#tagged burning shores for the outfit

[h0riz0nstuff]

Horizon Shitpost.

[robo-dino-puppy]

hfw: burning shores | aloy 9/?

[hiddenonyx]

Obey Me! Beach Day Headcanons

a/n: oops I fell off the face of the earth. I'm slowly working on stuff, trying to clean what shit I had started, before I work on other stuff, but here's a little something that I threw together. *this is mostly unedited so apologizes

Prompt: what each cast member does during a day trip to Diavolo's beach.

Lucifer - reclines on a sun-lounger in the shade with a tropical (alcoholic) drink and either reads, or sleeps. He was told to relax so he is - and he's not responsible for anything his brothers do, nor will he fix any problems that they inevitably cause.

Mammon - goes swimming and does a little bit of diving. Often gets roped into doing something on the beach - such as building sand castles, burying people, or some sport - or helping Asmo take photos.

Levi - either buries himself in the sand or goes swimming. If he decides to be buried, he's going to take a long nap - making up for all his lost sleep from late gaming nights and early mornings for conventions. If he's swimming, he's probably trying to spook people (mainly Mammon) by pulling at their legs.

Satan - likes to look for tide pools and see if he can't name everything in them, or he walks the shore line during low tide to see what turns up. He also tends to be the one asked to identify any weird creature anyone else finds. If he's not poking around tide pools, he's reading in the shade with a nice, easy drink.

Asmo - takes pictures. He takes pictures of everything - himself, his brothers outfits, food, drinks, the environment, you name it, he's probably already taken a photo of it. When he's forced to put the camera down, Asmo enjoys building sand castles or sitting on the shore line and letting the waves gently wash up against him.

Beel - does a bit of everything, almost. Tags along for swimming, and him and Belphie often accompany Satan on his walks to the tide pools. Beel also enjoys helping Asmo build sand castles and doesn't mind simply relaxing in the shade either. He's the one who offers to take care of Luke so Simeon can finally go drink relax.

Belphie - just sleep. Picks a nice shady hammock not far from where everyone is and just passes out. Though he is willing to be woken up for a poke around tide pools and the shoreline at low tide.

Diavolo - is very much like Beel, and does a bit of everything, though he does prefer activities involving water. Probably accidentally start a water fight, and then while he's dripping wet, go hug Lucifer who protests immensely because he didn't want to get wet at all.

Barbatos - stays exclusively in the shade. While he might be an aquatic demon, Barbatos is more used to the icy black depths of almost arctic water than warm tropical water. Man is sweating and counting down the minutes till they go home (there's still 5 hours to go). Despite being in the shade and wearing (and reapplying) the most sunscreen ends up being incredibly tan or sunburnt afterwards.

Simeon - supervises Luke for the most part. Helps him build sand castles, and holds his hand when the big waves come to the shore while they're walking. Picks up a few shells for Luke too , and when someone else (Beel) offers to take care of Luke so Simeon can relax a bit, he drinks almost as much liquor as Lucifer does.

Luke - is so excited that he doesn't even care if he's showing it. Tries everything minus actually swimming in the ocean (everyone agreed that that activity was probably a little too much and too dangerous for Luke). Even lets himself be buried in the sand. Ends up a little tan and maybe with a light sun burn, but can't wait to go again.

Solomon -ends up also in the shade, probably next to Barbatos so that they can be grumpy together. Didn't even bring anything to do because he knows he's going to sweat too much to really tinker on anything. Futility applies sunscreen knowing damn well he's going to walk away sunburnt regardless.

-------

The Master List

Sort By Character

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 14

words: 5,5k

summary: Whhile everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

ac: _3aem

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

notes: posted the chapter by mistake in ao3 and said okay whatever let’s just drop it. This chapter is the longest I have written for Birdie, but it’s because the Gojo’s pov. So take your time to read it and enjoy it. Remember likes and comments are always welcome 🫶

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

playlist | ao3

Before you knew, you were standing in front of your mirror, carefully adjusting the black mini dress you decided to wear for the date you were having that day with Satoru. A date with Satoru Gojo. It sounded strange on your lips but at the same time it made your heart flutters with a mix of anticipation and excitement. 

That day you two were skipping classes but it was okay because you knew it would be worth it. Your phone screen light it up, showing a new upcoming message from Satoru.

Satoru ✨

I'm outside waiting for you

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your bag and walked out. Outside of the house, you saw Satoru leaning casually against his car, looking effortlessly handsome, he was wearing some blue shorts and an oversized white t-shirt and of course, his usual sunglasses. He looked beautiful and at the same time, with such a simple outfit, elegant.

"You look amazing." He said, you noticed how the light on his eyes became bigger as he looked at you.

"Thank you." You replied, with a smile forming on your lips. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

He chuckled and opened the passenger door for you. "Ready for our date?”

You nodded, feeling how your heart was beating faster with the excitement. "Absolutely.”

The car ride to the beach wasn't as long as you would have expected, all thanks to the pleasant conversation you had with Satoru. Satoru's presence was comforting and any hint of nervousness that had been present in your body quickly dissipated.

Satoru parked the car and walked to open the door. He took your hand and helped you out of the car. "I thought we could start with a walk along the shore." He suggested smiling.

"That sounds perfect." You agreed.

With your hands still intertwined, you walked along the beach, the sand beneath your feet and the waves crashing against the shore. The sun shone brightly in the sky and caused Satoru's white hair to reflect even more intensely. The beach was relatively empty, giving the two of you a feeling of privacy and tranquility.

Satoru suddenly stopped and turned towards you, with a  playful glint in his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

You tilted your head, curious about what was crossing his mind. "Of course."

He smiled and, without warning, took you into his arms, making you scream in surprise. "Satoru!"

Laughing, he carried you closer to the water's edge before gently setting you down on the ground. "I just wanted to see that look on your face." He said, his eyes shining brightly.

You hit his arm playfully. "You are impossible."

"But you love it." He teased, leaning down to kiss you softly. He took your hand. "Come on." He said softly and with a smile on his face.

"Thank you for bringing me here." You said while you followed his paths.

Satoru turned to you, to look at you with a soft and sincere expression. "I thought we could use a place like this, a quiet place, just for us."

You nodded. "It is perfect." 

With your hands still clasped, you walked along the shore and the scene played out like a nostalgic video clip from the 2000s. Being with Satoru like this, in such a serene and beautiful environment, filled you with a feeling of satisfaction. The simplicity of the moment, the natural beauty that surrounded you, and the joy of his company created an atmosphere of pure happiness.

From time to time, you would look at Satoru and catch the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you with a smile that reflected your own happiness.

The cool breeze ruffled your hair and the scent of the ocean mixed with the warmth of the sun, creating a heady mix.

Finally, you found a place to sit. Satoru pulled you closer. It was still difficult for you to assimilate that you and Satoru Gojo were in that situation, that you had gone from avoiding him to now leaning on him and calmly contemplating the horizon that rose before you.

"Birdie..." Satoru's voice carried a gentle warmth as he called out your nickname. You tilted your head, curiosity piqued, waiting for what he had to say. "I..." Satoru hesitated for a moment. 

You looked at him with curiosity and with your heart pumping fast on your chest, feeling what might happen once Satoru opened his mouth once again. 

The breeze of the sea air moved both of your hairs and the bright sunlight reflected off Satoru's white hair, causing you to have to subtly close your eyes. But you could still admire him, admire how beautiful he looked and how his cheeks had taken on a rosy hue, while his mouth opened and closed searching for the right words for what he had to tell you.

You, for your part, played with the bracelet you were wearing, eager to hear his words and although you couldn't see yourself, you knew that your cheeks were also blushing, you could notice it in your body and in your being.

Satoru took a breath and looked up, his eyes shining intensely almost as if a galaxy had been established in them. “I like you.” He said firmly. “I have for quite some time. And…” He was nervous, something unusual for Satoru Gojo. “What I’m trying to say.” You softly laughed and held his hands, trying to calm him down. “Would you... would you want to go out with me? As girlfriend and boyfriend?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt how the breath that was on your lungs left. You swallowed, trying to get your throat moist again and with a your face burning you responded. "I... yes.” You replied, a smile spreading across your face. "I would like that."

Satoru's eyes shined up with joy, as if it were the most bright stars of the night sky. He leaned and connected lips together in a sweet kiss. Once the kiss broke, you hide your face on his neck, embarrassed by the whole situation but at the same time feeling full of joy.

You heard Satoru laugh and your body burned with embarrassment. “Babe, come on look at me…” he tried to move his hands away from your face. “Come on princess, let me see that pretty face of yours.” But you kept avoiding him. “Why are you hiding your pretty face, huh?” He whispered.

“I don’t know, I'm embarrassed.” You whispered.

“I love that about you.”

You turned your head to the opposite direction, feeling embarrassed at his words and trying to hide the fact you were blushing so much. “You are an idiot, Satoru.”

He softly laughed and hugged you. “Yeah but you like your boyfriend like that.” He left a kind kiss on your cheek.

You smiled, your boyfriend, it had a nice ring on your tongue. “I guess so…” You murmured with a smile. “You like sweets right?” 

“Yeah why?” He said releasing you from his back hug.

“Let’s go and eat ice cream.” You stood up and held his hand.

“I thought you weren’t a big fan of sweets.” He held your hand.

“I’m not.” You said. “But that time when we went to have dinner, you took me to a restaurant to eat spicy food, even though you didn’t like it, so going to eat sweet things because that’s what you like it’s what we should do.” You smiled, moving your hand and his together.

Satoru lets go of your hand and gently cradles your face, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss before reaching the corner of your lips. "You don't know how happy you make me, birdie." He murmurs, his voice full of warmth.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “You are very stupid, Satoru.” You leaned in and kissed him softly. Walking away, you smile at him, your heart overflowing with happiness. “Let's go get that ice cream.”

Hanging on his arm, you both stand up and begin walking back along the shore, your steps leaving a trail in the sand behind you.

When you arrived at the ice cream stand, Satoru was in charge of paying for the two ice creams and together you sat on a bench near the store. As you watched people walk around you sank into a comfortable silence, where you simply enjoyed each other's company. 

You liked being like this, you loved these moments with Satoru and you wanted them to last for a long time.  Being in love felt really good. Really really good. 

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

After your date yesterday with Satoru, he took you to work and at night he took you back home. Your time after he asked you to start officially dating hasn’t been much and the only shared moments you both spent together were in car going to your work or going back to your place. 

But that morning Satoru asked you to go to his apartment after your shift, apparently you needed to talk about something. That made your stomach turn with a mix of anxiety and stress.

You didn’t mind spending the night with him or being intimate with one another, you had had sex before but when it came to Satoru, didn’t matter how much acknowledge or how good you were at it, it seemed you were new to it for how nervous you felt every time you were around his presence. 

But what made your heart race like an F1 car wasn’t that, was the conversation Satoru wanted to have with you. You felt a slight anguish churning in your stomach, making it impossible to sit still in the tent. Despite your efforts to concentrate, the anxiety wouldn’t leave you alone. 

You had managed to rearrange the same shelf at least five times. And the fact that there were almost no customers that day only magnified your concern.

Every passing minute seemed to stretch on endlessly, and the usual tasks that kept you busy, seemed pointless. You looked at the clock, and sighed in frustration as time seemed to run backwards.

Stupid and crazy ideas were forming around your head with what type of conversation he wanted to hold. Did he regret asking you out? You stupid and silly idea of him playing with you was true? 

You needed your sift to end as soon as possible, Satoru to pick you up and for the thousand and one questions you had in the storm that was forming in your head to be clarified once and for all.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus and think about something else or another topic that won't lead you to think about Satoru. But as strange as it all sounded, absolutely everything made you think of him.

Just as you were about to rearrange the shelf again, the bell above the shop door rang, catching your attention. A new customer had walked through the door. You straightened, forcing a smile and stepping forward to greet them.

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru tapped his index finger against the table, while looking at his parents with a serious face. After dropping you off at work he had received a call from his father, asking or rather demanding him to come to the company.

The atmosphere in the room was tense. The silence stretched as his parents looked at him with authority. His father's eyes locked on him, while his mother sat more composed, but her presence was no less imposing.

“Satoru.” His father began, when it had been the last time his father had called him by his name? “We have been discussing your future. We need to make sure you are on the right path.”

Satoru nodded, already knowing where this conversation was going. “I understand, father. But I need you to understand that my path might not be the one you imagined for me.”

His mother leaned forward and narrowed her eyes slightly. “This isn't just about you, son. It's about family, our legacy. You have a responsibility.”

Satoru took a deep breath and the knot in his stomach tightened. “I know, mother. But I also have a responsibility to myself, to my own happiness and fulfillment.”

His father sighed and shook his head. “And you think that pursuing this... degree, instead of law, will bring you happiness?” He said with a tone of contempt. 

“Yeah.” Satoru responded firmly. “I want to study what I am passionate about. I think I can still contribute to the family in my own way, without giving up who I am.”

There was a long, tense silence. His parents exchanged glances. Finally, his mother spoke again, her tone softer but still determined.

“If you choose this path, Satoru, you must understand that there will be consequences. We cannot support a decision that goes against the interests of the family.”

Satoru swallowed and nodded. “I understand. And I'm prepared to face those consequences. But I won't give up on my dreams.”

His father's expression hardened. “Then you leave us no choice. If you don't change your career, you won't be part of this family anymore.”

The words hit Satoru like a punch to the gut. “I….” The words were left hanging in the air as the big door opened.

“That's not up to you to decide.” His grandfather said as he walked towards the armchairs in the room. 

Satoru turned around surprised to see his grandparents entering the room. Causing the air in the room to change with their mere presence.

His grandmother smiled at him and she too sat down on the couches. “For Satoru to inherit the company there is still a long way to go. The poor kid doesn’t need to rush.” She spoke. “He could study law later if he wants to or never do it.” 

His grandfather cleared his throat and quickly changed the topic. “Who are you going to the charity gala with?” Satoru bit his lip as he remembered the gala he had planned not to attend. 

“Um…” He scratched the back of his neck gently. 

“Is she the daughter of the Iori family?” 

“No, no, it's not her.” Utahime would leave him childless if he thought of such a thing. 

But Satoru's mind only wandered to one specific person, the only person who turned his world upside down. But he wanted to keep you away from that world as much as possible.

His grandmother got up from the couch and walked over to Satoru. “Well, it doesn't matter, we'll meet her soon, right?” She smiled, touching Satoru's arm gently. “Now son, come and take a walk with your grandmother.”

Satoru stood up from his chair and offered his arm to his grandmother, who accepted it with a warm smile. Together they left the office and walked towards the large hallways of the family business.

As they walked, the employees greeted them respectfully. His grandmother, nodded at each greeting and her presence commanded respect.

“Satoru.” His grandmother began, with her voice soft but firm at the same time. “I know how you feel about this path your parents insist you take. But you have to understand that family has always been based on honor and tradition."

Satoru looked at her. “I understand, grandma, but my passion lies elsewhere. I don't see myself happy following a path chosen for me, not by me.”

She sighed and squeezed his arm lightly. “Happiness is important, yes. But so is duty. Our family has faced many challenges and we have always gone out more.”

They came to a large window that overlooked the city of Tokyo, the view of the skyline was a testament to the family's influence and success. 

