#open water reckless fishes

[elizaleclerc]

suddenly, it was everything ✿

lando norris x reader

summary: fem best friend!reader and lando take a beach trip with friends as their relationship slowly turns into something more…(warning! smut & descriptions of blood)

songs: pink + white by frank ocean , the elevator by lizzy mcalpine , lunch by billie eilish (lol)

author’s note: i don’t typically write smut but i got an itch and had to scratch it with this one ; everyone knows about his feelings for you BUT you / hurt comfort / it’s always been you / other drivers playing matchmaker <3

word count: 4.6k

The warm sand tickled your legs as the ocean waves gently lapped at your feet. You had left your group basking in the sun on the beach to cool off in the refreshing water. Your close-knit friend group loved taking vacations during breaks in the intense racing season. This time, you found yourselves on the picturesque coast of France, staying in Alex's luxurious beachfront condo. You were grateful that he graciously offered to let everyone use his space for this trip.

Even as the only girl in the group, you were always welcomed with open arms, especially by Lando, who considered you his best friend. Charles, Lewis, and Oscar had all come to see you as a dear friend as well. They never complained about your company, as they relished in the joy of having you along on their adventures. Together, you formed a tight-knit family, seeking solace and tranquility in each other's company before diving back into the high-stakes world of racing.

You waded deeper into the water, feeling the gentle caress of the waves against your knees. Suddenly, you thought you heard the thump of feet on the sandy shore behind you. Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of Lando running towards you, his feet pounding against the sand with reckless abandon. You let out a playful yelp as you knew he was coming to splash water all over you.

Without hesitation, you raced further into the water, diving head first into the oncoming waves in an attempt to escape him. The cool water enveloped your body, sliding smoothly over your sun-kissed skin that was glistening with oiled sunscreen. Emerging from the water, you looked around and saw Lando swimming a few feet away from you, his bronze muscles rippling as he glided through the water effortlessly.

“How’d you swim away so fast?” He shouted, making his moves closer to you. 

“Maybe you’re just too slow.” You let out a hearty laugh. Eventually his body was swimming inches away from you as the two of you moved further out from the shoreline.

“Well, maybe you’re just a fish.” He added, out of breath. You saw the bodies of your friends laying on the sand grow smaller and smaller the further you swam away.

As you and Lando waded in the cool water, you could feel his gaze upon you. You turned to him with a grin, taking in the sight of his tanned face and wet curls. The sunlight danced off his green eyes, making them sparkle like crystalized emeralds. "What?" you asked, noticing a subtle look on his face.

"Nothing, you just...you look very happy," he replied, causing your smile to grow even wider.

You couldn't help but giggle at his observation. "Well, I am happy. I've always loved the ocean," you sighed as you leaned back and let the water support your weight, floating on your back. As parts of your stomach and thighs broke through the surface of the water, you caught Lando's gaze lingering on your body once again.

You hadn’t gotten these looks from him before, or maybe you just never noticed them. You had known Lando since you two were small children, and had followed his side as he made his way through his career, being there with him every step of the way. As his closest friend, of course there was media circulation rumoring a romance between the two of you in the McLaren paddock. But you knew that you would never risk ruining your friendship for a romance. It wasn’t until now as you floated with the movement of the waves that you started to see how people could start those rumors. 

~

On the sand, Charles and Alex watched you and Lando swim out in the distance. “I figured he’d chase after her.” Charles sighed once Lando had jumped up to chase you in the water. 

“It’s so interesting, watching them interact,” Alex added, “so close to being a couple yet so far away.”

“And she still doesn’t know he’s obsessed with her?” Lewis asked, perplexed. 

“Nope.” Oscar chimed in, “I’m just as ready for them to make it official as anyone else. I’m tired of him coming to me to talk about his feelings.” They were each laying on their own beach towels, sunglasses propped on their noses, gossiping about you and Lando like elderly ladies at teatime. 

“You know it’s nice to talk about your feelings, Osc.” Charles laughed and Oscar shook his head. 

“Not when it’s the same thing over and over again. ‘Oscar I swear I’m in love with her.’, ‘Oscar did you see what she was wearing today.’, ‘When she hugged me she smelled so good Oscar.’” He mimicked Lando’s voice and accent, earning laughs from all of the boys on the beach.

“I wish there was something we could do to just push them along. Something to really make her see just how whipped he is.” Alex thought out loud,and the group sat in silence thinking for several moments. 

“Actually- we might be able to.” Lewis finally spoke, and everyone turned his head towards him. “Lando does so much for her everyday without her actually realizing why he does it. Maybe we can sneakily drop some comments about it. Just to make her think. I’ve always wanted to play matchmaker.” 

“That could work,” Oscar hummed, already thinking of how he’d approach things. 

“Are we sure that she’s actually going to like him back? I don’t think he’d be able to handle that rejection.” Alex questioned. 

Charles scoffed, “Oh, she definitely likes him. It just needs to click in her head.” He turned his head and saw your towel folded up by the bags, and decided to grab it, hiding it under his own towel. 

“Mate, what are you doing?” Lewis grinned, and Charles held a smirk on his face. 

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

~

For at least an hour, you and Lando splashed and swam in the crystal clear water, mesmerized by the breathtaking scenery of the French coastline. The sun's warm rays caressed your skin as you lazily floated on your back, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky above. But as your fingertips started to wrinkle and prune from being submerged for so long, you reluctantly decided it was time to bask in the sun's warmth and dry off on the sandy beach.

Lando was behind you as you stepped out of the water, following you back to where everyone was laying out. “You guys should really get in that water, it feels great.” You exclaimed, your body still dripping wet as you stood next to them. 

“No thanks, Y/N, the sun and sand is plenty enough for me.” Oscar replied, his inflection filled with sass. 

“Fine,” You sighed contently, searching for your towel amidst all of the bags of stuff the group brought down. 

“Looking for something?” Charles asked, noticing your confused look. 

“Yeah, I don’t know where my towel is. I swear it was right here when I left.” You were so confused as to how you could possibly lose a bright pink towel, but you had done it. You were about to just lay on the sand to dry off, but soon Lando was laying down his own towel.

“Here, just use mine.” He offered, placing it in the spot you were laying earlier. 

Your brows furrowed, “But then you won’t have one.”

Lando shrugged, “Eh, I’ll just run back up to the house and grab another one.” Your lips parted in shock. The group had traveled far down the barren coast line, and Alex’s place was at least a mile walk, all through sand, from where they were. 

“I don’t want you to have to do that,” You objected, knowing that his body must be tired from swimming for the last hour. You felt the tiredness in your own body as you were more than ready to lay down again. 

“Y/N, I’m an athlete, I think I can manage a little walk back to the house. Don’t worry about it.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, motioning for you to lay down on his towel. So you silently obliged, laying down on the warm, dry fabric. 

As Lando’s footsteps slowly trudged away, Oscar turned to look at you lying next to him. “That was nice, huh.” 

You nodded, as you grabbed your sunglasses and hat. “Yeah, I don’t know why he was so nice about it.” 

Charles laughed, “He certainly doesn’t treat any of us like that.” 

~

His words stuck with you for the remainder of the time you guys were on the beach that day. Slowly, you worked your way through your memories with Lando. He was your best friend, the kindest man you knew, and yet he did treat you differently than the other guys. He wouldn’t have given his towel to Alex or Lewis and walked all the way back up to the house. You thought back to the multitude of times Lando had brought both of you lunch on busy days around the paddock, taking the time out of his schedule to eat with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. 

Once Lando came back, he had grabbed some fresh cut fruit, offering you some first before anyone else. He put his new towel down next to you, as the two of you shared orange slices. The sweet citrus flavor flooded your mouth, but you were still stuck on Charles’s words. 

You laid on your stomach, head resting on your folded arms as you looked at Lando. He was laying on his back, his eyes closed under his sunglasses. Your eyes traveled all around him, watching his curls slowly dry the longer you guys were in the sun. Your sight moved to his slightly sun kissed cheeks, and admired the way some of his freckles had begun to show with the introduction of the summer season. You observed how the bridge of his nose had a small bump in it, rounding out at the tip of his nose, the curves of his lips leading to his perfectly chiseled jawline.

The image of Lando’s face had been imprinted in your mind since you first met him, but you weren’t sure you had ever really paid attention to the details like you were now. 

~

The group called it quits for the day just before dinner time. You all made the trek back to the house, and everyone showered the coarse sand and sunscreen off of their bodies. With fresh clean and tan skin, the group chatted around the kitchen as everyone pitched in to help make dinner. 

You and Lando had been put in charge of chopping up the vegetables that were going into the pasta salad. You had to convince Lando that you could be trusted with the large and sharp knife. He prepped and washed the veggies as you chopped them. The two of you stood inches apart, his arm often grazing yours, sending chills through your body. You had never felt that way before with his slight touch, which sent your mind whirling once again.

Suddenly, as you were going to make another slice into some round baby tomatoes, the sound of broken glass echoed through the room as Lewis dropped a bottle of sauce from the cabinets, your body jolting in shock. With the harsh movement, the blade from the knife cut part of your finger. 

You winced  as trickles of blood blended into the vibrant red of the tomato juice. Lando’s eyes shot over to you, and immediately noticed your fresh cut. It was deep into your skin, slicing right through the fleshy part of the tip of your index finger.

You stood motionless, staring at the deep gash on your finger as blood ran down your hand. Suddenly, Lando's strong hands grasped your arms and guided you to the sink. The other boys crowded around, their faces etched with worry as they repeatedly asked if you were okay. With Lando's warm body pressed against yours, he turned on the faucet and held your finger under the cold water, which quickly turned pink from the blood.

“Lando, you take her to the bathroom by my bedroom. There’s bandaids and plenty of first aid supplies in there. Hopefully the cut isn’t deep enough to need stitches.” Alex had moved over to the veggies, saving the ones that weren’t ruined from the mess of your finger. 

The pain radiated from your finger, searing and intense. You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your face as Lando calmly guided you to Alex's bathroom. Every step felt like agony, but Lando's strong grip never faltered.

You were still in shock, the burning sensation making it hard to think clearly. But Lando was a natural caregiver, moving confidently to retrieve supplies from the cabinets. You stood there, feeling small and helpless, as he laid everything out on the counter.

With gentle hands, Lando lifted you up onto the counter, giving you a better vantage point for him to clean and dress your wound. Despite your tendency to cry at the slightest injury, Lando remained calm and focused, his protective instincts taking over. As he worked, you couldn't help but marvel at how well he knew what to do in this situation.

As he pressed a cotton pad against the cut, you felt your feet sway slightly in the air. The amount of blood soaking into the white pad made your head spin and your vision blur. His voice was gentle and soothing as he reassured you, “It’s alright, you’re okay”, his hand holding yours with a firm yet delicate grip. You could feel yourself leaning into his touch, seeking comfort and safety from the pain.

With a quick, determined movement, he snatched the bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom cabinet. The distinct smell of alcohol filled the air as he uncapped it, and you braced yourself for what was about to come. "This is gonna hurt," he warned, his voice full of concern. You felt a chill run down your spine as he poured the liquid over the wound, the intense burning sensation making you grit your teeth and let out a sharp whimper of pain. Your hand trembled uncontrollably as Lando's gentle touch on your thigh provided some comfort in the midst of this agony. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured as he continued to clean the cut, his eyes full of worry. "We can't risk an infection.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face again. He cleaned away any dirt and grime and wrapped your finger with a thin layer of gauze to help absorb any further bleeding. He then took a thick bandaid and finished up the job.

Your breathing finally slowed as you sniffled. Lando finally looked into your eyes, his own filled with sympathy for your pain. “See, all better.” He placed his lips delicately on your fingertip, giving it a soft kiss. 

You laughed sheepishly, only feeling the pulsating throbs of your wound. He took his thumbs and wiped away the rest of your tears, taking a moment to look into your glossy eyes. You both had paused, entranced in the eyes of the other. 

Lando then seemed to snap out of it, “You should head back to the kitchen. I’ll get everything cleaned up in here.” He cleared his throat nervously, and you hopped off the counter and left the room. You weren’t sure if it was the pain in your finger or if you had gotten burned earlier in the beach sun, but your cheeks felt flushed. 

~

Everyone sat at the dinner table chatting between one another, but you kept to yourself, only chiming in rarely. So many things played in the back of your mind. Lando caring for you at the beach, Charles’s comment, him standing against you as he rinsed off your finger, his delicate and generous touch as he bandaged up your wound. His voice echoed in your ear as he flooded you with reassurance, him calling you “love”. He had never adorned you with that nickname before. 

“Y/N, you alright? I didn’t fuck up dinner right?” Oscar asked, breaking your train of thought at the table. 

You forced a smile, “No, no, it’s delicious. Guess I’m just a little worn out from today.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Lewis sighed. “Long day of getting tired out with swimming, coming back to cook dinner only to cut your finger open.” He shook his head, “Thank god you had Lando here to take care of you. I don’t think any of us could’ve handled that much blood.” Lewis rambled on, but his words struck with you too. You felt like you were going crazy.

Had Lando always been this affectionate? Or was there just something about this beach trip that caused you to think and see him in a different light. Everyone went on chatting about various topics, many regarding the next phase of the racing season. 

As the night wore on and everyone retired to their rooms, you couldn't help but feel torn. Your body craved rest and the warmth of your bed, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of Lando. You had never questioned your feelings for him before, but now they seemed to swirl in a tangled mess. He was your best friend, and risking everything for romantic desires seemed foolish. Yet, your heart continued to ache for his touch and presence. You were torn between what you wanted and what you knew could potentially destroy your friendship. As you lay in bed, conflicted thoughts kept you awake, unsure of what the right choice was.

You decided to get out of your bed and travel downstairs to the kitchen. Your throat was dry and you longed for an ice cold water. It must have been 2am, so you weren’t expecting anyone to be awake as you were only clad in a revealing tank top and short shorts that clung to your skin. 

However, as you turned the corner into the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. Lando, shirtless, dressed only in his boxers, stood around the kitchen island, drinking his own glass of water. 

“Oh-“ you muttered in surprise, as his tired eyes met yours. 

“Oh, hey.” His voice seemed languid, and you assumed he had not had a wink of sleep either. “What are you doing up?”

“I just um…couldn’t sleep I guess.” You shrugged as you poured yourself a glass, the cool liquid already sweating around the cup. 

As you awkwardly drank the water, out of the corner  you saw his eyes track up and down your body, further causing your mind to flip and turn.

“How’s the finger?” He asked, and you broke a smile. 

“Doing better. I don’t think I ever thanked you earlier.” You spoke softly, resting the side of your hip on the counter next to him. “Lewis was right, I think they might have fainted with how much blood there was.” 

Lando smiled, “Don’t mention it. I guess I just went into protector mode.” His words once again caused your heart to pulse. Your breath quickened, and as the seconds passed you were putting all of the pieces together. 

“Charles said earlier that you wouldn’t treat the other guys that way.” You blurted out, your mouth and heart seeming to operate separate from your brain. 

He furrowed his brows slightly in a smile, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean earlier with the beach towel. And the fruit. And healing me, calling me love, wiping my tears away. Why?” As you spoke the smile slowly dropped. You watched his toned, tanned, torso rise and fall with his breath. 

You looked into his eyes, there was a moment of connection, of reciprocation. Then he spoke in almost a whisper, like he was scared of anyone else hearing him, “I think you know why.”

“Lan…” Your voice cracked, and all at once everything seemed to make sense. Of course he had treated you this way. Of course you had let him. You wouldn’t want anything else. He was all you needed, all you craved.

He stepped closer, his warm hand finding its way to your hip and gently resting there. The intensity in his voice was palpable as he begged for your approval, “Please tell me this is okay,” his words coming out dry and desperate.

You looked up at him, your heart racing with anticipation. With a slow nod, you gave him the go-ahead, your lips already parting in yearning for his touch. When his lips finally met yours, it was like an electric shock, sending tingles down your spine and igniting a fire within. Your hands instinctively found their way to his neck, fingers tangling in his soft curls as your movements became synchronized with his. His hands traced random patterns on your waist, each touch sending shivers throughout your body as desire coursed through every inch of you.

Your lips trailed down to his neck, sucking and leaving love bites in between kisses. His breathing became heavy, “Easy now, I might not be able to control myself.” 

You smirked, meeting his eyes again as you traced his abs muscles, “I wouldn’t be one to stop you.” 

The kisses had become intense and passionate, his hands trailing all over your body. This time it was Lando that kissed along your neck and collarbone. His breath was hot against your skin, “Let me please you, I’m begging,” he muttered, and your legs became weak. 

“Not here…” You answered, and asked if you could go to his room.

Lando led you to his bedroom. He pressed you against the bed, peppering kisses along your collarbone and leaving love marks in his wake. Gasping for air, you slowly removed your tank top while he couldn't take his eyes off of you. His lips eagerly found their way to your breasts, causing waves of pleasure to shoot through your body. As he continued his journey down your chest and torso, Lando deftly slid off your pajama shorts, revealing more of your bare skin. "You are so beautiful," he murmured between kisses.

You were almost frustrated with how easily he found his way around in the bedroom, knowing he’s had plenty of attention from other girls in the past. His warm lips traced all the way down to your hips, and they arched as he took his time down your body. 

“I need you,” you whimpered, annoyed with how long he was taking to start pleasuring you. 

“Patience my love, I’m just getting started.” His voice vibrated off of your skin as he kissed your inner thighs. Then, as you were finally adjusting to his teasing, he licked all the way up your entrance, causing you to emit a soft moan. “Don’t get too loud now, Alex’s room is right next door.”

Lando's skilled tongue flicked and sucked against your sensitive core, causing you to squirm and moan uncontrollably. You tried to muffle your sounds with your hand, not wanting to wake anyone in the house. But the pleasure was too intense, each movement of Lando's mouth bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you were about to reach your climax, he pulled away and kissed you deeply. Your taste mingled with his on his lips as you caught your breath. Your fingers tangled in his curly hair, but before you could fully relax, he thrust two fingers inside of you. The sudden intrusion sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you cry out loudly. Lando quickly covered your mouth with his hand, trying not to alert anyone to what was happening between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, “C’mon baby,” trailing kisses down to your collarbone. Your body trembled as he worked his fingers inside you, each movement hitting the perfect spot. His thumb found your clit and began circling, sending electric shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

Your moans turned into incoherent pleas for more as he whispered dirty words in your ear. With one final thrust, he brought you over the edge, your entire body shaking with pleasure. “That’s it,” he held you close, gently kissing your forehead as you came down from your climax. You traced kisses along his jawline, struggling to catch your breath after such an intense release.

As the passion in the room died down, Lando kept planting soft kisses on your neck. Your bodies had cuddled together, tired from the restless night and the intensity between you. You couldn’t believe how the night had unfolded, as things had become a complete 180 from where the day started. 

“Y/N?” Lando asked softly. Your eyes met his in his bed, limbs intertwined. 

“Hmm?” You hummed tiredly. 

“I want you to know, you mean way more to me than what we just did. I’ve waited a long time to really tell you how I feel. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hope everyday I can show you just how much I love you.” He reassured you, bringing a soft smile to your face. 

Tears almost came to your eyes, “You love me?” 

He grinned, tucking the hair on your face behind your hear and caressing your cheek, “I think I always have.” 

You kissed the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Lan.”

~

After a few hours of much-needed rest, you and Lando slowly emerged from the comfort of your shared bed to start the day. You were in the clothes he had lent you - his boxers hanging loosely on your hips and a baggy t-shirt that was now adorned with small hickeys peeking out from beneath the fabric. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, tempting your senses.

As you tended to the breakfast dishes, Lando came up behind you at the stove and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He wore a cozy sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, enveloping you in his warmth as you basked in his embrace. Turning to face him, you cupped his handsome face in your hands and brought your lips to his in a sweet morning kiss.

“Oh shit.” A voice from the other side of the room exclaimed. Startled, you looked to see Lewis and Charles standing across the kitchen island, mouths almost to the floor. 

“Fuck, I owe Oscar twenty bucks.” Charles sighed. 

You and Lando just looked at each other with a confused expression.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Mʏ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Bɪʀᴅ || 𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐝 ||

A/n: I've become obsessed with him

"Little bird! Hold up...you do not know which creatures could be lurking about." Elrond shouted trailing behind you.

"How will I be able to protect you when you are unable to stay in one place for more than two seconds!" He shouted glancing at the wet stones as you seemed to be gliding across.

An airy laugh escaped your lips as you paused on one of the rocks, your fingers clutching your dress as you tilted your head to the side. "Oh yes! Protect me dear Eldron....from the ankle deep water." You teased continuing on your way.

