walking past Calum.

He had no choice but to follow after her, his long legs allowing him to easily catch up to her in two strides before falling in her pace, hands still in the pockets of his jacket. As they stood in the line to show their tickets, Calum asked, “How’d you get tickets so quickly?” They’d only been talking this morning.

Olivia shrugged. “I know a guy,” she answered vaguely before biting her tongue. She almost added on, Not everyone in this town hates me, but stopped herself. This was most definitely not the time or place to be self pitying.

Calum quirked an eyebrow, finding her words strangely amusing as the line moved up. “That sounds suspect,” he pointed out, peering down at her with the smallest of smirks tilting at his lips.

She let out a light laugh as she looked up from the tickets, the lights around The Orbit making her blue eyes glitter. The line moved quickly, and as one of the guys working there scanned their tickets, Calum asked, “Do you come here a lot?”

“Whenever there’s a play I really wanna watch,” Olivia answered with a nod as they moved forward. The seats, Calum realized, was that similar to stadium seating, and before they moved to find theirs Olivia glanced at him. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?” she questioned, jutting her chin to something behind him.

Calum glanced over his shoulder, just then catching sight of a small canteen where people were gathered if they weren’t already in their seats. It wasn’t too far, and Calum’s eyes took in one of the signs pasted on it and his eyebrows rose. “They’ve got milkshakes?”

“Mhm,” Olivia hummed with a smile, and not for the first time did Calum notice the way her prominent cheekbones rose at the action. “What flavor do you want? You can get to our seats and I’ll get them.”

“Chocola—wait, no—” Calum frowned. “You got the tickets, the least I can do is get the food.” He knew this was both of their idea, in some way, and if Olivia bought the tickets then it was only fair he spend some of his own money on something.

But Olivia shook her head, her smile turning teasing as she took a step away. “My town, my treat,” she grinned. “Our seats are seven and eight in row eleven. Towards the bottom,” Olivia added, nodding down the steps before swiftly turning around and making her way towards the canteen.

Calum’s lips parted to protest, but she was gone in the growing crowd and he let out a breath. Pressing his lips together, Calum absently made a mental note that next time it would be coming out of his pocket—assuming there was going to be a next time—before proceeding to make his way down the concrete steps.

It wasn’t that big, unsurprisingly. Calum was pretty sure there were more seats on his high school football field back in California. He walked down the steps, looking at the numbers of the rows on the ground, ignoring the few looks he could be felt getting thrown his way. It helped that he was used to being stared at, though he knew that this time it was different. Eyes weren’t following him because he was the son of David Hood; they were on him because he was a stranger in this town, an unfamiliar face amongst those who’ve grown up together.

But it didn’t phase Calum. He found their seats, shuffling past those already seated before plopping down in the seventh seat, the one to his right available for Olivia. Rubbing his hands down his pants, Calum noticed they had a good view of the stage up front, almost in the middle, curtains drawn as people continued to find their seats. Glancing up at the sky, Calum noticed it was mostly clear, just a few clouds drifting here and there and hiding the stars that glittered above, and he let out a sigh as he leaned back in the seat.

He busied himself by texting his friends, all of whom told him both that they missed him and jokingly added they liked not seeing his face every day, and Calum smirked to himself. He missed them, too.

Soon enough, Olivia made her way over and Calum glanced at her, catching sight of the two plastic cups of milkshake she held as she walked over. She caught his eye, offering a smile that Calum found himself returning almost instinctively, sitting up as she came over. But his eyes drifted as she shuffled down the narrow aisle, landing on the few people, mostly middle aged women, sitting a few seats away to Calum’s right, their narrowed eyes following Olivia as she made her way past them.

His eyebrows twitched into a frown, watching as the women looked at Olivia while they whispered amongst themselves, reminding Calum of a bunch of high school gossipers and his lips curled into a sneer. It was obvious they were talking about Olivia, obvious that whatever they saying couldn’t be good, and Calum was about two seconds away from standing up and asking them what the fuck they were saying.

But then Olivia reached him, the easy smile still on her face as she held out one of the cups. Calum’s dark eyes left the women, who were now looking at both of the with raised eyebrows, probably wondering what he was doing with Olivia or she with him or what the fuck ever, and he looked up at the blue eyed girl. He took the cup from her instantly, taking in the pink in her cheeks, wondering why she was flushed, as she sat down.

“Thanks,” Calum told her, taking a sip of the chocolate milkshake. It was really fucking good.

“No problem,” Olivia answered nonchalantly, almost too casually, as she fixed her bag on her lap, gaze straight ahead purposefully.

Don’t look. Don’t give them the satisfaction. But she couldn’t help herself. Olivia glanced to the right, eyes landing on the same women Calum noticed, pulling her lower lip into her mouth as they looked away just when they saw her looking. How fucking hard was it not to be so ridiculously obvious you were talking about someone just a few feet away? Olivia inhaled deeply yet quietly. Calum only noticed because he’d been staring at Olivia unashamedly, and his jaw tightened when he saw her glance down at her lap, lips pursed.

He wanted to say something; tell her that people were assholes and that she shouldn’t have to deal with them. But Calum wasn’t sure if Olivia knew that he knew of how some people in Bridgelake treated her, if she wanted him to know the whole story about her parents and the town even though he already did. How was he supposed to comfort her over something he wasn’t even sure he was supposed to know?

“D’you know any of the people starring in this?” Maybe he could opt to distract her instead.

Olivia glanced at him before looking back at the stage. “A few,” she answered with a nod. “A girl I went to high school with, Raechel, plays Maria and my best friend’s cousin, Barry, plays Riff.”

Calum blinked at her, before his lips curled into a smirk and he raised an eyebrow. “You realize I’ve no idea who any of those characters are, right?”

She returned his gaze, shorter than him and an arm rest separating them yet their shoulders brushed every so often. Olivia let out a laugh, the sound widening Calum’s grin, as she picked up her milkshake. “I’ll point them out, don’t worry,” she assured.

“And explain to me what’s going on?” Olivia shot him an exasperated yet playful look and Calum shrugged defensively. “What? I’ve never seen this before.”

“If you ask me questions every two minutes I’m going to dump your milkshake on you. I promise.”

Calum clicked his tongue, shooting her a mocking disapproving look. “I don’t think that’s gonna help you show me how fun Bridgelake is.”

Olivia sank in her chair as she caught his smirk widening, her cheeks flushing at the sight of it as she pressed her lips together to suppress the growing smile. Calum wasn’t aware of it, but Olivia was grateful that he managed to distract her from the eyes she could feel piercing her skin. She glanced at him, watching as his lips wrapped around the straw as he drank his milkshake, and Olivia forced herself to look away as the heat in her cheeks intensified.

She took a deep breath, sipping her own milkshake. Fun. Right.

                                                 ✩✩✩✩✩

Olivia was trying to fight off the smile from growing on her face as she raised her eyebrows at Calum, who was staring out the window as he sat across from her, fingers tapping the tabletop as his head nodded to the song he was humming. The play had just ended and the two of them were at a nearby diner for a late dinner, and Calum was shamelessly humming the tune of I Feel Pretty after having just heard it at the show they attended.

Much to her relief, Calum seemed to enjoy the play a lot, his eyes following every character on the stage with focused interest and head bopping to the songs being performed, curls lightly bouncing at the movement. And now as they waited for their food, Calum still had that song playing in his head and while satisfaction coursed through Olivia’s veins, the fond smile won over as it graced her lips, gazing at the man sat across from her in the booth.

He looked her way then, taking note of her raised eyebrows and curled lips, and Calum was suddenly aware of what he was doing as he instantly stopped humming and leaned back in the booth. “It’s a catchy song,” he half-heartedly defended, uncharacteristically feeling his face warm at the look Olivia was giving him.

“I know,” she laughed lightly, the bright lights of the diner dancing against her blue eyes. Olivia leaned forward, arms folding on top of the table as she asked, “I’m guessing you liked the play, then?”

“You can say that,” Calum responded, willing himself not to be embarrassed because, really, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Honestly, he really did enjoy the play, and the performance put on by everyone was amazing. Bridgelake, Calum concluded once the show was over, had some pretty talented people. “Thank you for bringing me to see it,” he found himself adding sincerely, the corners of his lips tilting upwards.

Olivia’s head tilted slightly, her smile widening at the sincerity in his tone, utterly contrasting the indifferent yet bored expression she often saw him wear. “You’re welcome,” she said just as the waitress returned with their food.

Calum’s burger and fries were placed in front of him while Olivia’s grilled chicken sandwich and curly fries instantly watered her mouth, and the two of them dug into their food while the Top 40 songs played throughout the semi busy diner. Things fell quiet between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t an uncomfortable one as they enjoyed their food and, Calum had to admit—his burger was one of the best he’s had.

