#when I am prayed to return to the waking sands after just leaving the waking sands after walkibg from the desert to the woods to the | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

Text

Pray to Me

Pairing: Shinsou x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Gods!AU, Rough Sex, Too Many Norse Mythology References

Word Count: 8.5k

The frigid waters were laden with blood and ice, the salty waves licking the bows of long boats as they accosted the shores. The dark waters of the bay looked black against the fresh snow, churning oars sending sprays onto the docks as warriors returned home.

You stood among the crowds, whips of snow billowing past your reddened cheeks, your arms crossed in protection across your chest. Despite losing the men within your family to raids and battles long ago, you always came to welcome back those who were fortunate enough to receive homecoming. Upon the sails of the ships was the symbol of your earl, dancing proudly against the winds of winter as the men and women beneath them hailed their successes from summer and autumn.

High upon the prow of the leading ship was a carved figurehead, meticulously crafted in the image of Skoll, the wolf who hunts the moon. The wolf’s jaws were wide and within his wooden tongue was an etching of a crescent moon; the wolf with his prey in his maw was a symbol of Ragnarok, a symbol of the return of chaos. And upon the prow was a man you had never seen before.

The man was all shades of violet and violence. His hair was the color of crushed mulberries, the long strands pushed back and wet from the sea, so deeply purple that it looked as if you were to touch him, your palms would stain with color. Blood, russet and old, crimson and fresh, was splattered across his cheeks. A warrior’s tattoos stained the expanse of his chest and arms; the thick, blue lines were heavy and sprawling from the wood ash buried within in pale skin. And his eyes, they were purple and bright, painted with black kohl. The dark smears ran down his impressive cheek bones and curled up from his eyes, appearing catlike. The curious orbs resembled the farthest stars that lined night sky.

You expected murmurs from around the docks, but it was as if the man belonged there, towering over all the rest, hands pulling at the mouth of the wolf within the wood. He was silent power within the snow, lean and muscular, body on display as if the storm did not touch him. You felt drawn to him, like he was looking for you high upon the prow. Your feet moved before you could think. You wanted to be closer, to have those violaceous eyes upon you.

You moved in front of the crowd, standing by the edge of the water, sand and ice crunching underfoot, but when your eyes darted to find him, he was gone. There was no trace of slick purple hair within the throngs of people. Disappointment settled into your spirit and wearily you traveled home to rest.

For weeks you dreamt of him, saw shadows of him within the corners of your vision; illusions of a dark cat in your windows, a tawny owl upon barren branches.

Some nights you dreamed you were sinking into a vast violet sea, trying to swim upwards to break against the surface, to breathe air into your lungs and call to Odin to rescue you. But you were stuck, some unknown force pulling at your ankles and keeping you in a watery, nebulous purgatory just below the surface. You would always give up, allow yourself to float within the celestial unknown of the eerie, mauve waters, allow yourself to feel weightless and accept that you were no longer in control. The undercurrents would push you, bring you into strong, waiting arms, and you would awaken, breathing in and feeling like for a brief moment you were whole.

No one you asked had seen the purple haired man, save those who returned from raiding in the East. One warrior told you that the man you saw upon the prow of the ship was a land spirit, brought with them from the Balkans after blessing them with the gift of fire and aiding their struggles to survive as the weather turned bleak. Another relayed that the man was a spirit of the Wild Hunt, a straggler from the ghostly procession that attached himself to the fleet and brought the callousness of winter with him. No matter what they believed him to be, they had all seen him, the man with violet hair and violent eyes.

You knew that the sisters were calling to you from The Well of Fate, whispering the future that they had laid before you. Something about the purple haired man, whether he be man, vestige, or spirit, made you believe that you were fated to meet him again.

Nearly a full moon cycle passed before your curiosity could take no more. In the dead of night, you wrapped yourself in your cloak, ignoring the shadows and wisps of eyes in the dark as you made your way through the sleeping village.

You found yourself before the Seer, ancient and decrypt, asking for him to translate the gods’ wishes and intentions for your life.

“What questions do you have of me?” His voice was as rickety as the bones that adorned his hut, rattling from stray winds. He had lived hundreds of years and now dwelled between life and death, an interpreter between gods and man.

“Wise one, I desire to know the gods’ plans for me. I have dreams.”