Elrond huffed, following you on the stones, his light and careful footsteps making sure not to even get his boots wet

"I will not be mocked" His voice as he carefully maneuvered across the rocks. "The water can be hiding dangerous things and not to mention it's easy to trip....I do not wish for you to injure yourself."

Letting out a hum, you continued to hop from rock to rock until you finally reached the spot of land dropping your dress into the dirt.

"And pray tell me what dangerous things could be hiding in the waters?" You teased.

Finally managing to cross and step down on the land, he made his way towards you not even thinking about the question.

"well there could be fish" he paused "or a very angry otter maybe, or the most dangerous of all: frogs, you clearly can't take on a frog on your own"

Throwing your head back for a laugh you stepped close to the man placing your hand on his chest with a grin forming on your face."Oh yes! My dear Elrond! Please protect me from the vicious frog. He may hop at me!"

Elrond chuckled, his chest moving under your hand as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Do not under estimate the frog, their looks are deceiving"

The elf warned playfully before his arm pulled you even closer, your chest gently colliding with his chest.

Gaze softening, you let your lips brush across his cheek. "You're adorable."

"and you're reckless" he said, his tone more serious, as he felt your lips against his cheek and his breath hitched and his cheeks began to flush a very soft shade of pink, but a pink shade none the less, despite being centuries old he still wasn't used to the affect you had on him.

Letting your fingers clutch his robe, a giggle left your lips.

'Cute' you couldn't help but think.

"Since I am so reckless...I bet you can't catch me." With a wink you gave him a playful shove then took off running through the forest.

Elrond could help but just stare for a split second, a little speechless, his cheeks a soft pink as he watched you run off before he snapped out of it the thoughts racing through his mind.

"oh that just isn't fair!"

He shouted as he started to run after you, managing to keep up with you despite you having a head start off of your earlier push and shoving, the elf was determined to catch you.

Your laugh echoed throughout the forest, feet barely touching the ground as you ran, your hair flowing behind you intending on taking him to one of your favorite spots.

The elven lord could only manage to curse under his breath,as he found it hard to catch up to you, the elf was fast and agile but his robes were slowing him down quite a bit, the only thing he was thankful for was the fact the forest was mainly open, so he wasn't having to duck under low branches and weave in-between trees to get to you.

Rushing through the fields, you slowed to a stop nearing the edge of a cliff that over looked a lake. Chest heaving as you glanced over your shoulder flashing him a grin.

"Fancy a swim?"

Holding your hand out for him, you tiled your head to the side.

It took a moment or two for the poor elf to finally catch up to you, his own chest heaving and breath heavy in an attempt to properly breathe, a hand on a tree supporting his weight.

"you...You are a menace" Elrond wheezed between breaths, before looking up at you then down towards the lake below as he grasped your hand softly.

"But you love it." You whispered, your eyes mischievous as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

A deep chuckle escaped his chest as he gently squeezed your hand. "Anything for you, my little bird."

Smile brimming with happiness, you tugged him forward leaping off the edge of the cliff still holding his hand into the water bellow.

A shout leaving his lips, a laugh leaving yours.

He would do anything for you, for his little bird.

[grapejuicestyless]

Haunted By The Look In My Eyes

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: After a near death experience while on an adventure Y/n and JJ were supposed to be sat on the bench for, tension builds between the Pogues until finally, JJ’s reckless attitude meets Y/n’s intense feelings that can only be compared to the hopelessness JJ once felt himself.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” I rolled my eyes, the coolness from the surface of the metal shipment container doing nothing to cool down the sweltering heat that danced through the air within the four walls. Boxes of random assortments of various items plastered in rotting wood and wrapped thickly in plastic wrap.

Water clung to everything, beading down my forehead in thick droplets of sweat, the salty liquid tasting on my tongue with each swipe of it over my cracking lips. I swore if I ever had the curse of being sent to hell, this was it. This was the fiery depths of heat people spoke about, I was sure of it.

JJ was glistening too, though, he seemed used to it. Growing up with no temperature regulations in the unforgiving summer heat seems to have made him less uncomfortable by the thickness in the air, I hadn’t been lucky enough to adapt over time.

I watched him slide down against the floor, trying to get as low as possible. Heat does rise, after all. I sat opposite of him. Climbing on the crates of junk and cringing at the insufferable squeaking sounds that I could only ever compare to nails on chalkboard. I sat as close to the small opening in the container as possible without making myself known to anyone walking outside. The risk was worth it for the cool breeze of the ocean, even for just a moment.

But just as I close my eyes, swaying and praying that the heat will die down, the blond speaks.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. When all this is over, and we’re just rolling in the dough…I’m gonna get a new board and I’m gonna deck it out. And I’m gonna go on a surf trip.” His head leaned back against the crate behind him, his hair sticking to the back of his neck and his once wildly untamed hair clumping together in a wet mess.

I gave him a look, leaning forward on my palms and smiling at him, I let my eyes wander around the container.

“I don’t know where, but like, the worlds callin’.” He smiled, dissociating for a second and letting his smile fade. Slipping away for only a moment. “I don’t…name a place.” He was back, the same toothy grin as before, the same glistening shine in his blue eyes.

I thought for a second, blowing air through my lips.

“Spain.” I nodded my head.

“Then, after Spain…South America or South Africa, you know-“

“You’re gonna go to South Africa?” I interrupted with a teasing smile, partially shocked that JJ ever wanted to go away so far.

“Or one of the south places.” He defended himself. “A-and then Micronesia maybe. And then, just ride…wherever the wave takes you.” He looked down at his ring clad hands, twisting them nervously like he might have doubts that his dreams were stupid, unachievable.

I smiled at him even when he wasn’t looking because I believed everything he said. I knew that one day, he would go out just like he said and catch the best swells around the globe.

“Y’know?” He looked up finally, catching my grin.

“So that’s the plan—if we were to get a ton of cash?” I asked, looking away from him again. “That’s the dream?” I said it like a question, though, really I was agreeing with everything he said. It sounded like a dream. “Surf trip.”

“Bamboo hut…cooking a fish on a fire and…after that you go back out and just hit the waves again.” He moved his hands wildly as he spoke, building his dream in his mind with just the wiggling of his fingers. I rolled my eyes playfully.

“That’s the dream.” He confirmed, his voice lowering slightly, and I knew he was serious.

“Sounds perfect.” I agreed softly.

“Yeah.”

“Got room for one more?” I shrugged, asking honestly despite the light smile on my face. JJ simply laughed, smiling and looking back up from his lap to meet my eyes. I watched how his smile dropped when he saw how serious I was.

“You got your passport?” He asked, and it made me laugh this time.

“You don’t got a passport.” I teased.

“Hell no I don’t got a passport! The Kookiest thing ever.” He smiled, and I felt myself laughing from my stomach. A real, happy laugh that I hadn’t felt bubbling up since I was a little girl. Since before all the guns and allegations, and prison sentences, and near death experiences.

Sometimes I wondered what I would think of JJ, if I didn’t know him. Sometimes, I feared that if I had been born on the other side of the island, if my parents could afford a nicer house, if I lived just nearly two neighborhoods over, would I be just like everyone else?

Would I have thought of him as just another Maybank? Surely, if told his dreams to Topper or Kelce, they’d laugh and call him nothing greater than his old man. I thought he was a great deal more than Luke ever was, but would I think that if I had more money in my pocket?

I decided that I would, because the look in his eyes told me I would have. They were blue, sure, but they were the most trusting, truest eyes I’d ever seen. Maybe that’s why he knew he was a good liar, because he had the doe eyes down, but he couldn’t fool me any more than he could fool John B, Kiara, or Pope.

JJ Maybank had been the center of my universe since he had dropped down right front and center of me, since he had wandered into my life and claimed that we were to be best friends forever without leaving any room for argument.

I knew that I would have found him in any life. Because I know JJ Maybank better than anyone ever has, and he knows me more than I know myself.

When he sighed and fought against the “B-Team” I faked my offense, because though I knew he was itching for action, we’d get to share a tender moment like this together, just locked up in a hot box with no room the breathe and no wind to cool us down.

I craved our conversations like he craved the chaos, and I clawed my way into his heart because since the moment I met him I understood how special he was to me. He’s so, undeniably special.

“The Kookiest.” I agreed softly, letting my head fall back and my eyes close again, content with the feeling of my beating heart racing for him.

Maybe being the B-Team wasn’t the worst, because then the only worry was trying to maintain a steady temperature and keep myself from swaying my way to the floor. Heat stroke seemed a lot less scary than this.

JJ quieted me down, though, I hadn’t said a word, and his pointer pressing against his lips reminded me that maybe he shouldn’t be leading us around the boat, completely exposed to danger, and so I snuck around him and squeeze through the thin passageway, ignoring his whisper-shouting protests.

Our bodied pressed flat against the side of the upper deck walls, my head stretched around the corner to view the empty deck ahead of us.

“Clear?” He asked softly, and I nodded my head quickly.

We ran on our toes, walking light on our feet to avoid the loud slapping of boots against metal. JJ fell behind me slightly as he spun around, paranoid of the potential of someone following behind.

“Jay, come on.” I mumbled desperately, feeling the stress falling down on me.

We turned the corner quickly, JJ turning to look over the railing for John B on a lifeboat, our getaway car, only to be met with open water. Our breathing echoed between our ears, neither of us heard the harsh slapping of extra feet plowing down the stairs ahead.

“I don’t see them.” He announced, all too loudly.

I froze in the presence of a taller man with untamed hair and scruffy facial hair.

“JJ…” I warned, squaring my shoulders off as he stepped in line with me. No one made any movement for a split moment.

“Jayj…” I said a little more desperately as the man unsheathed his machete, only drawing JJ’s in closer, a fein for danger, and a junkie for risk.

“Of course…” The man began to speak, his brows furrowing. “There’s more of you.”

JJ and I shared a look, our faced contorted in an unspoken agreement that we understood the numbers here. Two against one was a safe bet, though the factor of his blade made me squirm a little.

“Get down on your knees.” The man instructed, and I wanted to laugh.

“Yeah, thats not gonna happen!” JJ’s words became shorter as he took a step back, the man’s slow approach sending both of us in fight or flight. I knew from the first glance what JJ would choose.

The man swung violently, aiming down on JJ’s shoulders with a quick blow, but missing as he ducked and shifted to the left. The machete made a loud clanging sound as it hit the metal floor.

He swung again, this time at me, but he was already off balance, swinging aimlessly at someone who wasn’t there. My hands pushed down against his arm, keeping him and the weapon pinned to the wall of the boat, right against a closed compartment that looked like it was hiding electrical cables.

Grunting as he fought against my hands, JJ wound up and struck the man with his bare knuckles, hitting him square in the jaw. His hands braced the mans shoulders, our eyes meeting in the chaotic scene, another unspoken plan shared between our glances.

“Hit him, Y/n/n!” He instructed, and as JJ pulled the man back, I opened the compartment where his hand had been, smacking him dead center in his face so hard, it echoed through my ears. I couldn’t help but grimace to myself.

“Wheres John B?” JJ shouted, his voice rough with anger. He shifted from foot to foot, hands drawn in a position ready to swing, even with the man helplessly lying on the ground.

I ran to the edge of the boat, my palms bracing myself over the edge, the empty water making my stomach drop. I wondered helplessly what was holding the others up as JJ and I fought on borrowed time.

“John B!” I shouted, my voiced strained.

I heard the sound of hair moving quickly, the cut of a blade slicing above JJ’s head as he once again ducked, but this time, we weren’t as lucky. With a kick to the gut, JJ went flying back, his head bouncing off the side of the railing. He sat with his hand cradling the back of his head.

“Y/n/n!” He alerted me. Turning on my feet, the man was closer to me than before, his gaze deadly and set solely on me.

He swung once, twice, missing with each violent stroke of the blade. I ducked the best I could, growing more confident as the pain of connection never came, but I grew too overconfident. I spend too much time with JJ, I guess.

The sting came quickly, a burning pain that ripped through my skin and sunk deep past the tissue. I screamed out in a broken cry of desperation, my fingers gripping my shoulder in agony.

The man swung again, only to be pulled away by the blond boy once again, his arms swallowing him whole from the back. Their grunts were the only other thing I could hear past the beating of my heart, yet, seeing the man elbow JJ in his sternum hurt more than the wound that bled out between my red fingers.

He had JJ winded, and with one swift turn, he tried to take me one more time.

I ducked, and watched in horror as the blunt end sent JJ flying over the edge of the boat, nearly three stories until the splash sounded from the deck.

The man came at me again, the dance becoming all too repetitive as the sole of my shoe connected with his stomach. He stumbled into the ground, lying flat. I raced to the edge, the sight below me sickening.

There JJ was, floating on his stomach, his head below the surface, unmoving and sinking slowly. The waves look him in every direction, and all that filled my mind was the silent begging that he would flip.

“JJ!” I screamed, trying to wake him as if the water wasn’t filling his ears. The water around him bubbled, the deep blue a bright white from the impact, his old tank top lifting to reveal the shape of his back.

He didn’t move, he didn’t respond, and my feet met the top of the railing on the boat. I didn’t even think, I didn’t register all the danger below the surface, how stupid it was to jump into the open water with no guarantee that John B would ever show up, but it didn’t matter because I couldn’t stop it. I was hitting the water regardless of how fearful I was of the cold.

“JJ!” Water fell out of my mouth in heaving splatters of coughing fits, my hair glued flat against my skin and my clothes clinging to every inch of my body. I would be lying if I said the impact didn’t hurt, if the salt water didn’t burn the harsh aching in my shoulder.

“Jayj!” With my good arm, I pulled the blond boy into my body, laying his head back against my shoulder to keep him above the surface, to get some air into his lungs.

“Jayj?” My other hand came to grab his face, and my thighs burned with how viciously they cut through the water, treading painfully harsh to keep us afloat. His limp body drifted against mine, and the gentle tangle of our limbs made it harder to swim.

“Jayj, stay with me!” I dropped his cheek, needing the extra hand to keep us above the water. With no help around and only the unfamiliar waters to call home, I felt a bile rise in my throat, like I could vomit if my stomach wasn’t so empty, if hungry was a feeling I had grown to know.

“Please!” I gritted my teeth, feeling my head drip under the gentle waves for a moment, it stung when I opened my eyes again. “JJ, please!” I cried out, taking in every breath of air like it was a gift.

“Stay with me, stay with me!” I grunted, using all my strength. I debated letting the water take me, if only I could extend my arms to keep him a float, I would let myself drown.

My thighs burned, and my arms were too shaky to hold on for much longer. My brows furrowed and my nose burned, a familiar ache in my lungs. I knew crying would do me no good, but as my chest became hollow, I felt my tears mix with the oceans waves drowning out my face.

Everything hurt. Hurt in a way, I could never explain. It was like I could feel each edge of my heart giving out and the sharp cuts of every wheeze that huffed past my cracking lips.

The water was red. Redder than I’d ever seen the ocean because water isn’t red. Maybe it was the cut from his head staining the once vibrant seas a dark maroon, but I could see it swirling in delicate droplets down my arm, I could feel the stickiness even in the salty surroundings.

But there was also fear. Fear that my best wasn’t enough, fear that I would become inclined to give up, because giving up is much sweeter when you have the option. Dying never is. Not even when you want to. Having the urge doesn’t make the pain less scary, and so I kick restlessly to keep the both of us up.

“John B’s coming, John B’s coming, okay?” I assured the empty crowd, JJ completely unaware of the distress of the situation as he lay lifeless in my weakened arms.

His arms floated with the movement of the ocean, his hair covering his eyes. The blond hair that I adored, ran my hands through and ruffled was darker now that it was wet. Not in the way it was when he surfed, but drenched. Stuck to his skin and covering his forehead.

With one strong kick, I gained enough power to lift us up just a bit higher from the surface. My shaky hand brushed the hair from his face.

“John B!” I call out as I steal another glance at his paling face, a red stain spreading on his temple from the blow of the blade, leaking down and staining my own cheek from how close he is to me.

“Help!”

The motor of a boat catches my ear, but my lungs have given up and I’ve already sunk so far below the water, our heads are barely breaking surface.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I pant out, my eyes shutting like it would do us any good. I could have let him go, I could have carried my own weight a moment longer, but with every doubting thought, my hands only held onto him tighter, a silent refusal to give up on him, even if it meant letting the darkness consume me.

Kiara would have yelled at me, and been proud all at once. She would have called me stupid for risking my life for someone so reckless, but then she would have clapped me on the back and said it was what any of us would have done. Pogues for life and all that.

I really missed her now, I wished she was here to scold me, I wished I wasn’t so alone.

“Hey! JJ!” A chorus of cries for us rang throughout the distance, the motor boat approaching as the others all cried out for JJ, my head slipping below the waves.

“No, no, no, no!” John B’s voice broke, the weight on my shoulder lifting, I saw Pope and John B lift him from the water through the stinging of my blurry vision, I felt him leaving my grip, but my hands only grabbed onto him harder.

Subconsciously, I couldn’t let him go. It was only hurting the both of us, we were saved, the Pogues finally finding their way to us, but part of my brain couldn’t comprehend that it was all ending soon because it was all going black. My vision, my heart, my mind.

But just before the water could suck me down, Kiara pulled me on board, her hands grabbing onto me like I had grabbed onto JJ.

“Y/n, holy shit.” Her voice shook with concern. Where her knuckles had held onto me, where my shirt was wrinkled wetly between her fingers, came the slow oozing of deep maroon down my skin, staining everything it touched.

It smeared around with every rock of the boat, and I swore I felt myself swaying. Kiara said something about the depth of the wound, how she thought she saw bone. It blurred like my vision, my lips parting only to shut at the sound of Pope and John B’s distress.

JJ laid still with his head propped up against the edge of the boat, eyes shut just as they were in the water, his eyelashes laying curled against his wet cheek.

The sight gave me a second wind, my hands craved to feel the weight of his body in my arms, to feel the warmth of his skin against my finger tips tor remind me he was here.

“JJ, no, come on!” I begged through broken tears. “Please, get up!” My hands tapped on his chest, though I was ready to press my lips against his and give him all my air if I needed to.

I crawled to him like I needed him to breathe, my knuckles scraping across the bottom of the boat, bruises and cuts littering my pruning skin. I clung to him like a vice, my lips wobbling like a child.

“Get up!” I shouted, scolding him like a mother. Yet, the brokenness of my voice seemed to carry into his empty head as his drool spilled out of his lips, spitting up onto his chest as he gained his bearings.

It was gross, the salt water mixed with the slimy drool dripping from his mouth and wetting his soaked tank top beyond what it was, but I had never seen a more relieving sight. My best friend drooling all over himself, but god, he was alive and that’s all that mattered.

The boat seemed to fall quiet for a moment, all in awe of his return, all following the wavering gaze that swept over the small boat. He was out of it, for sure. His eyes carrying a sense of question beyond what he usually held, but as he registered the faces around him as his closest friends, his family, the panic seemed to fade into a mellow knowing.

“Yeah, yeah! Cough it out, cough it out baby!” John B encouraged, a sea of instructions following from the others in a desperate hurry, all reaching over to simply feel for a steady thumping of a pulse.

I sat back on my heels, looking down at him, and revoking my warm touch from his chest quickly. Retracting it with uncertainty that it would hurt him, like he was fragile.

“Welcome to the land of the living, dude.” Pope smiled, earning a side eye from JJ as he looked around to find his friends all looking down at him with concerned gazes.

My fingers shook, hovering over his chest like I didn’t know if it was right to touch him, if I had the right. I’d felt my own chest caving in just minuted ago, I wondered if I dared to rest my palms against his skin, would he feel the same?

I laid a hand on his shoulder, and watched his vision dance from where we touched to my face, taking a moment to breathe in my presence.

“Hi.” I breathed out in relief, but also something deeper that I didn’t have the words to describe.

“‘Sup.” JJ said, his usually cool demeanor meaning nothing to me at the moment. I pushed his head away gently, still all too aware of the wound leaking from his temple, the way the blood seemed to stain everything. His hair, his skin, his stupid shirt. It tainted everything good with the memories of the bad, the unforgettable, the hurt. But I couldn’t stay away for too long.

As soon as the smile cross his golden features, my arms wrapped around his face like a blanket, holding him to my chest to feel how fast he had my heart beating. He didn’t mention the drumming against his ear, but the warmth that spread across his face told me he felt it, he knew the feeling all too well. Maybe if I had the courage to rest my hands over his heart, I would have known.

I thought of the surf trip, of his dreams, of the gold, of everything that he ever wanted, and I sweat at the thought of it never happening. I crumbled at the idea of him not getting to be a forever given in my life, of him only being a fraction of time, when I wanted it all.