As he took a bite of his fries, Olivia couldn’t help but muse, “How can you pick regular fries over curly ones?”

Calum paused in his chewing, holding the uneaten halves of his fries as his gaze snapped towards her. When he saw the unimpressed raise of her brows and the small smirk on her lips, Calum let out a short laugh. “Are you judging me on my choice of fries?”

Olivia gave an unapologetic shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t trust anyone who picks regular fries when they have the option of getting curly ones.”

Amusement danced in Calum’s dark eyes as his lips formed an O and he released a mocking offended breath. “Now you’re just hurtin’ my feelings.”

She laughed before taking a sip of her drink, and Olivia couldn’t help but think how easy this felt. Her nerves had been prickling under her skin when she’d been driving over to The Orbit, over thinking if Calum would want to watch a play or if he’d enjoy it, but they had fun. Admittedly, Olivia had kept glancing over at Calum, taking in his reactions to what was happening on stage, and each time she was relieved to see that he looked so into it.

But her grin soon diminished as the door of the diner opened and in walked the three women that had been sitting in their row at The Orbit, the same women who’d been unashamedly been whispering about Olivia when they saw her. She knew of them—Mrs. Dixit, Mrs. Shaw, and Mrs. Rizzo—and was painfully aware that they were just three of many people who weren’t fond of her. So Olivia’s smile vanished as she drank her soda, watching as the women were seated at a table in the middle of the diner a little ways beside them, where she had a perfect view of them and they had one of her.

As per usual, Olivia did her best to pay them no mind, ignoring the looks she could feel them throwing her way every now and then as she ate her dinner and made light, easy conversation with Calum.

And she thought things were going fine, would be fine, until Mrs. Dixit’s voice consisting of a fading Indian accent flowed over. “I heard they’re replacing that poor Heather with her. They’re risky, aren’t they, for hiring her in the first place? Now they’re making her manager?”

Mrs. Rizzo scoffed distastefully. “They’ve lost my business.”

“I stopped going there the day they hired the Moore girl.” Olivia winced at Mrs. Shaw’s haughty tone, eyes casting towards her nearly finished plate, hoping Calum hadn’t noticed the rigidness in her shoulders. Of course he had; she just missed the way his eyes darted in the direction of the women after Olivia broke their gaze.

His eyebrows twitched into a frown, not oblivious to the discomfort Olivia didn’t succeed in hiding as he looked at the three middle aged women. It was kind of ridiculous, how a couple of women their age were so openly and unashamedly talking about Olivia as if she wasn’t even there, not at all perturbed by the fact that she could hear them. They were doing it because she could hear them, Calum figured, and his grip on his glass tightened, rings slightly scraping against it. How pathetic were they to talk about someone younger than them, as if they were a bunch of teenagers in high school taking part in cafeteria gossip?

Olivia glanced up at the sound, eyes going from Calum’s tight grasp on his glass to his face, mildly taken aback at the glare she saw on his face directed towards the women a few tables over. She hadn’t expected him to look so annoyed, eyebrows scrunched into a scowl. “Calum—”

“Why’re you just lettin’ them talk about you like that?” He spoke up at the same time, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he finally looked back at Olivia once more. The irritation in his dark eyes was surprising and, ironically, comforting. His brows were drawn downwards, shaking his head once. “Why don’t you just say somethin’?”

She stared at him for a moment, mouth drying at the curious yet confused look in his demanding eyes. Truthfully, Olivia hadn’t expected Calum to speak up about the women, didn’t think he cared enough to pay attention. Swallowing the dryness from her throat, Olivia answered, “It’s not worth it.”

Calum gaped at her, the irritation being completely replaced with bewilderment. Not worth it? Was she serious? “So you’re just. . .” His eyebrows twitched into a frown just like his lips. “You’re gonna let them disrespect you like that for no reason?”

Olivia inhaled sharply before surprising herself by blurting, “They have a reason.”

And then Calum surprised her even more by countering, “I know the reason. ’S not justified.”

Her eyes widened slightly, this time it was her turn to stare at him disbelief. He knew? What exactly did he know? Most of the town’s dislike for Olivia wasn’t news, it wasn’t a secret, but Calum wasn’t from here and she was hoping that everyone’s opinion of her wasn’t going to morph his opinion of her. It would’ve been refreshing to have someone new who didn’t judge her for someone else’s tragic mistake. “What do you—”

“Grams told me,” Calum confessed with a sigh, a familiar expression crossing his face, one Olivia knew too well. Sympathy. She suppressed a sigh of her own—she hadn’t wanted to see that on Calum’s face. But he leaned forward, arms crossed on the table as his gaze remained locked with hers. “And I agree with her; it isn’t right that you and your sister get judged for something you had no control over.”

Olivia’s lips parted at that, at the sincerity on his face emphasized by the determined frown on his face, like he wanted her to believe his words, shown in the emphasis each word he spoke carried. If Calum found out about Olivia’s family through his grandmother, then no doubt he got the real story rather than some twisted version she knew a bunch of people in this town would have no problem spewing. Some people were disgusting enough to contort the events of that night to say that her father purposefully killed those people in the accident. Yes, it was his fault for driving while he was drunk, something he should have never done, but the way some people spoke of it, it would be easy to assume by their words that it was premeditated. He had made an awful, horrific decision to drive under the influence, something even Olivia herself would never forgive him for, but had to endure the aftermath of.

Calum’s defense of her was kind of surprising, but Olivia was appreciative of it. They didn’t know each other too well and only knew about her situation through Claudia’s words, yet the look in his eyes was determined enough to show her that he was on her side. And Olivia felt her heart swell at that. Playing with her crumpled napkin, she kept her gaze on it as she quietly told him, “If I say anything back, they’re just going to be more annoyed and hate me more than they already do.” She hated that she let out a tired, defeated chuckle at that before shrugging. “Like I said—it’s not worth it.”

He didn’t understand as he took in her downcast blue eyes and the purse of her naturally pouty lips, staring at her with his own lips slightly parted. Calum was the kind of person who, if he ever heard someone talk badly about himself or his family or his friends, wouldn’t hesitate to go on the defense. He knew he couldn’t change everyone’s minds and opinions, but he could let them know he wasn’t going to take their shit.

It almost disturbed Calum that Olivia wasn’t willing to do that for herself.

The waitress came by to drop off their check and before Olivia could even think to reach for it, Calum swiped the small black folder right up. “Wait, no—it’s my treat,” Olivia argued, trying to reach for it from across the table.

Calum merely placed it on his lap, pulling out his wallet and placing the credit card inside the folder without even checking the bill. “You paid for the play and the milkshakes,” he pointed out, lips curling into a small smirk. “Least I can do is pay for dinner.”

She stared at him, lips pursed and bemused, but Calum merely smirked wider when the waitress returned for it and he handed it to her without breaking from Olivia’s gaze. Calum chuckled as he reassured, “Next time you can pay for the food.”

“Oh?” Olivia quirked an eyebrow, feeling some of her previous playfulness creep back as she tilted her head slightly. “So there’s gonna be a next time?”

Calum huffed out a laugh. “After tonight, you’re my official tour guide. I don’t have any other friends here to show me around Bridgelake.”

Both of them were smiling, teasing and maybe even a little bit flirty if Olivia squinted, enough to make her heart flutter because he had such a nice smile. Calum’s cheeks would push up and depending on how much he was smiling there would be crinkles by his eyes, only adding to the adorability of the expression. A much better look, a wonderful difference, than when he barely made any expressions when he first arrived.

“We’re friends now?” Olivia countered, enjoying the banter with a smile. She didn’t have that many friends, only Addy whom Olivia adored the company of and would never get tired of, but she had to admit—a new person’s company was always welcome. Especially when it was someone like Calum.

“Like it or not,” Calum shrugged before thanking the waitress once she brought back the folder so he could retrieve his credit card.

Olivia chuckled as she gathered her purse and the two of them stood up as Calum put the card back in his wallet and then dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table for tip, Olivia’s eyebrows shooting up at the sight because she knew the tip was almost as much as the actual bill. Damn. Glancing at Calum, she sarcastically mused, “I’m honored.”

Calum stood by his side of table so Olivia could walk past him towards the door, and as she did he joked, “I’m honored you’re honored,” earning another laugh from him as she shook her head and kept walking.

He smiled after her. Before following Olivia’s steps, Calum couldn’t help but glance over at the table a few feet away from him, occupied by the women seated there. Unsurprisingly, they were looking over this way, their judgmental gazes burning holes in Olivia’s back before simultaneously—creepily—their eyes shifted over to him. One of them offered a smile while the other two looked at him with expressions mixed with curiosity and coyness, the second not at all in regards to the obvious age difference between them. He was used to older women sending him those kinds of looks—he was from Los Angeles, after all.