“What dreams have come to you?”

“I dream I am drowning within the bay, and that a man saves me, but only after I stop fighting the currents.”

There was a pregnant pause between you. The Seer considered your words. Your thumbs fiddled within your lap, and you felt heavy, like you were under the gaze of more than just the ancient one.

“A precarious quest awaits you, one that will take you between worlds, to the land of the gods.”

“But I do not understand. I do not adventure, nor travel. I am only a simple healer. What kind of quest could await me?”

Below hooded eyes you watched a black tongue escape his mouth, worrying across dry lips as he pondered your words. Only a few times in your life had you visited him, well aware that fate was already the master of all, even the gods, as even they were subject to fate just like any and all other beings.

“You shall go past where the fence separates us from the place of self-willed beasts, finding refuge in that which is chaotic, anarchic, and wild.”

“But, Seer, I do not—.”

“Yes, child, I know you do not understand. But such is the way of prophecy, only to be understood when it has happened, and it is too late to change it.”

You stood to leave, seeds of fear sprouting within your spirit.

“But do not forget there is order within the chaos.” His voice crackled like fire, calling out to you as you left his home, forging a path through the snow to your own.

The foresights of the Seer lingered within your disposition, the cryptic words reverberating through your mind and taking hold in your daily life. You started to fight the currents in your dreams, only to wake gasping for breath after monstrous beings pulled you into the abyss. The warm arms of your illusory savior felt farther away than ever before. The murky glooms in the crevices felt stronger, grimmer, the oppressive eyes of darkness following you from every corner, every winter shade.

Your hands began to slip as you tended to the wounded, your thoughts becoming absent as you crafted medicine or supper, often burning yourself over fires or forgetting ingredients. You felt lost, abandoned by the gods, but still yet you prayed.

Winter continued to rage on, with the moon living within the sky at all times of day and bathing the world in a constant dusk during the desolate midwinter. Every night before you made for bed, you trekked behind the village to the isolated temple to the gods. No one was ever there. The summer raids were over, the men safely returned with riches aplenty, which, along with the great harvest, had left many believing that the gods were in good spirits and were bestowing ample blessings upon their dedicated supplicants.

But you, you felt no love from Asgard, felt no promise of Valhalla waiting for you.

The temple was hardly a sanctuary at all, just a hut overrun by dormant vines and overgrown with dying grass, with an altar for blood sacrifices tucked away against the back wall. Despite being a devoted village, most saved their prayers for their pilgrimage to the great temple in Uppsala, but you had become desperate. You needed to feel closer to the gods, to find the place beyond the fence that was foretold to you.

You knelt upon a broken stone, obedient hands upon your knees as you began to pray.

“Odin, all-father and far-wanderer, may you grant me wisdom, and courage,

Thor, grant me your strength, wield your hammer to break the barriers that hold my mind,

Baldr, the beautiful, beloved by all, please bestow upon me joy and light,

And Freya, mother of beauty, the völva, help me to discern my fate—.”

Your prayer faltered as you heard steps crunch upon the grass. But the sound wasn’t of footsteps coming towards you, more like someone shuffling, shifting their weight within the temple.

You were not alone.

All your instincts began to fight one another. Your mind wanted to flee, to spring your legs and send you running to safety, but your heart felt like you needed to stay, to speak into the twilight for answers. The conflict led to you staying still and being silent. Your hands fisted upon your thighs, your eyes closing tightly. Whatever was there would go away, whoever was there would leave. Maybe there was nothing there at all, only the spirits playing tricks on you again.

“And why haven’t you called out for me, little one?”

The voice sounded like vibrations from within the deepest ocean; deep, unfathomable, and a little wicked.

He was there, before you, arms across his tattooed chest that was on display under emerald linen and violet head cocked to the side. He was grinning, like a cat would upon discovering new prey. His purple hair was arched into wild plumes, his skin rubbed clean but the kohl still upon his cheeks and around his eyes. He was handsome in the firelight, fiendishly so.

“Who are you?” Your voice was a whisper, so light and airy it floated away into the darkness.

“Who am I?” He laughed, leaning against the sacrificial altar, a blatant disrespect for the gods.