His grandmother turned to him. “Satoru, your parents' expectations come from duty and tradition. But I fear they have forgotten the importance of love and support in their quest to uphold our legacy.ñ

Satoru looked down, feeling his heart heavy in his chest. “Sometimes I feel like they care more about the last name than about me as a person. It's as if my own dreams and my happiness don't matter to them. They only see in me, the next heir, not their son. Look how easily they were going to dishonor me.” He slightly laughed with the burning pain on his chest.

His grandmother sighed, with deep sadness in her eyes. “Your parents have always gotten carried away with their responsibilities. It's not that they don't love you, Satoru, but they don't always show it in the most important way.” Satoru clenched his fists, he couldn't tell his grandmother about the beatings he had received on more than one occasion from his parents, that would truly destroy her.

He nodded, taking in the weight of her words. “I just wish they could see me for who I am, not just next in line to carry the family legacy.”

She placed a soft hand on his cheek, her touch filled with warmth. “I see you, Satoru. And I believe in you. You must find a way to balance your own dreams with the responsibilities you were born with. It is not an easy path, but I know you have the strength to walk it.”

He felt a lump in her throat, touched by her unwavering support. “Thank you, Grandma. Your words mean more to me than you know.”

She smiled and her eyes shone with pride. “Now tell me young man, who is that person?”

Satoru nervously laughed and felt how his cheeks turned red. “Oh well, she… her name is…” He said your name. “But I call her birdie.” 

“Birdie? That’s quite a unique nickname.” She smiled warmly. “How did you two met?”

“Oh that’s…” He stretched his head. “We met long ago but met again in college. She is studying the same degree as me.” Satoru smiled.

“You look so happy talking about her.” His grandmother looked at him. “Have you told her about our family and the expectations that everyone has on you?” 

Shaking his head, Satoru sighed. “Not really. To be honest I want to keep her away of this shitty world, I know she wouldn’t be welcomed.” 

A sad smiled appeared on his grandmother face. “It's important to share your world with her, Satoru, even the difficult parts. A relationship based on honesty and understanding it’s the most important.”

He nodded. “I know, Grandma. I'm just worried that once she knows everything, she'll decide it's too much.”

His grandmother sighed and touched his arm once again. “You know that when you love someone and you want to be with them, you do crazy things right?”

“If being with me would take away her happiness I don’t want that, I don’t want her to be unhappy.” He looked down to his shoes.

“But that’s not up to you to decide. Shouldn't it be her, the one to decide that Satoru?” His grandmother tilted her head. “You seem to care so much about that girl Satoru and it also seems like she makes you really happy.” Satoru nodded, feeling his chest grow bigger with the thought of you. “And I’m sure she also cares a lot for you, because you are so easy to love and to care for.” 

“You say that because I’m your grandson.” He chuckled.

“Maybe but I also know your heart and you are a good boy.” He pinched his cheek.

“Grandma please!” He protested, turning away from his grandmother's gentle touch.

She laughed. “You will need to introduce her to me in the gala, I want to see the girl that stole my beautiful grandson's heart.” 

“About that…” He scratched the back of his head, looking away. “I wasn't planning to attend.”

His grandmother sighed and walked to one of the armchairs in the room. “You have to go, Satoru…” Satoru tried to protest but his grandmother interrupted him. “Listen to me son, after that meal we had where your grandfather questioned the fact that you were not married and had not studied law or finance, I spoke with him. I told him that you were young and that you could always try to study that, in the future, there was no rush and he took it quite well to tell the truth.” Satoru looked at his grandmother in surprise, his grandfather had always been an upright man and he had wanted to take the family honor to the highest level, to be a prestigious family of lawyers.

“Grandma I…”

“Let me finish, son.” She took air and continued. “That’s why you need to go and show him that despite hating the path your parents want to choose for you, you still care for the family as a whole.” Satoru looked at her, feeling how heavy his chest was. “Do you understand Satoru?” 

Satoru nodded. “I do grandma.” 

“Okay, good. Now put a smile on that pretty face of yours or your grandma will be sad.” She smiled.

Satoru stayed a while longer, talking to his grandmother as they admired the panoramic views of Tokyo. Despite the beauty of the scene, Satoru's chest still felt heavy from the weight of her recent confrontation with her parents.

His grandmother, sensing his distress, put a hand on his arm. "Everything will be okay. Following your own path takes courage, especially when it goes against the expectations of others."

Satoru nodded, grateful for his words but still feeling the pain of his parents' ultimatum. "Thank you, Grandma. It means a lot to have your support."

She smiled warmly. "You are stronger than you think, dear. And you have people who believe in you. Never forget that."

They continued to chat, their conversation drifting toward lighter topics as they both sought a respite from the tension.

Finally, they saw his grandfather leave the office where he had been talking to Satoru's parents. His grandfather's presence was imposing, but his expression was inscrutable as he approached them.

"Satoru." His grandfather began, with a neutral tone. “I understand that you have made an important decision.”

Satoru nodded, preparing for another round of judgment. “Yes, Grandpa. I have.”

His grandfather studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Your choice is brave. While I can't say I fully agree, I respect your determination.”

The tension in Satoru's chest eased slightly at his grandfather's unexpected words. “Thank you, Grandpa. That means a lot to me.”

Satoru said goodbye to his grandparents and walked steadily towards the parking lot. He wanted to get to you as soon as possible. He needed to hug you and feel close to you as soon as possible. Making the car engine roar, Satoru left the building, feeling a little freer than he had been before going there but still with a small cloud dancing around his head.

The streets were illuminated by streetlights and the skyscrapers of Tokyo were illuminated by bright lights and neons. You still had almost an hour to get off work, but Satoru hoped he could see you before and if he could hug you. He really needed to feel you close.

He parked the car near your work place and walked towards there. Satoru saw you behind the register, smiling warmly at a woman who was shopping. His heart filled with warmth as he watched you interact, with your kindness and sweetness. You had always been like this, since the first time he met you.

He entered the store quietly, not wanting to interrupt your interaction with the customer. As he walked through the halls, he listened to your cheerful conversation, the sound of your voice brought a sense of calm to his mind.

When you finished ringing up the customer's purchases and said goodbye with the same radiant smile, Satoru took a deep breath and approached the counter.

“Hello.” He said softly.

You looked up, surprised but delighted to see him. “Satoru! I didn't expect you.” Your smile grew even brighter, if that was possible, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“I needed to see you.” He admitted, his eyes searching yours for understanding. Your expression changed to one of concern. 

You came out from behind the counter and took his hand. "Is everything okay Satoru?"

He squeezed your hand gently, feeling the comfort and reassurance it gave you. “It has been a hard day.” He said sincerely. “But seeing you makes it better.”

"Do you want to talk about it?" You said holding his hand and Satoru felt full.

Satoru sighed and placed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I don't really feel like it, but I promise I'll tell you.” You nodded at his words and Satoru only hoped that you trusted him. “Now can you give me a kiss?”

You chuckled shyly and connected your lips together in a sweet kiss. “Are you going to wait for me?” 

“Of course.” He whispered. “You are still up for tonight, if it’s too much…”

“No.” You shook your head. “I want to stay with you tonight.” You said circling his hip causing Satoru to smile. “I like it.” You whispered. 

“What do you like?” He said. 

“Your dimples, when you smile, they stand out, I like them.” You smiled.

“You can kiss them if you want.” Satoru joked. 

“I need to go back to work you know?” You said trying to release yourself.

“There is no one here.” He challenged you.

“Satoru don’t.” You turned your face away from him. “Come on, I only have one more hour left and we can go, okay?” Satoru huffed and let you go. "Don’t put that face."

“What face? My handsome face?” He smirked. 

You rolled your eyes and looked at the door where two new clients were entering. “I have to go back to work.” You whispered to him.

Satoru watched you as you turned around but before you got too far, he held your wrist and turned you around to kiss you. “I will be waiting for you outside bridie.” And winked his eye, making you blush in return.

Satoru smiled to himself seeing the reaction he was able to get from you and walked outside the store, making time till it was your time to leave.

Your POV

Stupid, stupid Satoru Gojo.

You were just too in love and it was hard to process those new and exciting feelings that were taking over your body and mind with each passing moment you spent together. Satoru Gojo came like a storm to your life, shook everything about it and stayed as your safe place. 

The minutes on the clock began to tick and before you realized it you were closing the door of the store and being welcomed and hugged by Satoru's big arms. It felt good, so fucking good. You still had a hard time returning the affectionate gestures or not getting embarrassed when Satoru grabbed you like that, but you hoped that in time you would be able to make those affectionate gestures too.

He turned you around and smiled down at you, leaving a kiss near your upper lip. “Let’s go?” He whispered, taking your hand in his.

“Sure…” You smiled back at him.

Although Satoru's smile and reassuring words had offered some comfort, a strange feeling continued to plague you, fluttering around like an annoying mosquito that won't go away.

You sat in his car in silence, the hum of the engine filling the space. Satoru drove towards his apartment, the soft hum of the radio providing a soft background soundtrack. The silence between you wasn't awkward or unpleasant, but you couldn't shake your nervousness about the upcoming conversation.

As the city lights blurred by, you glanced at Satoru. He seemed focused on the road, but there was a tension in his posture that mirrored your own anxiety. You placed a hand on his arm, offering him a gentle squeeze. He responded with a brief, reassuring smile, but the heaviness in the air remained.

When you arrived at his apartment, Satoru parked the car and turned off the engine. He took a deep breath before turning to you and his eyes searched yours for a moment. "Let's go in." He said softly.

You nodded and followed him to his apartment. Once inside, they both took off their shoes and settled into the living room.

Satoru sat down on the couch and motioned for you to join him. As you settled down next to him, he took your hand in his and his thumb gently caressed your skin. “There's something I haven't told you and I think now that we're together, you deserve to know.” He began, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak yet.

He took another deep breath and his eyes met yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Today was hard." He admitted, “My parents, well they have always been hard on me but they gave me an ultimatum: either I quit my degree and study Law or they separate me from the family.”

Your heart ached at his words, the reality of his situation hitting you squarely. “Oh, Satoru…”

He squeezed your hand tighter, as if drawing strength from your presence. “But I stood my ground. I told them I couldn't give up on my dreams, even if it meant facing the consequences.”

You looked at him surprised and with your heart getting heavier on your chest. “Satoru…” You touched his face, making him look at you. “You did good, you were really brave.” You tried to assure him. “I’m here for you okay?” 

“I know…” He smiled and took your hand from his face only to kiss it. 

A question began to form in your mind, and swallowing nervously, you asked him. “Satoru... that time when you came to my old apartment.” You paused and took a deep breath to steady yourself. “Those injuries, were they?”

Satoru looked down and squeezed your hand tighter, silence stretching between you as he gathered his thoughts.

After a moment, he nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He said quietly. “It was them. My parents…were furious about my decision and things got out of control.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the pain and anger in his voice deep. “Oh, Satoru…” You whispered, reaching out to touch his face gently. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly as if he drew strength from your presence. “They've always been like that. But I won't let them control my life anymore.”

You nodded, your own resolve hardening. "You are so strong." You told him. “And I'm here for you…”

Satoru opened his eyes and met your gaze. “Thank you.” He whispered, hugging you tightly. “Having you by my side makes all the difference.”

You held him close, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. You gently pulled away from him, your eyes locking on his and then looking at his lips, then back into his eyes, before closing the distance between you and pressing your lips against his, in a heated, passionate kiss.

Satoru responded immediately, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and fervent. 

His hands moved to cup the back of your head, while his fingers tangled in your hair as he tilted your head slightly to get better access. Your hands ran over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your hands.

The intensity of the kiss sent waves of heat through your body. Satoru's lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, leaving a trail of wet and hot kisses. You let out a soft moan, your fingers gripping his shirt as you pulled him even closer. His hands ran down your back, resting on your hips and pulling you towards him.

You pressed your body against his, the need for each other was palpable in the air and it was electric. Satoru's kisses became more insistent. Your hands found their way to his hair, pulling gently as you kissed him.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want to.” He whispered against your hot skin. You rested your forehead against his shoulder. 

“I want.” You whispered. “But do you?” You looked at his gaze.

Satoru's hands began to run over your body giving you the answer to your question. His gentle touch sent shivers down your spine, it was electric, and it lit a fire inside you that burned.

With a hungry look in his eyes, Satoru pulled you closer and his lips found yours once more in a searing kiss. This time, there was an urgency.

You melted against him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. Your hands ran over his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles as you pulled him even closer, desperate for more of him.

Satoru's hands found their way to the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up as he trailed kisses along your neck and collarbone. The feel of his lips on your skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a desire that threatened to consume you.

With a growl of desire, Satoru pressed his body against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your exposed skin. The atmosphere in the room became overwhelming.

“Let’s go to your bedroom, Satoru.” You whispered against his lips.

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @lolsasuke , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019

The names in bold seem not to be tagged, please let me know if you get the notification

[hopeforkitten]

that's an unexpected lot of letters. Here Tav and Raphael go to the Astarion ball, dance there. They talk about the past, the present, and everything ends with a kiss by the pool in the house of hope.

__________________________

- It smells unusual, - Tav said, pointing to a beautiful vessel made of steel and glass, like a rock, in ice from the winds of Cania. - what is it?

- It's blood from the River Styx. A souvenir for your old vampire friend.

- After your probation period, I forgot about everything in the world. How is Astarion doing?

- Great, you did him an incredibly kind service in conducting the ritual. He was born to be a vampire lord. I plan to send him a souvenir before the next ball in his palace.

- Can we go to this ball? - Tav was inspired by this idea

- If you want a little mouse, of course. The devil always has clients at these parties.

It's not like the devil to enter through the main doors, but no one goes unnoticed in the castle of Astarion, especially on such an evening.

- My wonderful infernal friends! Why didn't you let my servants announce your presence?

Astarion met them on the balcony, the light pouring from the ballroom through the windows and the same winding doors of glass and iron. He is really glad to see them, even allowed his "kind regime" to be replaced by real courtesy.

- People usually rejoice in unexpected encounters with the devil, our dear friend.

Astarion continued on his way to meet the guests. He was about to kiss Tav's wrist, but he took a closer look at the interesting burn in time, and moved the kiss to the knuckles.

- A wise decision, - Raphael noted his actions

- What a charming way to tag your favorite pets in hell, - Astarion straightened up and looked at him somewhat irritably.

They were standing close enough to the hall for attentive viewers to notice the new guests.

Some aristocrat of declining years successfully passed near the balcony, he straightened up and was surprised to see the devil.

- Mr. Raphael, what a good meeting, - he rather unceremoniously distracted him, but his face showed the urgency of the matter.

- As I said, I have to bow out, friends, - Rafael said goodbye and took this old man deep into the hall.

Tav and Astarion were left alone in the evening coolness on the balcony.

- You're not looking very kindly at my companion, - Tav remarked

Astarion leaned impressively on the stone railing, with someone else he clearly would not have allowed himself such manners.

- Your new master. To be more precise.

- I remember then in the Moon Towers we swore to be friends and not lovers.

- It feels like it was only yesterday, doesn't it?

- It's been a little longer for me than for you.