And his mother raised him to be respectful of those older than him, and for the most part Calum was. But as soon as the three of the women looked at him, Calum couldn’t help the scowl he sent their way, triggered by the rude words and glares they sent Olivia’s way. They all immediately recoiled, almost affronted yet discouraged, and looked away from him, and the satisfied smirk tugged at Calum’s lips as he fixed his jacket and Olivia out of the diner. He wasn’t afraid to give those women that look if he saw them again.

Easily catching up to Olivia, they walked together in a comfortable silence towards the parking lot that was between The Orbit and the diner they were just at, the night breeze cool and inviting, and a fruity scent suddenly invaded Calum’s nose. He realized it must be Olivia’s shampoo or something, inhaling softly, subtly, because it just smelt so good.

They reached Olivia’s car since Calum silently decided to walk her to it, and as she unlocked the door she faced Calum. Before she could say anything, Calum shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and said, “Thank you, Olivia,  for tonight.” The street lamp above made his dark eyes glimmer. “I really did have a good time.”

Olivia couldn’t fight the smile as she looked up at him. His curls swayed slightly in the mild breeze, the glow of the light above softening his features. “Enough to change your opinion of Bridgelake?” she asked with a tilt of her head. She knew it wasn’t going to take just a theater show to make Calum fall in love with Bridgelake or something, but she still wanted to get a feel of what he thought.

Calum let out a breathy chuckle, bowing his head as he did so, his curls brushing across his forehead before he lifted his head and smirked at Olivia. “Slowly,” he agreed and Olivia’s smile widened. “Might sound crazy to say but I kind of already prefer The Orbit than Broadway.”

Olivia’s jaw hung with a disbelieving scoff, staring at Calum incredulously before she waved him off. “Alright, psycho, I somehow doubt that,” she laughed, earning another laugh from Calum as he argued, “I’m serious!”

She shook her head in amusement as she stepped aside to open her car door. “Whatever you say, Mr. California,” she responded with a roll of her eyes, giggling at the bemused look he sent her way at the nickname.

“Drive safe, Olivia,” Calum chose to say instead of retorting, smiling fondly at the blue eyed girl.

Then, to her surprise, he pulled his left hand out of his pocket before pulling her in for a one armed hug, and Olivia’s eyes widened as her cheek was pressed against the cool leather of his jacket. But she relaxed in his embrace, in the mesmerizing scent of vanilla, leather and something that seemed like a wonderful mixture of wood and flowers as she returned the hug, unable to stop the smile from growing from her face. How fucking cute. “Goodnight, Calum,” she returned softly, before reluctantly pulling away from the tall man.

Calum smiled at her, stepping back to allow her to get in the car and as he shut the door behind her, Olivia let out a breath as she put her bag on the passenger seat and reached for the seatbelt. He stood by as she started the car, and Olivia sent him a smile and a wave as she pulled out of the parking spot, smile widening as he raised his hand in response.

Olivia couldn’t help but glance at her rearview mirror as she drove off, watching as Calum’s standing figure became smaller and smaller until she had to make a turn, and she let out yet another breath. The smile was still on her face, grip on the steering wheel tightening as the giddiness bubbled in her stomach, only intensifying when Calum’s I’d rather be anywhere but here face hadn’t made an appearance after she called him out for it at the start of the night. Not because he had been actively trying to keep it off his face, but because Olivia could tell he was genuinely enjoying himself, much to her fluttering excitement. She was definitely down to do this again.

                                                    ✩✩✩✩✩

Calum was more of a night owl than a morning person. He enjoyed staying up at night but he also appreciated his sleep, hating when the sun came up to start a new day. And he especially hated it in Bridgelake, when every other day there would be one neighbor or another of his grandparents’ who was mowing their lawn, the roar of the lawn mower jolting Calum out of his sleep practically every other day.

Safe to say, he started most days in a shitty mood.

Rolling out of bed reluctantly, Calum sat up and ran his fingers through his messy curls, a tired sigh escaping him before grunting as he stood up. Pulling on his sweatpants, Calum didn’t bother with a shirt as he used the bathroom before heading to the kitchen, the scent of eggs pulling him to where his grandparents already were. His grandfather sat reading the newspaper while eating his eggs, while his grandmother drank her tea and read whatever she was reading on her iPad.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Grams greeted, just like every other morning, as she smiled fondly at the sight of her sleep ridden grandson. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

Calum mumbled his thanks as he poured some for himself before sitting down next to his grandfather, across from his grandmother as he propped his elbows on the table and took a long sip of the steaming drink. He was quiet in the mornings, which wasn’t unusual, and drank his coffee and ate the pancakes that were left for him as a way of getting energy to brave the day.

Not that he had any plans.

He was still at the table when his grandparents got up to gather their things before walking back into the kitchen, frowning at them in confusion. It was Saturday and the pet shelter didn’t open for another few hours, and his grandfather didn’t have work either. But upon noticing Calum’s expression, his grandfather let out a chuckle. “We’re going for a friend’s birthday up in Wilmington. I told you about it a couple of days ago, bud.”

Calum blinked before his memory stuck, nodding as he recalled being told something like that. “We’ll probably be back around the late evening, so you’re on your own,” Grams teased as she picked up her purse and followed Gramps to the door. “Oh, by the way!” Calum glanced at her over his shoulder as his grandmother sweetly smiled at him. “Mind making a trip today to Olivia’s boutique? There’s some things I ordered that should be ready for pick up and the store’s going to be closed tomorrow. Make sure you go before closing at nine, alright?”

Then they were gone, before Calum could even offer up a response. He leaned back in the chair with a huff, eyes falling to Bruno, who sat on the floor staring up at him with dark eyes. Guess it was just him and his dog for the day.

                                                 ✩✩✩✩✩

It wasn’t until around noon did Calum leave the house and go to run his grandmother’s quick errand. He knew the name of the boutique and knew the name of the street it was on, so it wouldn’t be too hard to find it. Since his grandparents took his gramps’ truck, Calum was left with Grams’ station wagon, and it took him a minute to adjust the seat since his grandmother was significantly shorter and with the settings she had, Calum’s knees were practically up to his chin.

The drive wasn’t long—not that any drive from one location in Bridgelake to another was more than fifteen minutes—and Calum parked the car along the sidewalk before hopping out and pocketing the keys. Calum really hoped Olivia was at the store, but his grandmother had texted him that he could just ask anyone that he was there to pick up stuff for her.

He walked into the boutique called Moonflower, blinking at the store. Everything was split into color coordinated sections, each containing only clothes and accessories of specific colors, which Calum found kind of cool. A woman by the door chirped out a greeting and Calum shot her a quick smile before making his way towards the back where he could see was the register.

It was fairly busy in the store, women of all ages looking about and a few men here and there, and Calum was nearly to the front when he heard a familiar voice call, “Calum?”

He let out a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Olivia and her pretty blue eyes, shoulders sinking as she made her way over to him. She was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black blouse tucked in, complete with a small headset, and Calum was aware of the brief thought that flew by in his mind—a thought that couldn’t help but acknowledge how cute she looked in her uniform.

“Hey,” he greeted her, the smile coming to his face a lot more easily than he thought. “How’re you doin’, Olivia?”

He hadn’t seen her for a few days, since their outing the other night, but the two still texted. She was the only person, other than the boys back home, that Calum came to regularly texting, and he found himself really enjoying her company, whether it be in person or virtually. Olivia was one of the few people in Calum’s life that knew how to keep a conversation going, that was interested in what he had to say and Calum couldn’t help but return the sentiment.

“I’m good,” she smiled, blue eyes glinting under the bright lights of the store before she asked, “What brings you here?”

“Oh, uh, I’m here to pick up something for Grams?” he told her, his answer coming out as a question, wondering if Olivia could help him out. Hoping that she could. “She said she ordered some stuff and that I could just come by and pick it up for her.”

Realization dawned on Olivia as her lips parted. “Oh, yeah, right. Give me a second, yeah? I’ll go get it from the back.”

Calum nodded as Olivia walked around him, heading off to the back of the store as he lingered about. He looked around, noticing the store had practically everything that a boutique did, his eyes on a bunch of scarves and accessories. Calum’s fingers trailed over the soft fabric of the scarves and he looked at the designs for the cell phone cases, wondering if his mum or sister would want something of the sort. It got cold in London. Maybe he could buy a scarf for Mali.

As he waited, Calum’s eyes happened to trail over to a rack of socks, chuckling to himself at the designs on the unisex socks. His eyebrows raised as he caught sight of a pair of blue socks with dogs printed on them, with the furry animals wearing a beanie and glasses, and Calum found himself picking up a packet of those kind and grinning at them, finding them to be the most amusing and best things ever.

“Here you go.”

Calum jumped slightly, hastily putting the socks back on the rack as he turned around, catching sight of Olivia standing there with a Moonflower bag, missing the curious look that flashed across her face. “Oh,” he blinked before taking it from her, smiling as he added, “Thanks, Liv.”