“Who am I…” he repeated it, drawing circles in the dirt with his toe. He shifted his weight back and forth for a moment, eyes closing as he picked up an imaginary rhythm.

“A creaking bow, a burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake…”

Your breath caught in your throat, fingers twitching in your lap. You recognized the pattern and knew what words came next. It was an old saying your mother used to whisper under her breath, a chant for the old women and those who held superstitions. It was a warning, a rhythmic song to help children remember to stay safe, to avoid perils.

Your mouth opened before you could stop it, finishing the proverb for him.

“The sons of a king, an ailing calf, a witch’s flattery. No man should be such a fool as to trust these things. For they are the trickster in disguise.”

“Aha, so you do know me, girl. Yet after all this time, I’ve never heard you pray to me. Why is that?”

He crouched down to your level, his startling, devilish eyes gleaming like amethyst. He was too close and you felt yourself leaning away, back arching and neck aching as you tried to pull yourself from his gaze.

“No one prays to you, trickster god.”

He merely shrugged, a strong hand reaching for you. Rough fingers found your chin, pulling you closer as his eyes danced across the planes of your face. You began to shake, overwhelmed by being in the presence of perhaps the most dangerous god.

“And how do you know I am he?” he laughed, thumb running over your lips, “I could be Heimdall, sent by Odin to watch over such a devout and…fascinating little creature.”

“Because you’re so…” you paused as you looked for the words. You felt like you were drowning within his gaze, falling to the ground even though you hadn’t moved since he appeared.

He stood quickly, turning on his heel and smirking.

“Because I’m so what? Handsome? Charming? Surprisingly muscular for a god who uses wits and magic to seduce his subjects?”

He pouted at your silence, wanting more of a reaction.

“What if I told you I could be beautiful instead? Would that hex you?”

This time he didn’t give you an opportunity to respond. Within a haze of smoke, he transformed.

A languid, sensuous body appeared between the mists. Voluptuous breasts met your eyes, smooth thighs peeking from beneath an exquisite olive dress. Long, violet tresses fell down the woman’s back, curling so perfectly she looked to be unreal. But his eyes stared at you from the feminine face, dark lavender and sinister upon high cheekbones.

“Hmm,” she sighed, holding her hand out for you to take.

You took the soft hand outstretched to you, surprised at the strength behind the grip as she pulled you to your feet. The goddess was tall and slender, and she gazed at you while she pondered whatever was on her mind.

“Still not as beautiful as you…” her voice was melodic as she looked over her own body, swaying within the graceful skin for a moment before catching your gaze and stopping. You stood still, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed at the hermaphrodite before you. Her lashes fluttered as a familiar smirk spread across her features.

It was as if she was floating when she neared you again, purple hair uncontrollable and suspended within the air. Her tender hands came to your cheeks, pursing your mouth with her thumbs.

“No…nothing is as beautiful as you, little servant.” Her supple lips overwhelmed your own. You gasped, hands flying to her chest to stop her, only to have your fingers sink into the luscious valley of her breasts. A chuckle fans across your face, more masculine than feminine, and the mixture of the voice had shivers of excitement and pleasure racing down to your toes. You were too shocked, too scared to kiss back, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips moved against yours gently, pleadingly, only becoming more active when the delicate hands upon your cheeks converted to thick fingers and rough calluses.

Before your eyes the god shifted again, returning to the fetching masculine figure that he was before. You could smell him now, taste him, like smoke from smoldering coals and the residue of rain from within a summer’s forest. Your hands were still upon his chest, your fingers brushing against the skin that was on display between the open buttons of his tunic. His kiss was intoxicating, a hum of magic upon his lips as he drank you in.

“You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled, licking your lips wantonly before pulling away.

“Why have you been haunting me?” You demanded between heavy breaths, emboldened by his kiss.

“Haunting you? No, no. I’ve been watching you. Observing you. You looked so…sinless among the throngs when I sailed in all those weeks ago. I must say I am very pleased by the things I have seen.”

“And what have you seen?” Your voice snapped; tongue sharp.

His hands caressed your upper arms, eyes glancing across your body as if he was admiring a pattern within runes that he had seen a thousand times before.

“You serve…everyone. The gods, the people in this village, you tend to the weak spirited and the broken bodied, you serve everyone but yourself.”