- He won the race for your soul, not me, so I can still admire you. Your boss has great taste, lady.- He said, looking at Tav's dress, definitely  Astarion likes Raphael's style, and his colors are red, black, gold, all this was in her outfit.

- Thank you, your outfit and palace also surpasses any expectations.

- I know, thanks for the courtesy.

He had obviously heard enough of these praises from the guests.

- How do you like the blood from Styx?

- It's a great souvenir, as well... It's like beer among human drinks. I guess no vampire would be able to move away from its shore... But I didn't like beer. The experience is interesting, but I like more refined blood, for example from such visionary people like you.

- I'm afraid this train has left.

- Of course, I don't dare ask you to do that. However, many beauties at this evening dream of dancing with the host of the ball, and they will not notice that they accidentally hurt themselves.

- If you hide your teeth, I'll dance with you a little

- I will be more restrained than ever

Astarion takes Tav by the hand and hurriedly drags her from the balcony into the ballroom. It seems that he immediately goes at the pace of a waltz, and she needs to try to keep up with him. They skillfully seep between the couples to the center of the hall, all of them certainly make way for the host of the evening and at the same time do not take their eyes off him, and of course with his mysterious companion.

Astarion delicately takes Tav into a dance position and immediately begins to move. Astarion does not snuggle, he keeps his distance and persistently pulls Tav after him. They dance smoothly, but too fast. Maybe he thinks if he does more laps around the hall, it will last longer? Astarion looks more at his path and guests, it is kind of him not to embarrass his companion with his gaze. Tav nervously looks around, not knowing if this strange carousel is working properly and where it can take her. Candles and bright shiny outfits, mirrors all mix into a wonderful kaleidoscope pattern and some kind of growing noise begins to drown out the waltz music.

Suddenly, the carousel ends, Astarion pulls Tav out of her thoughts by releasing her waist and forcing her to scroll sharply on her axis while his hand holds her above her head. The kaleidoscope changes with an extremely satisfied face of Astarion (like a cat who has eaten sour cream). He bows and she curtsies in return

- Did you want me to feel sick so much? - Tav had to pull his arm to keep from falling

- Of course not, I didn't expect the worst coordination from a resident of hell.- He came over and became more serious. - I will be glad to every visitor from the House of Hope. And I would have kissed your fingers again if your companion hadn't been watching us so keenly.

- So in the dance you tried to hide from his gaze?

- Who knows. Now I have to take my leave, the guests feel terribly deprived while I'm with you.

- I'm letting you go, friend.

Astarion left her. He was immediately surrounded by guests. Tav stayed for a few seconds to observe his habits. Astarion is desperately trying to be above others, when talking, he does not bow his head at all, as he did in conversation with her. He smiles slyly and not really, and his eyes are flooded with courtesy.

Tav gets tired of this and she goes to look for Raphael with her eyes. Fortunately, it was easy to find the dark red robe of her master in the golden hall. Raphael continued to talk reluctantly with the old man there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tav approaching and tried to end the meaningless conversation.

Raphael turned to her and felt relieved. This evening he wanted to be with her, and circumstances finally allowed him to.

He came up as if for a close dance to start a conversation.

- The host of the evening has given you a wonderful adventure, lady. Everyone was looking only at you.

He took her hand and pulled it to his lips for a kiss.

- Will you give the same adventure to a more modest guest of the ball?

- Don't be so modest. No one at this party will give me such a dance that you can give.

Raphael takes Tav's hand in his, and puts the other on her waist. At the beginning of the beat, he begins to move, at first slower and in shorter steps. He makes sure that Tav keeps up with him. This is quite an intimate dance, Raphael snuggles up to Tav. He looks right into eyes, and it seems impossible for Tav herself to break away from him. This look is a privilege, but Tav is used to seeing such kindness in it. It seems that if he had the opportunity, He would turn into a cambion and cover you with his wings from prying eyes.(he will definitely do it later, when you return to the house of hope) in the meantime, we will be content with what we have. The hall is stuffy, and next to Raphael the air is even hotter, but Tav is used to this heat.

This pleasant intimacy, she can let go of the situation and enjoy the evening.

(oh gods, at the time of the relevance of corsets, I heard that husbands laced corsets to their ladies in a special unique way so that no one else could repeat it. and in the evening they unlaced the carset, checking the correctness of their cord.

so, this is perfectly combined with the possessiveness of all my favorites Raphael-Astarion-Gortash.)

Already in the house of hope, Raphael helps Tav get rid of the dress.

- You've been doing great this evening, little mouse, - He put his hands on Tav's tired shoulders, - You can take a bath yourself.

- And if I want to be helped? - Tav was flirting. the champagne he had drunk made itself felt.

- I'm boring you enough today

Tav sat down on the steps of the pool, the water pleasantly relieved the fatigue of her legs and returned her a little reason

- It will be difficult for the new Astarion to find a companion

Raphael stood in front of the mirror and carefully undid the buttons of his coat.

- You're absolutely right, little mouse. He had a unique experience of trust with you, but now with his strength and position, he can no longer trust anyone.

He threw his coat on the sofa against the wall and began to carefully untie the intricate collar of his shirt.

- Judging by the way he talked about beautiful aristocrats, he is not deprived of female attention.

Said Tav and having collected water in the palm of her hand, she began to wash off the powder from her face and neck.

Raphael held out his hand to Tav as she left the pool. He pressed her to him, to his dry clothes, causing her a whole storm of emotions and a playful smile.

- It's good that my companion is with me. There was a lot of talk about this little vampire today, it seems there are enough of them.

Tav didn't want to answer him, just reached out to him for a long kiss

[toxiclizardwrites]

Not sure if I've been tagged directly, but a fun little game that all of the coemancers have been playing is picking 5 songs and 5 outfits for an OC that you've created.

For this one, I'm choosing Toxic, my OC from Starfield.

The Offering - Sleep Token

You are the silence on sacred shores / you've got diamonds for teeth, my love / so take a bite of me just once

Mein Herz Brennt - Rammstein

Sie kommen zu euch in der Nacht / Dämonen, Geister, schwarze Feen /Sie kriechen aus dem Kellerschacht Und werden unter euer Bettzeug sehen

Nobody Escapes - Mother Mother

So follow me into the sky (sky) / and let me sun burn you alive / nobody, nobody here escapes

Girl in the War - Josh Ritter

Because the keys to the kingdom got locked inside the kingdom / and the angels fly around in there but we can't see them

Everything I wanted - Billie Eilish

I had a dream / I got everything I wanted / not what you'd think / and if I'm being honest / it might've been a nightmare / to anyone who might care

[jeonstellate]

ocean waves & faded dreams — shore i

agent collins unknowingly crashes an avengers’ mission.

⚝༄ platonic!bucky barnes x original character (ft. platonic!tony stark x original character)

⚝༄ mentions of manipulation & human experimentation; depictions of murder & brainwashing activation

⚝༄ paragraph format — 1.6K words

masterlist | ow&fd masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

⚝༄ think everything in bold is in russian.

Agent Collins, at eleven years of age, was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s youngest recruit.

Many opposed, as a battlefield was no place for a literal child, but Director Fury insisted. He understood that she was more of a liability to S.H.I.E.L.D. than an asset, but he also knew that the world was better off with her as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s liability than HYDRA’s asset.

Agent Collins was aware of the circumstances of her recruitment. Not because people kept on reminding her, but because she wasn’t granted the luxury to be naive. The world was cruel and unforgiving during her tender years — and she wasn’t foolish enough to think that it changed for the better as she aged.

With her involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D., at least she could pretend that the balance between good and evil was tipping more gray than dark.

She was never the best soldier and, frankly, anyone who believed she would be the perfect agent was — for the lack of a better word — an idiot.

To her credit, no one specifically forbade her to tag along on the mission concerning her former manipulator. So, technically, she wasn’t disobeying any direct order. To S.H.I.E.L.D.’s defense, no one knew she got a wind of the said mission. So, they couldn’t’ve possibly forbidden her in participating, either.

Unfortunately for Agent Collins, since no one technically knew her current whereabouts, that meant she was alone with no backup. If — heavens forbid — everything went south, then she was highly susceptible to being kidnapped without a trace. Again.

"Riptide has found her way back home," Dr. Wilhelm Fischer celebrated with a maniacal laugh. The two HYDRA agents that brought her into the room roughly made her kneel on the floor, close to the doctor. "Did you miss your father, Phantom Riptide?"

Agent Collins’ stealth uniform covered her entire body. In addition to the body-fit suit, she was wearing boots, gloves, and goggles. She was also donning a hood and a mask that fully covered the lower part of her face to complete the ensemble.

Her S.H.I.E.L.D.-designed stealth uniform was specifically customized with her in mind, as they aimed to protect her identity. However, as an indirect consequence, her uniform also concealed her emotions pretty well. In any given day, she couldn’t care less about her expressions being hidden. However, at the moment, she wanted nothing more than letting the doctor see the burning hatred in her eyes.

"You’re not my father," she spat. Since nonverbal cues were difficult to convey with her outfit of choice and her hands cuffed behind, she was left with the only other option.

"Right," Dr. Fischer wasn’t even taken aback. "Because everyone made you believe someone else owned that title. Isn’t that right, Winter Soldier’s daughter?"

Agent Collins froze momentarily, she had forgotten about that nickname. She regained her composure a moment later, her sense of bravery renewed. "I’d rather be known as his daughter than yours."

He feigned offense, "A cruel reminder, really.

"I spent my whole life perfecting HYDRA’s new wave of soldiers and the most viable experiment ended up being credited to another asset."

Agent Collins wanted to go on this mission for two main reasons: first, to ask her former manipulator her questions and second, to kill him with her own weapon.

(Because an assassin would never be above revenge and debts.)

"How many Phantom Riptides did you make?"

"Three hundred." Her heart churned with the knowledge that 300 lives were experimented on. Hers and 299 others. Worst of all, the doctor blurted that number as if it meant nothing — as if he merely said how many beakers he had broken over the years, not how many lives he had ruined for the sake of his project.

"How many survived?" She was finally reminded that she merely crashed someone else’s mission when a new voice joined the conversation.

Agent Collins wasn’t sure if she expected to see anyone when she turned, but she definitely didn’t expect to see the Avengers there. With them being in the premises, that meant only one thing: she just crashed into an Avengers’ mission. Uh-oh.

She was in for an intense earful once S.H.I.E.L.D. hears, for sure.

"One," she heard Dr. Fischer answer. "Her."

Agent Collins waited for this day way before she even regained enough of her right mind.

Once she understood how Phantom Riptide came to be, her fear and grief manifested into a lot of things — including the need for revenge.

"However entertaining stalling you have been," Dr. Wilhelm Fischer started a moment after answering one of the Avengers’ questions, "I’m afraid my ride is almost here."

"Wait," Agent Collins chose that moment to interrupt. She looked up to the HYDRA agents guarding her, "my legs fell asleep. Can you guys help me stand?"

Sensing no harm in her simple request, Dr. Fischer motioned for one of the HYDRA agents to help her up.

Except, unbeknownst to anyone else, that was just a hoax to have one of them be at her arm’s reach.

Agent Collins secured a hold on a knife she had hidden in her boots while the HYDRA doctor was stalling for time. When one of her guards pulled her up, she carefully shifted her hold and blindly planted the knife on him.

Guard 1’s sudden stagger caught everyone’s attention. She used that second to lay the handcuffs down her wrist and force her arms apart, breaking herself free with a loud, satisfying sound.

Wasting no time, she immediately took another knife out and threw it in the air. She pulled out the knife she planted on Guard 1’s abdomen the same second the other knife landed on her free hand.

By the time her audience recovered from their shock, Guard 1 was already lying on the floor — bleeding out from a stab on his abdomen and two slits on his throat.

"Ugh," she couldn’t contain her disgust. She removed her goggles, as they were newly decorated with blood splutters. "I forgot how messy that can be."

"What are you doing?" Dr. Fischer asked, dumbfounded. Despite the circumstance, she could hardly blame him. As far as she could remember, he never actually saw his most viable creation in action before — outside the mandatory trainings, that was.

"Cleaning up," she answered nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just kill a man with an audience. She casually took the gun from Guard 1’s belt. "I don’t like leaving witnesses."

To further prove her point, she threw a knife straight at Guard 2 without looking. She didn’t even turn to confirm if she succeeded in what she aimed to do, like she knew that the knife’s trajectory would only end at where she aimed for.

"The Winter Soldier trained you well." He made no move to alert anyone with eyes on him. He just subtly took a notebook from somewhere behind him, without looking away from her figure.

Rather dramatically, she did a somersault to avoid the bullet from Guard 2’s barrel. As the latter was sporting a newly impaled eye, his aim was unsteady. Which was a stark contrast to hers, despite firing her gun twice whilst in the air.

The bullets hit Guard 2 on his chest, one hitting right in the area where his heart lied.

She landed perfectly on her feet, now back to facing the doctor. "If I ever see him again, I’ll be sure to pass on your compliment."

Even with the two HYDRA agents dead, Dr. Fischer was seemingly unfazed that he was left alone with her and the Avengers. He merely flipped the pages of the notebook on his hands.

Agent Collins observed the cover of the notebook. It was a plain navy blue, with white waves near the top.

Oh.

"Loathe," he began reading. "Young."

She moved closer to the Avengers, not bothering for introductions before conversing with them in a low tone. "You guys are done questioning him, right? Can I kill him now?"

Purely based on his outfit, she assumed Captain America was the one who responded. "We have to take him into custody."

"Archangel."

"Yeah, no. That’s not happening." If anyone could see under her hood, they would see the quick judging look she casted him. "No offense, but he’s literally trying to trigger me right now. He’s not gonna go with you alive."

She quieted down for a moment, just long enough to let them hear Dr. Fischer continue reading off of the notebook. "Four. Deception."

"You have," she paused as she counted in her head, "five words left before Hell breaks loose. Decide quickly."

"Spring."

"Is killing him your mission?" Black Widow asked, eyes obviously trying to read everything she could.

"It’s more for personal revenge; but sure, you can say that."

"Clever."

"Fine, you can kill him." Iron Man eventually gave her permission. "But you’re answering to our superiors when they question why we brought Fischer dead."

Agent Collins fought the urge to say that she’d have to answer to Director Fury either way. She figured it was best that the Avengers didn’t know she was with S.H.I.E.L.D., at least until they were safely away from a HYDRA base.

"Stark. Orphan."

Instead of saying anything to acknowledge the given permission, she murmured a comment to herself. "‘Stark’ isn’t Russian."

Truthfully, she didn’t have her trigger words memorized. She just knew the first word, for the obvious reason of it being the beginning. Somehow, though, she also remembered the last two words Dr. Fischer just uttered. Not because they were near the end, as she couldn’t even recall the very last word, but because they seemed as though they were purposefully listed in that order.

It certainly didn’t help that ‘Stark’ was the only trigger word in English, either.

"Eighth." Dr. Fischer looked up as he closed the notebook. He sported a satisfied smirk when his eyes landed on her unmoving figure. "Experiment 218?"

She made a show of the daggers hidden in her sleeves falling perfectly onto her grasp. "Ready to comply."