The nickname just slipped out of his mouth, something she was commonly known by but not used by Calum, and for some reason he found himself strangely worrying if she would be okay with that. Some people were weird with nicknames like that.

But then he saw the soft smile on her face, one that even though it was subtle it still emphasized her cheekbones, and Calum couldn’t help but smile back, feeling his neck warm. Jeez—since when did he blush because of a girl? Olivia just smiled and Calum found himself wanting to smile back without pretense.

“So what’re your plans for today?” Olivia asked casually. She knew she should be getting back to work, especially with the promotion just about being handed to her, but walking away from Calum seemed so. . . Unappealing.

Calum raised his eyebrows, his smile turning into a smirk as he mused, “Why? Got another adventure planned?”

Olivia let out a laugh, a sound so pretty to Calum’s ears, enough to make his heart pick up a pace or two. “Depends on your answer.”

He chuckled before shrugging. “Nothing, as usual. Grams and Gramps are in Wilmington for the day and won’t be back ‘til late. So it’s just me.”

Olivia pouted her lips in thought, prompting Calum’s gaze to almost immediately flicker to her mouth, feeling his throat tighten at the sight of her pink lips. Get a fucking grip, man, he chided himself. “Wanna come over to my place for dinner?” Olivia asked, surprising Calum. “Alana and I order tons of food most Saturday nights and have movie marathons. You’re more than welcome to join.” She added with a grin, “It’s not as much of an adventure, but my sister and I are pretty good company.”

A rush of gratitude flooded Calum at that, and not for the first time since the night of seeing the play did Calum feel fortunate to have found a friend in Olivia. Sure, he still didn’t leave the house as much because she was busy with work and he had no one else to hang out with, except for when he took Bruno out on walks or accompanied his grandparents on errands, but Olivia was there, too. Maybe not physically, but they were texting whenever she could, since her schedule was a lot busier than Calum’s.

Maybe he should get a job.

Calum pushed back a snort. Not likely.

“Sure, if you and your sister don’t mind,” he found himself answering, smiling as Olivia’s grin widened.

“Not at all,” she grinned, her face lighting up with that smile of hers. “I’ll text you the address. Come by around, like, six or seven.”

He nodded and Olivia was bidding him goodbye since she had to go back to work, and Calum found himself leaving the boutique with a smile that only Olivia seemed to be able to bring out in him. And it was strange and maybe a little bit crazy, Calum knew, how one girl could somehow so easily change his attitude when he came to Bridgelake with one as moody and bad as his.

There was a little voice in the back of his head teasing him about Olivia’s words, about the magic of Bridgelake. That same voice was telling him maybe it was all Olivia. Calum pushed it away. He truly sounded crazy.

                                             ✩✩✩✩✩

“Oi! What happened to you promising me the last breadstick?”

Alana grinned unapologetically after swallowing the smaller piece of cheesy bread whole, shrugging innocently at Calum as she hummed, “You snooze, you lose.”

“You can’t trust her around your food, Calum,” Olivia said as she wandered back into the living room, a bottle of beer in each hand before handing one to Calum and settling down next to him on the couch. “She’ll steal it right off your plate. Sometimes even off your spoon.”

Calum shook his head in amusement, his grin widening when Alana snickered from where she sat on the floor. The younger girl then grabbed the TV remote, switching over to Netflix so they could find the first movie of the night they were going to watch. Calum had been over for about an hour now and their food had arrived from the local pizza place around twenty minutes ago, and they already finished all the cheesy bread before even picking the first movie.

He felt immediately at home in Olivia’s apartment, big enough for her and her sister with a joint yet open living room and kitchen space with a hallway leading down to where the girls’ bedrooms were. There were many pictures around the house of the girls with their family, and Calum had felt his heart tug in his chest at the smiling pictures of Olivia and Alana with their parents. He couldn’t imagine how they lived with a dead mother and imprisoned father, and with the smiles he’d seen on their faces so far already, he never would’ve guessed the girls had been through hell.

And with the horrendous way some people in this town treated them with, how they still went through with it with smiles.

He took a sip of his beer, sitting tucked in the corner of the three seater couch, right arm on the arm rest and left draped over the back of the couch, when Alana turned her head around to shoot her sister a wicked smirk. “You know what tonight’s theme is, don’t you, Livvy?”

Calum glanced at the older girl, catching the wary expression cross her face. “No. . . What?” Olivia asked hesitantly, her gaze flickering back to the screen and Calum saw the way her face fell. He followed her gaze, saw that Alana had stopped at the horror/thriller section of Netflix, and heard Olivia let out a groan. “Can we not, please?”

“Nope,” Alana happily chirped, scrolling through the options.

Calum quirked an eyebrow at Olivia, whose shoulders had sunk and face fell, and she saw him looking at her as she huffed. “I hate horror films.”

He smirked, amused. “Never would’ve guessed,” he responded, sarcasm tickling his voice as Olivia rolled her blue eyes and muttered for him to shut up.

“Oh, wait, I know!” Alana suddenly yelled, making the other two jump in surprise as the fourteen year old got to her feet. “Oh, my God I know exactly what we can watch!”

She ran off down the hall, bare feet thudding against the floor as Calum and Olivia stared after her with raised eyebrows until Olivia sighed, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad,” Calum assured her, laughing into his beer bottle when the blue eyed girl shot him a deadpanned look. Then, cheekily, Calum shot her a wink as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Olivia’s cheeks heated up at his playful words, unsuccessfully hiding her smile in her own bottle as she took a sip, and Calum could tell because he saw the way her cheeks turned up. He felt almost satisfied, knowing he could make her blush.

Alana ran back into the room and without saying anything to either of them, went up to the TV and turned on the DVD player before putting in whatever movie she brought from her room. Olivia and Calum watched, the former a lot more apprehensive than the latter, as Alana switched the channels, and Olivia let out a groan when the words Sinister appeared on the TV.

“Oh, my God—I’m going to die,” Olivia breathed, her eyes wide. She knew of this movie, had seen the trailer for it when Alana played it for her when she was trying to convince her sister to buy it for her. Unlike Olivia, Alana loved scary films. Whether they were trashy, melodramatic horror or full-fledged horror films that left people having nightmares. And just how Alana loved them, Olivia didn’t see any difference in any of them—they all scared her.

Olivia only bought her sister the movie because she knew Alana wouldn’t stop bitching about it, and because she knew her sister never had nightmares about horror films. But Olivia could barely get halfway through the first time Alana tried to get her to watch it with her, and she knew she wasn’t going to be any less scared now.

To make matters worse, Alana excitedly turned off the lights, enveloping the room in complete darkness save for the glow of the TV, and Olivia swallowed the tight lump in her throat as her sister hit play before sitting comfortably on a floor cushion with her back against the couch Olivia and Calum occupied.

Quickly, Olivia finished off the rest of her beer, knowing the potential jump scares were either going to make her spill the drink or choke on it, and put the empty bottle on the coffee table. Calum and Alana were happily munching away on the pizza, and Olivia wasn’t sure if she should even try to pick up a slice, too nervous for any potential scares that would come her way. She really fucking hated scary movies, and of course the universe would give her a little sister that thrived off of them.

At least Ethan Hawke was in the movie. He was hot.

Of course, that wasn’t entirely enough to make Olivia enjoy the movie. In fact, nearly half way through it, she brought her knees up to her chest and faced her body to the arm rest, back to Calum, cheek resting on her knees and hands brought up to cover her eyes to watch the movie through her fingers. There had been a few scary scenes already with that creepy monster thingy the movie revolved around, and the very sight of it freaked Olivia out.

And when another home movie started playing in the movie they were watching, where the music got loud and intense and downright terrifying because people were dying in it, Olivia closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against her knees, truly unable to watch it. She dismissed the fact that she was probably acting like a big baby, with Calum sitting right there, because she couldn’t help it. She was going to kill Alana for this.

The music was still loud, telling Olivia that the scene was still going on, and she let out a gasp when she felt a hand on her left side, quickly looking over her left shoulder—away from the TV—to see Calum reaching over for her. She stared, surprised, as he offered her a smile and gestured for her to come over.

Olivia took in a deep breath, her heart pounding—most definitely not from the movie anymore—and quickly turned, refusing to look at the TV as Calum kept his arm outstretched for her. She shifted towards him, feeling her cheeks warm up as his arm then moved around her shoulder, and Olivia was suddenly enveloped in Calum’s warm embrace with her knees still brought up and face pressed against his chest, cringing when the music grew more intense, hoping to calm herself down when she inhaled Calum’s familiar vanilla scent. It brought her a wave of comfort, especially when she felt his hand rub her arm and his chin rest atop her head to keep her from looking, knowing that she didn’t want to unless the truly frightening parts had passed.