“Don’t ever do that again.” I mumbled against his wet hair, but I don’t think he heard it over the chatter between him and John B, the laughter from Sarah all too loud to hear my soft whisper, a confession that really wasn’t much, but carried the weight of all my emotions.

If he did, he didn’t mention it. He was good at not mentioning it, but he was bad at forgetting.

“You’re bleeding all over the sand, Y/n.” Sarah pointed out, stepping out of the boat, allowing JJ and her husband-to-be to drag the long dead motorboat onto the shore.

An island to call home and a tropical paradise to explore for however long the summer would last and the warmth would suffice.

I was the first to let the water reach my shins, practically jumping out of the boat in a rush, an overwhelming need to feel the ground between my toes, to rinse off the grime and hurt from the failed mission. One cross gone and another home taken.

My body lay starfish position on the soft surface, my shoulder still open and aching, but dulling over time. It didn’t feel that bad anymore, and I was sure the ringing in my ears was just from the adrenaline, though, I’d never heard it before.

“That’s nasty, shes right.” Kiara agreed, trying to tug me up by the arm, only to stretch out my collar bone and earn a lazy grunt from my lips. If I were as smart as I had been prior to the stress, prior to the fact of the pact of the B Team, prior to all the shared dreams and promises to make it out, I would have asked Cleo or Pope to help mend my wounds.

Now, I just felt ready to die. Let my life wash away into the open ocean and let the jellyfish drink me up. Let the sea turtles consume me and share the same bliss of a high that I did with my friends.

“Circle of life.” I grunted, my cheek covered in sand, I buried my face into the dirt. “It’s an early Thanksgiving for the seagulls.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Kiara kicked my hip lightly, trying to move the rock of a being I had become.

“Yeah, and not everyone celebrates Thanksgiving.” Cleo joked from a distance, already gathering wood and stone for a fire. It would be dark soon anyway.

“My joints hurt.” I complained drowsily.

“No shit, I can practically see your bone. Get up.” Kiara fought, turning her head to call for back up from someone with the power to move me from my dormant headspace.

“John B, Pope!” Kiara called out with an annoyed expression, and I found myself smiling at the way her face grew fuzzier and the sounds all became one loud booming ring in my ears.

It hurt so good, a warmth covering my body like a blanket, a reward after fighting so hard. If death found me, I found it peaceful. Ready to be consumed by the darkness to avoid the haunting memory of the limp body floating in my arms. To forget about the way my heart clenched beyond repair.

It wasn’t like, it was love. I’d always known it deep down, but now I knew I could put a name to the feeling, and it terrified me. Because it replayed every second of JJ’s life slipping away, and somehow, it left out the part where he came to.

I could barely make out the shape of the trees anymore. Everything became one big collage in the sky.

“John B! JJ!” Kiara looked back, stunned by the look in my eyes, the same look that had been in JJ’s before he was taken by the waves. A look that would have haunted me for a lifetime. It now tormented Kiara.

It was a look of slipping, of giving up, giving out. The end, even.

“Help!” She cried out desperately, watching the clumsy boys scramble to the ground and catch their bearings, hands digging through the dirt to get to me.

“What happened?” Pope called out, his concerned hands holding Kiara’s shoulders and his love sick gaze failing to focus on what really matters.

Isn’t that funny? I spent all my time focused on JJ, my own gaze stuck in the permanent focus of only him. I didn’t even care to feel the pain tearing away at my skin and my bones. I barely even noticed it after a while. It became nothing compared to the something I almost lost.

Now, as I lay in the sand, choking on my breath in agonizing pain that slowly seeps through in waves, I watch through blurred vision as Pope does the same.

It seemed that it just now snapped in everyone’s mind that the maroon pooling around my arm wasn’t normal. It wasn’t like the scrapes from sharp rocks in the surges, or the nasty head wounds from countless drunken dares to climb things that shouldn’t even be looked at while sober.

The bubbling, and the smell, the metaling smell, it was sickening, and it wasn’t normal. Adrenaline can only get you so far, and hell, I’d already spent it all up.

“Y/n/n!” I heard a familiar voice, rough with exhaustion but stronger now that the day was beginning to wash over and the pain was beginning to creep away.

His dirty hands pressed hard against my skin, his delayed nature only slipping his hand over the one place it shouldn’t have been. Touch me anywhere, make me feel okay, like this isn’t really the end, but please, don’t dig your fingers around in the wound I have just for you.

It only makes things harder to mend.

“JJ!” Sarah screamed, and I threw my head back, screaming.

It hurt worse than anything, the feeling of nail against flesh. It stung more than any jellyfish and it scratched sharper than any knife. Thousands of needles shot down my veins, my knuckles stuttering into a pitiful fist.

“Stop! Stop!” I cried, my whole body shaking��no, my whole body collapsing in on itself. Folding into the earth in order to run away from the pain.

“I’m trying to help, stop squirming like a fish!” He stressed, the creases by his brow showing the wear from the evening already, we all felt as though we’d aged a century in a minute.

“Get off of me!” I tried to reach over, I didn’t want his dead hands on my cold body. I didn’t want his limp fingers rubbing against my moving joints. I didn’t want to feel what I felt in the water, and I didn’t want to see it either.

“Please, get off!” I shouted, my voice breaking like a fragile thing. A thin layer, a brittle sheet of clay crumbling under the weight of the hands that once so tenderly shaped it.

Dying does a funny thing to the mind, especially in a panic. You spend all your time trying to remember to breathe, you forget reality. Even though he was kneeling down beside me, digging around under my skin and arguing back harshly words he meant as sentiment in his overwhelming stress, to me, I had convinced myself he was dead. I didn’t do it, I couldn’t save him, I let those thoughts of giving up consume us and I watched him die in my arms.

There is no boat ride, there is no island, there is no nothing. There is only before, and the end. There is no after. Forget the fact the blood is sticking to everything, and the fact that I’ve felt John B’s cold rings slapping hard across my cheekbones to keep me aware of myself, everything is all nothing and I hear nothing but the sound of my ragged breath wheezing and my horrible cries echoing, bouncing off the Pogues.

Pope took over, finally getting his brains back. The scarecrow held firm pressure over the wound, evenly spread along my arm in a way that stung, but never scratched, never matted the fur of my mane or cut off my skin. He spoke so quickly, and it was so muffled, I began to want to hear him, take the trip down the yellow brick road and find the courage to stay.

Then, there was the ripping of a shirt. It was dark, and rough, but worn in so it felt softer that way. Then, more pain, more pressure, and then, nothing.

But this wasn’t death, because I could still hear and feel and taste the spit on my tongue, the salt water that washed everything I bit down on away. I was still there, but now, I could feel myself calming down, drowning out the silence and coming back to the truth.

“Have you considered a career as a EMT?” I panted, my heavy eyes flickering up to Popes reforming face, the hay and the straw hat fading away into just the kind boy I loved. The yellow road becoming the soft, now wet, sand beneath my back.

He smiled like a dope, clicking his tongue and showing his toothy grin. Relief was the only word to describe the silence that fell over the group at that moment, silence that felt heavy to everyone but the victim. Silence that I felt on the boat.

“I hate you.” He laughed, punching me between the ribs with a force that only could be equated to the fact that he wasn’t a liar, and it was obvious he was on the math team, not an athlete.

“No you don’t.”

My body curled up in laughter, nose scrunched and aware of the extreme caution that was required to keep my arm from splitting apart. I tried to argue back, but my words fell short on choked laughter, letting Kiara hoist me up by the waist and feeling her wet bracelets press against my warm skin. JJ simply walked away, all too quiet for a boy who never knew silence in his life.

I didn’t press him.

“Can I sit?”

Days had passed, water lapped at the shore, quenching the insurmountable thirst of the dry land before it. The wind blew softly against the greenery, and the birds sung out, diving into the distant waters for their supper.

JJ sat with his knees pulled to his chest, arms thrown over the bend lazily, hands fiddling with a sharpened stick he had been working incessantly on since he’d finished his first project, a white waving flag that read, Pougelandia.

The wind blew up the end of his shirt, a cut off tank top that once fell to his mid thigh now rested loosely at his tanned hips, ripped unevenly across the dark stitching.

He breathed evenly, eyes not even flickering over to meet mine, not a word shared between us. A dream of surf expenditures and found family adventures. We talked of island paradise when all smoothed over. When the earth buried our blood and tears, and the sting began to slip away.

There was happiness, beyond the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries. Beyond the terror of the swift nightfall, the impending cold that would have brought any surviving energy away from our warm bodies. There was calm.

He promised to make boards with dried wood, to carve them by hand, break them with his knuckles. The wood was rotting, and it was cracking quickly.

Once again, dreams were altered to fit the shitty hand that was dealt. The rich became richer, and our frames became thinner.

The world spat in our face and said it was the wind.

I sat down beside him now, and it was unusually quiet between us. I guess, this was better than the forever silence, the six feet of separation that I wanted nothing more than to leave behind. He couldn’t even see me.

“Did I do something?” I asked quietly, voiced drowned out by the sound of the sea, the distant hollers of our friends echoing above the trees. I wished I could see everything for what it is, but I had not a clue, a fool sitting beside my uncharacteristically empty best friend.

“No.” He answered plainly.

“No?” I asked, begged practically for confirmation. He nodded his head, agreeing, but it was unclear if it was an agreement within a disagreement.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’, bitter, I could see it more clearly now in my new found focus.

“I can’t make it go away if you don’t tell me, Jay.” I smiled, laughing like it was a pity for us to be so awkward. And it was, it was so fucking weird. Fake niceties are weird.

Leaning forward to mirror how he sat, I tried to get a forward perspective of the furrow between his brows. He brushed the space below his nose and sniffed like he was annoyed. It reminded me of the boy who held up the cross with his bare hands on the ship, the boy who had aimed a gun at the kids he grew up with, his own sister too. His anger reminded me a lot of a Camerons anger, and I figured he had enough reason to feel stressed, he had all the reason to show it.

“This isn’t Kildare.” I reminded him.

“I know.”

“It’s just us.” I added.

“I know.” He nearly snapped, fingers tingling with annoyance, anger, grief even. It was a dying fuse ready to explode, to burn it all down.

We sat in silence for a moment, and I hoped he would speak. Rarely, we had fights. Usually they were stupid, ending in us laughing and my hips thrown over his shoulder. He never hit and neither did I, neither of us even tempted the idea. If we needed space, we gave it, though, it never lasted long because we craved each other like a dog to its owner. Like a moth to a flame, we always came back.

Still, I hoped he would speak first. I felt like I was doing most of it, carrying the conversation for five people while only speaking to one. When he remained quiet, trying to reel it in, I broke the tension.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, Jay. I’ll be here. It’s not like I could leave even if I wanted to.”

If I hadn’t lost my life, I had lost my ability to read the room, because my weak joke fell so flat, it might as well have served as the boards we never got to make together, the memories we would never get to experience. It rotted into his mind and left something so disgusting to him, I could read it on his face.

“No, no but you could.” Sand kicked up behind his heels, hands pushing up off of his knees, knuckles bruised and palmed sandy. He was scruffier than usual, but the blues of his eyes were all the same, dappled with the flickers of light I had fallen in love with so long ago.

“What?” I laughed, standing up slowly, but then jerking forward once I saw how quickly he was creating distance between us.

If we weren’t alone then, I was sure he had led us into total solidarity.

The trees were thicker here, the shoreline rocky and short, even at low tide. It would be completely gone in a few minutes when the tide would start rolling in. I could feel the water trying to break free against the soles of my shoes every time a larger wave came crashing through, between the overhangs and vines that tried and failed to barricade the sacred land.

“Because you did leave, Y/n. You left.”

JJ turned around, his hand pointing to my heart and his eyes avoiding contact where the cloth was wound tightly around my skin and bone. The shirt he tore to let me wear and to let me feel put together again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between us.

I caught the way his eyes seemed to shine more delicately in the reflection of the ocean, the way the wind blew against his blonde locks, the same shining color as his heart of gold. A loyal, fiercely protective friend who was crumbling at the mere idea that abandonment could always win, even though the people he believed would never leave.

“You left.” He repeated more quietly, his lower lip wobbling with such an intensity, I felt the bile rising up in my throat.

“I didn’t leave.” I defended quietly between choked breaths. “How could you think I would leave? I would never leave you, I wouldn’t want to.”

“Then what was that then?”

His head turned to look out at the horizon, biting down harshly on his teeth and sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. His weight shifted from left to right, fists clenching and unclenching by his side, conflict evident in his face. His brows were drawn in so tightly, his face scrunched up almost like he was in pain, like he couldn’t even fight anymore, I watched the internal battle between strength and hurt argue over who got control over his brain. I could tell which had already won his heart.

“I watched you there, Y/n. I saw the…the blood and the tears. I saw all of it, you were dead. You died.”

I shook my head, feeling a familiar lump forming in the base of my throat. Everything seemed to burn. From my sweaty palms to the flare of my nostrils and the back of my skull. It all ached dully, inflamed by the accusation that I had truly given up, that I had been gone with no intention to come rescue him.

“I was there.” My voice broke, my eyebrows pulled down in a deep frown. My palm instinctively came to cup my wound, and my fingers cupped around the fabric, pulling down gently to let the pain breathe.

Never in our decade of friendship had I ever felt so alone from JJ. We were on other worlds and it was clear, and it was something I hated being accustomed to. We were so alike, but so different in this moment. Together but so far apart. Like January and December, one after the other, following like ducks but with the distance of a lifetime between.

“I was there, I saw you standing over me.”

“You pushed me away, you didn’t need me! You didn’t want me. I saw the look in your eyes. You wanted to leave. You were okay with leaving!” JJ shouted, his voice booming. I wondered if it had the power to carry over to the others and reveal our argument to everyone. We were too far away, and I was thankful for that because I knew whatever was coming wasn’t going to be kind. I could feel the bubbling pressure building in my chest like a hot rock sizzling my flesh from the inside out, and it wanted to sink through if I didn’t spit it out.

“Can you blame me?” I cried out, tears falling from my water line in a stream of pain that cut deeper than any blade had. “I was in pain, JJ! I was in so much fucking pain! I was bleeding out, in a place I don’t know, and I’ve never felt more alone! I couldn’t breathe, JJ. I couldn’t hear anything, I couldn’t see. Why is it selfish to not want to want to suffer, when I would wish you the same peace if it were to happen to you.”

JJ’s chin wrinkled in sadness, wetting his lips with his tongue and blinking back his own tears. I had so much to say and only so much air in my lungs. Only so much I could choke on before it all came out.

“The worst part is, I thought you were dead. If the damn blade didn’t kill me, you would have because I would rather die than have to live the next eternity without you by my side. I thought…I thought I failed you, and I couldn’t even look anyone in the eye because all I could see was your face in the water. Do you know how terrifying that was? To have your limp body weighing me down in the ocean? My best friend, my buddy, the only person I’d ever want to bother me like you do. Dead, all because of me? Do you know how guilty I’ve been? How guilty you’ve made me? I’m a god damn monster, and it’s a shame I turned out like I did because I had the potential to be something like you. But I can’t be because I’m a failure. Because even for even for a moment, I was thinking that maybe we would both be better off if I just gave up? If I let the ocean take us because god, if the light hasn’t been kind then the darkness can at least give me some damn peace!”

We both fell quiet now. My chest heaved with anxiety. My bones felt heavy, I felt heavy. I felt stupid, and I knew nothing I was saying made sense. It was all mindless rambling about everything I’d been mulling over for what felt like years.

“I love you. A-and I mean that in a way that I’ve never known before, and that fucking terrifies me. It terrifies me that theres always a chance that one day I won’t have the privilege to lay next to you, or-or to sit with you on the porch at John B’s and just talk about things that don’t matter like they do. Like, I love you, dude! And I can’t act like I don’t anymore. I thought…I thought that if I pushed it down, if I ignored it then maybe I could forget about it, but I can’t. Because the truth is I’ve always loved you. And I’m sorry if this means everything has been a lie, if I’m a fraud but I can’t pretend like I wouldn’t die for you, because I would and I tried.”

“I’m sorry, what?” JJ breathed, eyes wide and lips parted. He was shocked, and so was I. There was no going back, it was eat the words or let the words eat me. The truth was out, and I couldn’t deny it.

“I love you.”

Silence. Every moment led me here, to this island. Every time I grabbed onto the back of his jacket to steady myself, or the times I pawed at his chest to get him to stop trying to antagonize the Kooks. I followed him to the ends of the earth, literally. That was proof of my love, if not, it proved my devotion.

“I’m sorry.” JJ whispered back. His eyes shined with freckles of light from the waves and the stars and the sun. He couldn’t say it back, and I knew why because I know him, but we both knew what he meant to say with his apology.

“Me too.” I breathed out.

Often, our friends would poke fun that we couldn’t keep it under wraps around each other. That our lingering touches and fleeting glances were too romantic to be a friendly gesture. Maybe part of their teasing was right, but not completely.

Stepping forward in the sand, I felt the warmth of his arms pulling me into his chest, the strength and the kindness familiar, but the touches deeper and different. Where we once dappled with affection became a feeling that dominated now. We’d stood like this before, but with the confession hanging between our lips, everything was different.

His breathing, his gaze, the curve of his lips, the tucking of his nose against my cheek. We bumped noses blindly, his fingers dancing up my spine to the small of my back. I felt his eyelashes tickle my skin before I felt the rough-soft mixture of his lips pressing against mine.

It felt like something out of a movie, like fantasy. All those stupid stories I’d never believed where the lovers fit together perfectly made complete sense now as we molded together with a dance we knew all too well.

My hands reached for the back of his neck desperately, pawing at whatever curves I could get a grip on. It was slow, a steady pour of the heart into each other and completely intoxicating up until the moment we split apart for air.

“I should die more often if you’ll kiss me like that.” I joked, laughing into the crook of his neck.

“Nah, you don’t gotta do all that anymore.” He promised.

Affection was never our thing, love was foreign and forgiveness came hard. We held grudges and fought secrets for each other, and in the end, it’s what made us make perfect sense.

I look at JJ now in the dimming light above the ocean, and I no longer see the reflection of his empty gaze and heavy body. I see adoration, a softness that I’d always failed to recognize before.

“Jay?” I mumbled, chasing his lips again. He hummed against my skin, warm air tickling my body.

“Save it for the surf trip, okay?” I teased.

He growled playfully, squeezing the curves of my hips and nipping at my shoulder.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

I laughed.

“I’d save you.”

“Maybe.” JJ smiled, beaming with love.

After a moment of silence in each others arms, I felt his chest expand with a calm breath, and the stutter in mine silenced whatever thought he was about to blurt out impulsively.

“We should probably really consider getting passports.” I suggested softly, still longing for the surf trip with my best friend.

“Hell no, thats some kook bullshit” He argued softly, his smile still stretched against my skin.

“The kookiest.” I agreed.

I felt JJ pull away to breathe in the salty air. His eyes remained trained on mine, and the look gave me deja vu to a time not so long ago. A look we shared in the sweltering confinements of the cargo ship container. Only, now that I wasn’t blinded by a mixture of excitement for the treasure and the fear of failure, I could see the real gold in front of me. I could understand the gravity of his gaze.

A look that would fluster me for a life time.

[kaiser1ns]

#. HUH !?

featuring 𝘀𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘂𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff. sometimes you ask yourself are boys that dense or is it just your crush?

for my fellow beloved sakura lover @y2kuromi

Sakura was already used to the adrenaline rush of fighting, and the banter with the ones who dared to cross the lines with Bofurin. Yet, there was one thing he couldn't quite wrap his head around—you.

You were just another member of their gang, albeit a particularly striking one. Your presence seemed to permeate every space you occupied, drawing attention and how you effortlessly charmed everyone around, even the toughest of their gang members.

"Huh?" The heterochromia eyed boy often found himself uttering that single syllable whenever you did something that caught him off guard. It became an inside joke among his friends—the way they thought Sakura Haruka would blush furiously and stutter whenever you paid him even the slightest bit of attention.

It wasn't just your looks that threw him off. Sure, you were undeniably beautiful, but there was more to it than that. You had a way of seeing through his tough exterior, calling out his moments of vulnerability with a teasing smile that simultaneously embarrassed him.

One evening, after a particularly rough patrol, you insisted on patching up his scraped knuckles. He sat on the edge of your bed, feeling oddly nervous as you cleaned the cuts and applied bandages. "You're such a reckless person, Haru" you teased gently with that nickname, especially with the nickname that made his whole face red and for him to pout lips, as your fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary on his hand. "You need to be more careful out there."

Sakura ould feel the heat rising to his cheeks. It was hot, you were hot, wait, that's not what he wanted to think, not that it wasn't true, it was on 100%, you were so pretty, unbelievably stupidly pretty, was it the correct way to put it? Oh, God just let him burn already, "Huh?" he managed to mumble, avoiding your gaze as you chuckled softly, a sound that sent him into existence crisis, "I said, you need to take better care of yourself. You're important to me, you know?"