"Kill them."

next shore >

[risedluna]

your muses aesthetic. list your muse’s aesthetic from tastes, smells, outfits, and sceneries. add as many subjects as you like, it can help with people tagging you in aesthetically pleasing things towards your muse.

tastes. traditional water tribe cuisine. savory seal jerky, steamed sea prunes, and hearty sea kelp stew. snowy yam pastries, coconut seaweed wraps, grilled fish, and salted sea cucumbers harvested from the ocean depths. homemade meals. comforting soups and stews prepared with an abundance of care. traditional water tribe dishes passed down through generations, reflecting heritage. learned from her mother. her grandmother. akutaq, whipped animal fat, berries, and seabirds in seal skin. ptarmigan, ducks, and geese.

smells. briny air carrying the scent of the ocean. earthy scents of healing herbs and plants. smoky aroma of wood-fired stoves. mingled with the savory smells of simmering soups, roasting meats. sea salt and brine. tangy, maritime scent of saltwater and seaweed. scent of home. crackling hearth fires in the igloos of the southern water tribe.

sights. glacial landscapes. icebergs, frozen tundras, and aurora australis visible in the sky, shades of green, yellow cutting across the dark. vibrant festivals and ceremonies. healing sanctuaries: tranquil pools and waterfalls, sacred places where katara practices her water-bending techniques. communal gathering spaces, consistently bustling with activity and familiar faces. endless expanses of icy plains, dotted with snowdrifts and hidden ice caves. glow of the full moon reflecting off the icy landscape, casting mercury light on the snow. otter penguins roaming in packs, polar bear dogs stalking the snowy plains for prey.

sounds. cascading waterfalls, and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore. swirling currents. melodic tunes played on traditional water tribe instruments, drums, flutes, and stringed lyres. chirping birds and the distant calls of arctic creatures echoing across the frozen landscape. howling winds, vibrating against the surface of ice buildings. soft chants, whispered prayers, and the tranquil hum of energy. warm crackling of burning wood, accompanied by the comforting sounds of popping embers and sizzling stew pots. haunting melodies sung during rituals and ceremonies. the soft rustle of snowflakes.

sensations. chill of the frozen tundra. iciness, cold. embrace of fur-lined blankets and blankets, protection against the arctic conditions. empowering surges of energies. sense of community, kinship. water does not resist. water flows. when you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. but water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. water is patient. dripping water wears away a stone. power, fluidity. feelings of rage, raw, and aggressive. i would rather die on my feet than live on my knees.

tagged by — me. thank you, me. tagging — @equaliezr, @avat4r, @empirelead, @earthfeel, @tessenwarrior, @spiritshe, @fanfabled

[the-kr8tor]

Between the Devil and the Sea

Pairing: Pirate Captain! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word Count: 115.9k

Synopsis: All your life you've been running away, what happens when you accidentally stow away on an infamous ship that has a captain who's notorious for being the world's most wanted pirate. Will he welcome you as part of his ragtag crew or will you end up walking the plank? Or worse, will your past catch up to you?

Tags: Pirate Captain! Hobie, Fem! Reader, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing occasionally), R has nicknames, Arachkids x Reader (platonic), TW blood, TW violence, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst. Set during the golden age of piracy. Specific Warnings are listed on every chapter.

Masterlist

Navigation

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms and copy pasted on any AI software*

*pictures are from pinterest*

Chapter One- Seafoam on the Shore

Chapter Two- Claimed by the Sea

Chapter Three- Amidst the Waves

Chapter Four- Go by the Board

Chapter Five- Sailing Close to the Wind

Chapter Six- Batten Down the Hatches

Chapter Seven- In Deep Water

Chapter Eight- Stem the Tide

Chapter Nine- Plain Sailing

Chapter Ten- Starlight and Seafoam

Chapter Eleven- Salt in the Wound

Chapter Twelve- Like Ships That Pass in the Night

Chapter Thirteen- Sink or Swim

Chapter Thirteen- Sink or Swim II

Chapter Fourteen- Between the Devil…

Chapter Fifteen- …And the Deep Blue Sea

Ocean banner and support banner by @cafekitsune

Custom BDAS banner by: @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Reader outfit inspos and ship references.

Hobie outfit inspos and references.

Chapter 13 outfit inspos and references

Submitted by lovelies ❤️❤️❤️

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @rexlroze

Chapter 6 comic panel by @rexlroze

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @missshelleyduvall

Pirate! Gwen fanart by @missshelleyduvall

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @missshelleyduvall

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes

Chapter 3 comic panel by @rexlroze

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @h4m0nyqu3s0

Pirate trio fanart by @h4m0nyqu3s0

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @al1x00

Pirate! Gwen by @h4m0nyqu3s0

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @juvenile-arm

OC Bambi and pirate! Hobie fanart by @dollieduvall

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @juineri

Pirate! Hobie x OC fanart by @megdoesstuff

Pirate! Hobie x OC fanart by @teatoptony

BDAS Charm bracelet by @thats-a-pillow-case

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @pleaktale

Chapter 8/9 fanart by @theres-a-spider-in-my-pillowcase

Chap 15 Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @pleaktale *chap 15 spoilers*

Pirate! Hobie and OC fanart by @megs-insanity

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes

Pirate Hobie and R fanart (spoiler alert) by @strawberrymilkmaiden

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @sareenawails

Pirate! Hobie fanart by @sareenawails

[regenderate-fic]

All I Dream of Is Waking Up to You

Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness (mentioned), Ashildr | Lady Me (mentioned) Series: Fanzine Prompts Rating: General Other Tags: Pining, Dreams, Reunions Word Count: 2,604 Read on AO3

Summary: The Doctor keeps seeing Rose. First in dreams, then in real life. She's still not sure if it's real-- but she won't stop looking until she finds out.

@thirteenfanzine Prompt Week 2021-22 Day 6: Petrified. But mostly a thank-you/you-inspired-me gift for @jolivira ❤

NOTES: EVERYONE IS LEGALLY OBLIGATED TO LOOK AT THE ART THIS IS BASED ON (link)

joli made me this art and it made me want to write thirteenrose and THEN she immediately came into my dm's with a full fic idea so OBVIOUSLY i had to write it <3 and i made it vaguely fit today's prompt too so. be proud of me!

It starts with a dream.

The Doctor is drowning, thrashing and flailing in a deep pool of water. A flat, grassy field surrounds her on all sides, but every time she thinks she can touch the shore— it retreats, evading her desperate fingers.

And then, just as she’s about to give up and sink below the surface, she sees a face she only ever sees in dreams.

Rose Tyler, hanging above her, holding out a hand.

The Doctor reaches up.

Rose disappears.

It’s always like that, in her dreams.

She wakes up empty.

The next time she sleeps, she can’t move. She’s stuck watching the sun and moon speed past her at a thousand times their usual speed, rising, setting, rising, setting. And then she realizes if she stays frozen, she’ll be here when the sun expands, at the mercy of the final cremation.

Even she has her limits.

Fear fills her chest, expanding with no place to go. She can’t scream. She can’t even tremble. She just has to stand there, petrified, unable to even close her eyes against the light as the dot in the sky gets bigger and bigger.

And then it blinds her, and suddenly from behind her, she hears a voice.

“Doctor.”

It’s Rose.

But the Doctor can’t move. She can’t turn around. She just has to listen as Rose repeats her name, getting further and further away as each moment passes. Rose’s voice fades away, and the Doctor’s skin begins to burn.

She wakes up restless.

She launches the TARDIS. It doesn’t matter where she’s going. She just wants out: out of her ship, with its winding hallways and softly glowing light; out of her dreams, which threaten to encroach on every waking moment; out of her mind, her racing thoughts and deep, deep sadness.

The TARDIS understands perfectly, as she always does. The Doctor is starting to hate her for it: she doesn’t want to be understood, even by her oldest friend. It’s too much responsibility. But when she steps out of the TARDIS into a throng of noisy people on a dark street, the Doctor is grateful all the same. She needs to get lost in a crowd right about now. She needs to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces. She doesn’t even care where she is: it takes her a moment to process her surroundings, the people around her, the music, the people dancing in the streets.

She sniffs the air. It smells of the 1980’s, with notes of Brazil. That combined with the samba music and the bedazzled feather-and-satin outfits leads her to the obvious conclusion that she’s landed in the middle of Carnival. She feels a little underdressed, actually, in her regular coat and T-shirt, but that doesn’t stop her from pushing through the crowd, trying to fill her senses on the things happening around her so she doesn’t have to think about her dreams. It works, sort of: the music is loud, and everyone around her is yelling to be heard over it. The bright and busy costumes keep her eyes occupied, and the simple motion of walking gives her something to focus on. She doesn’t care where she winds up: she just needs to walk.

And then she sees her.

It’s just a flash of blonde hair at first. Could be anyone. It’s not uncommon, actually, for the Doctor to mistake strangers for old friends, especially if the always-present pangs of loss are sharper than usual. Which they have been, lately, when it comes to Rose. The Doctor doesn’t dare get her hopes up, but she pushes closer, cranes her neck to get a closer look—

There’s a sudden jolt in her stomach. She’d know that hoodie anywhere. It’s just a regular purple hoodie, but the specific shade— the blue lining inside the hood— the Doctor has a fleeting memory of leaning against a wall, a young Rose Tyler wishing her a happy new year. She wore that hoodie often enough in their travels, but it’s that last first moment that sticks in the Doctor’s head.

But even with that, the Doctor is frozen in place. It’s just like her dream, except now there’s nothing stopping her but her own fear, the certainty that when she takes a step forward, the woman will turn and her face won’t resemble Rose’s at all. The Doctor closes her eyes for a long moment. When she opens them, the blonde woman is gone.

And then she has another dream. It’s a nice one, for once. They’re in the TARDIS library, sitting together on a sofa. Rose is reading one of her favorite books out loud while the Doctor listens, her head on Rose’s shoulder, one of Rose’s arms around her. Warmth fills the Doctor’s body, and she lets Rose’s voice wash over her, her eyes sliding shut.

When she opens them, she’s alone in her bed on the TARDIS. She rolls over, burying her face in the pillow. This is why she never sleeps: even the good dreams are intolerable upon waking.

But— she’s had three dreams now, in a relatively short period of time, in addition to a flash of blonde and a familiar hoodie in Rio. It has to mean something, doesn’t it? The Doctor doesn’t usually pay much attention to dreams— her mind is always processing her past when she’s asleep. That doesn’t mean she needs to dwell on it when she’s awake. But she can’t get Rose Tyler out of her head. Can’t let go of the question: what if she’s out there somewhere?

It’s not impossible. Or, it is impossible, but Rose was always good at circumventing the impossible. Maybe she’s done it one more time. A tentative excitement rises in the Doctor’s chest, and she squashes it down. It won’t do to get her hopes up. (But she does direct the TARDIS to keep a scan out for vortex energy. Just in case.)

She continues on her way, having adventures here and there, trying her best to not spend all her time wallowing inside the TARDIS, and after a while she almost forgets about the dreams, about the flash of blonde. They were just dreams, after all, and she could’ve been wrong about that hoodie.

So she doesn’t expect it at all when she’s watching luge at the Anti-Grav Olympics in 2085 and she sees another flash of blonde in the stands, coupled with that same purple hoodie. Once, she could write off as a mistake, but twice? She can’t write it off twice. She calls out, “Rose!” but it’s no use. It’s only 2085, and anti-grav technology still roars if you so much as boot it up: between that and the cheering crowd, her voice is lost.

But now she knows to keep looking. Rose is out there somewhere; she’s sure of it. She remembers taking her to the 2084 Anti-Grav Olympics, back when they traveled together, and decides to try other places they went: New Earth, Cardiff in 1860, even Satellite 5, in the years between their first visit and their last stand. She doesn’t see a trace of Rose anywhere. Usually, the Doctor loves having the entire universe to explore: it means she never gets bored. But right now, she hates it. Having the whole universe means she’s looking for a Rose-shaped needle in an infinite haystack, and she does not care for that one bit.

She tries to forget about it. Tries to distract herself with other trips, other adventures. But every time she leaves the TARDIS, something in the back of her mind is asking, Will I see her?

Until she’s in a chippy in the year 2112, just for something to do while she tries to decide where to go next. She’s picking at her chips, barely hungry, when the glass of the window behind her shatters, and two tussling bodies fall through. One is a Slitheen, of all things: large, long-necked, and slimy, it flails to gain the upper hand. But the other— well. The other is Rose. There’s no doubt about it. She’s beautiful, just like she always was, her eyes blazing with a too-familiar mix of determination and adrenaline-fueled joy as she pushes away from the Slitheen.

But it all happens too fast. The moment the Doctor processes what’s going on, Rose darts out of the shop, escaping the Slitheen, and the Doctor is sitting, frozen in shock, with a basket of chips covered in broken glass. When she manages to get up and look outside, Rose is nowhere to be found. And when she tries to research Slitheen encounters in the area, she finds nothing.

Well, whatever the danger is, the Doctor is certain Rose has it handled. And all the Doctor has to do is pretend she’s not devastated she missed her chance.

But at least she has confirmation. Rose is in this universe, somewhere, and all the Doctor has to do is find her.

It’s easier said than done.

She asks Jack first. He pretends to be offended that she’s only visiting to ask about Rose, but he was there when they fought the Daleks on Satellite 5: he knows how much Rose means to her, and how far she would go for Rose. That’s why she went to him to begin with, actually: she knew he would understand.

He doesn’t have any information.

“I’ll call you if I hear anything,” he assures her, and she stays the afternoon with him, wandering around Cardiff and poking their heads into the shops. When she leaves, she promises to come back soon for an actual visit.

“If I’m lucky, I’ll have extra company with me,” she says with a grin.

Jack just winks.

And the Doctor goes back to the TARDIS, trying not to let the hopelessness that’s welling in her chest fill her up completely.

And she keeps looking.

On a whim, she tries Lady Me, who’s still running her trap street in the 2110’s: since her research came up empty, the Doctor has had her suspicions about where the Slitheen came from, and she goes to Lady Me to confirm. As always, Lady Me is polite bordering on hostile, but she tells the Doctor what she wants to know: a Slitheen was executed on the day the Doctor saw Rose.

“What for?” the Doctor asks, her mouth hanging open, her brows drawn together.

“Attacking a civilian,” Lady Me said. At the hitch in the Doctor’s breath, she adds, “Don’t worry. She didn’t die.”

The Doctor lets out a long breath. “Did you see her?”

Lady Me shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Doctor.” She hesitates. “I understand Rose meant very much to you.”

Somewhere, in her shelves and shelves of journals and reference material, she must have a list of all the Doctor’s friends, with pictures and lengthy summaries. The Doctor shudders to think of it, but all she says to Lady Me is, “Thank you.”

Lady Me just smiles.

The Doctor keeps looking. She has to. Now that she’s seen a face she thought she’d lost forever, now that she’s on the brink of hearing a voice she’s so achingly missed, she can’t stop herself. She’s got the TARDIS looking not only for vortex energy, but also artron energy and Rose’s psychic footprint: none of those methods are certain, but they’re better than nothing. The Doctor is practically haunting the places they visited together now: she even, once or twice, lands on the planet orbiting a black hole, a few days before it fell in. She tries the places she meant to take Rose, too: Barcelona, for one, both the planet and the city for good measure; an Elvis show in the ‘50’s; the new Roman empire. And she comes up empty. Every single time.