All the while, Olivia wondered if Calum could feel her quickening heart—just like she could feel his under her ear.

Olivia would be embarrassed that Calum had to comfort her during a movie night she invited him to, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Being in his embrace unexpectedly brought her solace that surpassed the terror the stupid movie brought. So instead of feeling like an idiot, Olivia welcomed the comfort Calum was giving her, reveling in the softness of his shirt and his familiarly pleasant scent and his warmth.

When the music from the movie died down, Calum lifted his chin from her head and murmured, “Alright, you can look now.”

Taking a breath, Olivia chanced a glance at the TV, seeing Ethan Hawke’s character talking to a police officer and she let out the breath she just inhaled. Instead of moving away from Calum, she found herself staying close, resting her cheek against his chest and watching the movie, ready to look away if something freaky began happening.

She completely missed the smile growing on Calum’s face at her closeness, but didn’t miss the way his heart was a steady, happy beat under his chest. It may or may not be because of her, but it definitely brought a smile to her face.

After the God forsaken horror movie ended, with a jump scare at the end neither Calum nor Olivia saw coming, resulting in her letting out a short scream and an amused laugh from both Calum and Alana, Olivia demanded they watched something heartfelt and light. No way was she going to bed with that movie being the last thing she watched.

They ended up watching one of the Scooby-Doo movies—which, although it wasn’t a scary film, still had Olivia and Calum sitting right next to each other, sides pressed and welcoming the warmth each other provided. Neither moved, neither wanted to move, away, and Olivia was finding it difficult not to let her lips break out into the smile they desperately fought for.

By the time they were done, it was a little after eleven at night, and all the food and jump scares had tired Olivia out. So the three of them cleaned up the living room, ridding of the empty boxes and putting the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Thanks for coming, Calum,” Alana smiled at the man as he put on his shoes. “It was really fun—you should come again next week.”

Calum playfully narrowed his eyes at her, sitting up straight and shrugging on his leather jacket. “You gonna steal my food next time?”

Her grin widened, not at all innocent, bringing a smile to Calum’s face as she shrugged. “We’ll see.” When Olivia returned from her room, having excused herself to grab something, Alana gave Calum a hug. He was surprised, but returned the gesture with a soaring heart as Olivia smiled at them. “See you later, Calum. Goodnight!” Alana chirped happily before turning and running down the hallway.

Olivia smiled after her sister, her hands behind her back as Calum chuckled softly. “She really likes you,” Olivia told him as they walked towards the door. “Thanks for joining us tonight.”

 “Thanks for inviting me,” Calum returned with a genuine smile as he opened the door. Honestly, he really was grateful that Olivia welcomed him here, included him in a night for her and her sister. He would probably be bored out of his mind at the house if he just stayed there, so being around Olivia and Alana was definitely a step up. Calum found himself enjoying their company—he already knew he liked hanging around Olivia, and he found himself adoring Alana and the utter spunk the young girl carried. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Olivia nodded before letting out a sheepish laugh. “Even if I was using you to hide from the first movie. Thank you for that,” she added, her cheeks once again warming as she recalled his strong arm around her, the occasional soft words he’d whisper to assure her that it was okay. She felt like a baby needing all of that reassurance, but coming from Calum. . . Olivia found her thoroughly enjoying it.

“And as my thanks,” Olivia began once more, pushing back the thoughts of her and Calum’s proximity, her grin widening as she brought her hands around from behind her back, “I got you something.”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up as he caught sight of the lavender Moonflower bag, letting out a scoff of a laugh as he took it from the grinning brunette. “What’s this?” he asked, dipping his left hand into it. When he pulled it out, Calum let out a louder laugh as he caught sight of the blue socks with dressed dogs on them, the very socks he’d been eyeing at the boutique earlier today. “No way.”

Olivia’s grin widened at the sound of his laugh and wide smile on his face. “Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing those bad boys,” she teased, clasping her hands behind her back. “Honestly, if you weren’t going to buy them for yourself, I totally was.”

His heart was light, the smile on his face easy and genuine because how fucking great was Olivia? The socks were dorky and adorable and Calum loved them, and he was absolutely surprised that she had managed to see his interest in them and decided to act on it. This gift wasn’t at all necessary, but the mere thought of it had Calum’s body igniting with genuine gratitude.

“Thank you, Olivia,” Calum laughed, grinning at the socks before putting them in the bag. He then brought his free arm up, and Olivia stepped into his embrace as her arms wrapped around his waist. Calum’s eyes closed at their closeness, her flowery scent making his heart race. “You’re absolutely incredible.”

Her blush intensified, cheeks probably resembling tomatoes as she modestly joked, “I try, I try.”

They pulled away and Olivia too a steadying breath, shoving her hands in the pockets of her loose sweatpants as she smiled up at Calum, fingers itching to brush back the few curls swooping across his forehead. Her heart felt as though it was about to fly out of her chest with the way his dark eyes were looking at her, as if he was taking her in, and she honestly prided herself for her legs not giving out beneath her. How was anyone supposed to stand upright when Calum was looking at them like that?

Suddenly there was a sound of a phone beeping, and Calum had to force himself to look away from Olivia as he pulled his phone out, seeing that he had a text from his grandmother, asking when he’d be home. “I should get going,” Calum sighed, looking back at Olivia, the soft smile returning. “Thank you for tonight. And this,” he added, lifting the bag slightly.

Olivia returned the smile, nodding along. “No problem,” she told him earnestly as Calum stepped out in the hallway. She held the doorknob, leaning against the door as she hopefully asked, “Text me when you get home?”

It was a short drive, Olivia knew, one she’s made hundreds of times. But a chance to talk to Calum again even after he left her house from being there for hours? Olivia didn’t want to pass it up.

Neither did Calum, it seemed, as he smiled and promised, “Of course.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @calsangel @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @txcobell @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @liviibi123 @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @heartbreak-5sos @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @hzi0 @aulxna @mermaiden004 @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 

[hetalialoverwrites]

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Part 11

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        Ben drove through the forest on his moped, you on the back behind him. You were leaning on him with your arms wrapped around his waist, making him smile as a warm feeling filled him. Your wings were spread out directly behind you so you wouldn't stop the bike as it drove. You closed your eyes and leaned on him, enjoying the breeze on your skin and feathers. You sighed happily, making Ben smile as he heard the sound next to his ear. Once Ben stopped, you both got off and put the helmets down, Ben taking your hand. "Come on, this way." He smiled at you gently and started to lead you down a forest path. You looked around, feeling completely at home surrounded by all the nature. This was honestly the best place Ben could have taken you to. Looking in front of you, your eyes lit up when you saw a giant valley with a creek at the bottom, dimming a bit when you wondered how you were going to cross the hanging bridge that went across it. You walked in front of Ben, feeling his eyes on you and you skipped onto the bridge. You stopped a few steps onto it and turned around, flashing him a wonderful smile and sending a blush to his cheeks as the light hit you. Something was off though, there were odd shadows around you and the light seemed to shine off something just a little above you.

        "Ben, this place is amazing!" You exclaimed, eyes wide as you took in everything, "Thank you so much for taking me here!" Ben laughed a bit, "We aren't even to our destination yet." He teased, walking up to you and taking your hand. You glanced down at your hands before looking back up at him, your smile softening, "I know, but I adore nature, you know? Being here after so long trapped on the Isle is like a breath of fresh air." You admitted, looking around with a peaceful look on your face. Ben watched you curiously as you let go of his hand and sauntered further across the bridge, playing around but making sure not to have him too close. "Tell me something about yourself that you've never told anyone," Ben said, following behind. You looked back at him, "Something I've never told anyone?" You echoed, before tilting your head back to think. "Hm... Oh! Here's one. I've never stolen anything before." You admitted. Ben laughed, "Really? That's it?" He asked. You turned around and sent him a pout, crossing your arms as you walked backward, "Everyone on the Isle has stolen something except me." You told him, stopping when he kept laughing, "Oh alright. Fine, I'll give you another one. I can talk to the trees." You told him, waiting to see his reaction.

        Ben paused his laughter and stopped in front of you, looking down at you with a curious grin on his face. "You can talk to trees?" He asked. "Yep! I can talk to trees. Is that so hard to believe? Cinderella can talk to animals, why can't I talk to trees?" You shot back, giving him a challenging look. He noticed the amused tone in your voice and smirked, "Alright, I am going to go tell a tree something where you can't hear, and you have to tell me what I said to it." Ben declared. "Oh yeah?" You challenged, grinning at him. "Yeah," Ben said as you both walked off the bridge. Staying far enough where you couldn't hear him, but close enough he could still see you, Ben whispered something to a tree. "Alright!" He called. With an amused expression, you walked over to him and put your hand on the tree before snorting and turning to look at Ben with an extremely amused expression, "Your middle name is Florence?" You asked, shocking the prince. "You can talk to the trees!" He shouted, throwing his hands up in shock. You smirked and leaned against the tree, "Yeah, I know." "How can you do that?" He asked. You winked at him before continuing to walk down the path, "Talent." Ben watched you for a moment with a crooked grin before shaking his head and jogging to take your hand in his. 