Your words caught him off guard. Sakura wasn't used to being the recipient of such straightforward care and concern. He was more accustomed to dishing it out to others, not having it directed back at him.

As days went by, he found himself becoming more increasingly aware of your presence. Whether you were teasing him about his grumpy morning mood or simply sitting quietly beside him during Bofurin meetings, you always seemed to have a way of making him feel both at safe and on edge simultaneously.

Walking back to Café Pothos, you nudged him playfully with your elbow. "Hey, Haru, did you see that guy's face when you punched him? It was priceless!"

Sakura chuckled nervously, his heart pounding in his chest. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess." You grinned and your eyes quite literally were sparkling, was that even biologically possible for someone to look so pretty when so happy, well you sure did. "You're hopeless, you know that?"

His's cheeks flushed crimson. Again it was hot, because you were hot. Damnit. What was happening? Why is he burning? Why am I burning? Too many questions, with one easy answer. "I-I am not!" Your conversation continued late into the night, long after the others had left the restaurant. Sakura found himself enjoying these moments with you more than he cared to admit.

As you sat together under the stars, you leaned against Sakura's shoulder. "You know, Haru, you don't always have to be so tough. It's okay to let your guard down sometimes."

Sakura felt his heart skip a beat. He turned to look at you, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish out of water. "Huh?" You laughed softly, your breath warm against his cheek. "Exactly like that. You're too cute when you're flustered."

He could feel the warmth spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He glanced down at his hands, trying to compose himself. "I-I'm not cute, stop it!" he muttered, though he couldn't hide the smile that appeared on his pouty lips.

You tilted your head, studying his expression with those lovesick eyes. As someone who noticed and felt romance for others, it was a lost cause for his own romantic experience. "Maybe not to yourself," you said, gently booping his nose, "but definitely to me."

Sakura's heart drowned in a pool of emotions he couldn't quite name. He swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly dry. "Y/N, I..." Before he could finish, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You don't have to say anything," you whispered against his ear, voice so quiet, so gentle...so smooth, "Just know that I'm glad you're here with me, Haruka."

For the first time, Sakura Haruka's mind went blank. He felt like the world had stopped spinning, leaving only the two of you in a timeless moment beneath the stars, lost in the galaxy, searching for one another in the infinite space. He glanced at you, meeting your eyes with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. As if he had found something he had been longing for all his life. The depth of his eyes drew you in, making you feel like you were the center of his universe, a precious star in his vast, personal sky.

"Huh?" Sakura managed to whisper, his voice barely above a breath. You smiled at his supposed answer, you knew what would he say either way. "Exactly Haru," you murmured, her fingers intertwining with his. "Exactly."

And so, the next day at Furin High School, everyone seemed to laugh at Saku, not in a bullying manner, but more of a teasing one.

"It seems that your girl finally got you," Suo Hayato smiled at his classmate, teasing as always, and the other Bofurin members gave him thumbs up and some winks. Weird. It made him very confused. Why were they staring at him so much? Did he have something on his face? He swore he washed and showered every day. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. You see, everyone hoped that you would finally make a move, but she beats you to it once again." Sakura's confusion only deepened. Before he could ask more, Nirei walked up to him, "Here, let me show you, Sakura-san." he said, pulling out his phone and opening the camera app. He handed it to him, who looked at his reflection on the screen. There, on his cheeks, were a bright red lipstick marks. His eyes widened as he remembered yesterday's encounter with the girl he liked. Sakura's face turned an even deeper shade of red, matching the lipstick colour perfectly. The realization hit him like a ton of fists in the ring, and his friends burst into laughter at his embarrassed state.

"Huh?" And the saga counties...

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[destinationtrekk]

domestic wesker headcanons (afab!reader)

a/n: i’m obsessed with the idea of him being vulnerable and finally trusting someone. I also did not mean for this to be so long LOL I might do a part two without smut nsfw below the cut, 18+ only

afab!reader, descriptions of choking, breeding, penetration, dacryphilia, finishing inside, probably more i’m missing, not beta read

masterlist

sfw:

After the whole ‘Spencer/Wesker Project debacle’ (as you had dubbed it in your head) ended, Albert opened up to you a lot….like surprisingly a lot.

you had noticed a lot on your own too though. the first being that he was a smoker

you could smell it faintly on his coat after a long day at the labs, and on his breath when he woke you to kiss you goodbye in the early mornings

you finally brought it up one day, casually asking if you should pick up a pack for him on the way back from running errands

you’ll never forget the way his face lit up red and how he sputtered like a fish out of water

he ignored you for a few hours, and then finally asked if it bothered you, avoiding your gaze

you laughed and told him you didn’t really mind, and over time you found out more

he was a chain smoker at the peak of Umbrella, right before they had perfected the T-virus (it was the ‘80s after all) but he had stopped when he joined the Army.

Then while he was in S.T.A.R.S. the stress of being a double, then triple agent got to him. He didn’t smoke nearly as much, but he couldn’t help a cig or two after a hard day

something else you’ve noticed is that he’s a perfect driver. You don’t think he even speeds, or rolls through stop signs when he’s in a hurry.

You think those are perfectly normal things, but he is very adamant that you should not be reckless in his nice cars, which, okay yeah

but he explains that he was mainly escorted during his Umbrella days, rarely having time or need to go somewhere alone until the end of it all

then he had been reprimanded for cruising a liiiittle too much in his S.T.A.R.S. cruiser, and that had been that

you do appreciate his driving when he’s taking you home after you’ve had too many drinks though

nsfw:

despite everyone thinking he’s a sadistic machine, I think he is very much the opposite

growing up women were the last thing on his scientific mind, and then he was much too busy for anything other than a one night stand every other now and then

now though, he comes home so tired he can barely keep his eyes open

It’s not like you two never sleep together. Quite the opposite in fact. Albert is a very generous lover, going as many rounds as you ask until he’s either too tired or you’re spent.

he’s got amazing stamina, even when he’s mentally drained. he prefers to take his time with you, making you finish at least once before he even touches himself

looooves to just grind against your pussy and get himself slick with your juices before he thrusts inside, adores the way his cockhead catches on your clit and how you twitch and gasp beneath him

he also loves to push in as slow as he can, making you feel every inch of him stretching your hole

this man whimpers! he moans and whines and pants in your ear like he’s been starved of touch and it turns you on just as much as his calloused hands do.

he doesn’t actually talk all that much, except to encourage you with that’s it, fuck, I’m close, let go, honey, or he’ll ask what you want him to do - unless he’s feeling fuck nasty (love that phrase)

sometimes he just needs a release, to expel all the pent up frustration, and you’re the perfect solution

he won’t even say hello when he gets home, just finds you and paws at your body like an animal until you tell him yes or no

if you say no, he respects you. completely, one hundred percent. you’re the most important thing in his life, and it’s not even enjoyable to him if you aren’t eager and willing

if you say yes though, he will be all over you. Clothes are flying off and somehow you’ve made it across the house into bed without his mouth leaving your lips and skin

he loves to take you face down when he’s like this, your ass in the air so he can lean over you and pin you down with his weight, groaning and panting in your ear while he fucks you so hard you can barely even make a sound

even when he’s tearing apart your insides, he still likes to intertwine your fingers where you’re gripping the sheets. he just covers it up as needing to hold you still

this is when he really talks, he actually won’t shut up, not that you’re complaining. he’s telling you how tight you are, how you squeeze him like a vice and he can barely pull out. the slick sounds of your hole are driving him crazy, he can’t wait to see your pretty tears when you cum around him, love your sweet wet little hole, pet

sometimes he likes to be rough, pulling your hair, wrapping his long thick fingers around your throat to tug you up into a sloppy kiss, gripping your hips and waist in a bruising hold, so tight you can’t even meet his pounding thrusts

always asks to finish inside you. he’s not really into breeding all that much, he’s just obsessed with the way his cum leaks out of your hole and how it leaves his cock sticky and shiny when he pulls out

surprisingly good at aftercare, cleans you up and holds you until you decide to get up or eventually just fall asleep on top of him. he secretly loves this part just as much as the sex, but he won’t admit it

but that’s a whole other post

[minkkumaz]

FISH OUT OF WATER

your gentle boyfriend left you to care for his most beloved fish, along with the tank he's worked on for awhile. but when you tip over the tank, completely shattering all of his work, he snaps.

PAIRING kim leehan x fem!reader WC 1.6k TAGS angst. fighting. blood mention. cutting yourself on glass by accident. jaehyun showing his leader qualities LMAO. OMI NOTE this setup is so cute considering the heart wrenching angst you are all about to read wink wink.

leehan had always been an extraordinary boyfriend to you. he was often calm and gentle, while still loving you to his hearts extent. when saying he would walk across the world for you, you know he would without any hesitation.

but another thing about him was that he was quite practical. dwelling on things wasn’t his forte, and he often wanted to come up with solutions as soon as possible. many people relied on him, so he had to be able to deliver an answer immediately.

whenever you did something wrong, or there was a miscommunication, he’d try to reach out and fix it immediately. this is what kept things between the two of you whole. leehan was truly your missing piece. you’ve never caught him in a bad moment.

one of leehan’s many interests was fish. in particular, decorating tanks and caring for the cute aquatic creatures. you thought it was adorable, and have always encouraged it. so while he was away for the weekend to shoot for his groups jacket shoot, he trusted you to care for his corydora.

the instructions he gave you were very detailed, but just came down to simply feeding them everyday. you knew how important it was that his fish was taken care of properly, so you followed to the best of your ability.

everything was smooth sailing for the weekend. a happy and healthy little corydora swam around freely in it’s habitat. you truly admired how beautiful leehan made the fish tank look. he had worked on this one in specific for a long time, gathering all the right materials from good sources to ultimately pull together something beautiful.

when the night that he would be coming home rolled around, you were in a rush home from your classes. feeding the fish completely slipped your mind, so now you were racing to get home before leehan. there was a chance that it still had leftover food hiding in the sand, but you couldn’t be too sure.

as soon as you jammed your key into the door, opening up to an empty apartment, you sighed with relief. sliding off your shoes and placing your bag by the door, you approached the tank with heavy breaths. 

you had left the container of food on the lid of the tank, so you quickly grabbed a little stepstool in order to reach it. lee was giant, so it was normal that you needed a little bit of assistance when doing tasks he’d normally do.

but with your recklessness, the stool folded back underneath you, making you stumble forward. in a failed attempt to save yourself, the entire tank shattered from impact

you fell, barely avoiding the broken glass that slid across the floor from the heavy flow of water everywhere. all of the greenery and sand within the tank scattered everywhere. and to your dismay, the poor fish flopped around helplessly in the middle of it all.

panic washed over you as you scrambled to get the fish back into water. your side hurt like hell and there was probably a little bit of glass stuck to your sweater, but that was the least of your worries. all of leehan’s hard work entrusted to you, and for what?

when you heard footsteps towards the door you almost wanted to start crying. you picked around the floor, pushing the glass away from the corydora to pick it up safely. safely in the palm of your hand, you sprinted to the kitchen to get it in a cup of water. 

the doorknob twisted loudly, the glass you held shakily in your hand was halfway full. after hearing a suitcase roll in and a call for your name, you plopped the fish inside the cup and came out to greet leehan with dread.

“leehan i’m so sorry i can explain!” you heaved, placing the fish down in a table.

“oh my gosh y/n, what the hell happened?” he had a shocked expression on his face, hand slightly covering his gaping mouth.

“i– i forgot to feed the fish so i ran home and–”

“you forgot to feed my fish? are you serious? i barely left you for a couple days y/n!” he didn’t normally yell, but thats the only thing he could express right now. 

“i know! trust me i’ve been doing it lee but it was just this one time and when i went to grab the stepstool i fell and the whole tank toppled over!” you cried out trying to explain.

“i worked so hard on that tank for months, how could you be so careless?” his words stung your heart, you finally let the tears flow.

“leehan i said i was sorry…” you choke, wiping your face with the hand that wasn’t slightly blood stained.

“fuck, did you even care? was it on purpose?” he groaned, tearing up a little also.

“of course i didn’t do it on purpose i swear it was an accident.”

“give me the fish, i have a spare tank at the dorms. i can’t stay here with you tonight.” he mumbled, grabbing the cup and leaving before you could say anything more.

the silence in your shared apartment was now more deafening than ever. all you could do was cry. this was all your fault, if you hadn’t stupidly forgot to feed his fish and rush home. you soon realized there was a much bigger mess that you needed to clean, so you got to work to distract yourself.

your tears mixed with the tank water as you kneeled to pick up all of the glass, too numb to pay any attention to the small cuts it was leaving. except as a much larger piece gashed through your skin you finally got worried.

“fuck fuck– fuck!” you whimpered, running to the bathroom to run your hand under the sink. it made you much more aware of how hurt your hands got in the whole process of cleaning. what made it worse is that you had no bandages, and you obviously couldn’t contact leehan right now.

the scene from before replayed in your head at the thought of him, making your heart ache. you were sure he didn’t mean it, but there was another part of you that believed he did. 

with that, you called jaehyun to tell him everything, still sobbing on the other side. he came to you as fast as he could with bandages. you made him promise not to tell leehan anything, though he really wanted to.

“jeez y/n, i’ve never heard leehan do anything like that.” he sat next to you on the floor of your bathroom, wrapping up your hands lightly.

“did you see him at the dorms?” you mutter.

“not really, i left before he came in.”

“okay.. thank you jaehyun.” you pull away, examining the bandages on your hand.”

“anytime y/n. but i really think you should let me tell him if you aren’t going to yourself.” he sighed.

“i’m just a little scared i don’t know.. it was my fault the tank shattered.”

“but you didn’t mean to! i’m sure he’s just frustrated right now i mean– he cares more about those fish than himself.” jaehyun noted making you laugh.

“i guess you’re right. you can text him. i’ll try to mentally prepare myself.”

“great. i’ll go clean up the fish tank for you real quick and by the time i’m done he’ll probably be on his way.” he smiled at you, making his way out and down the hall. the sound of glass hitting a dust - pan filled your ears.

you went to your room and sat still for awhile, unable to comprehend what happened in the past hour and a half. you missed leehan so much. the spot in bed that was usually filled by a warm body was cold. he didn’t come home as quick as jaehyun said he was, so you let yourself fall asleep with tear stained pillows. 

it was late when the door opened and leehan came rushing to the bedroom. you were sound asleep, cuddled into a bundle of pillows. he found you cute like this, but it was different when his last interaction with you was a bad one.

“y/n, my love.” he whispered, shaking your side. 

“lee?” you stirred awake, blinking away sleep to look at him.

“love i am so so sorry, i really am.” he stroked the side of your face as you leaned yourself up on your elbow.

“i’m so sorry about your fish tank, it really was an accident.” you weep, clutching onto the sleeve of his sweater, before catching your mistake and wincing.

“baby… your hands. i shouldn’t of left you like that to clean it all up i am so sorry. i take full accountability for leaving you in such distress.”

“it’s okay, i was just so worried you’d leave. we always talk things out when things go bad…” he wipes the tears falling from your face.

“i have no idea what came over me, but that’s not an excuse. i was rude and immature. i could’ve been way more understanding about things.” he exhaled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders, “of course i was angry, but that didn’t excuse any of the things i said about you. i don’t want to lose such a precious girl.”

“thank you…”

leehan takes your hands, placing soft kisses over the bandages, before letting his lips attach yours. it was gentle, something you were much more used to.

“my little corydora is okay, so don’t even worry. at least i’ll have another tank to busy myself with.” he said, going over to crawl towards his side of the bed and give you a much deserved cuddle.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

[moutainrusing]

supernatural

729 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Children wouldn’t see it coming. Children were reckless like that. Carefree and careless in an innocent combination of childishness. They had been children. So when their bonfire went out of control, who was to blame?

Sirius blamed himself. Remus died that night. Sirius, James and Peter had managed to escape, but Remus had inhaled too much smoke. His lungs gave out. His lungs stopped working permanently. His body shut down permanently. His lips turned blue, and Sirius had only kissed them once when they were pink. Now he wouldn’t do that ever again.

Remus’s immune system had always been shit. Remus’s parents couldn’t talk to Sirius anymore. Because they blamed him. Why wouldn’t they?

Sirius walked like a ghost of himself. He didn’t sleep. He felt disconnected from his body. He wished he were dead.

With Remus or instead of Remus?

Sometimes he felt Remus. Sometimes he saw Remus. Remus was an actual ghost.

“Hi, Sirius,” Remus smiled. “What’re we up to today?” We. They could’ve been something, if Sirius’s teenage adrenaline hadn’t wanted to set the world aflame.

Remus’s grin was still cheeky, his eyes, pale and translucent, still glinted mischievously; it was almost like he was alive.

At first, Sirius hadn’t acknowledged this sign of insanity. Eventually, he embraced it.

He talked back to the ghost, and they pretended they were alive together. Well, Sirius did. Remus seemed to actually think he was alive. He kept asking if Sirius wanted to go outside with him, why Sirius never left the room, why Sirius was so miserable, if Sirius needed anything from him, which Sirius did. He needed everything. Remus kept rambling about the future, about life, and Sirius wanted to throw something; YOU ARE DEAD! But…

I’ll pretend you’re alive.

No one else could see Remus, and apparently, Remus couldn’t see anyone else either.

James sometimes entered, and he and Remus had no clue that they were both there.

“Who’re you talking to?” They’d ask simultaneously, both concerned.

James was also grieving. He was seeing a grief counsellor. He wanted Sirius to come too, but Sirius preferred Remus. A ghost.

One day, Remus touched him. Sirius flinched back in shock, eyes wide, skin tingling, questions running through his mind incessantly, like a train crashing down an endless mountain. His mouth opened around silent vowels, closed when the consonants wouldn’t come out, like a fish out of water, drowning in air.

“Sorry,” Remus was saying obliviously. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I was trying to respect your personal space, but I thought maybe touch would comfort you? Sorry. I won’t—”

Sirius flung himself into Remus’s arms. The scene shifted.

It was his room, but darker. A black, bruised blue. As if the night sky had swallowed it, glowing eerily. He pulled back and stared at Remus. Remus’s lips were pink again. Remus didn’t seem surprised.

“Want to go outside with me?” Remus suggested easily.

“I—”

Remus pulled Sirius out of the room. The door creaked open, old, worn, mouldy.

The garden was dry, patchy, burnt.

The forest. Where Remus had died. It was… shining. Bright white, like the sun when it was clear, hot, intense.

And the clearing, where the bonfire had been. A fleshy, puckered whale was curled up in it. Remus smiled fondly, pointing, “That’s my parent.”

Sirius stared. What about… Hope and Lyall?

“They’ve wanted to meet you,” Remus continued blindly. As he spoke, soft like a lullaby, the whale awoke. It was possibly huger than a whale. Its face was wide and stretched horizontally, and so were its nostrils, spilling with hair longer and blacker than Sirius’s own. Its skin was a blood-like pink, scarred, scabbed, open wounds, and it was groaning, floundering towards them.

“I love them,” Remus was murmuring, almost hypnotised. Sirius stared.

“Where are we?” He turned to Remus, seeking the safety he always found there.

But Remus didn’t look at him. “Where you’ve always been.”

- - -

LOCAL HEADLINES

TEEN DEATH TOLL RISES TO TWO IN ONE WEEK

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were best friends, roommates at the local boarding school…

James put the paper down, tears splashing onto the faces of his dead best friends. “And they were roommates…” he smiled weakly.

Around the cookie he was munching, his sugar consumption having doubled now that he was grieving two lost friends, Peter emptily echoed, “Oh my God… they were roommates.”

[brooklynn3253]

Fractured Moments

Bucky Barnes paced the dimly lit streets of Brooklyn, the cool autumn air brushing against his skin like a soothing balm. He could still feel the sting of the argument that had pierced the heart of his relationship. His fists were clenched, not out of anger but rather an insistent need to keep his emotions in check. His girlfriend, Sadie, had always been his anchor, and now – now he had somehow let them drift apart with reckless words.

Earlier that evening, they had been sitting in their cozy apartment, the aroma of tonight’s dinner lingering. What was meant to be a quiet night had spiraled into chaos. A seemingly harmless discussion about their future had turned sour as old wounds reopened. Bucky, still grappling with the shadows of his past, had reacted to her concerns with pointed remarks, hurting Sadie deeply.

“Do you ever listen to yourself?” she had shouted, tears glistening in her eyes. The pain in her voice had pierced through him like a bullet to the chest.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he had replied, his voice low but filled with an intensity that might have intimidate others. “I don’t want this life for you. Not with me.”