Finally, after a fruitless day wandering the streets of London in 2010, she decides she might as well give up. She won’t see Rose again— for all she knows, she was hallucinating those other times. She slumps against a wall, the city streets blurring around her. It’s broad daylight, and people are staring, but she doesn’t care.

Until she hears it.

“You all right there?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. Her hearts stop beating. She knows that voice. She’ll always know that voice. No matter how many years pass, no matter how many more people she loses.

She looks up.

Rose Tyler is standing a few feet away.

She looks different, but also the same: she’s still wearing that old hoodie, but her hair’s longer than it was the last time the Doctor saw her. There’s a calm confidence in her eyes, a self-assuredness that was just beginning to bloom when she and the Doctor were traveling together. She’s looking at the Doctor with concern, but when their eyes meet, the concern morphs into something else.

The Doctor can’t breathe. Her chest is too heavy. Her throat is too tight. “Rose?” she gasps, taking in every single detail for fear Rose will disappear again.

“Doctor?” Rose’s voice has softened almost to the point of breaking.

The Doctor doesn’t think. She doesn’t have time— any second now, Rose could disappear. She launches herself forward— and Rose catches her, presses their lips together without a second thought, and for a second the Doctor thinks she’s dreaming again, because how else would Rose Tyler be here, kissing her? But when she lifts her hands to Rose’s face, her skin is warm and soft below the Doctor’s fingers, and if this is a dream, it’s the best one she’s had in a while.

Time suspends itself: the kiss seems to last forever, their bodies pressed together, their mouths moving in tandem. For a long moment, fear catches in the Doctor’s throat, and she’s scared to open her eyes— what if she finds herself alone in her bed again? But when she dares to pull away and check, Rose is still there, her eyes closed, a contented smile spreading on her face.

“It’s really you,” the Doctor breathes. “After all these years. Rose Tyler.”

Rose opens her eyes, and the Doctor almost has to look away. The full force of Rose’s love after so long without it is overwhelming. The only thing she can do is pull Rose into another kiss, one hand behind Rose’s head, tangled in her hair, holding her close, the other tracing its way down Rose’s jaw. Rose tightens her hold on the Doctor’s waist, and the Doctor holds every single moment in her mind, capturing the joy and awe and love that’s flooding every cell in her body and tucking it away for future reference. Rose’s body is so warm, so soft, and it’s everything the Doctor has been missing.

A passerby jeers, and they’re both brought back to reality. They separate, filled with breathless laughter. Rose keeps a hand on the Doctor’s arm, and the Doctor trails her hand down to Rose’s waist: she can’t let go yet. Not after so many years.

“We’d better go,” Rose says through her grin. “They’re going to arrest us if we keep this up.”

“Are you coming back to the TARDIS, then?” the Doctor asks, as if she thinks in a million years Rose might say no. “She’s redecorated. I think you’ll like it.”

In answer, Rose’s hand skates down the Doctor’s arm until their fingers are intertwined. “I’d love to,” she says. “If you’ll have me.” But there’s no uncertainty in her tone either: it’s a formality, a ritual. Long gone are the days when a new body gave either of them pause.

“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor says again. “I would be honored.”

[neon-junkie]

Another Night Like This

Summary: This was just meant to be another drunken fuck, a heated session between two men that have spent the last few years sticking by each other's side. Maybe that's why it turned into making love?

Pairing: Javier Escuella x Bill Williamson

Word Count: 2130

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Accidental making love, Making out, Praise kink, Dirty talk, Drunken sex.

Notes: Had a few requests for more Willscuella hehe. This is set just before RDR1 :0)

The air in New Austin is crisp, blazing down onto everybodys skin, turning their mouthes dry, and burning the back of their throat. If you're short of water or whiskey, then you're fucked; but in this case, it's the dead of night, cool enough to keep the sweat away, but still dry and almost uncomfortably humid. Luckily, for a pair of unexpected lovers, dehydration isn't the case here, as tongues are sliding against each other as Javier pushes Bill down, grabbing his wrists as he falls back and pinning them on either side of his head. Their lips only leave each other for a brief moment, but when they reconnect, they're as hungry as ever. Javier adjusts his legs, swinging them over Bills lap as he straddles him, pinning his crotch against the much larger man. It's easy for Javier to over-power Bill, usually because Bill will submit to the other man with a click of his fingers, but how could anyone not submit to a well-dressed, golden-toned man, who's dark hair is currently falling a little too close to their mouths and getting caught up in their kiss.

Javier lets out a sigh as he breaks the kiss, sitting upright and pushing his hair from his face. Bill makes his usual comment, "you're gonna get fed up with it one day 'n' just cut it all off," he tells Javier, looking up at him with blown-pupils. "Maybe..." Javier replies, his eyes looking back down into Bills. He smirks softly, an expression that he pulls whenever he sees Bill like this; patiently waiting for Javier's orders, hands now resting on his stomach, visually struggling to restrain himself from pulling Javier back down onto him. The pair had been running together ever since the gang broke up a good few years ago; The wounds will never heal, but at least they have each other to keep themselves sane, or as sane as they can be whilst roaming around the dry sands of the desert. They've been camping at this same spot for a while now, just above the shore of the San Luis River. It's the perfect campsite, far enough from the main road that they don't get bothered, yet not too far from the closest town. There's also the flawless view of Mexico, its shores seeming so close yet still so far, and Javier spends every morning watching the sunrise over his homeland before prodding Bill awake, so they can get on with their day. In a few hours from now, Javier would be waking up early, ready for his daily routine. But Bill had dragged him to the saloon last night, and the pair could barely ride back, stumbling into camp and onto each other, spending another night with each other's company, as if they haven't been doing that for the last few years. They'd not bothered with hiding in their tent like they would at previous campsites, instead, finding each other beside their campfire, hands trailing across each other before Javier made his usual bold move of straddling Bills hips. "You gonna get these off for me?" Javier questions, his hand tugging at the light pants Bill recently brought. "Sure," Bill replies. Javier de-mounts him so Bill can begin to undress. He unbuttons his vest, letting out a sigh as begins to unbutton his shirt; it was Javier's idea that Bill tried adding a vest to his outfit, and as much as the outfit suits Bill, he's far too lazy to do up so many buttons every single day. However, he's even lazier to go and buy another outfit. At least Javier was smart enough to stop bothering with wearing vests, picking out the same white shirt that Bill now wears, along with a jacket that he barely buttons up. Bill had commented that Javier was getting as lazy as he was with his appearance, to which Javier sighed and said "guess I've spent too much time around you, huh?" Javier's hands are back on Bill before Bill can barely finish peeling off his shirt, discarding his shirt into their shared tent. Javier goes straight to fondling Bill's balls, biting his tongue to try and hide his smile as Bill lets out a whimper. "Why you always gotta do that?" Bill comments, and pouts when Javier chuckles. "No reason," Javier replies, biting his tongue in an attempt to hide his grin. As always, Javier's hand begins to trail south, prodding at Bill's entrance after slipping two fingers into his mouth. Bill relaxes against him, leaning back on his elbows and lets his legs fall apart; he's not a stranger to having Javier see him like this, and vice versa. One of his hands trails over Bills stomach, thinner than he used to be, but still coated in thick, dark hair. "Shit," Bill murmurs as Javier slips a finger into it. He doesn't bother going slow, pushing all the way up to his knuckle, knowing Bill can take it. "Still loose from last night, eh?" Javier comments as he slips another finger in, rotating it slight as he begins to fuck Bill with his fingers. "Shuddup," Bill grumbles, his eyes flicking away momentarily. The pouting of his bottom lip disappears as Javier finds that spot inside him, brushing over it with his fingers, making Bills cock twitch. "Shit, Javi-" Bill whines as he falls off his elbows, laying back in the dirt. "Good boy," Javier purrs. He catches Bills eyes as the larger man looks up at him with flushed cheeks, chewing at his bottom lip; Javier knows damn-well what praise does to him, and he's happily to send hoards of it Bills way, considering that this man has gone his entire life without any. A third finger is slipped in, and this time, Bill moans, rolling his head back in the dirt. Javier adjusts his position, lying down on his side beside his lover, propped up on his elbow. He continues thrusting his fingers in and out of Bill, all the whilst dipping his head down to catch Bills lips with his own. The kiss is messy, sloppy, seasoned with whimpers and soft words of affection. "You're doing so well for me, Bill," Javier sighs against his lips, and Bills cock twitches yet again. "You're hard for me, aren't you, Bill?" Javier asks as he moves his lips away, his dark eyes staring directly into Bills hazy ones. Bill manages to let out a soft "uh-huh," nodding his head at the same time. "Good, touch yourself," Javier commands, and chuckles as Bill darts his hand down to begin pumping his length. "Eager," he says with a smirk, and yet again, Bill tells him to shut up. "You think you're ready for me, big guy?" Javier asks. "Y-yeah," Bill sheepishly replies with a nod. Javier softly laughs at his timidity, shifting his weight to lie on his side comfortably, still propped up by his elbow. "We've fucked how many times? and you're still so shy around me?" "Oh, come on, you know what I'm like!" Bill defends. "Yeah, I do, Bill," he laughs, placing a soft kiss to his lips. "But you know I wouldn't want you any other way." The words slip from Javier's mouth, and it takes him a moment to process what he's just said. His eyes meet Bills, wide as always, and Bill stutters out "you wouldn't?" "I wouldn't," Javier confirms, and slips his fingers from Bills entrance. He wipes himself off on his pants before placing the same hand on Bills hip, caressing him, kneading his skin. This time, Bill reaches up to tug at Javier's hair, pulling him down to his height, and kissing him deeply. Javier has to bite back a laugh, knowing how much his words of approval mean to the larger man. Without breaking the kiss, he shuffles onto his knees, settling between Bills thighs, and begins to unbutton his pants, tossing his gun belt in the direction of their tent. Javier feels something tug at his chest, soon realizing that Bill's helping him undress, unbuttoning his shirt. Large hands trail up to help slip the fabric over his shoulders, before entwining with his hair. The kiss is soon broken, and as Javier sits upright, he pulls Bill by his hips, wrapping his legs around his waist, and positions his cock at the larger man's entrance. They sigh in unison as Javier pushes in, rolling his hips in short and quick movements, before settling on a long and slow pace. "Good, Bill," Javier sighs, watching his length disappear and reappear. He leans forward and picks up where the two left off, with open mouthed kisses, and soft moans shared between them. Bill's hands don't seem to settle, kneading at the smaller man's waist, gripping his biceps, trailing over his back; Javier doesn't mind, he's perfectly used to this, and takes pleasure in Bills neediness. He moves his lips from Bills, brushing over his turning-grey beard with light kisses, and settles on his neck, leaving his mark as the last one has finally faded away. Once Bill's neck is covered, satisfying Javier's standards, Javier sits mostly upright, turning his focus onto rolling his hips perfectly. The sight of Bill beneath him, a total whimpering mess, isn't foreign to Javier, but it's a sight that he takes in every time. "That's it, that's my Bill," Javier praises, smiling softly when Bill lets out his flustered whine as a reply. Bill's still tugging at his cock, but Javier politely swats his hand away, replacing it with his own. One hand rests on the dirt, propping his body over the larger man's, whilst the other pumps his cock in time with his thrusts, leaving Bill to grip onto whichever part of Javier's body that he can. "F-Faster... please," Bill mumbles. "What was that?" Javier asks with a smirk, stopping his thrusts completely. He pushes his cock as deep as it can go, hitting Bills prostate and making the larger man squirm beneath him. "I said faster, dammit! ....please," Bill corrects his barking, his pout being wiped away as Javier does exactly what he's asked, picking up the pace. The sound of skin against skin echoes through the thick air, possibly trailing over to the main road, but it's nobody's business but their own. As always, Bills moans are deep and gruff, with the occasional soft whimper, whereas Javier's are light and soft, mixed with words of praise. "Javi- you've gotta..." Bill attempts to call out. "Gotta what?" Javier replies. "S-Slow down," he whimpers, making Javier raise his brow. "A second ago you were asking me to go faster. Which is it, Bill?" he questions, biting back a laugh. "S-slo... Fa-sl... Aughh," Bill grumbles, indecisive as always. "Faster? again? alright, Bill. If that's what you want," Javier chuckles, picking up the pace once more. It's hard to pump Bills cock at the same speed, but Javier does what he can, taking in the sight of the larger man mewling beneath him. "I'm gonna.... if you keep-" Bill attempts to call out yet again, and Javier doesn't slow down his pace so Bill can talk. "Cum then, Bill. Go on," he urges, his own orgasm sitting on the fence, awaiting Bills arrival. Bill half opens his eyes, nodding in agreement, before letting them fall shut again, moaning away as Javier continues to fuck him. He spills his load on his stomach, coating his dark hair, his hair turning even whiter as Javier pulls out and let his load entwine with Bills. Javier mutters "mierda," whilst Bill mutters "shit." Javier falls limp across Bills chest, paying no mind to the sticky mess between their bodies. They spend a few moments coming down from their highs, panting, groaning, licking their dry lips, until Javier shuffles his head up to kiss Bill once more. There's tenderness in the kiss, not that there isn't always; his hand cups the back of Bills head, and eventually trails down his body, settling on his thigh and eagerly squeezing him. Bill's trying his best to grip at Javiers waist, but his hands are falling weak, exhausted and still slightly drunk. The kiss eventually breaks, and the pair squint their eyes as they turn, noticing the sun slowly rising in the distance. Another night spent together, not that it's been any different for the last few years, but tonight definitely felt different. "Come on, come to bed with me," Javier says as he turns back to Bill, giving his thigh another squeeze as he nuzzles the larger man. "Alright, old man," Bill chuckles, his hand reaching up to tuck one Javier's many greying hairs behind his ear. "Says you," Javier laughs, prodding at the grey patch on his beard. "Yeah, says me," Bill smiles.

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

THE COOLER

(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Characters: Zuko, Sokka, Suki, Hakoda, Chit Sang.

Requested: I guess?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part eight of “destiny is a funny thing”.

previous part

A/N: Hey guys! It’s part eight already! Please tell me your opinion in the comments.

“I need backup over here!” The voices were muffled by the thick metal door of your cell. The walls were covered in ice, as was the floor and the ceiling. You had no idea how much time exactly passed, since you’d been thrown in here. A day? Maybe two? No idea. The only apparent thing was that it seemed to get colder by the second. The temperature was picking and biting at your skin, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. Protected by your inner fire and a mere pair of linen clothes, there wasn’t much you could do to escape. Only hope was left, praying that either Zuko or Sokka would find you.

“No firebending! Into the cooler!” You heard from the halls. The guards had managed it once again. Riling an inmate up to the point where they were forced to use fire, only for the pleasure to stuff them into a cooler seconds later. It was sick. “But... but there are no free coolers left!” You breathed deeply, rearranging your naked feet on the hard ice. “Just stick them together in a cell!” The man from outside barked, before the door of your cooler was opened and a familiar figure was thrown in, before it got closed again.