        "Alright, close your eyes, I'll lead you the rest of the way," Ben whispered in your ear, causing you to flush pink. "Okay..." You obediently closed your eyes, following him slowly and keeping your wings close to you so you didn't bump into anything. You followed Ben's quiet directions so you wouldn't fall until he stopped you and you could feel him moving behind you. you bristled and cast subtle magic to make him oblivious to your wings, but you still pulled them tightly to you. "Okay... Open." Ben murmured softly in your ear, watching you for your reaction. You opened your eyes and were surprised and touched to see a picnic at the bottom of a steep hill, set up on a large beautifully ruined stone structure. It was almost fully surrounded by water as it was bordering a lake. You turned to look at Ben with a crooked grin, "You did all this?" You asked incredulously. Ben smiled shyly and nodded towards the picnic, "Go on." He encouraged. You smiled brighter and ran down the steep hill toward the picnic. Ben was surprised as he watched, it almost looked like you were floating each time you jumped further down, wind surrounding you just before you landed.

        You and Ben sat down on the red checkered blanket, talking and eating for what seemed like forever. "Is this your first time?" Ben asked softly, looking up at you as he was laying on his side. You looked at him, swallowing the chocolate you had in your mouth. "Hm... Well, people don't really date much on the Isle, it's more like gang activity. However, I have been on a few dates before." You chuckled. Ben paused and laughed, "No-. No- I meant, is this the first time eating chocolate?" Ben corrected with a dorky grin on his lips. You flushed, "Oh, uh... Yeah. We don't really have this stuff on the Isle. Is it bad?" You asked embarrassed, wiping off your hands. Ben chuckled under his breath and reached up, leaning forward and brushing some chocolate from the corner of your mouth and licking it off his thumb. You flushed red and looked away, "You know, I've done all the talking. Your turn. I don't really know much about you. Tell me something." Ben said, propping himself up.

        "Uh, well..." You hesitated, thinking about what you could tell him. "I am 16 years old. I am a twin, Mal being my twin sister. I've only ever lived in one place, and I really enjoy the forest." You told him, smiling a bit. "Hey! I'm 16, I've only lived in one place before! We have so much in common already!" Ben joked, grinning. You laughed bitterly, "No, trust me. No, we don't." Ben's smile faltered and he looked down, so you changed the subject. "And now you're going to be King. Isn't that exciting?" You asked, trying to catch his eyes. "Well..." He trailed off. "Yeah?" "A crown isn't what makes a king," Ben said, looking into your eyes. You sighed with a melancholy smile, "To some people, it does." You said, remembering your mother's first love. Ben, noticing the somber mood now, stood up. "Let's go swimming!" he declared, already unbuttoning his shirt. A slight panic filled you, "Swimming? N-No, I'm alright here." You shook your head, leaning back as he took his shirt off.

        "Come on, it will be fun!" He encouraged. You shook your head faster, "No, n-no thanks. I'll be here watching instead." You faked a smile as the idea of your wings pulling you down as they were heavy when wet and you didn't know how to swim made you scared. Ben shrugged and took off his pants, revealing swim trunks, "Alright, come join me when you want." He agreed easily before waving and jogging up to the tallest rock wall around the lake. You stood up and went over to one of the pillars, leaning against it as you saw Ben ready himself on the edge. He yelled out a roar before jumping into the lake. You laughed at him for a moment before turning away, a small smile on your face. 'This is so fun! Ben's been unbelievably sweet the whole day...' You thought to yourself before you remembered, 'Right... Of course he is... He's under a spell... Do I have to leave- Yes I do. I must get Mother out of that place. Will he forgive me when I steal the wand? Ha! Absolutely not. Why would he? Everyone in Auradon thinks we are villains, he probably does too. Just touching the wand would prove them all right...' You sighed sadly, your smile following your mood. 

        After a few minutes of thinking, you turned around and looked over to watch Ben swim. You scanned the water, no sight of the prince. You started to panic. What if he was drowning? What was in this lake? What there were snakes!? "Ben!? Ben!! Ben where are you!?" You cried out, beating your wings strongly and diving into the water, taking a big gulp of air. You looked around and could feel yourself sinking so you tried to resurface, only to remember you can't swim. You thrashed in the water, trying to get to the surface to breathe when you felt someone's arms under you. You held onto Ben tightly as you two surfaced and you coughed up water. Ben walked across the shallow end and set you down on the stone structure, shaking his hair and wiping his face. You took in some deep breathes and looked at Ben, "You scared me! What were you doing down there so long, I thought you were in trouble!" You yelled, scolding him as he looked up at you.

        "Y-You can't swim?" Ben asked, panting a bit. "No!" You hissed at him. "You live on an island!" Ben furrowed his brows at you. "That has a barrier around it! It's safe to say that practically no one can swim!" You glared at him for a moment before leaning back on one of the pillars. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you pressed your hands against your eyes. "And now I'm soaked... But at least you're okay..." You whispered the last part. Ben blinked in surprise as he heard you before he cleared his throat, making you look at him. "Here. It’s a rock from the lake. Make a wish and throw it back." Ben said, looking into your eyes and handing it to you. As you looked down at it, Ben finally realized something was different about you. You had giant dark wings with red amber accents, reminding him of your eyes. You had horns on them as well which lead his eyes up to your head, where a pair of dark horns sat, reminding him much of your mother Maleficent. Sighing, you made a wish that your plan will go well, and you tossed the glowing rock back into the water.

        You looked up at Ben, "Ther-..." You cut yourself as you saw Ben's eyes scanning something above you and around you. You stared at him wide-eyed and moved your wing into your line of vision, watching as his eyes followed the movement. You glanced at your right-wing and realized it wasn't invisible anymore. You let out a shriek of fear and you beat your wings, launching yourself into the air. You watched Ben look up at you in surprise before you turned and flew into the trees, hiding amongst the branches. 'He saw me. He saw my wings and horns. He's going to hate me. He's going to tell everyone and then Mal and I are going to have to flee from angry mobs. What if they have those iron bombs prince Philip's mom has!? What if they have iron weapons for fighting faeries!? Aurora's kingdom is the only one that accepts the Fae, what are they going to do to me?' You wrapped yourself into a ball on one of the tree branches, hiding with your wings.

[writtingthing]

Crossing The Great Sea - Chapter 1 (Linked Universe)

Word count ; 2173 (Bound to be mistakes)

Archive of our own

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Wind was a cheery person. He tried his hardest to be happy, for himself and others. He didn’t hate anything, but he strongly dislike a few things. The dark was one of them. Not that he got scared of the dark or anything. He wasn’t afraid while walking through the dark woods with little light. No, he just missed the sun. The warm light on his skin. He missed the sea breeze flowing through his hair. They had been walking through these dark woods for what seemed like a while, though Four reminded him it had only been two days.

“Anyone recognize any of this.” Time asked. All the others glanced around, shaking their heads ‘no’.

“Are we going to take another break?” Sky asked, he had been sending glances to the sky the entire walk. Wind knew he missed the sun too, but in a different way. The Chosen Hero had practically grown up among the clouds.

Twilight shook his head, “We have no clue where we are, if we can walk a bit further, I say we should try.” Time nodded in agreement, then looked at the others. “We all good to keep moving?” Time looked in Hyrule’s direction, he had been quiet for most of the day.

All the heroes nodded, and the group continued forward. The walked into a canyon of sorts, large grey rocks on both sides of the group, but the sun seemed to reach them a but more. It was after passing over a fallen log and reaching a small clearing, still surrounded by rocks when the heroes heard Wind gasp.

They all turned expecting the youngest to have see something bad, but instead the Hero of the Wind had a big smile on his face.

“I know where we are!!” With more energy than earlier the hero's dashed forward climbing out of the clearing. “Follow me!!”

The others had a good guess of where they were as they followed the blue blur that was the youngest hero. Though, none of them were fully prepared for the sight that greeted them beyond the blinding light. Wind was standing at the edge of a cliff looking out onto a town, it was more like a few houses, with a big smile. Wind turned to the others, “Welcome to my home! Outset Island.”

“Wow.” Twilight spoke first. While yes, all of them had seen water and heard that Wind’s Hyrule was called the great sea, they had not been fully expecting to see ocean on all sides with nothing else in sight. They might have commented more if not for a voice on the other side of a suspension bridge.

“Big brother?!” The Heroes turned to see a small girl with blonde hair in pigtails and pointed ears. “Aryll!” WInd began to run rto her. The two hugged each other tightly.