“It’s my choice, Bucky!” she had screamed, her voice echoing against the bare walls, the words sharp enough to cut through the air.

And in a moment of pure frustration, Bucky had stormed out, needing space to breathe, not realizing the impact of his departure.

As he roamed the streets, the city lights twinkled like distant stars against the backdrop of his guilt. With every step away from their home, the weight of regret pressed heavier upon his shoulders. How had he allowed the past to overshadow the possibility of a future with Sadie? Memories from his wartime experience crept into his mind, shadows of battles fought and people lost. He could still feel the cold grip of remorse.

After what felt like hours of aimless wandering, Bucky found himself standing on the waterfront, overlooking the glistening waves of the river. The rhythmic sound of water crashing against the shore brought a sense of calm, but deep down, a longing tugged at him. Sadie was everything he had ever wanted; she was the light in his dark world. He closed his eyes, replaying their argument, questioning why he had let his demons dictate his choices.

With the weight of indecision still heavy in his mind, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned back toward their apartment. Each step felt longer than the last. The return journey, while necessary, was also laced with the fear of what awaited him. Would Sadie still be there? Would he be able to comfort her? Or had he created a rift that would prove insurmountable?

As he reached their building and ascended the stairs, the sounds of the city faded away, replaced by the rapid beating of his heart. He fished out his key, hesitating for just a moment before pushing the door open. The sight that met him was one he had dreaded. Sadie sat curled up on the sofa, her red rimmed eyes flooded with tears. The warmth that once enveloped their home felt cold and desolate.

“Sadie…” he began, his voice cautious, but the plea hung heavy in the air.

She turned her gaze to him, the hurt written all over her face. “You came back,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Bucky stepped closer, his heart aching at the sight of her emotional turmoil. He knelt down in front of her, searching for the right words to heal the still fresh wound he had inflicted. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking, honesty pouring out. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. You have every right to be scared or concerned. You’re not choosing a life of danger—I am.”

She sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, and he saw the turmoil reflected in her eyes. He reached forward, his hand gently touching her knee, offering connection that he desperately wanted her to accept.

“I don’t want you to feel alone in this,” he continued gently. “I don’t want to push you away. Let me be a part of your life, Sadie. Please. We can face whatever comes together.”

“But you never let me in, Bucky,” she choked out, the pain of the truth resonating between them. “You act like I can’t handle your past, like it’ll ruin me. I’m here, I want to help you, but you keep pushing me away.”

He exhaled shakily, memories of dark times creeping into his mind. He fought against the urge to close off, to resign everything to solitude. “I’ve lost so many people I care about,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you too. It’s not that I think you can’t handle it. I just... I don’t know how to navigate it.”

A moment of silence passed between them, an unspoken understanding. Bucky could see the hurt in her eyes, but in that moment, he also saw her strength.

“Bucky,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “I love you, but you have to let me in. Let me be your partner, not just a spectator.”

His heart swelled. Tentatively, he intertwined their fingers, feeling warmth spread through him. “I love you too,” he whispered, the words laden with both sorrow and hope.

With a deep breath, she smiled through her tears. “I want to fight the demons together, Bucky. You don’t have to face this alone.”

And in that moment, as they sat together on the worn-out couch, hands clasped tightly, Bucky knew they could begin to mend the fractures in their hearts. Together.

[chronicowboy]

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) | 22k

"Do you have any idea what its like telling him his Buck is hurt?"

"Yes," Buck growls out, voice sharp as the knives embedded in Eddie's chest. "Yeah, Eddie, I really fucking do because I was the one that had to tell him that you'd been shot."

Eddie laughs. Its a broken sound, animalistic and rough and sounding only like a laugh echoing halfway across the galaxy. A wet laugh, edges razor sharp with bitter irony, corners like spears of desperate loneliness. He wants to grab Buck by the face and make him understand. Make him understand that the comparison of those situations is an admission of Buck's place in Christopher's life. Make him understand what Buck has never quite been able to grasp fully.

"Once," Eddie says instead. "Once. Imagine doing that five times within the last six months. Over and over and over. Watching his little face crumple like that first time when we didn't know if you'd ever wake up, listening to him begging to see you even if you've already been sent home because he doesn't quite believe that you aren't gonna disappear like his mom." Its too much, too much all at once, and Buck's mouth falls open like he hadn't been expecting it. A chink in his armour. Eddie exploits it. "He's terrified, Buck. And you just keeping throwing yourself into danger like he doesn't care about you."

"I know he cares," Buck argues hoarsely.

"Do you?" Eddie pushes, eyes dropping to the tense line of Buck's shoulders. "Do you? Because I think that if you did, if you knew just how much he cared, you wouldn't be ignoring harnesses and risking your life for a Walmart bunny."

"You know as well as I do that toys mean a lot to kids—"

"They're valuable, yes," Eddie concedes. "But not at the cost of a life, Buck." Not your life. "Does Christopher even cross your mind when you free climb down a cliff?"

"Of course he does!" Buck clenches his hands in the pillow he drags into his lap, unable to do anything else to purge his anger. "It was a little boy I was climbing down for, Eddie! You don't think I was thinking of Christopher?"

"I don't think you were thinking of him in the right way," Eddie snaps, pushing himself up from the armchair and pacing the floor in front of the coffee table.

"And how should I have been thinking of him, Eddie?" Buck's voice turns cold and emotionless in a way that sends a shudder down his spine. "In terms and conditions? In legal fine print? In the event of your death? Is that how I should have been thinking of him? As his back-up plan?"

"Back-up plan?" Eddie stares down at him incredulously, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

(OR: buck gets reckless, eddie gets angry, they talk in all the wrong ways, and the universe decides to intervene) [AKA The Angst Fic/season seven divorce era 2.0 fic]

@danielsousa @diazly @gracelcdomas @diazass @rogue205 @alyxmastershipper @pinky-promisesss @evanbucklxy @buddiearemydads @youraveragebookwhore @kenneth-black @poughkeepsies @littlechaosgremlin @krispold @scarcrossedbuck @thisyearsloveisnow @shortsighted-owl @ebdaydreamer @mellaithwen @littlebunnyz @shipping2survive @wallpaper-inside-my-heart @theroguetranslator @thebestbooksaround @i-am-a-mess24-7 @disasterpans @cowboy-buck @violet-rot @angstydiaz @livingonzenstreet @chiefcolorathletetoad

[frozenjokes]

A Song Called Love, So That You Know At Least I See You, That I Am Here

There was only one set of footsteps crunching through the brush today, and Mumbo was well aware of who it was before Grian appeared in the clearing. Grian alone was a bit of a stressful event; he didn’t come by alone often (Scar had never come alone before), but it seemed like every other time they had met one on one, he and Mumbo just.. didn’t quite get along. Grian was too scared of him, too protective of Scar, and while Mumbo did like and trust Grian, he felt himself somewhat similarly wary.

It was hard sometimes, to be comfortable around him. It was so easy with Scar, Scar who was bright and open and wore his heart proudly on his sleeve, and yes, sometimes he was too bright, sometimes the sun stung his eyes, but that was just human love. Brash and loud and overwhelming sometimes, but also safe, like curling up tight under a snug overhang and knowing everything is going to be okay.

Grian did not love him.

Sometimes, Mumbo wasn’t sure if Grian even liked him. Grian certainly didn’t trust him. Mumbo felt the weight of his glare often from the top of the outcrop where he fished, Scar talking nonsense proudly, completely obvious to Grian’s furrowed brow behind him, looking directly into Mumbo’s eyes. Scar was an intense experience in every sense of the word, and Mumbo often found himself exhausted after being in his company, but Grian was a whole different beast, his intensity concentrated in those eyes, dark and unhappy. Unhappier, this week.

Mumbo had thought they’d been making progress. Sure, he was stuck resting in one spot because of his injuries, but Scar had been nothing but delightful, and Grian was.. well, still Grian. Ignoring him, mostly. But there was an understanding there, a certain peace that didn’t have him throwing over wide-eyed, frightened glances, jumping at every splash, and startling at every vocalization that didn’t belong to Scar. And Mumbo was fine with that. He didn’t need to be loved or even liked- to be accepted as a presence was enough.

Mumbo wasn’t sure if Scar had noticed anything was wrong last week. He was not a very perceptive human, and Mumbo understood, he had his own moments of obliviousness, but even in Mumbo’s worst moments, he couldn’t have missed it. Grian didn’t want him here. A sentiment as obvious as the tightness in his own chest, right now, as Grian dropped his stuff in the grass and walked to the shore wearing the same dark look.

He had nothing. No fishing rod, no fish, no mystery items. The waves crashed at his feet as he marched forward, like a soldier to battle. Mumbo half expected Grian to keep walking, to wade so deep that the water would go right over his head. But he didn’t.

Grian sat a respectful distance away. This was the first time he’d even come into the water in a long time, at least a week. Something in Mumbo ached for him to come closer like Scar would, to invade his space with loud words and wild gestures, to make him uncomfortable, to show him that reckless human love and make this feel any amount better.

(But Grian did not love him, nor did Mumbo love Grian.)

“Do mermaids fall in love?” A question, Mumbo recognized the intonation, but one that would never be answered. Even if he understood, Grian would not be able to decipher his response. The barrier between their species often frustrated Mumbo, but today it made him feel utterly helpless. Something was wrong, something was clearly wrong, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

While it was obvious Grian was not in any sort of good mood, he pointed down with his thumb to indicate how he was feeling. Mumbo copied the gesture, not particularly happy himself.

Grian considered him for a moment, then nodded. He wasn’t looking at Mumbo when he spoke next, his eyes far away.

“I wouldn’t say I fall fast. Not really. But I fall hard. I’ve been in love maybe once or twice, and it’s great when it’s great. But it also makes you feel like you’re dying sometimes. Just bleeding out on the concrete, gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to be. It hurts like that, like being run over and left on the road in the sun, and you’re hot and dehydrated and you’re so- you would be okay if you could just get up. And you can, you’re not actually injured, you could get right up and get some water and pull yourself together, but you’re so damn sick in your chest you’re still just curled up on the shower floor. You thought maybe if you turned the water off you wouldn’t want to be there anymore, that you’d get cold and uncomfortable and you’d get up, but another hour passes and you’re still just.. kinda cold and wet. And nothing has changed. Because you’re still in love.”

Mumbo stared. Grian stared back.

“Do mermaids fall in love?” Grian needed an answer. Mumbo could not give one. “I want to be eaten alive. It would hurt less. I want you to eat me alive.” Grian laid back, the water just shallow enough that his head was barely above the water. Small waves washed over his face, and occasionally he would sputter, but ultimately, did not move.

“Do,” Grian had to stop, holding his breath as a wave glided over his face, “Mermaids fall in love?”

Mumbo pulled himself forward like the tide, smooth and quiet and slow, his tail dragging stiffly behind him. Their eyes met, the whites of Grian’s eyes distinctly visible. He looked like a dying animal, something resigned to its fate, but still afraid of what’s to come. How oddly clear it was, depression. Even between species, it looked so similar. Grian did not blink when the water washed over his eyes. Did not break eye contact.

Mumbo reached forward.

An experimental touch, barely grazing his sweater. Mumbo had never seen him get it wet before; he had assumed it was one of many human items that could not go in the water, though Scar got his clothes wet all of the time, the only piece of clothing usually left on the shore being his shirt.

Last week, Scar didn’t take it off. Mumbo had thought that was strange.

Grian’s breathing quickened as Mumbo laid his hand entirely across his chest. Mumbo did not break their eye contact. Grian did not raise his hand to indicate good or bad, though, in this state, Mumbo wasn’t sure if he could. That was okay. This wouldn’t take long.

‘I’m going to take care of you.’

Grian did not want to be touched, and Mumbo did not want to touch him, so instead he took the neck of Grian’s sweater, pulling from the back with as little force as he could manage until they were firmly where the gentle waves met the sand. Grian did not fight. Humans didn’t dry out easily, but regardless, Grian wouldn’t overheat here, still half in the water. Mumbo laid beside him, though on his stomach rather than on his back as Grian was.

Mumbo was well acquainted with the songs for a depression. He didn’t know a mer who wasn’t. But there was a particular song that struck deeper, that resonated stronger, and if Mumbo knew anything about mermaid song, it was that those melodies, the ones you felt in your soul; those were most effective.

So he did all he knew how to do. He sang.

It was not a cure. It might not even make you feel any better. Sometimes, being sung to made the ache more intense, the stillness heavier; you knew you weren’t well, and they, be them friends or doctors or even strangers, knew it too. They saw you. It’s a vulnerable thing to be seen.

Mumbo had heard many things said about Love. That it was not strong like healing, that there was no magic in the chords that would ease your pain. It was not useful like songs for rest, songs for hunting, bursts of sounds for hurting or soothing tones for insomnia. Love didn’t do anything. It was not special. It was not practical, or particularly efficient as far as solutions went.

But sometimes you don't want to heal. Sometimes you don't want to sleep or relax or even feel good. How much did it really matter if Love worked or if it held any magic at all in its chords. Sometimes what you really needed was to be known. And everyone knew Love.

Mumbo hadn’t even thought before he started to sing, of how Grian had reacted the first time, how even Scar had been so afraid of his song, regardless of his intention to help them. Mumbo didn’t know how much time had passed before he even remembered, but Grian hadn’t moved, and at this point, Mumbo was not worried. Grian’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow, and Mumbo would sing as long as he was needed.

…

Time did pass, Mumbo’s throat dry, but he noticed neither sensation, overcome instead with an all encompassing peace. Mumbo did not often sing. He wasn’t very good, nor motivated to get better. But it really had been.. too long. No mermaid should keep so much of themself inside for so long, not even mers who didn’t consider themselves musicians. So he moved on from Love, keeping the tones consistent, but letting the deeper feelings through as well, the joy, the pain, communication that felt like a constant fight against the strongest currents, his hurt, his confusion, his homesickness, but mostly his own love. Love for the world, for life, for humans, their trinkets and games, their banter, their love-

Mumbo worked through everything he hadn’t gotten the chance to properly feel, singing loud, unabashedly, just like a human. And then, he circled back to Love. It always came back to Love for Mumbo.

Then he stopped, near abrupt at the brush of fingers against his elbow. Grian withdrew his hand as quick as the touch; he had wanted Mumbo’s attention, clearly, but maybe he couldn’t speak yet. Or.. Maybe he..

Slowly, Mumbo moved his arm, extending it just enough, pointing his thumb upwards. ‘It’s okay.’

Grian looked at him differently then, not staring anymore, just looking, eyes half lidded. Mumbo followed his line of sight as it moved to their hands, Grian’s own inching forward. His was dwarfed by Mumbo’s, fingers shorter, softer, but no less nimble, no less curious. Mumbo braced himself for the touch, but contact was careful, gentle, and with it came no fear, no urge to flee. He wanted this. He had been curious to know human touch for so long. He had meant to ask, tried to ask even, but Scar was too much, too eager, and just too utterly overwhelming- Mumbo couldn’t do it. Maybe he should have realized a while ago that the contact he longed to know wasn’t going to come from Scar.

Humans did not heal with song, that much had long since been clear. Mumbo could count on one hand he’d heard Scar sing, Grian hadn’t tried at all, and both of them had been afraid to hear Mumbo sing. It wasn’t something primal for them, integral. That was a foreign idea to Mumbo. You did not have mermaids without song, you just.. didn’t.

Maybe you didn’t have humans without touch.

Grian’s fingers were curious over his own, feather-light over the ridges of his nails, knuckles, and tickling the webbing between. They retreated when Mumbo made a fist, but returned at a second thumbs up, just as careful and curious as before. Grian did not need to ask. The boundary was already communicated better than they could with words.

It was a relief to not have to talk.

Mumbo was prepared for when Grian wrapped his fingers around Mumbo’s own, his palm resting gently on the top of Mumbo’s hand. He’d seen this gesture often between Grian and Scar, though not in the last week, not with Grian’s foul mood.

It didn’t feel like magic, not like how it looked between humans. Mumbo had expected something.. more? But this was still alright. Beside him, Grian’s shoulders sagged, his body curling in on itself just slightly, with the exception being the arm holding Mumbo’s hand.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Grian sighed, though he wasn’t looking at Mumbo, wasn’t expecting an answer, “I’ve talked to so many people. Pearl, Jimmy, Joel, Impulse.. None of them seem to know either. I mean, Pearl and Impulse work at the zoo, and we’re all- Scar included- close. So many mutual friends, I just feel like I’m making a complete mess of everything. Impulse said I can’t help how I feel. It’s no one’s fault. And I know that. I mean, of course I know that, but knowing it doesn’t make me just magically feel less like a piece of shit. Less angry. Less guilty about being angry. Less guilty in general- every moment I spend with Scar feels like pulling teeth, everything he says landing like punches to the gut; reminders of what I can’t have. I want nothing to do with him. I want everything to do with him.”

Grian closed his eyes, head falling impossibly deeper into the sand. He squeezed Mumbo’s hand, and Mumbo wasn’t quite sure what that meant, so he squeezed back. Grian opened his eyes. “So damn sweet. You’re just so damn sweet,” Grian still spoke to the sky, but a glance in Mumbo’s direction indicated who he was addressing. Mumbo didn’t quite know the meaning, but the tone was soft.

“Pearl thinks I should put some distance between us. Not cut him off, obviously, of course not, just take some time away until I can be normal again. And maybe not.. I don’t know, spend weeks hanging out with him alone- no offense, but I’m not counting you as a factor in this equation. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone with him at all anymore. Just keep our interactions to group hangouts, keep it casual. It just hurts, you know? It just hurts. It hurts now, too, but it’s scarier not knowing exactly how I’m going to be hurting. Gem agrees with Pearl, of course. They’re smart.”

Grian quieted, squinting against the sky. It was a cloudy day, but the surface was always bright. Mumbo honestly didn’t know how humans could stand it. His eyes had adjusted from being up here for so long, but oftentimes when he came up from the deep, he found himself nearly blind for hours, and even then, his vision was spotty at best. It was the best it had ever been this past week, vague shapes and colors turning into something more defined. It was odd to know sunlight that didn’t hurt. He would miss it.

The slight disturbance of water as Grian turned his head brought Mumbo’s attention back. There it was again, the staring. No. Looking. Grian was just looking.

“I don’t know why I came to you. Honestly, it was a completely silly thing to do in the first place. I wanted to know what you would say, I guess, but obviously I can’t- we can’t know. You probably don’t have any idea what’s even going on between Scar and I. I don’t even know if mermaids feel love, if they mate for life or anything. We- humans, I mean, don’t even know how you guys reproduce. Humans tend to think you fall in love like us, though. They really want to think you’d fall in love with us, actually, it’s a little funny,” Grian chuckled, releasing a long exhale, though not quite a sigh, “I think if I tried to put mermaids on a ranking of animals that get most heavily anthropomorphized, you’d be right up at the top along with like.. dogs and things. I’ve always been against that sort of thing. Taking an animal and assuming they think and feel and want exactly like humans do is harmful about 99% of the time, and it is harmful, obviously you and I as species are impossibly different it’s just..” Grian trailed off a small smile crossing his face, “You’re holding my fucking hand right now like a person, and that’s kinda nuts. It’s funny. I don’t even think you want to. It’s funny.”

Mumbo wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. But Grian was smiling, and that was good. Maybe touch was magic. Though, the smile didn’t last, and Grian was back to looking at the sky.

“Maybe what I really came here to do was apologize. I don’t have any doubt you know exactly what it means for me to sit up on those rocks and glare at you like you’re the source of all my problems. Like I wish you’d just disappear, because then I wouldn’t be trapped here with someone who doesn’t love me the way I wish he would. I’d have an excuse to stop seeing him every day. An excuse to pull away. To leave and not feel like I’m missing out on something that’s like- objectively incredible. The fact that I’m even here right now, laying in the sand, talking to a fucking mermaid- this shouldn’t be possible. This shouldn’t be real. I’d be crazy to just.. leave. But I have to. I can’t keep going like this.”

“I don’t know exactly when I’ll work up the nerve to talk to Scar. To tell him I’m not going to come here anymore, but.. I don’t know. Until then, I’ll stop treating you like the enemy. I hope.. it feels silly to even say this, because you have negative reasons to like me, but I hope you won’t miss me. I hope I don’t hurt you. And this isn’t goodbye yet, obviously, I can’t just fuck off without telling Scar I’m going to leave, and who knows how long that’ll take me. I’m a little bit of a coward, I think. I don’t know. Sometimes it feels impossibly difficult to navigate the world,” Grian laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound, “Just rambling now. Sorry.”

‘You sound like you want me to respond, so here I am, responding. Be satisfied.’