“Zu... Zuko?” You stuttered, worn out from hours of fighting the cold. His eyes widened as he took you in, limbs barely held warm by your inner flame. “Y/N...,” He grabbed your arm. “There you are. You’re getting cold,” You gave him a short nod, almost whining as he took his warm hand away. “I tried to keep warm as long as possible, but I’m so exhausted,” You rambled, until he softly shushed you. “Come here,” He moved to put an arm around you, but you pushed back slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up. What’s it look like?” You were still reluctant to let him close, but to be honest, you’d been shivering for forever and it was better to take a little warmth than to freeze. So the next time he tried to draw you in, you didn’t resist. Your body burned where it touched his, as if Zuko’s hands left hot fingerprints on your skin.

“Sokka has a plan to get us out of here,” By now you were halfway on his lap, not willing to let go of the newfound source of heat. It was strange to be so close to him again. But the good kind of strange. “What did he come up with?” Your body relaxed in his grasp, while he explained the plan the group had agreed on, as well as who would be taking part. You were glad to hear that Suki had showed up, knowing how much Sokka had missed her. He’d told you about her countless times. Once you were warmed up enough to move your limbs again, the both of you worked together to loosen the cooler from it’s frame, getting back into sitting position once you’d removed all bolts and screws.

Silence followed the quest, but to your surprise, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. “How did you even end up in here?” Your skin tingled where your arms and tighs touched as you sat next to each other. “That’s a long story,” You answered, as you leaned your head against his shoulder. Your mind was running with different thoughts, fighting a battle on it’s own and contemplating if what you were doing right now really was a good idea.

But Zuko put his arm around you once more. Lost in your own head before, you hadn’t even realized how close you were. “Y/N?” You hummed, nose almost touching his as you stared into his amber eyes. “You know that i love you, right?” His voice had dropped to a soft murmur, almost sounding hoarse. Your breath got caught in your throat, as you could see your own reflection in his orbs. They were burning into your own, hot with affection and full of emotions. There was no denying that Zuko had a raw, natural beauty to him, that could not be undone. Not even by the scar, framing his eye. “I know...” You whispered, sight briefly dropping to his lips, mere inches from your own, before shooting up again. His mouth parted slightly, as he leaned closer. So close that you could already feel his hot breath on your own, eager to taste his lips on yours again.

And then the door of the cooler opened, leading the two of you to drift apart in a flash. Tough Sokka didn’t seem to sense the tension in the atmosphere when he stepped in. “I can take the two of you back to your cell if you’ve learned your lesson,” He said, winking at you, relieved that Zuko and you had landed in the same cell. Zuko shot you a look that you avoided with ease, before he caught himself, releasing a firey breath and revealing all the bolts and screws. “Yes, I have ... completely.” He answered with a smirk. The prince came off completely unbothered by what had almost happened just seconds before. Unlike you. But luckily the non-bender was far too occupied by the escape plan to notice. He lifted his visor, whispering quitely. “I got Suki and Chit Sang out of their cells a few minutes ago. They’ll be waiting for us at the shore,”

Suddenly you sensed a sound from the hall, reacting quickly and pulling Sokka inside. “Someone’s coming!” You explained, closing the door behind him. The voices remained a mumble, until they turned into your passage. “Yeah, new arrivals coming in at dawn,” A male tone reached your ears first, before a female one followed. “Anybody interesting?” She asked. “Nah, just the usual. Some robbers, a couple traitors, some war prisoners, though I did hear there might be a pirate,” You could see Sokka’s worried glance out of the corner of your eye, as you conrinued to listen in on the conversation. “No fooling!” The female guard exclaimed, before their voices faded into nothing once more. “War prisoners. It could be your father,”

“I know,” Sokka said, trailing off. “Well, what should we do? Are we going ahead with the plan or are we waiting another night?” The prince asked the right question, but the Water Tribe boy was clearly in over his head at this point. “I don’t know! Is it right for me to risk Suki’s freedom, all of our freedom on the slim chance that my dad is gonna show up?” You and Zuko shared a brief look. “It’s your call, Sokka,” You inclined softly.

And by night the descision was made. Suki and Chit Sang were already waiting outside the prison, as you, Zuko and Sokka rolled the detached cooler down the hill. The both of them moved to help, before the man spoke up. “Took you guys long enough. This here’s my girl and my best buddy, they’re coming too,” You sighed as he pointed to a male sitting on a rock, as well as a waving woman. Now there were even more people you had to transport, which meant there was an even higher risk to get caught. “Fine. Everybody in the cooler. Let’s go,” Sokka decided. The group proceeded to move the cooler into the water, as he lifted a rock to hide his Water Tribe outfit.

“Are you sure you wanna go? You’re the one who said you wanted to redeem yourself. Redeem your honor. Rescuing your dad is your chance,” Zuko questioned, leaving the boy a last chance to go back. “Your dad” Suki asked, approaching the three of you. You tried to explain the situation to her, while Sokka and Zuko had another discussion about the possibility of his father coming in. “Hey, if you four are done cuddling, can we get a move on” Chit Sang eventually interrupted, earning a glare from you. You could understand how difficult this descision was for your friend. His failure layed heavy on his shoulders, and it was something that had come up multiple times. You remembered all the quiet moments at night when he couldn’t sleep, needing to be reassured again and again.

“No. I’m staying. You guys go,” His gaze wandered to Suki. “You’ve been here long enough,” But the girl shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you, Sokka,” Zuko agreed. “I’m staying, too,” And so did you. “So am i,”

“Not me, I’m out. Let’s roll, baby,” Chit Sang exclaimed, pushing the cooler into the lake and jumping in. You could see Sokka’s hope weavering as he watched them leave. “We gave up our only chance of escaping. I hope we haven’t just made a huge mistake,” You put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. “Come on, Sokka. Let’s go back,” Morning was arriving by now and the four of you begann climbing back up at the outside of the prison wall as the screams of the guards alerted everyone.

“The plan failed! They’re caught!” Sokka said, eyes widening. “This is a lockdown! We have new prisoners arriving! Everything must be completely secure!” You heard from above, watching the disaster unfold. A male guard fired a large ballista bolt, catching hold of the cooler and dragging it back towardsthe shore. “The gondola’s moving,” Sokka pointed towards the approaching gondola. “This is it. If my dad’s not there, we’ve risked everything for nothing,” You’d made it to the yard when it arrived, staring for it’s door to open. “We had to,” Suki assured him, holding his hand. “Come on, come on ...,” You could feel Zuko moving closer to you, as he watched the people coming out. “Is that him?” He asked, as a large man with a tattoo and a nose ring stepped forward. “My dad doesn’t have a nose ring. Where is he?” A ton of men left the gondola, but the right one didn’t seem to be there. “That’s it? That can’t be it,”

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” Suki spoke softly, trying to give him some comfort. “Oh, no,” Sokka mumbled, afraid he’d made the wrong choice once more. “Hey, you! Get off the gondola!” But then, Hakoda stepped out. “Dad...,” You heard Sokka whisper in front of you and a smile spread out on your face. He’d made the right call after all.

tags:  @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​ @duh-dobrik​ @yeetscreetiwannaeat​ @ashnkamfeun    @hailkyoshi​ @shortmexicangirl​ @animexholic​ @sorrythatspussynal​  @mochminnie​ @ninadewitt​

[anlian-aishang]

heyy :) could i request a one shot, something like levi x reader enjoying a day on the beach (preferably au)? i'm gonna leave it up to ur imagination will it be fluffy, smutty or angsty :) much love

Thank you for sending in a request! I decided to make this fluffy, but I will probably make a sex on the beach follow-up later ^^ [Edit: I did! Here is the smutty follow-up] Please enjoy, love!

Word count: 1900 

Tags: fluff, modern au, fem!reader (side note: if you ever want an ambiguous gender, I would be happy to do that!)

Unbelievable. Of all places you could choose to spend a weekend, you had to pick the beach. Dirty sand, loud kids, tons of people, vast ocean… it was far from his first choice. However, you had been begging him to go for so long, he decided it would be less annoying to spend the day there than it would to hear you ask one more time. 

Even in getting ready, he was rather clueless. You had told him you had everything taken care of, but he still had to get dressed. When he came to the front door in sneakers, blue jeans, and a long sleeved tee, you could not help but ask, “Levi, honey, do you remember where we’re going today?”

He clenched his teeth, “Yeah, of course I remember, brat.” He folded his arms, “That place with grainy sand and filthy ocean.”

“The beach!”

He sighed, “The beach.”

In your shorts, tank top, swimsuit underneath, you looked him up and down, “I’d say you’re not dressed for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the sand will stick to you. Salt water will stain your clothes. Not to mention, you’re going to burn up in that outfit.”

“Tch…” As much as he hated getting dirty, he hated getting hot and sweaty too. Still, he stayed stubborn, too embarrassed to change now, “I’ll be fine.”

You shrugged, “If you say so.”

At long last, your dream day was underway.

// // //

On the ride over, you could already pick up his sense of dread. The dull in his eyes, the sulking in his seat, the strained effort he put into looking less than miserable for you, still - you were not giving up on a good day yet.

The full parking lot was the first annoyance, “Geez, seems like a lot of people had the same idea.” 

You would not let his grumpiness rain on your parade, “Not the most crowded I’ve seen.” Quick, change the subject. “Help me carry the stuff?”

“Right.” Levi popped the trunk, took a deep breath, and left the vehicle. An umbrella, a cooler, beach towels, a tote bag… “We need all this stuff?”

You giggled, “Hah - I don’t. I brought it for you.” 

Levi raised an eyebrow, beckoning for an explanation. You placed a hand on his shoulder and tilted your head, “Listen�� I know I’ve been nagging about this forever, and I know it’s been annoying. I wanna tell you: I really appreciate you coming out here for me. The least I could do is pack what would make you feel comfortable.”

He gulped, finally realizing how shitty his attitude had been, all without good reason. “I understand.”

A quick kiss on the forehead. “Thank you, love.”

Anything for you.

// // //

All the makings for a fun beach day in hand, the two of you began hauling the goods from the car to the shore.

Strangely empty at your side, you turned back to find your boyfriend far behind. You stopped in your tracks and called back to him, “Too heavy?” 

“No! Of course not.” Pull it together. For her... It’s just…”

You glanced down to his shoes. Not even halfway there, they were already overflowing with sand. These tied-up sneakers would keep it trapped inside all day. He was not angry, but looked genuinely disheartened. 

It was time, you decided. “Here. Take this.” You gestured your packed tote to him. 

Levi took the bag out of your hand and peered inside. A change of clothes? 

When he looked back to you, you gave a knowing smile, “I told you. I’ve got it all taken care of!” 

It did not quite coax the smile you were hoping for, but you could tell he felt some relief. “Guess you know better than I.”

“Don’t worry about it.” A brief side hug before you met his gaze, “Let’s just have some fun, okay?”

His mouth still a straight line, you gave a little lenience, “Or at least try?”

An assuring tousle of your hair, “Deal.”

And when he pulled his shirt off, by the collar and over the back, you were reminded why you dragged him out here. Hot summer sun reflected off his already-perspiring chest. Black locks were topped with a golden glow. The blue of his eyes matched that of the ocean. His annoyed apprehension about the day was more than worth the view.

Your staring was not unnoticed. As he unbuckled his belt, he teased, “Is this what we came here for?”

You snickered, “Maybe…”

Levi kicked off his shoes and took off his jeans. In all his inexperience with the beach, you expected to see underwear. Instead, European swim trunks. You had no idea he even owned any, and they fit so well. When your eyes widened, he teased, “tsk tsk tsk. So shameless…” 

“This outfit is much better.” for more than just the environment.

A brief smirk before he questioned, “No sandals?”

You dusted off his sneakers and tossed them in the bag, “You won’t need ‘em.”

At first unsettling, he started to warm up towards the feeling of hot sand under his feet. The natural cushion that was both soft and supportive, it was something to be sought after. At last, he understood at least one appeal of the beach.

And though there were many people, the area was so vast that it felt completely uncrowded. When he looked ahead, there was nothing but ocean and sand for as far as the eye could see. You, your flowing hair, your skimpy swimsuit in the foreground, endless sun in the background, he had to admit, what a sight.

You turned and asked, “How about here?”

Finally, a smile as he snapped out of his daydream, “Your call.”

Such a drastic change in attitude, you had no idea what caused it. As much as you wanted to know, you figured you should tread lightly. Maybe you could hear about it at the end of the day. 

After spreading out beach towels and opening up the umbrella, you were quick to lay on top of the blanket and underneath the shade. Levi stood above you for a few moments, not sure of the plan. Laid back in position and breathing, you looked practically asleep.

“Hey,” He knelt down and nudged you, “so what do you want to do?”

You tilted your shades down, “I’m doing it.”

He arched a brow, “Sleeping?”

“Relaxing.” You rubbed his arm, “You should try it sometime!”

He tightened his jaw. Sure, you and countless others seemed to be having no trouble, but this was so unfamiliar to him, he could not imagine closing his eyes right now. 

When you dozed off once again, he opted against joining you in favor of watching. After all, his sleeping beauty only bettered the view.

Your lookout. Your scout.

// // //

You woke up to two strong hands on your body, caressing and rubbing your skin. 

“Mmm… Levi?”

“Hey, did I wake you up?”

“No. No.” Yes. “What’s up?”

He lifted his hands off you, revealing creamy white palms, “Well, the sun moved, I didn’t want you to get burned.”

You smiled, He’s getting the hang of it! “You’re too sweet. Thank you.”

Levi cleared his throat, “So… I was thinking… do you wanna go in the water?”

Thank God for your shades. Eyes shot open at his suggestion. You thought you would have to persuade him or maybe even save it for next time - if there would ever be one. Instead, he was bringing up the idea to you.

“Yeah! You want to?”

In the time you were asleep, he watched nearly every patron swim in the ocean. If children and the elderly were going in, certainly he could too, certainly there was something he was missing. “Yes…” He swallowed, “I want to.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” You sprung up from the towel, “You should’ve woken me up sooner.”

Leaving him in the dust, you began a clumsy run through the sand. Upon wading in the water, that childlike wonder crashed into you along with the waves. Something about the beach always managed to excite, no matter how many times you had gone.

No hesitation. Your energy and enthusiasm were contagious. Caught up in the moment, Levi swept you off your feet bridal style and walked you deeper into the water. In this position, he was only wet at the hips and below while you were completely soaked everywhere. When he spun you in his arms, ring of water splashing around you both, you found yourselves giggling uncontrollably. 

The two of you were in absolute bliss, until he felt a faint tickle on his leg, “... Wh-What the hell?” Clearly uneasy.

“What? What?”

“I just felt something brush up against me. What was that?” 

You shrugged and offered, “I don’t know. Seaweed, minnows, fish, or something?”

Levi clenched his teeth, barring the sound of his sharp inhale. Before you could question the motion, he turned and ran you both back to shore. 

“L - Levi?!” His panic was so hilarious, but you knew you had to muffle any signs.

“Guhh! That shit is so gross!” The cold fresh out of water or the thought of those poisonous creatures, he clutched his arms and shuddered. 

Oh no… After all that fun, you could not imagine turning him off from the beach now. “Hey! Let’s head back to our spot. We’ll dry off.”

Utter fear still written on his face, “Sure.”

You rubbed his back, muscle coated in seawater. Goosebumps… adorable… As you approached your site, you did a quick little jog to beat him there, just so you could toss him his towel. How much you wanted him to enjoy himself, he definitely picked up on it. With your care, he had subconsciously forgotten all about that seaweed scare. She’s so cute.