“Big brother you’re back! Where did you go? Did you bring me anything? Where’s Tetra? How did you end up in the forest I didn’t see you arrive?” Aryll asked a few more questions then turned to behold the other heroes, “Who are they?”

“These are my friends! Time, Twilight, Wild, Four, Legend, Hyrule, Warrior, and Sky.” Wind pointed to each respectively, “Guys, this is my little sister Aryll.”

Aryll waved and asked more questions, which the youngest hero did his best to answer. The others began to take in the view. Twilight made his way to stand next to wild, who had gone slightly stiff.

“You gonna be ok?” Twi put a hand on Wild’s shoulder. Wild shrugged, “Yeah, stupid memories I can’t even remember.” Twilight offered a smile.

The heroes proceed to meet everyone in town, including Wind’s grandma who gave them soup. Wild nearly begged for the recipe.

“We should get moving.” Time told them, they had seated themself along the porch. “How?” Legend raised a brow and gestured to the open ocean, “If you haven’t noticed old man, we are stuck in the middle of an ocean.”

“We could always sail.” Sky chimed in.

“We have no boat.” Warriors looked along the coast, “and looks like most of these folks don’t either.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” The heroes turned to see a girl walking up to them. She wore a simple blue collared shirt dress, black leggings, and brown boots. Her brown eyes were sharp and her brown hair was put up into a small bun which sat on top of her head. “You boys need a ride.”

“And you have one?” Wild gestured once again to the empty beach.

She gave a small huff but didn’t drop her smirk, “My boys are coming back to pick me up, should be here tomorrow if the letter I got can be trusted. Once they get here I can give you boys a ride”

It was a surprise to see Wind step forward, eyes narrowed, “What’s your price.”

The girl raise her arms in defense, the two were the same allowing them to be face to face, “No price, it’s the least I can do for the Heroes of Hyrule.”

Wind seemed taken aback by her answer, “How….”

“I told her all about you brother!” Aryll gently hung on her brothers arm. “I told her stories in exchange to hear her stories. She’s a great listener.”

“And you are a great storyteller.” The women smiled, Aryll beamed at the complement.

“It would be improper if I didn’t introduce myself,” The women took a small bow, “Name’s Jacalyn, I am a traveler of sorts.” She gave a small jerk of her head as she spoke the last words. “I’ll leave to your family, if you want a spot on my ship it’s yours. The offers open.” With that she walked away, walking towards the forest.

“Should we trust her?” Legend had stated the question they had been thinking since Jacalyn left.

“Is there any reason why we can?” Sky played with his sailcloth as he spoke.

“She’s most likely a pirate,” Time explained, “most can’t be trusted.”

“Most.” Legend repeated.

“That means we can maybe trust her.” Warriors chimed in.

“Even if we can’t, we can take them if the try to attack us.” Wild glanced at the path she walked up, Jacalyn was sitting atop the cliff, gazing out towards the sunset.

“We don’t know how many we’d be facing.” Warriors had been in plenty of strategy meetings to know never underestimate the enemy.

“We faced the the destruction of hyrule, I think we can handle a couple pirates.’ Wild argued. “They give us a ride or we get a boat. Win Win.”

Twilight began to argue with Wild and Time knew that would go nowhere. Instead the eldest turned to the youngest, “Wind, what do you think, you know what kinda people come around here.”

Wind looked troubled, “I mean, the only bad people around here worked for Ganon, but…” Wind looked at the cliff. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“The ocean is pretty big…” Hyrule started but was immediately interrupted by Wind, “Yeah the ocean is big!! And maybe we were always on opposite ends! But You’d think I would have at least heard of her! Maybe passed her… I don’t know.” The Hero of the Wind lost energy as he talked.

“But,” Wind picked himself up, “I say we take the chance.”

The others nodded, some more slowly and it was decided, they would follow the strange girl.

“Glad to hear it.” Jacalyn shook Trime’s hand. She had a firm grip, maybe to show she wasn’t go to back down. Or maybe Time was just reading into it too much.

The other were around.

Wild was trying out his new recipe under the watchful eye of Wind’s grandmother.

Legend, Four and Warriors were sitting on the beach talking.

Hyrule was exploring the island.

Sky and Wind followed Aryll to her outlook to watch for the ship that was supposed to arrive soon.

And Twilight was by Time’s side, trying to get a read on their new companion. And it looked like she was trying to do the same.

“Time and Twilight right?” Jacalyn gave a lazy wink, “If we’re gonna be partners I guess I should learn all your names, right?”

“It would make things easier.” Twi managed to smile.

“So, you said you’re a traveler?” Time raised his brow.

“Yep, I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“So why are you here without your ship?”

“Well,” Jacalyn rubbed her neck, “Windfall Island is at least a day or two away, and we needed supplies. But, I wanted to learn about where the Hero of the Wind lived so the boys drops me off and went to get supplies.”

Before Time r Twi could question her word choice Wind and Aryll were rushing towards them shouting, Sky not too far behind.

“Look! Look!” Aryll shouted, pointing North. A medium sized ship was slowly approaching. “That’s your ship right?”

Jacalyn smiled at the girl with such fondness, “Yep. That the Kalar.”

“The Kalar?” Sky looked out towards the ship.

The ship itself looked like most others, a dull, worn down reddish brown color, the only difference being there was a blue accent color.

“Yep, where I come from it means ‘Traveler’, or at least I think.” The girl gave an awkward laugh.

Time sent Wind and Sky to round up the others, while he spoke to Twilight. Twi could hear Aryll talking to Jacalyn a few feet away.

“You’re leaving so soon?” Aryll gave a sad smile.

“Yeah, sorry, I got to get some of my boys home.” Jacalyn responded, her tone seemed to consist of sadness and something else, something Twilight couldn’t pick up on.

“Will you come back?”

“I can’t make any promises, but if I’m ever in the area, I’ll stop by. Ok?”

“Yeah!! You’ll bring more stories too right?”

“Only if you can tell me some new ones too!”

Aryll eagerly nodded, and Jacalyn smiled.

The ship proceed to dock and Wind could only count five men standing as the crew. Jacalyn waved at them and they all seemed pleased to see her.

While she walked up to the ship and, Time could only assume, explain the new arrangements to her crew, Four walked up to Time’s side.

“So we’re going through with this.” The smallest hero asked.

“Yep.” Time answered simply.

The boys said goodbye to Outset Island and boarded The Kalar.

Jacalyn introduced the heroes to ‘her boys’.

Regen was the smallest of her crew, standing an inch below Jacalyn. He had red hair and hazel eyes. His outfit consisted of a white undershirt, green vest, brown shorts and shoes. He had a gentle and warm voice, his personality seemed to match.

Qin was about as tall as Wild and had green eyes and brown hair. He seemed blunt and straightforward, but it was clear he cared for the rest. The man wore a simple purple button up shirt, grey pants, and black shoes.

Hal caught the eyes of the heroes. Their face and body was more feminine, but Jacalyn introduced him as the boy she has had around the longest. His eyes were a deep green and his hair was a faded blonde. His smile had a bit of mischief behind it. Like the others he wore an plain colored button up shirt, shorts and shoes.

Fellin was older man, his brown hair was starting to grey and his blue eyes were hazy. He seemed the most reserved of the bunch, his shoulders slouched under an invisible weight.

Willian seemed to be the youngest, his brown hair and eyes were bright. And his personality seemed similar to Wind’s.

There was one more person on the ship, a disheveled women. Her eyes, hidden behind round glasses, were a green were tired and her reddish brown hair was in a loose braid trailing down to her lower back. She wore a similar shirt dress to Jacalyn, though this woman’s was a dull green color reminding the heroes of the green most once dawned. Wind even noticed a similar belt to the one he once wore. “Sorry.” Was the first words the heroes heard she speak.

“Amila, there’s no need to apologize. These are the the heroes,” Jacalyn proceed to introduce them, “Guys, this is Amila, she’s kinda a fan.” Amila smiled awkwardly and fidgeted with her glasses.

The heroes were about to say something, Wind mostly, when Jacalyn narrowed her eyes and the entire boat seemed to go quiet.

The women smile was still present while she stepped forward, “I think were far enough now.” Time stiffened and felt the others do so as well.

“Now now,” Jacalyn’s smile was still there, “I just want to have a civil conversation.”

Twilight let out a low growl and Time watched as some of the crew members flinched.

“Just a simple ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ question.”

The light seemed to vanish from her eyes as she stared down the heroes.

“Most of you aren’t from this world are you?”

[scaryscarecrows]

Little Town (It's a Nosy Village)

Note: they're both babies (well, y'know, KIND OF) so Kitty's a little more reckless and Jonathan's accent is still very much a thing.

Jonathan privately considers Arlen to be the birthplace of every ‘small southern town’ stereotype. They’re spread out, but everybody knows everybody’s business, you go to church or else, and outsiders are welcomed in with wide smiles and gossiped about with wide eyes.