“Thanks, Mumbo.” Grian was quiet, closing his eyes once more against the bright sky. Assumedly satisfied. “Is it okay if I stay for a while?” Another question, but it was not emotionally charged, and Mumbo got the sense Grian wasn’t expecting an answer. So Mumbo relaxed. Grian did the same.

For the second time today, Mumbo felt a soft pang of longing for the deep, for the cold, the dark, the safety of a colony, the comfort of unhindered communication and understanding. Of hunting, of fresh fish. His tail wasn’t healing, not as fast as it would under the care of mermaid song, and no matter how much the humans tried, their help would never be what Mumbo needed.

Similarly, no matter how much he wanted to, Mumbo did not think he could provide the help the humans needed either. He could not break up their fights, he could not stop their tears, he could not hold them the way they held each other. He couldn’t know what they needed. Even if he knew, he wasn’t exactly sure he could accommodate them. Mumbo needed other mermaids. Maybe.. they needed other humans. Maybe curiosity was keeping them both coming back, just like it kept Mumbo planted in the sand, all three of them neglecting their own needs in favor of this new, exciting experience.

But it didn’t have to end. Mumbo was sure it wouldn’t end. He would take his time, he would really heal, then he would return, refreshed and ready to give this another shot. If he was gone, maybe the humans would be forced to care for themselves as well. To sing, or touch, or do whatever it was that healed them.

…

Mumbo had no idea how much time passed before Grian moved, letting go of Mumbo’s hand and sitting up. He was disgustingly sandy, and Grian shared Mumbo’s distaste, lip gently curled as he struggled to brush wet sand off his now filthy sweater. Then he stopped, abrupt as he remembered where he was, a much better solution right at his feet. Grian took a deep breath before running (still limping, Mumbo couldn’t help but notice) to deeper water. The way he dove in was reminiscent of Scar, and Mumbo shimmied back around and to see Grian’s open mouthed smile, maybe laughing, bubbles erupting from his mouth in an expression like joy. Mumbo’s chest fluttered, and he wasted no time pulling himself along the bottom to join him in this spontaneous moment of play.

He’d never seen Grian swim before. He wasn’t as strong of a swimmer as Scar, movements clumsy and hardly calculated, but he didn’t seem to care at all, jumping and diving, and clearing the sand from his hair with reckless abandon. Mumbo flexed his own fins, stiff and weak from lack of use, but he still had partial access to his rear fin beyond the end of his splint, and with small movements, propelled himself slowly forward- anything to join Grian in his joy. Grian didn’t seem to mind Mumbo’s presence at all, zero trace of fear where it had been overpowering in days prior, and Mumbo found himself caring less as well, venturing closer than he ever would have dared next to a swimming Scar.

It was like play, like dance, like everything good about life, and Mumbo hardly noticed when the fins along his back grazed Grian’s feet, instead amused by Grian’s yelp of surprise and the following flurry of bubbles. The touch wasn’t on purpose, but Grian must have thought it was, diving back down to give Mumbo a piece of his mind (even more gibberish than normal), until Mumbo kicked forward, using the flowy end of his tail to smack Grian gently in the face. His expression was worth every pin prick of pain and discomfort.

After getting air, Grian dove back down to give chase, though even in Mumbo’s current state, he had absolutely zero hope of catching up. Of course, Mumbo would never ruin a game by leaving Grian in the dust, so he swam slowly in circles to give him the illusion of catching up, staying shallow enough that Grian would always be reasonably close to the surface. Grian grew delightfully frustrated, squabbling and flailing then crossing his arms with puffed out cheeks, of course, unable to pout for long before needing to get air. Mumbo turned, eyeing him fondly from his place in the sand before pushing up to the surface, taking one of Grian’s hands in his own for a second’s touch, then coiling back around, once again grazing the human’s body with the tips of his fins.

‘Goodbye Red.’

Mumbo didn’t see Grian’s reaction, but he felt the flailing disturbance of the water, and even recognized his name, “Mumbo?” through the distortion of underwater speech. Good. Very good.

It was time to go home.

[rafayelsss]

Heyo! I love your Rafie fics! I was wondering if you would like to write a fanfic where S/I doesn't like rain. Like she jokes about them feeling like "watery knives", but even if she doesn't like rain too much... She plays in it just to see fish boyo happy even though she is grumbling.

Idk just wanna see Rafayel be a tease more. Lol thank you for your hard work!

my first official request on this blog!! tysm for requesting! i had fun with this one bc i love him

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

content: rafayel x gn!reader (was meant to be fem but in the end no gendered terms were used), no y/n, raf gets a cold at the end

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rafayel somehow convinces you into the rain with him.

The streetlamps scattered around glowed in contrast to the dimly lit afternoon sky, hues of indigo and rouge signaling the beginning of a cold, familiar night in Linkon City.

And what would be a familiar night without Rafayel at your side?

He’s slowly and surely weaseled his way into your routine strolls, in which he now accompanies you whenever he has the time to. Strangely, he always has free space in his schedule for you, which he insists is a coincidence, or that it was simply fate that brought you two together once more.

“So what’s our next stop? The bakery downtown for the third time this week?” Rafayel asked, balancing himself on the curbs of the sidewalk.

“Second, actually.” You corrected quickly with a glare. “Besides, you didn’t have to come along today either… Stop complaining.”

Rafayel feigned mock offense, bringing a hand to his chest as he shook his head. “And leave you all alone in this vast, wide, big and scary city? No way. How could you ever live without me?”

You actually could very well live without him. But he’s too cute to leave, unfortunately.

“I can handle myself just fine, Rafie… You can leave if you don’t want to be he-”

Rafayel cuts through your sentence swiftly. “No thanks.”

Before you could even open your mouth to raise more questions as to what he exactly means by that plain and final answer, your words are diluted by the sudden downpour of rain above.

You watch as most people around you run for shelter from the rain, some more prepared ones opening their umbrellas and calmly carrying on with their day. Being a part of the unlucky few that didn’t bring one, you drag Rafayel to a nearby bus stop.

“Weird… They said it’d be cloudy at most today.” You muttered under your breath, the top of your head already wet, water dripping off the strands of hair.

Rafayel chuckles at you drenched state. “When were weather forecasts ever 100%? This is why you have to think of every possibility.”

“Oh? Does this mean you brought an umbrella?” You raised a brow at him expectantly. If he was so confident, then surely…–

“Nope.”

You stared at him in sheer, unbridled disappointment and confusion. “What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

“I was going to bring an umbrella,” Rafayel paused for effect to tap on his chin to ponder for half a second. “but it looks like I forgot. I was so excited to see you again that it completely slipped out of my mind.”

“You…” You inhaled sharply and exhaled back out deeply to keep your blood pressure steady.

He flashes you a grin in an attempt to be a little apologetic, but it was obvious he wasn’t one bit.

“How am I supposed to go home with the weather this bad?” You looked up at the sky, the rain still unrelenting in its showers. You didn’t know how long it would last, and it was getting rather late into the day already.

Rafayel tilts his head at you and grabs a hold of your wrist, stepping forward from under the cover of the bus stop and into the drizzling skies. “We make a run for it, duh.”

He says it as if it’s such an obvious solution, one you should have thought of much sooner.

“We could get a cold, and I don’t look forward to walking past the front door soaked from head to toe!” You argue, disapproving of such a reckless idea. But then again, you’d be lying if his suggestion didn’t pique some sort of interest within you. “And it feels like a bunch of watery knives raining down from up above.”

“Don’t worry, if you flap your limbs, dance and doge around enough, and run as fast as you can, you’ll be able to deflect its attacks. And… A little rain never hurt anyone.”

Rafayel eagerly awaits your answer, but you both knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him down if he kept looking at you with those sparkling purple eyes, practically begging for you to accept and loose a little.

His hand slid down from your wrist to your hand, intertwining your fingers together lightly. You return his gesture with a smile.

“Okay, fine.”

—

The next morning, you receive a text message from Rafayel.

Rafayel poked you

Rafayel: [im dying]

You: [Told you you’d get sick.]

Rafayel: [dun u want me to get better? come here and nurse me back to health urself]

—

[ourmadmusings]

I can’t be the one left here dragging you down, let me drown - 

Your first mission with him goes…not well.  “What is wrong with you?” He’s all teeth, he’s mad. You’ve seen him annoyed, tired, a little miffed perhaps, but never properly mad. “Are you just stupid, or do you think this is a game?” You blanch a little, your mouth closes and opens like a fish out of water - you really don’t know what to say to him. You leave your mask to cover your guilt, but his falls as he gets in your face. You feel like a child being scolded for breaking your mothers nice end-table lamp - “I should have let him kill you, teach everyone a fuckin’ lesson.” He’s going on and on, and you can’t muster the words to tell him to fuck off, you were doing what he asked of you, being reckless wasn’t even a thought, you were just doing what you thought he wanted - risking your hide for the betterment of his cause.  The anomaly had gotten away, though, because he’d stopped mid swing, just to help you. The Green Goblin had slipped through your webs and was cruising full-speed to string you up, you hadn’t even noticed the blades on his hover-board ejecting and tipped right at you until Miguel had shot a single web dead-center on your chest and yanked you to safety. The foiled attack left you on your hands and knees a few feet away with only the smallest of cuts on your forearm, bleeding disproportionately considering the size, Miguel distracted with you, and the villain of the week cruising away down the main drag. You stood and Miguel yelled.  “I- I’m sorry! I thought-” “Oh so you were thinking? That’s almost worse, in that case. If you’re going to waste my time, you’re better off going back home. I already have to babysit Gwen, Peter, half of the universe! I don’t want to add you to that long list.” His hands fly up to fiddle with his device sitting on his wrist. You can still see his sharp canines, he’s still scowling.  “I’m sorry.” You trail off as a portal opens, he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know you were being relieved of your duties on this mission with him.  You step into his main quarters back at the citadel, shame and embarrassment heavy on your shoulders. You trail a hand up your arm to stop some of the blood - Lyla is quick to buzz from your wrist, “you should let someone look at that back in medical, it could be worse than it looks.” You don’t even raise your hand to reply, simply plugging your homeworld coordinates in and lettings a portal open up, you yank the watch off and toss it on O’Hara’s chair as you stalk through - you didn’t know much but you knew well enough that no one was going to scold you like a dog. You were trying your best to help, fuck him. 

You ignore everyone for weeks. Peter B. was the first to come and try to convince you back, then Pav, Gwen, and even Hobie gave a little effort, but you told them all the same thing - “he doesn’t want my help anymore, and I have stuff to worry about here.” It doesn’t escape you that Miguel was never bothered enough to ask you himself, he didn’t do anything to help the situation. Were you being reckless? Maybe. Did he overreact though? Yes. Were your feelings more hurt than you realized, your ego bruised that he’d hollered at you, scolded you like a child? Moreso than you cared to admit.  It’s a week short of two months before Jessica comes looking for you, telling you O’Hara needed to speak directly to you, to which you’d shrugged, said whatever it was wasn’t pressing enough to be bothered with, that if it was important, he would have reached out.  “Kid-” she sighs, rubbing a hand on her lower back, and suddenly you do feel a little bad, maybe you were just being stubborn, “that’s not his M-O and you know it. You know as well as I do that he’s just embarrassed he yelled like he did at you, of all people.” You know she can see the smoke coming from your ears as you think over what she’s saying. Why would someone like him be embarrassed of anything? “Just think about it, will’ya? For me, not for him. Screw him, he can be a major prick, I know it.” You hum a reply, and she leaves a shiny new watch on your kitchen table before she’s gone and you’re alone again.  “How’d it go?” Peter is quick to catch Jess, and she laughs a little. “As well as you’d think, Pete. I think I got through a little, though.”  “Should we send Pav back? He’s always the ray of sunshine, maybe that’ll be a good move.” Jess just shakes her head at him, “I think she’s got enough to worry about.”  “What did Miguel even say to ‘er? I didn’t think she’d have such thin skin.” Hobie is quick to match pace, they know he’s not really invested, but he loves to hear the gossip first-hand.  “I don’t know, but it must have been harsh.” Peter chimes in, Jess picks up her pace, trying to get to the cafeteria and leave the two nosey men behind.  They share a look behind her back, “it probably wasn’t what he said, boys, it was probably because it came from him.”  They don’t quite know what that means. 

Two more days go by before you hear the device beeping an awful little tune. You try and try to ignore it, but like an alarm, it just keeps sounding off at your table, exactly where Jess had tossed it. Two full minutes stretch by and you finally pick it up, blood boiling, trying to simply silence the machine, but you fumble. You don’t want to admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, it was purposeful.  His face lights up your small space, he looks a little surprised, but the look melts into his usual uninterested gaze as quickly as you notice, you snap a quick, ‘what,’ before he can even open his mouth.  You think you see the flashes of hurt, embarrassment maybe, but he’s quick to mumble a little, “are you done pouting, or are you going to hide out forever?”  Your eyes are wide as soon as he says it, “Pouting? That’s all you’re gonna say to me, really? Accuse me of-”  “You know what I meant, so are’ya comin back anytime soon?”  Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and Miguel notices, “don’t roll your eyes at me, kid.”  “Back to scolding me so soon, huh? No one else around to talk down to over there lately?” You know you shouldn't say it, but you can’t help it. You’d never spoken back to him, but the lack of physical proximity made you brave.  “Scold? How is that scolding, you shouldn’t roll your eyes at anyone like that, it’s an ugly habit.”  “So you’re callin’ me ugly now, too?”  You can see his jaw clench, you’re being childish and stubborn, you know, but you can’t help it. Really, what was he going to do about it anyways?  “Are you being difficult on purpose, or does the attitude come naturally to you?”  “Does being a dick come naturally to you?” You counter with a sneer.  He huffs, you’re not sure why you’re being obtuse, but your feelings were still hurt. That’s reason enough for you to give him a little lip.  “God you - Jesus Christ, fine.” He looks around at something off-screen, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, alright? I shouldn’t have talked to you that way-” “No, you shouldn’t have.” You interject.  “Would you please just, please - I am sorry, I was just worried you’d get hurt.” He’s quiet now, bashful, if you didn’t know him any better than to know the man was incapable of being sincere. “Would you please come back? I think you could still be of use to us here.” 

You’re stuck in your spot, teetering a little back and forth, he did sound sorry. You whisper a quick ‘I’ll think about it,’ before beeping the watch off and putting it on top of your fridge.

a/n: Hobie’s a messy bitch and we all know it. Pt. 1 - Pt. 2- Pt. 3 -  

[sweetlikesunflowersandhoney]

Maps

Read on ao3

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The woman scurried down the dark alleyways, her harried steps echoed by the stone walls and the heavier footsteps chasing after her. Her long skirt weaved between her legs until it got caught in a wooden barricade she had to jump, so she tugged on it harshly until it ripped and she was free. She made quick turns, hoping to lose her would-be-captors, and when she found a pile of crates and waste behind the butcherman’s shop, she hunkered down under it and made herself small.

With her knife in her hand and her heart in her throat, Sasha waited.

Loud yelling from the leader, someone else’s mumbling, then the dull crunch of a fist on a bony torso. Sasha took slow, measured breaths that dragged the smell of old blood and rot into her lungs.

She waited, and prayed, until the three sets of steps left her behind.

When she felt safe, Sasha unfurled herself from under the garbage, feeling her heartbeat in every vessel. She untraced her steps and headed back to the tavern where she had been spotted, and where her crew hopefully still waited for her.

Unfriendly, unfamiliar faces stared at her as she walked. She longed for the wide brim of the hat she’d lost in the chase, to hide from the scrutiny and the scorching sun. Under the cover of her hand, she looked up to find the wooden hanging sign of the tavern.

As she passed an alleyway, however, a familiar whistle called her from the darkness, and Sasha followed.

From the shadows emerged a tall figure, a sword glinting on their hip and Sasha’s hat in their hands.

“Welcome back, captain,” Anetra said, handing Sasha her hat.

“Miss Reyes,” Sasha greeted her second-hand, trying to keep her tone steady as she took in the new red stains on Anetra’s white blouse. “Good to see you’re still in one piece.”

“Nothing but a few nicks and flesh wounds for the lot of us, captain. Once you left, they lost all interest in us.” Anetra sighed melodramatically. “A bit disheartening, to tell the truth. What’s a woman have to do to get some enemies of her own?”

“Here’s hoping that the next pack of criminals we find are after you instead of me.”

“Hear, hear,” Anetra said, toasting her imaginary cup in the air.

“Did everyone make it out alright?”

Anetra nodded and started the way to the docks, guiding her captain down the narrow, empty alleys.

“Everyone should be back on the ship and ready to sail. We were just waiting for you, captain.”

“How noble of you not to ditch me and steal my ship.”

“It did cross my mind. But what good is a ship without a treasure map?”

“There are other treasures to pursue in this world, Miss Reyes. Certainly easier ones. You have tied your cart to a particularly unreliable horse. Wouldn’t you rather go back to plundering English ships?”

“Hm,” Anetra hummed, scratching her chin in thought. “Nah. Where is the fun in that?”

Anetra turned her face to Sasha and gave her that shark-like smile of hers, the one that made Sasha feel reckless enough to chase any mythical treasure to the edge of the world.

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The seashells, the feather, the candle, the dirt. Sasha gathered her skirts to kneel down on the floor of her room, chanting the old songs under her breath.

Her ship creaked and groaned around her, the strong wood engaged in its intricate dance with the sea.

“We thank the wind in our sails, for its power when it lets us sail through the ocean, for its wisdom when it makes us be still and wait.”

She let the feather fall into a porcelain plate, chanting as she watched it fall on the sea water in it.

“We thank Mother Sea for holding us in her embrace, for feeding us.”

With a handful of crushed seashells and fish bones, she drew a circle around the plate, letting them slip through her fist like salt. She opened the jar of dirt and inhaled its scent, closing her eyes and letting herself be ten years old again, running barefoot on the soft soil through the wilderness that sprawled behind her home. Sasha dipped her fingers in the dirt and painted a dark line over each of her wrists.

“May we always come back to shore. May we remember the way.”

Sasha closed the jar and lit up the candle. She bent down her head and prayed for safety, for strength, for every person in her crew.

Let us return. Let us return.

Her chants had reached their natural conclusion and left her in a meditative state by the time she heard a knock on the door. She knew who it was from the cadence alone, so she said come in without clearing up the things for the ritual.

“Hey,” Anetra said quietly, going down the few steps into Sasha’s quarters. “Were you praying?”

“Just finished,” Sasha said, blinking owlishly at the light that broke through the dim room before Anetra closed the door behind her. “I was praying that we survive this voyage.” She snuffed out the candle and fished the feather out of the water so it could get dry.

“Please,” Anetra huffed, “you should’ve asked that we find the treasure.”

“I believe that is your task, Miss Reyes,” Sasha smiled, “or are you telling me you lost your touch? Do I need to find another navigator?”

“You offend me,” Anetra said with faux outrage, clenching her shirt over her heart like she’d been wounded. “I am merely suggesting that, since the sea favors you so much, you could ask it to make things a tad easier for us.”

“The Sea already gives us everything we need. The rest is up to us.”

Sasha put the shells and the dirt back in their drawer and left the plate under her dresser to be dealt with later. When she turned around, Anetra was right in front of her. Even in her boots, Sasha had to look up at her.

Anetra was still young, though life at sea had given her coarser skin. She was young in her airs, in her wild, windswept hair, and in the imprudent way she eyed her captain up and down.

“Still,” Anetra said, dragging her eyes up to Sasha’s. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of mystical guidance. Especially since we don’t actually know where we’re going, and you seem to be collecting enemies at every port.”

It was rare that Anetra let any doubts show. For her sake, Sasha put on a playful smile.

“Is your tireless spirit of adventure already waning, Miss Reyes? For shame. You are not yet one-and-twenty.”

“Tsk, worry about your own spirit, captain,” Anetra said, back to her usual cockiness. “I am in my prime.” She took a half step forward and rested her hand on the dresser behind Sasha. With her free hand, she lifted Sasha’s wrist to her eyes and examined the streak of soil staining her skin. She lifted an eyebrow. “Dirty business, these prayers of yours.”

“I know you don’t believe in this, Miss Reyes,” Sasha said with a level voice, even as she felt her own heartbeat held in Anetra’s hand, “but I have done this same ritual for every voyage since I could talk, like my mother before me, and we have always returned to shore.”

“So have I, and I couldn’t pray a Hail Mary if Satan was stabbing my ass with his pitchfork.”

Laughter bubbled up in Sasha’s stomach, and it died in her throat when Anetra leaned in so close that Sasha could see the precious gold in her eyes.