“Oh! I almost forgot, I packed something for you.” You hurriedly bent down to the cooler, fumbling a bit, before pulling out a can. 

Black iced tea drew a cheeky grin, “For me?”

With a smirk and a clang, “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Watching him gulp down that cold drink, especially shirtless and in swim trunks, you were enamored with the sight. When he pulled his lips from the can with a refreshed ahh, you thought you might melt right with that condensation.

“So what do you think?”

This horizon of the sunset and ocean, the warm orange and pink a perfect match to the foam white and blue, he had to admit, “It’s not bad.”

“I thought you might like it… It was on sale!”

Huh? She’s talking about… the drink? His response only a stammer.

You looked to him. The thrill in your eyes all too endearing, “So whaddya say? More tomorrow?”

Levi wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side, “Yeah.”

Could never say no to you.

levi masterlist // main masterlist

[roguish-gallery]

I just love these rogue headcanon questions so here is another! beach day head canons! what are they all doing on beach day together!

OFC!!!! This was so much fun to do, thank you for the request!

Rogues + Beach Day HCs!

Bane:

He’s just trying to have a good time but… he can’t help but feel as if he’s being watched….

He may not think he’s doing anything sus, but dudes got stacks on stacks on stacks. SO MUCH BEEF. people will be ogling at him. He’s not a big people-person, so he’s a little shocked at the amount of people calling him over to play volleyball, or why so many moms are asking if he could help them put sunblock on that “hard to reach spot”. No, he will not rub lotion on your back, Linda. Your husband is literally right there. idiots.

Eventually, he just grabs his towel, some beer from the cooler, and he finds a quiet, secluded spot to tan or he goes out to swim.

Catwoman:

Selina easily puts the most effort in her beach outfit, but that’s hardly a surprise. 

She looooooves setting up her towel close to random groups of moms so she can listen to the gossip. She doesn’t know who the FUCK they’re talking about, but that arguably makes the tea even better. Susan did WHAT with her poolboy? Unbelievable, what a bitch.

Anyone who catcalls her will get their tires slashed before they leave. No one knows how Selina is figure out which car is the right one... but they decide to not question it

Clayface:

Have you FELT the heat??? Have you SEEN the water?? All that fucking SAND??? This literally sounds like hell no fucking thank you.

He spends the day wandering around the nearby stores and bars. He has a genuine soft spot for tourist traps that sell kitschy souvenirs, and he can literally spend HOURS in one shell shop alone.

He WILL go home with at least one hideous mermaid clock and that’s a promise.

Harley Quinn:

Harley is living her BEST life. She brought ice cream, she brought a boogie board, she misplaced her flip flops so she had to borrow an extra pair of Ivy’s, (but Ivy didn’t get mad so it's alright). The beach trip was more than likely her idea, and if it wasn’t, Harley most certainly was responsible for getting the other rogues to come.

The QUEEN of beach volleyball!!! She’ll literally just join any group that’s playing and will absolutely wipe the floor with the other team!!! She quickly becomes super popular amongst beach-goers.

She tries soooo haaaaard to convince her friends to get more active because they’re either reading, sleeping, or not even ON THE BEACH. Some of them humor her, but the others just double-down on whatever they were doing prior.

Joker:

He literally spends the entire day bullying people. He’s kicking sandcastles, getting sand in people’s picnics- he doesn’t care.

When he’s not being a public menace, he’s out trying to surf. He’s frustratingly competent. No one knows where he learned how to surf.

Because he’s an IDIOT he thought his chemical-bleached skin was too good for sunscreen. Wrong. 

Killer Croc:

He literally can’t go swimming in a somewhat crowded area without some teen mistaking him for a sea monster or some shit. It really sucks, because Waylon is the best swimmer of the rogues, and he genuinely enjoys getting into the water (He does get to venture out for a few hours once it gets dark!)

Actually, CAN Waylon even do anything at a public beach without freaking people out??? What the fuck???

In the meantime though, he’s content to take a nap because the sun feels fantastic on his back and the sand is warm and ough,,,, snzzzzz,,,,,snnnnzzzzz,,,,,

Mad Hatter:

He tags along with Basil and they go explore the shops together. He doesn’t particularly care for the beach, but unlike SOME PEOPLE (Eddie) Jervis doesn’t sit around and bitch about it, so he looks for something to do.

Jerv eventually gets bored, so he spends the rest of the day doing some light people watching. There’s SO many different hats in one place! It’s fascinating!

He 100% falls asleep at around noon and he has to get woken up several times to reapply sunscreen before his white pasty-ass burns.

Mr. Freeze:

Penguin:

(I was very tempted to just link the robot chicken DC special where Oswald convinces half of the Legion of Doom to strip at the beach but! I shall not! Also… realistically, I know that Oz would Literally Rather Perish than take his shirt off somewhere public.)

As usual, he has to be the responsible one. He brought sunblock, reminded everyone to bring their towels, and he brought extra towels because he knows people will forget. And yes, even though he was teased relentlessly for it, he DID provide the beach umbrella.

He’s got a nice shirt, some Gucci shades, and a pair of beach trousers. He will NOT get in the water. “Harley, I am serious. Do you know what’s in that water? I will not get these clothes wet.”

He just wants to read a book on the sand and relax. Please let him rest. please.

Poison Ivy:

Finally… she can get some proper tanning done…

The only reason she’ll get up is if Harley is drowning, or if she needs some backup on a volleyball match. The MOMENT she isn’t needed, she’s going back to sunbathe.

She’s been around the other rogues long enough to know that half of them won’t properly apply sunscreen and it’s for that very reason that she refuses to share any of her hyper-potent aloe vera. Play shitty games, win shitty prizes.

Riddler:

HE IS WHINING CONSTANTLY WHY DID HE TAG ALONG??? ITS SO HOT OUT AND HES SO SWEATY AND THE SUNSCREEN IS SO OILY AND THE SUN IS TOO BRIGHT SO HE CANT LOOK AT HIS PHONE SCREEN AND AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

Surprisingly tho he does venture out into the water to cool off, but once he gets completely wiped out from a wave he crawls back to where The Umbrella and The Cooler are located and sulks there for a while. EVERYONE saw him and laughed.

He eventually decides to do the one thing he KNOWS he’ll enjoy doing, and he moves his towel next to where Oz is sitting, and they spend the rest of the day idly chatting. He perks up later when he gets to help with the grill during dinner.

Scarecrow:

At first, he GENUINELY doesn’t understand how he got talked into coming. There’s nothing for him to do except read (Which he could have just done at home)... Maybe if he walked along the shore he’ll find a beached jellyfish. Or a dead body… Alas, no such luck. What a terrible day… 

That is… until he comes across the seagulls. He is fascinated. No, enamoured with them. They have so much potential… for anarchy… he’ll find a flock and feed them bits of his sandwich until more join in and they start to follow him around… and then he’ll throw the rest of his food into a large group of beach-goers and watch the ensuing chaos.

After that, this literally becomes the best day ever. Jon has a smug fucking grin, and he’s openly nice to the other rogues. He gets himself a BIG ASS frozen margarita with salt on the rims AND a novelty umbrella. He REFUSES to explain his good mood, but the others begin to suspect it may have something to do with the influx of people leaving the beach at around noon.

Two-Face:

Harv’s burnt skin is very sensitive to heavy sunlight, so he’ll just throw on some sandals and he’ll hop around the bars near the beach and watch some sports. Once it gets darker and cooler, he’ll rejoin the rest of the rogues.

Once it gets dark? Guys? Barbeque. King. He’s got the grill. He’s got the meats. He’s got the cooler of beer. He is unstoppable.

He used to be That Dude With The Guitar back in college (y’all fucking know who I’m talking about, every campus has one of them), so mayyyybeee,,, if the mood strikes him,,, he miiiiiight pull out his old uke and play some tunes. maybe.

[queerchoicesblog]

Surviving The Titanic (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 16

So, folks, the SC Titanic Zetta x Adele Series is BACK with a new chapter! Thank you so much for your support, hope you enjoy it!

Little disclaimer-favor: especially since the tags don’t seem to be working anymore, if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 2000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped​ ​ @storyscapefanficarchive​ @marmolady​ @animus-and-anima​ @hayley-carter19 @escako​  @everlastingchoices​ @indescribablechoices​ @ahrielstuff​ @bornonawdnsday​ @nazario-sayeed​  @h-doodles​ @adele-serda​ @marlcasters​ @brightpinkpeppercorn​  @michelleconnoly​ @charliejane-blog​ @ghost-of-yuri​  @choicesgremlin​  @lanzhansguqin​ @orange-elephants​ @wonder-falcon​

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon​ @nydeiri​

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15

_________________________

Surviving the Titanic. That's the title Richard chose for the picture: melodramatic, short, effective. It goes straight to the point, it's a good call probably. I try to stay away from the press as much as possible before the film is done and let him answer the journalists about this new project. Surviving the Titanic. The day I set foot at the studio I realize I must survive this.