Well. Mostly. To a point. They’ve got their black side, and it’s larger than one would suppose, given the size of the place. Lobotomies happen-the last one he’s aware of took place when he was twelve. Too much of an outsider? You’ll be run out. Nothing so blatant as burning crosses or anything, just…social ostracization is a funny thing.

Why in the world the Richardsons moved here, of all places, is a mystery. They’re not churchgoers (Granny was horrified that her nearest neighbors were heathens), they’re not here for the farming opportunities (such as they are)…why.

He asked, once, out of genuine curiosity. It’s hot, it’s sunny, it’s so…small-town…it has no attraction whatsoever. Apparently Mr. Richardson was writing a book set in the area and wanted the peace. Jonathan doubts that-he was a government worker, for crying out loud-but he let it go. Selfishly, he’s glad. Their presence has granted him with what he hesitantly has dubbed a friend.

Kitty Richardson is five foot nothing of big eyes and freckles and giggling that he doesn’t try to understand. She is also, he has decided, fueled by sugar and Short Person Rage. Seriously, it’s the easiest thing in the world to tick her off. All one has to do is use her as an armrest.

Not that he would do that sort of thing, of course.

He’s read a couple of books involving multi-gendered friendships, and apart from the ridiculousness of ‘everybody decides to date at the end’, they also make the error of ‘good girl, idiot boy’.

This is a complete lie, and if he ever writes a book like that, he’s pointing that out. Kitty is always the one getting them into things. ‘Haunted bridge? Come on, let’s sneak out.’ ‘The fuck did you say about my chest, football player twice my height?’

No one believes him, because she’s tiny and because she’s very, very good at looking innocent and what-do-you-mean-I-didn’t-break-his-nose. Maybe he’s biased, but he thinks she could get away with murder, if she tried hard enough.

“Jonathan?” He blinks and looks down. “You okay?”

FINE FINE EVERYTHING’S FINE NO REASON TO DO SOMETHING STUPID.

“Just tired. Rain kept me up.” She doesn’t look convinced and he’s quick to run damage control. “I don’t think it’s rained like that since y’all moved in.”

He inwardly curses at the slip, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Good.

“Oh, good, so it doesn’t always rain like that.”

“We do get tornadoes.”

“What?” That was a squeak, and that was hilarious. “Tell me you’re joking. Please tell me you’re trying to see how much I’ll believe you.”

“No, we really do get tornadoes sometimes. Nothing awful, but…”

She stares at him in horror.

“I’m going to die.”

He nudges that mental image aside and crams the last of his books into his backpack. There. All set for the weekend, with a bit of light reading to do besides. If he gets any time, and if Granny doesn’t rifle through his backpack again.

He really, really hopes he doesn’t have to spend another night out There.

“Yeah, they might have to get you out of a tree.”

“I hate heights!”

“I really doubt you’d be conscious for that bit.” Or alive and he’d like to change the subject now, thanks. “Come on, a tree blew down last night, we have to take the long way home.”

The ground is squishy under their shoes, even after a whole day of sunshine. He wasn’t so lucky as to have the chapel catch fire, but the Higginson’s barn did-they barely managed to save the horse. Jonathan’s glad, on the horse’s behalf-it’s not her fault the owners are idiots.

And burning to death sounds like a horrible way to go.

They have to pass by the property on this route, and he can see the truck’s gone-probably into town proper for nails or somethin’. It could have been worse, as far as he can tell-the roof’s had, but the walls are still standing.

Kitty draws a sucker from her backpack, unwraps it, and waves it in front of him.

“Lick?”

“No, thank you.”

“Scared of cooties*?”

“Cooties are for children.” He leans back, spine cracking. “So are those, for that matter.”

“Only if you go to church.” she says innocently, pursing her lips around one side of it. It takes him a minute to realize what she’s implying and that mental image is going to be a bitch to get rid of. Thanks a lot.

“Kitty-!”

She cackles and promptly chokes. Serves her right.

The horse trots up to the fence. She looks none the worse for wear and she doesn’t shy back when he puts his hand out.

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“Probably not.” he says absently, letting her blow on his palm before leaning over to pat her neck. “Hey there, big girl, you have a rough night?”

She snorts and shifts obligingly so she’s parallel to the fence. Kitty takes a step back.

“Does she bite?”

“Not if you’re careful. Want to pet her?”

She eyes the horse, clearly a little nervous, and finally nods before rewrapping her sucker and sticking it in her back pocket.

“If she bites me, I’m blaming you.”

He grins-this old nag hardly snaps at flies, in all reality-and motions her over. The horse turns her head, mildly interested in the new small creature in the road.

“Put your hand up like this, nice and flat…easy there, big girl, we’re not gonna hurt you…”

The horse bends her head down and nudges Kitty’s palm. Kitty giggles, more of a surprised sound than anything.

“That tickles!”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s, uh…really big.”

“You’re very small.” he points out. She shoots him a dirty look. “I’m just saying.”

The mare finally draws her head back and bends down, cropping the grass at the base of the fence. Kitty pops her sucker back in her mouth and looks at her.

“Does she have a name?”

“No idea.” He shifts his backpack to his other shoulder and leans over to pat her neck again. “Good girl.” There’s the sound of the Higginson’s truck-a rattling thing that’s held together through duct tape and prayer-and he steps back. “We should go. They’re…they don’t like me too much.”

“Does anyone?”

“No.”

She loops her arm through his and he wonders why.

“That’s not true.”

“Mm.” No, seriously, why are they now connected. “If you say so.”

“My mum likes you. She says you’re a good influence.” That’s a first, and he’ll be smug about it once he solves the riddle of Why Is She Touching Him. “And I like you, even if you are a goddamn telephone pole.”

Well, that’s nice-wait what he’s very confused.

Also, she’s still touching him and yes it’s nice but there’s no logical reason for it. Books did not prepare him for this. Help.

“Wait. How does she like me? I haven’t met her yet.”

“I’ve told her things.”

Oh god. Like what? What sort of things do normal people tell their guardians about their friends?

He’s doomed.

* * *

He’s not doomed, as it turns out. Mrs. Richardson is a plump woman, a little taller than Kitty (not hard), who practically wrestles him to the dining room table and informs him that he will eat something of his own violation or she will bring out the feeding tube.

“Mu-um-”

“You didn’t tell me this!”

“I did, stop scaring him!”

This has never happened to him before. It’s confusing and he’s starting to wonder if he hit his head or something.

“Oh, Kitty, don’t be dramatic. What do you want to drink, sweetie?”

“Uh, just water, I think-”

“You’re sure? It’s no trouble-”

No. He needs control over this situation.

“No, water’d be fine. Please.” She eyes him as though he might sprout an extra head, but brings him a glass of ice water all the same. “Th-thank you, Ma’am.”

“Don’t you Ma’am me. Mary is fine.”

That goes against everything he knows and it’s just not going to work out. Sorry, Ma’am.

“Mu-um…”

“All right, all right. Behave.”

And with that, she leaves the room and he’s left to wonder what just happened. He thinks he might have just been Mothered, and he’s not sure how to feel about it.

“Mum’s…used to getting her own way.”

Well. He can see where she gets it, then.

He nods, a little overwhelmed, and takes a sip of his water. It’s…nice…in here. Warm. Things aren’t falling apart and his usual where’s Granny and how mad do her footsteps sound senses are quiet.

“Are you eating anything?”

“Motherrrr!”

“I don’t hear chewing!”

Kitty buries her face in her hands and groans, “My god, she’s embarrassing.”

Lest she really have a feeding tube tucked away somewhere, he takes a cookie from the plate. It looks okay. It’s still a little warm between his fingers, even.

Kitty hooks an ankle around a free chair and drags it over to use as a footrest.

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a feeding tube.”

“Pretty sure?” The cookie’s not bad, and he’s relieved to find that it is indeed chocolate chip rather than deceitful bastard, raisin. “That’s…alarming.”

“She was a nurse. We may or may not have some things she borrowed from the hospital upstairs. In case of emergencies.”

“Feeding tube?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

Better be safe than sorry. He reaches for another cookie.

“I expect those cookies gone!” comes a shout from the other room. “Is that clear?”

“Watch your crap telly and stop trying to force-feed him from the living room!”

“Don’t make me come in there!”

That’s it. He knows what’s happened. Either he’s dead, or he’s dying and this is some strange dream.

“We’re eating, Mrs. Richardson.” There. Maybe that’ll placate her.

“Mary!”

Kitty plunks her head onto the table and reaches blindly for the plate.

“Kill me now.”

 *Kitty would more likely use the term dreaded lurgi, but we’ll say she picked up the ‘cooties’ term recently (because the comedic flow would be jarred otherwise, so sue me).

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

Less than Human (pt. 2)