“Do you know why we’ve come back every time?” Anetra said, every word felt on Sasha’s skin. “Sheer. Dumb. Luck.” She shrugged. “The sea doesn’t care if it chews us up and spits us back out as chum for the sharks.”

Sasha sighed with fond exasperation. Years and years of debate, all in vain. She knew that Anetra could not understand. She hadn’t been marked by the Sea.

In the beginning, Sasha’s hackles would rise at Anetra’s blatant disrespect for the Deities. She even worried they would get offended, and make Sasha’s ship pay for it. But time went by with nothing more severe than a storm to get through, and since Anetra’s skills far outweighed her blasphemous ways, she quickly became Sasha’s second. Sasha even learned to find the humor in her tirades against faith, and by now the debate was nothing more than a mental exercise for them both.

Sometimes, when she felt particularly melancholic and missed her mother, Sasha would have liked to have someone who understood. Someone who could look out to the Sea, infinite in its power and in its generosity, and see the benevolent Deity she saw. Someone who would kneel by her side in the middle of a storm, and pray.

Anetra did not pray to any gods. But she could read and draw maps like no one else, and make Sasha laugh like no one else, and that was more than enough.

“Have you come here to question my faith, or to do your job?”

“I can do both, ma’am. It’s why I am an exceptional quartermaster,” Anetra replied with that damn smile of hers. She gestured towards the desk in the corner. “After you.”

Sasha moved the thick captain’s log to the side and put out a pen and an ink well for Anetra, who sat at the desk. Anetra then got a square of paper out of a drawer, and carefully unfolded it to reveal an unfinished map.

Clearing her throat, Sasha turned her back to Anetra. It had been happening for weeks, but this part still made her stomach tighten.

Sasha unbuttoned her shirt, willing her hands to be firm and not tremble. She dropped the shirt on a corner of the desk, then crossed her arms over her chest. The room was cold, but beyond that, it felt wrong to be uncovered like that. She knew that, in reality, it did not matter. Even the women in her crew left their chests bare on hot days, and nobody looked at them twice. But Sasha could not join them.

“I’ll be quick, ma’am,” Anetra said with the gentle tone that her voice rarely donned, followed by the scratch of pen on paper.

Sasha simply nodded and tried to distract herself from Anetra’s eyes burning her skin. She focused on the sounds of the crew that floated down to her chambers. The first day back at sea was always hectic. Everyone was busy and happy to be so; soon they would have a spell of windless days, and that would make things impossibly dull. She wished they could have spent another day on shore, but the news about her seemed to be traveling quite fast. The people that had chased her earlier were not the same ones who had been asking about her back in Tortuga.

“All done.”

Sasha reached for her shirt blindly and cleared her throat. She dressed quickly, speeding through the buttons until she was covered again.

She turned around, and caught Anetra trying to hide her obvious stare. The knot in Sasha’s stomach got tighter.

“Anything new today?”

Instead of replying, Anetra showed her the new tracings of ink she had copied from the mark on Sasha’s back.

“Not much, ma’am. Likely because you stayed on land for some days, and we haven’t traveled far since the last time. But these,” she pointed at the irregular beginnings of some small scattered shapes, careful not to smudge the ink. “look like islands. We should reach them within the next three days.”

Sasha nodded and frowned at the ever growing map. These were unfamiliar waters. It made her uneasy, even if she trusted her Deities to guide them. She couldn’t imagine embarking on this journey like Anetra did, with nothing to put her faith into.

“I need to compare this with the maps we have. Do you mind if I take them to my quarters?”

“Stay here. You don’t have a desk, you should use mine.”

“My, the quartermaster shut up with the captain in her very own bedchamber?” Anetra said teasingly, raising her eyebrow. “What will the crew think?”

“That you are doing the job you get paid for, Miss Reyes,” Sasha retorted, trying to regain some semblance of authority. “I need to go up anyway, and you can work in peace down here. I’ll be gone in a moment.”

Anetra nodded, but then she looked at the map and she was gone from the world. She searched with familiarity through the drawers of the desk and pulled out papers and tools. The map she was making got laid out next to a complete one for comparison, so she could add to it the names of cities and some details of the land that were not visible in Sasha’s mark.

Sasha watched the ink trace new lines for a moment before her eyes moved up the blue lines of Anetra’s veins, tensed up as she worked. The woman always got a small frown when she focused, and when she wasn’t muttering to herself, her lips formed a pout. Sasha tore her eyes from them, and picked up the plate under her dresser to throw the water out the window.

“I’m going up. Breakfast will be ready in under an hour. Should I tell the cook to send you some?”

“Huh? No, that won’t be necessary,” Anetra said, her eyes glancing up momentarily from the map. “I will join you as soon as I’m done.”

Sasha nodded, but Anetra was engrossed in her drawings again. Sasha left the room, closing the door quietly, and made a note to herself to send someone down with breakfast for her.

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Predictably, Anetra did not resurface until well after breakfast was over. She squinted her eyes at the sun, too bright after hours spent in the dim light of the bedchamber.

Sasha watched her roam the deck from her vantage point, up in the rafters. It wasn’t so high up that she would crack her skull if the wind changed suddenly and she fell, but it was high enough that no one would need anything from her for a minute.

As always, she could make an exception for Anetra.

Sasha whistled and Anetra looked up, finding her quickly and grinning before taking to the web of ropes and masts like a jungle cat. In a moment, she let herself plop down by Sasha’s side, her hair blowing gently in the sea breeze.

They shared in the relative silence of wind and waves. The relentless demands of the ship under their charge could not reach them up there. They had only themselves and the wide blue sea, stretching endlessly beyond them with infinite promise. It made Sasha feel young again. There wasn’t a place on earth where she felt more at home than right there.

“I did not mean to mock you, earlier,” Anetra broke the silence after some moments. Sasha looked at her, curious. “I know the ritual is important to you. I do not…” she paused, seeming to search for the words. She shook her head, making the string of coins that adorned her hair clink together. “At any rate, if the sea or… something, has marked you from birth, if there is something drawing a God-honest treasure map on your skin every day, then something or someone wants you to live.” Anetra finally met her eye. She shrugged. “I am just not used to any Gods watching over me.”

Sasha took in the words, the sad resignation.

“They do.”

Instead of the usual eye roll, Anetra kept her eyes firmly on the skyline.

“They do, Anetra,” Sasha pushed a little more, her hand inching closer to Anetra’s on the mast that held them. “I know they care for you.”

That seemed to shake Anetra out of her uncharacteristic abstraction, and a forced smile broke through her stoic expression.

“As long as they care for my captain, I should be fine, right?”

But her voice lacked the usual mirth. Filling her lungs with sea air, Sasha dared to take Anetra’s hand.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

Anetra raised her eyebrow.

“How you can put yourself in the hands of something so powerful, and believe it uncaring.” The hand under Sasha’s stiffened up, but she kept going. “We risk so much out here. Our lives depend on this crew of mostly strangers, we barely have enough to eat and drink. We bear disease and pirate attacks and our shelter can be snapped into splinters by a single storm. Don’t you want something to believe in? To put your faith in?”

The wind whistled around them, tangling their tendrils of hair together. Anetra turned her hand around to hold Sasha’s.

“I put my faith in you.”

It stole the air from Sasha’s lungs. She stared into the gold flecked eyes and sank to the bottom of their depths.

The yelling of the crew below reminded them that they were on borrowed time, and there would be much to do before they could sneak away together again.

“We should get down,” Anetra said, taking back her hand.

“After you.”

Anetra stood up and wrapped her hands in rope to swing down, reckless in her youth. Before she could jump off the mast, her captain called her:

“Miss Reyes?”

Anetra turned her head.

“Thank you. I do not take what you said lightly.”

Anetra gave her a nod.

“Of course, captain.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Sasha in her nest of wood and wind. She took one last moment to breathe, and then she climbed down the ropes.

[parkermunson]

Siren!Eddie Part 3

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summary: You want to find your new friend a shell but on the walk to find one, you fall. Cleaning the wound off in the ocean seems like a good idea, unless there's a starving siren in the water. Luckily, he's more interested in keeping you alive.

t/w: Mentions of blood/open wound a lot. Eddie licks reader (not sexually), poor self-confidence thoughts

a/n: I am so in love with this series, it brings me so much joy to write. I love little golden retriever Siren!Eddie but I also wanted to portray his actual siren nature. So this chapter shows that. And don't follow in Reader's footsteps. She's reckless. Here's the longest fic I've written so far!!! [3.6k words]

The warm wind of the afternoon rushed between your legs as you stood at the surface of splashing water. The pocket your hand rested in, previously home to the gifted shells from your newest 'friend', now storage for the little bits of sand remnants that fell from the shells. They prick your fingers, but it somehow feels nice. Like it's proof that you didn't imagine another person actually sitting in the water after all these years.

The water was empty aside from the little fish taking in the heat from the shoreline sand. He seemed to disappear in the time you left for lunch. Though, you're sure you never saw anyone like him walking around the streets from your house. Your house only separated from the little walkway to the beach by a street meant you could keep an eye on the visitors. Maybe he swam to another shore around the rocks. He seemed to love being in the water!

He was so odd, finding solace in the one thing the town seemed to fear. Perhaps he didn't know the tales of the hundreds of missing people, the sightings and sounds of something not quite human, but not quite fish. He seemed lonely with how he acted toward you. The gifts but lack of words, the inability to maintain eye contact. If he was scared, he would've left, but he didn't. Shy, that's what he was. He didn't know you. As far as he was concerned, you bothered him.

You needed to give him a reason to trust you!

The town you lived in was small, but had beaches galore. The one outside your house was closed in, high rocks separating it from other openings to the water. No doubt the guy had picked up every shell to exist in or out of the water there. So another beach nearly opposite your's was possibly unexplored by him. It was a distance away, a mile or so, with uneven ground on the path in between. Little shore towns like this are adamant they stick with their history, and that always means keeping the rocky footpaths that only get worse with age.

Riding your bike on the street would've been a better option, had it not been so hot, steam could be seen rising off the surface. Your rusty old bike would melt, knowing your luck.

Your sandals slid and flopped against the porous surface of the rocks. These rocks were probably here for thousands of years, before humans even lived on the land. Now they were merely a guide to your next destination. The blinding white of the worn rock contrasted the deep grays of the spots where rain would gather in tiny pools. Tiny pebbles gathering in the crevices, like small offspring. One pebble, about a third the size of your palm caught your eye. It was dotted with holes, white playing against black in a poke-a-dot battle of color. The texture was something to behold, like the scallop shell you were given. A perfect exchange.

The rock bounced in your pocket with each uneven step. The sun above was relentless, but the tall trees surrounding you on each side of the path provided enough shade to keep only a light sweat blooming from your skin. Sounds of water sloshing against land grew louder as you approached the shore, but the heat hit harder here. You cursed yourself for not bringing a bottle of water. The dryness of your mouth irked you as you imagined the cool waves clearly in your mind. Your feet couldn't carry you fast enough to feel the force of the chilly water as a release from the sun.

In the distance you could hear voices from the shops a few blocks away along the main street that circled the little town, like a barrier between the houses and water. Ice cream shops, restaurants, little boutiques. After your search, you'll have to stop at the ice cream parlor for a sweet, cold snack. For now, the shore lay ahead, the waves pushing and pulling against the golden sand– a welcome and a dismissal curled into one.

You finally reached the last step. The anticipation clouding your judgement as your sandal met rock but slid sideways on the unbalanced object. The skin of your knee kissed the sharp edge and you landed with one leg curled beneath you, the other awkwardly stretched in front of you. The scratch across your skin was felt long before you saw it. It pulsed with pain, buzzing incessantly against your muscle. It was more annoying than painful, and only soured your mood further. You sat there for a moment, gathering breath before finding your balance on your feet and assessing the damage. The scrape wasn't too deep, but ran along your mid-calf up to your knee. The skin was open and flushing with blood attempting to scab over. Small drops of crimson bubbling from the wound and starting to drip. You brushed a hand over it, attempting to flick off any little pebbles and specks of dirt. The blood smeared across your skin, shining against it in a crimson stroke. You sighed, further aggravated at your now dirty leg, before continuing your walk. The water would help clean it off.

He twiddled his webbed thumbs as he assessed his collection. Your reaction to his shells weren't telling in your preferences. He had given shiny and matte, textured and smooth. Different colors. Different shapes. You reacted the same to each. Maybe a conch would gain a better reaction, or a starfish. After all, these were his favorite of his collection and he cherished them. He wouldn't part with them unless it was for you. For you, he would give the ocean, his home. Just by hearing your voice, he was a goner. You would most likely never accept him, but he was your's. His first and only human. His... friend.

For a while after you left, he played your words in his head over and over like a trance. Questioning the meaning, the sounds, the way your lips moved around each word. He needed to see you again. The desire just to listen to you speak was enough to keep hopeful in his lonely, desolate life. Eventually you would stop talking, waiting for an answer that would never come from him, but for now you seemed satisfied with his presence.

The starfish was long dead, white with long spiked legs. The legs twisted in different directions. Had it not been found on land, the creature would have been eaten by now. But it's once slimy body was a solid shell now, even in water. He held it up to the sunrays sparkling against the water's surface a few yards above him. This was perfect, at least two visits worth, if not more. But he'll bring more shells to the next one, just in case.

As he studied the skeleton in his hand, the scent hit him like a wall. It was far. Miles. But it's a scent that hasn't graced his nose in what felt like centuries. Blood. Human blood.

His pupils grew large, nearly devouring the brown iris surrounding them. He was hungry now. An insatiable hunger he hasn't been able to curve in so long. The shell drops from his grip, long forgotten while his true nature takes over. He's swimming toward the scent faster than he's ever gone before. The teeth crowding his mouth ache with the anticipation, his fingers clenching so deep in his palms the sharp nails pierce his skin. He can't feel it, not when his brain has already pinpointed the exact location of his meal.

As he dives past the shore you would meet him, he can smell your scent. At first he thinks it's just a lingering thought of you held by the water, until he feels the small vibrations in his chest. You're in the water, just not here. It nearly knocks him out of the trance, but the scent of blood is stronger as he nears land. He rushes around the curves of the sand and rocks, desperately trying to satisfy his overwhelming desire.

The drumming in his chest grew stronger with each mile closer. His heart beating fast enough to drill his ears. The water grew warmer as the sand crept up on the surface of the water, but it did little to stir him. He spotted the crimson dancing in the water, floating around the open wound like an arrow pointing exactly where he wanted. The legs stood knee below the water, hands gliding over the damaged skin attempting to sooth the wound.

His tail shot him toward his intended meal, the hunger uncaring on how close he was to land, and who would see him. A distance away the legs dribbled sweet, luscious blood into the water, unable to clot the wound. His belly twisted with the scent being so close, and he could barely remember himself in the moment. He licked his lips, drawing closer to the legs, reaching a webbed claw out before stopping two yards away.

He knew those legs.

The moment your feet touched the water, instant relief overcame you. The crisp water between your toes, delicately licking your ankles. The water was nudging you further in with each pull of the waves, enough of an invite to abandon your sandals on the shore and walk in up to your knees. It soothed the scratch and brought comfort to your mood. The waves absorbing the strain in your muscles.

Had you not come here for a purpose, you would dive in head first, letting the water devour you in a chilly embrace.

The water on this side was lighter, more clear. It's color around your knees now tainted a purpl-ish with your blood. It flowed in concentric circles with the natural movement of your legs. The idea of being eaten by a creature on this side of the town seemed infinitely worse with how gruesome the water would get.

The clearness meant it was easier to spot the tiny creatures swimming around the floor below. Small fish and crabs scouring to get away from your feet, while some fish, slightly larger, took up their confidence in getting closer to you. You watched as they bobbed back and forth, as though debating the distance. Curious little things, with no concept of danger. Their little fins barely handling the movement of the water.

The bloody water had started blocking the view of your little onlookers. Though you didn't want to scare them away yet, you leaned down and brushed a hand over the wound to clean it off. The fish, now intimidated, disappeared further into the safety of the water. Little specks of dirt and rock began floating around your calf, and the blood didn't seem to stop. For such a small scrape, the water made it seem like an open gash in your leg. You continued rubbing it, hoping the wound would magically clean with the movement.

Ahead of you, a dark shadow moved in the water. It was too far for you to make out the shape, but it was big. Sharks would never come out this far, you're almost sure of it. You took a cautious step back, afraid moving too fast would signal an attack. The shadow remained still, waiting. It could just be a large fish investigating the aroma of blood. Or a creature... the ones you were told to fear. The ones you were reminded of day in and day out growing up. The reason you weren't allowed in the water in the first place.

This one stayed put, not advancing nor abandoning their prey. They were studying you, you could feel it. Never coming close enough to be seen through the clear water, but also not leaving you be. Was it waiting for something?

Every inch of you wanted to kneel down and look under the water at your observer. It was dumb and would get you killed. But odd men throughout past generations had seen these creatures, described them in a variety of ways. Now you had the chance to actually see one. Tell the town whether or not the tales they told were really true. Draw a vivid picture for the scientists who gave up searching years ago.

You took a step forward, back to your original spot in the sandy floor. The shadow remained still, floating like a dark cloud on a sunny day. It's attack inevitable, but the wait was worse. Your heart was beating so loud, you could have sworn the water was vibrating from it. The circles around your knees had nearly dissipated before you took another step into the water closer to the shadow. Still it remained. The water was now at your mid-thigh, bouncing around with small kitten licks up and down your skin. One half step forward and the water just barely grazed your crotch. Your shorts turning a deeper blue as the material sucked up liquid.

Your fists curled at your side, the anxiety consuming your senses. The world had grown quiet as you waited. Further in now, the water wasn't nearly as clear. The tint a bit darker, the floor murkier. Your feet were only a blurred shape now. But you waited, still. As did the shadow. With each dip and reach of the waves around you, the chilly water was starting to cause goosebumps across your skin. You barely noticed the blood on your wound had stopped flowing, too focused on the task at hand.

The possibility of the creature escaping was high, and much more frightening than the thought of what it could actually do to you. The idea, however, instantly fell away once it moved an inch closer. And then another. So slowly it crept forward, a long cylindrical shadow floating just above the sand, deep enough to stay blurred under the water. It had stopped about a foot away, weighing the next move. You could see the head, rounder than its body, swaying in the water. Hair.

Thoughts of your death overtook your mind. It could be a while before anyone even noticed you missing. No one would check the water. No one would think you were that stupid to do the one thing you were constantly told not to do.

The creature drew closer to your feet and you froze in place. It reached in front of it with a bright, pale arm, stopping centimeters from your toes. The hair floating around its head in a messy crown. You took a deep breath and held it before you felt the cold touch on your foot... of skin. The creature's other hand mirroring the same actions on your other foot. It was soft, delicate, experimental. The touch would have gone unnoticed except for the temperature, and the fact you were seeing it.

The hands slid up to your ankles, poking a little at the bone, feeling the curve and dip of it. It tickled a bit, but you remained still. This creature could change it's mind at any time, and you could instantly become food. If it wasn't just checking out its meal beforehand.

The fingertips glided further up, inspecting the bone running along the front of your calf, the muscles cushioning it around. You noticed the fingers neglecting to touch the wound. The touch had become firmer, more sure you wouldn't suddenly take off.

As the hands reached further, you were able to make out more features. Long nails at the end of each finger, the digits webbed together. The arms bony thin, but muscular enough to withstand the strength of the water. They contoured with each pinch against your leg, testing the dexterity.

You looked past the arms, to the hair. Little brown curls bounced with the sways the creature gave to stay afloat in the water. The hair was long, shiny in the sunlight. Under the hair was a thin torso, bones wriggling with every arm movement and rock of its body. The pale skin fades into a glittering collage of turquoise and blue scales. The tail was round around the hips and tapering off into a thinner shape near the tail fin. You could only really see up to the middle of the tail before the water blocked the rest from view. It was beautiful, awe-inducing.

Your attention was too focused on the shape of the creature to notice it had dipped its head closer to your legs. The eyes surveying the wound closely with a specific interest on the open skin and spots of clotted blood. The fingers poking at the skin around it, causing it to flush and return back to color.

What the fuck was he doing? He should have swam miles away by now, as far from the human standing before him as possible. Your presence unfaltering in the water was enough to keep close. He could still smell your blood, and his hunger never faded, but something new was happening. He could feel it.

Your foot had brought you closer once. Then twice. Then again. He could see up to your round thighs now, and felt the urge to feel them. Your legs looked so lively, pumping with blood, your muscles moving under your skin. He was almost jealous. You had legs.

He approached cautiously, afraid he would scare you off, but you stood your ground. From the floor, he could barely make out your face. Your head a featureless circle sitting atop your shoulders. He probably looked the same to you.