Richard is already there, sleeves rolled up, discussing details with the cameraman while in the background workers are assembling the set design for the first scenes we're shooting: a deck facing the quiet waters of the ocean on a sunny day and a, a bit further, a common hall. They bear a pale resemblance to the lavishness and the grandeur of the real Titanic yet it's enough to ignite a certain sadness inside me. A new wave of grief that I better conceal soon enough: the producers are on their way to greet me. I swallow back my melancholy and flash them my signature smile. When I finally manage to take my leave, I let Richard know I'm here and greet John and the rest of the crew. I even praise the scenographer for his excellent work before heading to my changing room. I sigh in relief as I close the door behind me: I underestimated all this. I underestimated how tough filming this is gonna be. I take off my hat and take a seat at my table. I'm extremely thankful to whoever put a bottle of sherry in my room; I wonder if it was Sabine. I gave her half day off; of course she offered to attend me on set too, but I feel this is something I need to do on my own. I called for it when I wrote the script, after all. The alcoholic sweetness of sherry soothes my thoughts a little. It's fine, I'm a professional...I can do this. However, I feel less confident when a girl brings me my scenic clothes, the scenic clothes Richard and I agreed on for the role: a long dark skirt and an ivory blouse with an elegant silk tie. It doesn't bear even a slight resemblance to the outfit Adele wore on the Titanic: this is impeccable, no poor stitching or cheap fabric, it fits me perfectly unlike hers. Yet my mind races back to the day she walked into my stateroom and I first laid my eyes on hers, unimpressed. How wrong was I back then...but she was quick to make me change my mind with the fire burning underneath her skin. If I could go back to that day and start over, I wince, checking my full figure in the mirror. I finish applying my rouge in complete silence. After one last fix to my hair, I head out of my change room. The activity in the studio is in full swing, almost feverish: we'll be ready to roll in ten, Richard gestures me from afar. As I approach the set, I am greeted by the actress cast to play my fictional sister. In her early twenties, big blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair, 'a huge fan' of mine 'honored to work side by side' with me. I've heard it so many times I struggle to believe it but she looks genuinely excited, surprisingly. I offer her a smile and tell her I was quite impressed by her performance in her latest picture. Even she doesn't look like Hileni at all: too old for the part, too pale, too bubbly. I still remember the way her face twisted in grim skepticism on the boat while we waited in that chilly dark night and how she brightened up immediately as she spotted the Carpathia in the distance. Her endearing shyness when she didn't know how to refers to me and kept calling me 'Miss' or even 'madam' for the whole journey to New York despite me telling her to simply call me by my name. I'm secretly grateful to Richard for interrupting our conversation and my doleful memory lane. "Alright, ladies, we're ready when you're ready" he announces with proud excitement and I can almost feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins. "Now, as I was saying earlier, we will start with the scene on the deck: it's a lovely sunny morning and you just go for a stroll, marvelling of the ocean around you and playing shuffleboard with other passengers...where are the extras? Ah, there, coming...excellent! Then we will have the dancing sequence. I suggest we start it today but we can finish it tomorrow, no hurry. We'll have to wait a few more days for the arrival scene, a delay with the scenic design but no big deal. Any question?" I've always knew Richard is a wonderful director: diligent, scrupulous, focused. He knows what he wants and how to make it happen on celluloid and in this little world on set. And I knew he would have been possibly more attentive this time with a script we co-wrote in his hands...what I didn't know is that I should have probably said no to this project. His enthusiasm, getting back to work after my long break, starting my Renaissance and winning the favor of my fans over again while paying an homage to someone dear to my heart...it all persuaded me to do this. But as days pass, I start doubting my decision. At the end of the first week on set, I am falling apart behind the mask I put on as I walk into the studio. Memories and regret haunt me like relentless spirits. It takes so little to trigger them: a detail of the set design, a word... I'm leaning on the railing of the scenic ship waiting for the light issue to be fixed: it doesn't quite look like moonlight, too bright. I go through what I have to do in the next scene: I spot the iceberg looming in the dark, mouth slightly agape and terror in my eyes as my mind races back to my sister separated from me, I gotta warn her and bring her to safety. Like Adele did. The set goes suddenly dark as technicians keep adjusting and it's more like that last night on board when on a deck unlike this I stole a sweet moment with the woman I love. I turn my head haunted by a memory...as if I was back to that night. "If I'm honest, I don't even want to reach shore, I don't want to go back to the party...I just want to stay out here with you. Forever" "Let's just make a tent of this blanket - we can live off seal meat and rainwater!" The painfully tender smile on Adele's lips as she stroke my cold cheek. "What about your acting career?" "We'll make our own plays. Whaddya say?" A pang of excruciating nostalgia takes hold of me, cutting my breath short. It's almost a physical torture how badly I miss her. I feel a lump forming in my throat and gesture to Richard. "Zetta, are you alright?" he asks, approaching on the other side of the railing. I want to shout that no, I am not and run away to my changing room. But I refrain myself. He places a hand over mine and when I meet his gaze he looks genuinely concerned. "Can you give me five? I'm- I'm just a bit tired, I think". "But of course! Take five" he smiles before getting serious again, pondering. "This is probably a bit overwhelming for you, you were there...I didn't consider it properly" "It's alright, I'll be fine" I reassure him, impatient to take my leave and disappear. "I just need a moment" "Sure...tell you what? Why don't you take a real break? You can go home if you like and come back let's say...after lunchtime? This lightening issue is taking ages to get fixed, you don't need to worry about falling behind or anything" "You sure?" He nods, smiling encouragely. "Yes, darling. Go take care of yourself. I'll see you later. I can call you a car if you'd like" I thank him for his concern but I have a chauffeur waiting. After one last gentle squeeze to my hand, he lets me head back to my changing room. I get out of my scenic costume hastily, as if it was burning coal on my skin, and hastily put on my dress before walking calmly but quickly out of the studio. The back is empty, only me and the late summer wind blowing. I take a deep breath once, twice to swallow back the tears welling my eyes. I can't cry, not now not here. I don't want to cry...especially when the silence is broken by someone opening the door of a nearby building. I don't know whether I should be thankful or not to that stranger walking out with a box in his hands. The more I look at him though he looks oddly familiar. Hold on. He's not a stranger! He's...Lawrence! I call his name and he turns to the sound of my voice. He looks older than I remember, as if he aged all of a sudden. His blue eyes gleam in the sun as he recognises me and a warm yet tired smile cross his lips. We look at each other for a long moment then I run into his arms and give in a tight hug. Half an hour later we sit in front of each other in the private lounge of a fancy cafe not far from the studios. We chat a little as we wait for our drinks and I tell him about Surviving the Titanic. He'll hate it, I know it already, but I sincerely hope he and Felix will accept my invitation to the premiere and the movie party. He looks surprised at first by my offer, almost...touched? He says he will make sure to be there. I flash him a smile and my eyes fall on the box at his side. He follows my gaze and sighs. Before i formulate a proper question, he tells me he has just retrieved his stuff. The producers cancelled his latest project: it was almost done, only a matter of adding the finishing touches but they changed their mind. He smiles grimly, taking a sip of his drink. I know the feeling, I have been there too and I know how much it hurts. It's disheartening to see someone like Lawrence, a brilliant director and a good man, sharing the same experience. It angers me, I wish I could do something for him. When I ask him why, he gives me a searching look. "They don't want their name to be associated with me at the moment. For a while, I think" Seeing the confused look on my face, he informs me of the rumours the press spread over the past few months. Poisonous claims of cowardice during the sinking of the Titanic, of trampling kids to get on a lifeboat, bribing officers to have his life saved instead of waiting behind like a gentleman. "Thought you'd heard the rumours. Everyone believed what the journalists said. Even my wife, my son...he couldn't sleep one night, I couldn't too and he came to me. He looked troubled so I asked him what was wrong and...and he broke into tears asking me why I have always taught him to be a brave boy when I am such a coward" he winces, diverting his eyes to hold back tears. I knew nothing of it. Richard or Sabine must have gotten rid of the articles before I could read them to prevent me from finding out: it's the only explanation I can think of. I reach for his hand across the table. "But none of this is true, Lawrence! These are just vile lies-" "Does it make any difference? Press is the new truth, Zetta..." he notices sombrely. "No, I know the truth and I refuse to believe anyone who knows you believe such bullshit: you and Felix stayed till the very last chance to survive and helped many people to reach the lifeboats!" "Just like you" he smiles. "I can't believe I'm learning this now...but you know what? I will talk to the press. Yes, I will set the record straight and I'll write my lawyers, you can charge those bastards-" Now it's him placing his hand on mine and gently pushing it back. "That's kind of you, Zetta, but please don't. I beg you" "Why? This is outrageous and vile and-" Lawrence shakes his head grimly and adds, his voice dropping to a whisper. "This has nothing to do with what happened on that ship. This has to do with...me" He winces, we both wince as if at unison. He doesn't need to add anything else, I understand immediately what he means. You can't kill rumours but rumours can kill you slowly and there's little you can do about it. Especially if they deal with how close you look to your assistant, how much time you spend together away from your wedding nest, how it's almost like you have a liking for a man in particular. A man. It could be an innocent comment, but it rarely is. Generally it's malicious and poisonous and it can threaten your whole career. We keep quiet for a moment and our silence is filled with a mute mix of sorrow and anger we can't voice. "How's Felix doing?" I ask, offering a sympathetic smile. He seems grateful of the question. He tells me that he's still a bit shaken but working hard on the project. Well, he was working hard for the project they were working on. It seemed to have helped both of them to cope with the grief and the trauma of that night, it kept them busy. "I...I don't know how to tell him that it's over. He will be so sad...I procrastinated and postponed the moment but I can't do it anymore, I suppose. Maybe a bottle of brandy might help?" he says, adding a final smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Maybe" I smile encouragely. "You two should come over for dinner sometime. I wanna hear everything of the project and the next one. And we could finally spend some time together. Richard would love it too, I'm sure. Maybe he can help" He looks surprised by my offer but thanks me. A silence settles between us: I hope he's not thinking I made such offer out of mere courtesy or - worse- pity...I hope he knows me better than this. After a while, he finally speaks again and asks me the last question I could have possibly expected. Well from anyone else, but Lawrence Yarrow. "I've been meaning to ask...how's Miss Carrem doing? Sadly I haven't seen her around since our arrival in New York" I freeze at the sound of my love's name. Lawrence gives me an encouraging look, playing with a ring at his finger. "I hope she recovered from the sinking, somehow. I remember her quite fondly" he adds. He's suggesting me ways to speak but no word comes. It's as if out of the blue I forgot the lines of my script and gasped onstage like a fish desperately grasping for air. And all it took was a mention to Adele. I lower my gaze. "I-I have no idea...I haven't seen her around since our arrival too" "Oh, I thought..." Lawrence doesn't finish the sentence. When I meet his eyes again, he looks saddened and troubled by my answer. No more sad and troubled than me, though. "I...I was actually hoping you had news of her" I add, failing to refrain my own thoughts and blushing slightly even if I am pretty sure there is no need to be embarrassed with Lawrence. "No, I lost sight of her at the pier. She was speaking to an officer, documents stuff I think" he shakes his head, reminiscing that day. Then, he offers me a tentative smile. "Maybe you could write her or visit her. I'm sure she will be happy to hear from you" Yeah, the thoughts occurred me too so many times, almost every night when I poured my heart over letters I never sent. I look at him straight in the eyes. I don't know if this conversation is a good idea but Lawrence is probably the only one I can let my mask fall for a moment when it comes to Adele. He can understand, even better than my little Napoleon. "I don't know, maybe it's better this way" I sigh. I thought I could hold his gaze but apparently I can't. I divert my eyes and the lump I felt in my throat on the set surfaces back. "You don't seem convinced" he comments, lowering his voice. I turn almost abruptly as if stung by a wasp. He's giving me a concerned look, a silent invitation to go on, let it all out. I look over my shoulder and lower my voice too. "What should I tell her, Lawrence? I have never felt more miserable than now! These months away from her, knowing nothing of her, if she's fine, if she's still hurting, if she settled down fine here have been a nightmare. And it's absurd cause I've known her for a week? Even less but I-my mind keeps getting back to those days. To her. I miss her terribly...but I am going to marry Richard in a few months. Let's be painfully honest: what can I offer her? This marriage has to go forward...I want to be with her but I cannot ask her to hide and live half a life as I do. To be what? A secret mistress? No, that would be offensive, both to her and what I feel! So tell me, Lawrence...what should I tell her exactly?" He keeps quiet for a moment, pondering my confession. When he thinks he found an answer, he speaks again. "Maybe you could tell her this?" he suggests, reaching out and giving a gentle squeeze to my hand. I give him a long painful look, fighting with the lump in my throat. "I would only make her suffer. I hate the idea of this marriage, Lawrence, but I need it. If I step back, I'm done. Gone, forgotten, and I'm not ready for it." I sighs and my face falls. "You know that I can't have both her and my career" Lawrence runs his thumb on the back of my hand as he considers how to soothe my pain. He looks into the distance as if lost in a train of thoughts. "The day I met Miss Carrem, she turned down my offer to be filmed. At that time I didn't understand why but Felix insisted to respect her decision. He said: we know what is like to keep secrets" A quick smile cross his face as he reminisces that day and those words, more meaningful to us than to anyone else. "Anyway...she helped us moving our stuff into the library. Once there, she asked us about the year you disappeared, if we knew why. Felix went all protective, he's such a fan of yours...for the whole day he set my ears on fire, repeating how suspicious your new secretary was 'poking around in Zetta's private matters like that'. I disagreed, surprisingly. You know I trust my instinct and she didn't inspire me ominous feelings. Later I understood it how right I was." He continues. "At your party, during your nephew's hysterical act, when he uncovered the deal he made with her, you told that you knew. You knew the whole time because Adele shared it with you, risking everything. I don't know if she ever found out-" "I told her" I say, a painful whisper. "She trusted me with her life, I trusted her with mine" Lawrence is taken aback by my revelation but he recovers quickly. An affectionate smile appears on his lips as he continues. "That's when I understood why she asked. It had nothing to do with James's request, she investigated to protect you. She protected your secret as, I'm sure, you would have protected her own, if James hadn't spilled it out. But that's not all that I remember from that night. Well, your party, at least. We may not be around each other all the time but we've known each other for a while, huh?" He winks, making me smile weakly at him. "Zetta, I have never seen you as radiant as you were that night before the tragedy. I can hardly imagine what you were going through, what depth of grief you were hiding underneath your dashing smile, knowing what sort of surprise your nephew had in store. But you were glowing, the happiest I've seen you in years" The cafe starts crowding, our words are no longer safe from prying ears even if we sit in a discreet corner on the balcony. We observe the people chatting and taking seats nearby in this late summer sun. Soon, Lawrence excuses himself, saying he better go and break the news to Felix. I thank him for his company, a company so dear to me, and we kiss each other on the cheek, like old friends. Before picking up his box and taking his leave, he meets my gaze again. A soft sympathetic smile lingers on his lips. "I cannot tell you what to say or what to do with Miss Carrem" he says, voice low so only I can hear. "I can only tell you what I know". "Enlighten me, my dear friend" I smile weakly at him as he sighs. "Sometimes our secrets are what makes our lives worth living. No matter with what high cost they come attached" And then, he leaves, waving me goodbye before disappearing into the crowd. Yet, his words stay with me for the whole day. For days and weeks, actually. They keep haunting me even when the last day of shootings finally comes to an end and I go hide into my dressing room. I get off my scenic clothes and put on my robe. Then I sit in front of the mirror and remove my makeup slowly, meticulously as Lawrence's words echo in my mind. I have no idea how long I've been there when I hear someone knocking at my door. "Zetta, darling, are you in there?" Richard. I tell him to come in and he obliges. He looks a bit tired but in good spirits. He's happy with how the picture is coming together, he's sure it will be a huge success at the box office. He praises the troupe's work and mine in particular: he kisses my wrist then my cheek whispering I was 'divine'. I feel him smiling against my skin and he doesn't let go of my hand, he plays brushing our fingers together as he takes a seat at the side of the table. A secretary knocks and informs us that they're ready to leave when we're ready; she offers to bring my costumes back to the dressing ward. I thank her and ask her to close the door behind her when she leaves. I resume my previous chore, calmly. Richard follows the with his eyes until the door closes then he turns towards me and gives me a questioning playful look. "So, you wanted me all for yourself?" I bark a laughter: I wish it was that simple. He probably wishes I was that simple too...poor Richard. "Kind of. I wanted to have a word with you but we have been so terribly busy lately" "We're not now. Give me your best shot, love" He shifts to sit more comfortably and nods me to go on. But I can't find words, not the right ones at least, to express what I feel inside. When the silence lingers, the excitement in his eyes inexorably vanishes, replaced by a vague concern. "Is it about the marriage?" he inquires, cautiously. I wince, diverting my eyes. I feel him reaching for my hand and sneezing it gently. "Hey, are you getting cold feet? Don't make that long face, it's pretty common, right?" He throws me his best encouraging smile in the mirror, I see his reflection speaking again as he caresses the back of my hand. "Unless you changed your mind?" He keeps stroking my hand but his voice betrays a concerned doubt. I must break this silence. "No, no of course not, Richard, I didn't change my mind about it" He looks instantly relived: another smile, more hopeful and bright, curls his lips. "It's perfectly natural getting cold feet, sweetheart, don't be so hard with yourself" "Have you?" I ask. He's young, a lifetime commitment might sound overwhelming to him...but youth is bold, their hearts easy to ignite with a stubborn flame. And Richard is a romantic. My question is redundant. "No, not really" he confesses. "Not yet, at least!" he jokes, probably hoping to cheer me up. I smile weakly at his reflection, unable to bring myself to laugh. Richard is a sweet young man, I feel sorry for him, for us. When he speaks again, his voice is less chirp. "What's troubling you, Zetta? Talk to me, please" I take a deep breath. This is harder than I thought... "Richard, dear...you know I don't beat around the bush..." I start. "That's one of the many things I like about you. Shoot" When I turn to face him, he's smiling at me. He must be cold sweating but he's smiling encourangely at me. "Richard, I...I'm afraid I can't love you the way you love me" His face tenses up a little but he's quick to conceal it. "What do you mean, love?" He doesn't know, I hid myself well. "You have the best qualities a man, a future husband could have: you're kind, sweet, romantic, you're passionate and have talent, more talent than half of the people in the movie business I know. You have dreams, ambition and a vision...but-" I pause, lowering my eyes. I ponder how far I can push myself, what words I should use...what I should say him. When I think I have found the right compromise between truth and secrecy, I look back into his eyes. "...but I'm not like the other women. I tried but I can't be. I-I'll never be the wife you look for, I can't be that type of woman and wife..." He listens to me carefully then meets my gaze in the mirror. To my surprise, he shrugs, smiling. "But I know that. I always knew it...even when I proposed you. Scratch that, even when I first met you" I am not sure he knows - or at least fully understood - why I am not like the other women but he surely must have come to notice some of my walls. My genuine - yes, I truly care for this romantic fool - yet rather cold affection, my not feeling the urge to hold his hand or spend ever day and every night together. By the way he looks at me, he must have found an explanation of its own. "You're a free spirit, a rare bird that cannot be put in a cage to be admired. Do it and the poor creature will die. You're stronger and more independent than that. To be honest, it's one of the things I love most about you" His smile becomes suddenly shy, flustered. "Like in Small-Town Showgirl, you remember?" I offer a weak smile to his endearing naivety. "I'm not a character of a picture, Richard" "Oh I know, still you remind me of her, that's all. But listen, dear, dearest Zetta" and he stands, moving behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders. "I know we will most likely be an unconventional married couple to some. I know you will need time and space on your own, to go on a trip without me or simply to be parted for some time. I know that maybe you will ask for things I will not understand at first and who know she? I might do it too, maybe we will quarrel from time to time like any married couple I know but...but to me it's still worth it, if it is for you. If I ever wanted to a wife all blind obedience, apron and rosary, I would have never fallen in love with you in the first place, don't you think?". I place my hand over his own and give it a squeeze, thankful. He continues. "We can be an artistic couple as Art is what brought us together, our shared consuming passion for the world of picture. A...partnership, like a painter with his muse. You're pretty much my Muse, I told you so, right? You inspire me and see what we crafted together, from scratch, working side by side? To me, this picture is the perfect prologue to our wedding". "I can't think of anything better than an artistic partnership, my dear. I promise you I will try not to put a fight too often" We look at each other then burst into a laughter. He didn't figure me out completely but if that's what he looks for, I can try and be a good Muse-wife for romantic Richard. It's all I can do for him since I cannot give him my heart. It belongs to someone else. "Thank you for hearing me out, darling. It means a lot" "Anytime, my sweet bride-to-be" He leans down and kisses the crown of my head. "I'll wait for you in the car while you change into your dress?" "Thanks, I'll be quick, promise" He makes to leave but stops on the threshold. "Or I can stay and help you-" I laugh again, throwing him a look in the mirror before turning towards him. "How dare you, Mr. King! That's not the kind of service to offer to a respectable lady!" I gape, amused. I playfully throw him a scarf that ushers him out of the door, laughing. At times I feel sorry for Richard...as well as for myself. Will we be happy as an unconventional couple as he put it? Will we be too unconventional for his liking? Will I be too much? At least, I've been as honest as I could with him. He's a good fella, he deserves it. As for me...I think I should find out if Lawrence is right about our secrets. I must find Adele.