Your feet looked so strange, little toes leading into flat-topped feet. And you had two! The veins jutting along the top reminded him of the shell he gave you. Textured, but soft. He felt along your ankle, wondering the mechanics behind it. His fin flowed, no bones to withhold movement. How did humans swim with such strict bodies?

As he came up to your shin, he did his best to ignore the wound and instead took to studying your muscles and bones. Your skin was slightly thicker here than your foot, more porous, but less bumpy than the veins on your feet. You were so warm, so soft his hands could glide along your skin. You were everything he wasn't.

Your skin was flexible when he pinched. He could push and pull it to his every whim. The skin would grow lighter under his pushing fingertips and then back to normal when he pulled them away. Dead bodies never did that.

He really did his best to ignore the wound, but the look of the open flesh was magnetic. He was so hungry, but the thought of hurting you made him nauseous. Instead, he inspected it closely, pulling himself closer to look at it. His nose inches away from your leg. The blood was no longer drifting into the water, but scabbed. The skin was still open, a pink-ish hue peeking through the skin. Something in his brain flipped and he did it without second thought. Sticking his tongue out, he leaned in and licked along the open skin. It tasted divine. He gripped onto your ankles holding you in place as he licked again. And again.

He nearly dug his teeth in, letting his instincts take over and shutting his brain off the world, but then he remembered it's you. He let go of your ankles quickly, pushing himself back a bit as if he was the one hurt. His arms hugged his torso in comfort, his tail curling under him. How could he go against his true nature like this? Turning down his own needs simply because you interested him? His people would be so disappointed. They would scorn him, banish him to the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean.

You stood there still, probably worried you did something wrong. Your feet digging into the sand beneath in anxiousness. He hugged his tail closer as you started turning away to head back to shore. The thought of chasing after you to continue this little introduction was enticing, but he was already disappointed in himself enough. He stayed curled up there long after your feet left the water, even after the sun went down.

His stomach gurgling in his little ball was the only sound he let himself hear.

You were admiring the figure when it had jerked back suddenly, as though your skin had burned it. One moment it was exploring your legs, the next it was curling up on itself. Was this something natural? Did you scare it? Your thoughts were racing, your toes digging into the sand. It stayed like that for a bit, not attempting to move toward you again. You had overstayed your welcome in the water, and the creature had enough.

Turning back to land, you glanced once behind you to see the creature still in the same position. Maybe another time you'll meet again. For now, this was over.

You reached the shore, your shorts dripping at the bottom, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Your sandals lay in the same spot you left them on the sand and you dug your toes into them with a slight hint of fury, aimed at yourself. You didn't think you did anything wrong, but your focus was so occupied, you may have flinched and scared it. Or maybe something on your skin hurt it. All your thoughts were blaming you for ruining the moment.

You glanced down at your legs for a moment to notice the wound was gone completely. As though it was never there in the first place. The creature had healed you.

taglist: @luna-munson83 @harrys-tittie @jobean12-blog @idkidknemore @sister-cirice @xxaestheticboyxx @frodofreakingbaggins @ajeff855 @maddieluvseddie @untowardghost @secretdryrose @eddieswifu @hellfire1986baby

Thanks for reading, lovelies!!!

[destinationtrekk]

domestic wesker headcanons (amab!reader)

a/n: i wrote an amab!version of my domestic headcanons! please let me know how this reads and if you guys like it :) if so i will definitely be posting amab versions of my smut going forward!

nsfw below the cut, 18+ only

amab!reader, descriptions of choking, penetration, dacryphilia, unprotected sex/finishing inside, probably more i’m missing, not beta read

masterlist

sfw:

After the whole ‘Spencer/Wesker Project debacle’ (as you had dubbed it in your head) ended, Albert opened up to you a lot….like surprisingly a lot.

you had noticed a lot on your own too though. the first being that he was a smoker

you could smell it faintly on his coat after a long day at the labs, and on his breath when he woke you to kiss you goodbye in the early mornings

you finally brought it up one day, casually asking if you should pick up a pack for him on the way back from running errands

you’ll never forget the way his face lit up red and how he sputtered like a fish out of water

he ignored you for a few hours, and then finally asked if it bothered you, avoiding your gaze

you laughed and told him you didn’t really mind, and over time you found out more

he was a chain smoker at the peak of Umbrella, right before they had perfected the T-virus (it was the ‘80s after all) but he had stopped when he joined the Army.

Then while he was in S.T.A.R.S. the stress of being a double, then triple agent got to him. He didn’t smoke nearly as much, but he couldn’t help a cig or two after a hard day

something else you’ve noticed is that he’s a perfect driver. You don’t think he even speeds, or rolls through stop signs when he’s in a hurry.

You think those are perfectly normal things, but he is very adamant that you should not be reckless in his nice cars, which, okay yeah

but he explains that he was mainly escorted during his Umbrella days, rarely having time or need to go somewhere alone until the end of it all

then he had been reprimanded for cruising a liiiittle too much in his S.T.A.R.S. cruiser, and that had been that

you do appreciate his driving when he’s taking you home after you’ve had too many drinks though

nsfw:

despite everyone thinking he’s a sadistic machine, I think he is very much the opposite

growing up sex was the last thing on his scientific mind, and then he was much too busy for anything other than a one night stand every now and then

now though, he comes home so tired he can barely keep his eyes open

It’s not like you two never sleep together. Quite the opposite in fact. Albert is a very generous lover, going as many rounds as you ask until he’s either too tired or you’re spent.

he’s got amazing stamina, even when he’s mentally drained. he prefers to take his time with you, making you finish at least once before he even touches himself

looooves to just grind against your ass and get himself soaked with lube before he thrusts inside - he uses enough lube to hear the wet slap of his hips and balls on your ass 

adores the way his cockhead catches on your rim and just teases the sharp stretch and how you moan and clench around nothing

he also loves to push in as slow as he can, making you feel every inch of him stretching your hole

this man whimpers! he moans and whines and pants in your ear like he’s been starved of touch and it turns you on just as much as his calloused hands do.

he doesn’t actually talk all that much, except to encourage you with that’s it, fuck, I’m close, let go, baby, or he’ll ask what you want him to do - unless he’s feeling fuck nasty (love that phrase)

sometimes he just needs a release, to expel all the pent up frustration, and you’re the perfect solution

he won’t even say hello when he gets home, just finds you and paws at your body like an animal until you tell him yes or no

if you say no, he respects you. completely, one hundred percent. you’re the most important thing in his life, and it’s not even enjoyable to him if you aren’t eager and willing

if you say yes though, he will be all over you. Clothes are flying off and somehow you’ve made it across the house into bed without his mouth leaving your lips and skin

he loves to take you face down when he’s like this, your ass in the air so he can lean over you and pin you down with his weight, groaning and panting in your ear while he fucks you so hard you can barely even make a sound

even when he’s tearing apart your insides, he still likes to intertwine your fingers where you’re gripping the sheets. he just covers it up as needing to hold you still

this is when he really talks, he actually won’t shut up, not that you’re complaining. he’s telling you how tight you are, how you squeeze him like a vice and he can barely pull out. the slick sounds of your hole are driving him crazy, he can’t wait to see your pretty tears when you cum around him, loves how your cock leaks a puddle under you cause you’re so desperate for him 

sometimes he likes to be rough, pulling your hair, wrapping his long thick fingers around your throat to tug you up into a sloppy kiss, gripping your hips and waist in a bruising hold, so tight you can’t even meet his pounding thrusts

always asks to finish inside you. He wants to see it drip out of your ass and down your balls and mix with your cum on the sheets he’s fucking filthy

surprisingly good at aftercare, cleans you up and holds you until you decide to get up or eventually just fall asleep on top of him. he secretly loves this part just as much as the sex, but he won’t admit it

but that’s a whole other post

[darkpoisonouslove]

HotD S02E03

I watched this on Monday; I just wasn't in the mood to review it until now. I was pretty hyped for this episode because the last one was entertaining and I saw spoilers for several things before I got to it that made me freak out (affectionate). I was hopeful that we'd get something good but wary at the same time since this show doesn't have the best track record... Oh, boy, was I right to be wary. In short, I didn't enjoy this episode a lot. In fact, it's my least favorite from the season so far. And I will tell you in detail my always correct opinions:

I see they've added new imagery to the opening which makes it even better! I love the whole idea that all this history is woven from blood and the fact that parts of the canvas are just bloodied without any embroidery on them only makes it more brutal. It's as if they're saying that there wasn't even any history written there; it was just bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed.

The way that that skirmish in the beginning escalated into an outright battle that claimed so many lives is chilling. I found it odd that the episode was named "The Burning Mill" when that's referring to the battle that happened in the first scene and we didn't even get to see but then the theme emerged as the episode progressed. This senseless bloodshed is an omen of what's to come, of how everyone is going to lose themselves in the war and just continue the massacre without even remembering what started all of this, bringing all of their grievances - petty and justified alike - into the fray and using them as an excuse to unleash their full rage.

In that regard, Rhaenys is absolutely correct. She ate in that scene and I liked that this also contextualized her behavior in 1x09 more (I'm vindicated that she also mentioned Lucerys mutilating Aemond as a factor that led them all here). However, it is also frustrating to hear all this, especially after the scene of reckless bloodshed we already witnessed. It is too late for this conversation. It should have happened in 1x10 when no murders had occurred yet and the bad blood could have been contained. Now it no longer matters.

I have heard enough about Criston getting a promotion he doesn't deserve. It's true but a) it's almost like that was the entire point of him becoming Hand - to show the recklessness and bloodthirst he and Aegon share and b) that's a strange attitude coming from Rhaenyra stans when she hasn't done anything to reinforce her claim to the throne since oh, her half-assed attempt to marry Jacaerys to Helaena in 1x06. Her actions afterwards have harmed her cause and yet, people still insist she should get to be queen.

I dislike how quickly Criston left King's Landing. As Hand his main duty would be to advise Aegon (not that he's doing such a great job of that but regardless) and he's already setting out to go into battle. This could be another argument in favor of why Criston shouldn't be Hand and I could agree with that but I wish they would have spent more time on him trying to adjust to his new position instead of shipping him away to do what he's already experienced and good at doing. I would have wanted to see them explore his character a little by showing him struggle in the role of an advisor and the constant tension between him and Alicent, then used that as his personal motivation to head the charge to the Riverlands to escape the feeling of being a fish out of water, potentially earn Alicent's graces again alongside a victory for their side.

Mysaria singing Rhaenyra's praises was a bit much to me, especially since Aegon has absolutely nothing to do with the arson to her establishment. He wasn't even king yet at that point so that couldn't be counted towards his (lack of) political prowess.

The great paradoxes of the writing for this show continue to amaze me. Such as the way in which the writers try so hard to make Rhaenyra the most graceful, considerate protagonist and somehow they still went all in on her viewing Baela and Rhaena as tools. You're never going to believe that you heard this from me but there was a great opportunity for a perfect scene between Rhaena and Luke and they missed it. Considering that having no dragon seems to be Rhaena's one defining plot line and Aemond "stole" Vhagar from her because Aegon, Jace and Luke were being mean to him, they could have had a scene where Luke realizes how isolating and even hurtful not having a dragon is. It would have made me take a moment to think about him as a character and given more substance to Rhaena's struggles now, especially since outside of her engagement to Luke Rhaenyra appears to deem her entirely superficial. You could say that she trusts Rhaena so much as to entrust her the care for her children but that's not the impression I really got from those scenes. They were certainly trying for it but isn't it funny how Rhaenyra is begging Rhaena to make the sacrifice to "be a mother" to her children after she spent years refusing to make the sacrifice of... backing up her claim to the throne with a suitable marriage? The HotD writers are unparalleled in having their actions blow up in their faces.

The scene of Daemon infiltrating Harrenhal was drawn out to me. We didn't need quite as much ambience from Harrenhal to get the impression of it being a haunting, cursed place when the hallucination from later in the episode conveys that perfectly well on its own. And the lack of resistance Daemon faced was evident in the guard that didn't attempt to fight him already. They could have cut some of that.

Love how they made such a big deal about Daemon insisting on being called "Your Grace" when Alicent was called that during her whole marriage to Viserys and continues to be called that despite the fact that she's Queen Dowager now. Logically, her receiving the title (without ever demanding it) could have never threatened Viserys' or Aegon's rule because she has no claim on the throne while Daemon's behavior comes off as if he's trying to muscle in on Rhaenyra's turf. But I much more enjoy the idea that no one in their right mind wants to give the impression that Daemon would ever even get to sniff the throne while people continue to defer to Alicent with that title because they respect her in her quality of being queen.

I'm at least relieved that they explained why there's a race to claim castle at all considering that Larys is supposed to be the Lord of Harrenhal and he's on the Greens' side. He didn't really care for it, huh? He just wanted to have Alicent stuck in his web and didn't give a shit that the residents of Harrenhal didn't buy his "tragic fire accident" PR campaign.

Speaking of Larys, I was expecting something huge from him after all this material that he got to work with in the last couple episodes and I would still like to see more from him (aka not just a single scene per episode) but at least for now he came out swinging. The fact that he ensnared Aegon to do what he wants of him in the exact same way that he ensnared Alicent has the best, funniest, most tragic implications. With the small difference that he's completely bullshiting Aegon, of course. He just saw a weakness and sank his claws right in it. I was wondering last episode why he only chimed in, interrupting Aegon's outburst when Aegon switched to throwing blame on Alicent, especially since the long pause before that would have been the perfect opportunity to speak up. It was like he was waiting for Aegon to make his way to accusing Alicent, just to make sure that there's tension there. This episode confirmed that he's trying to sever Alicent's control over Aegon and insert himself in that niche of pulling the king's reins. It does make sense considering that he appears to have lost his grasp on Alicent herself and it also doubles as revenge on her.

What even is the dynamic between Alicent and Criston at this point? I knew not to hold my breath but that doesn't change the fact that I need (a) scene(s) between them explaining what the hell is going on, especially in Criston's head. We literally wouldn't have had this problem if they'd taken the time to establish the relationship before jumping right into having them fuck. That said, I did enjoy the callback to 1x01 where Criston asked for Rhaenyra's favor but now he's setting out against Rhaenyra and when he asks for Alicent's favor, she grants it despite her anger at him. The way his mood instantly improves at that is touching.

Good for Rhaenys on still pushing to have Rhaena named heir of Driftmark. Corlys needs to be hit over the head so he can see the vision.

Helaena is also on the "no grieving, we repress our emotions like Greens" train. They are all so emotionally damaged and Alicent can't help them because she's the most damaged of all. (Love how Otto just abandoned her to take care of all the kids and steer them on the right path on her own so that he wouldn't have to face the results of his failure to do the same.) Despite the truth of that, I think there was more to her not comforting Aegon while she's constantly talking about Helaena's pain. She doesn't even seem to mourn Jaehaerys as much as she mourns what came upon Helaena. I'd say that's definitely guilt because she steered this course of events (as much as Otto and the rest of the Small Council). She put Aegon on the throne to protect his life (and Aemond and Daeron's) and in doing so, she set up Helaena to take the damage from the war and the attacks on their family. While with Aegon there's all this baggage of Viserys destroying her life for him (even if she can't admit it) and his entire existence necessitating this course of events and she just cannot make herself even more vulnerable in order to comfort him. Especially since in that moment, she was angry at him and only had helplessness left in her that was crying to turn into violence as we see it happen when Alicent takes out her frustration on Criston.

This also makes me think back to Helaena saying in 2x01 that Jaehaerys may not want to be king. On some level I think that was her trying to rationalize why she couldn't see any future for him in her visions. But it was also an externalization of her own feelings about being forced to be crowned alongside Aegon despite all the danger that brings. They were all trapped from the beginning. Being crowned instantly locks them all - both sides - into war but there was no guarantee that if Alicent hadn't put them on the throne, they would have been spared. In fact, what happened to Jaehaerys only points to the opposite. I believe that's what Helaena is forgiving Alicent for. Because Alicent was so afraid of losing her children that inadvertently she set up for her daughter to lose hers. And Helaena understands the pain that Alicent was trying to avoid so she forgives her.

I wasn't feeling the Small Folk scenes in the previous episode but this one was a fucking disaster. And why? Just so that they could foreshadow the Dragonseeds. Everyone involved in scripting this show needs professional help.

Aegon and Aemond got about a minute of shared screen time and it still brings forth the full force of their internal conflicts and mommy issues. Aegon sure went "Does mommy prefer Aemond? Even though I'm king? Does she wish he were king?" only to go get wasted and revert back to bullying his brother.

Baela engaging in some Daemon-like behavior. I'm not exactly sure what her game plan was, however? If she wished to attack them, she could have made Moondancer incinerate them all. They would already consider this an attack and an act of war so what was the point? Other than not completely disregarding Rhaenyra's orders, I suppose. At least Baela has more self-control than her father.

Daemon really got hit by that train wreck of emotions he was trying to escape from. Love how he found a soul mate in his 15-year-old niece and he cannot bear the thought that she matured and has outgrown him now. He's so pathetic fr.

I was so excited about seeing Alys but she barely got anything in this episode.

I do not wish to hear anymore shit about Criston's plan for Arryk when Rhaenyra's scheme to meet up with Alicent was even more harebrained. Girl, what was your contingency plan in case Alicent had instantly reported your presence to her knights once she left the Septa? She could have ended this war right then and there. It's even frustrating that she didn't but I suppose I can see why.

Alicent has a lot to deal with in this scene. The fact that Rhaenyra made this trip at all and (falsely) believes they can reach an understanding alone probably made her head spin. I'm surprised she didn't look for a paper bag to help her stop hyperventilating. To be confronted with undeniable proof that she grasped at straws for her own peace of mind so that she could avoid the guilt of betraying her husband and steering the realm towards war surely shook her whole world. To the point that she couldn't even process what was happening anymore.

That's the thing though. Rhaenyra has to face the idea that her father gave up on his staunch support for her rule but she only has to live in that reality for a minute. Instead, her big internal conflict resolution here is that the warpath is set and they cannot escape it. Which in a certain way could still shake her belief in herself that has been perpetuated by Viserys' insistence she'd be the one to unite the realm. Because even if she does, she (and her siblings) would have torn it apart first. It could still be a lot to deal with but her struggles are undermined by how late it is for this. I already talked about this but we are several episodes past the point of no return. This scene, the whole conflict they've built up for Rhaenyra in this episode, has missed its mark because it should have happened a lot earlier.

Alicent may be falling into the sunk cost fallacy but she is also completely correct that by this point war is unavoidable. Aegon will never cooperate with Rhaenyra after what happened to Jaehaerys. And to be honest, for how big a deal they made of Rhaenyra's grief over Luke, she sure didn't seem to be having that hard a time putting it aside for this scene.

It's funny how the show is trying to present Rhaenyra as so thoughtful and considerate when she is stubbornly stuck on getting that crown. There is something to be said about how similar she and Alicent are in believing what they want to believe. Yes, Alicent was only using Viserys' misunderstood last words to justify - to herself first and foremost - putting Aegon on the throne and "betraying" her husband and Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra is also ignoring common sense to believe that "she was meant to unite the realm" just like daddy said. The men of the realm were never going to accept her as queen without a bloody conflict when there was a male heir and Rhaneys warned her of that all the way back in 1x02. Since then Rhaenyra has stubbornly refused to acknowledge the idea that the only way for her to unite the realm without any bloodshed would be to step down (maybe not even then considering how staggeringly willful Aegon is).

I already put out some thoughts on the promo for next episode^ so I'd just like to add that I am enraged by them having Alicent talking about how Aegon's only been king for weeks and the realm has fallen into war. The only reason why the realm was at peace while Viserys was king was that he was alive at all and served as a figurehead since by that point Alicent and Otto had been ruling for years. Viserys himself set up this war when he appointed Rhaenyra his successor and then proceeded to have legitimate sons. He is the one to blame here and it is especially outrageous for Alicent to diminish not just Aegon but herself as well because, like I said, she was the one ruling for years before Viserys died. I can only take this as a result of her conversation with Rhaenyra, an expression of guilt over disregarding Viserys' wishes and putting uncontrollable Aegon on the throne when Rhaenyra probably wouldn't have harmed him and Aemond and Daeron based on her words to Alicent. However, while Alicent is still in shock and processing, she is conveniently forgetting that Jaehaerys was brutally murdered despite Rhaenyra's best intentions. And that should be the reason why she looks like she's deep in depression and doesn't give a single fuck anymore rather than feeling like she's wronged Rhaenyra. The realm would have never been spared war when there are legitimate sons to inherit the throne unless they had been slain. So Alicent did take the only option that she had and she should work up to accepting that but it would be foolish to hope for it with all that we've seen so far. What can I say? It appears that the HotD writers strike again.