The god grew quiet, leaning forward to inhale the sweet scent of your hair. His lips pressed to your temple, thumbs stroking your arms through the thin fabric of your clothing. His breath fanned into your hair and you suddenly felt your heart begin to beat more slowly. It was as if his presence alone, his touch, could calm the raging turmoil within your mind.

“Now, I want you to serve me.”

“Yes,” you said too quickly, a knee buckling as you prepared to kneel, “of course, anything for a go—.”

“Shinsou.” His hands held you in place, kept you from bowing to him. He watched as your head tilted and your brow furrowed, obviously wanting to please him. “Shinsou is the name my friends call me, and as shall you.”

“Shinsou.” You tentatively said the name back to him. Your people knew him as Loki, but to know a more intimate name made tingles of warmth spread across your chest, like he was entrusting knowledge unknown by mortals into you.

He became violet and beautiful as you said his name, a warm smile decorating his striking face. The safe feeling of your dreams washed over you. These arms, his arms, his hands and his body, were the safety you had been dreaming of that saved you from the tumultuous seas. You stared at him for a moment, hands feeling a heartbeat within his chest. He looked so human, felt so real, yet still an otherworldly air swirled so poignantly around him. Everything inside of you wanted to fall into him, to feel enveloped by his spirit.

“I’m going to take you away,” he whispered it, hand trailing from your arm to your face, tucking hair behind your ear in a most affectionate way, “you’ll never have to come back here, unless you want to.”

“Take me away? To Asgard?” Your breath hitched as you said the name of the haven of the gods.

He laughed, the sound like honey dripping across your soul.

“No, little one. I am of the giants; don’t you remember the ancient stories? To Jotunheim we will go.”

Your brow lightened, remembering the words of the Seer. Jotunheim, your brain wracked over the word, letting it roll within your thoughts until it revealed what you were looking for. Útgarðr, you realized, the name of that same place given by your ancestors. It meant the world outside your own, the world of chaotic wilds that surrounded Midgard. The place beyond the fence.

This Loki—this Shinsou—was indeed fated to you after all. You felt the connection from the moment you saw him sailing in the winter winds, felt it even more profoundly as he held you before him in the temple. For some reason, the trickster god had chosen you, or perhaps he was merely following fate, testing you for all this time to see if you were truly the human girl destined for him. He was a sign of change, his hands wrapped around the prow of the ship that was carved into a symbol of Ragnarok, the end of the cycle of this world. He was proving to be a carrier of the end times, at least the ending of your own mundane life. And just like Ragnarok, you had a feeling that with this end would come a new beginning, that Shinsou was taking you away but leading you to a new life, a new destiny, far beyond what you could ever imagine.

“Take my hand,” it was a polite command, his words weighty but light enough to promise that you could decline.

You felt something between his fingers, a quietness, a wickedness you could not quite name. It was like a dull thrum of lightening humming between your skin and his. Billows of smoke weaved between your bodies. Just as quickly as he transformed into a woman, Shinsou had you whisked away, transported so rapidly you felt dizzy. You clung to him, your godly refuge, light flashing as your feet found new purchase upon what felt like a floor.

For a moment, you thought the room was a mirage. It was unlike anything had ever seen before, so lavishly decorated with lush furs, viridian curtains, polished stone and warm fires. Books lined every wall and the air smelled of perfumes and incense, even a fountain sprung from stones in the far corner. It was truly unearthly, but his arms around you felt like home.

His head rested upon your shoulder from behind, his palms flattening on your chest to feel your heartbeat as you took in the sights around you.

“This is…this is your home?” One of your hands gripped a muscular forearm.

“Mhm, more like a home away from home, a safe haven.”

He uncurled himself from you, a stout hand pushing at your lower back to urge you to explore. You padded around the room, fingers caressing the spines of books along the walls, finding many in languages unknown to you. Between many of the tomes were vases and trinkets, some glowing with mystic hues, humming with magic well beyond your comprehension.

“What will you have me do here?” Your breath caught as you turned to find him. He seemed so large and ominous within the space, like was the commander of the room and the only ornament to be admired within the vast collection around you.

“You haven’t figured it out? My, and I thought you were keener than most mortals.”

He rolled his shoulders, sighing with content as he removed his tunic, tossing it into the air to only have it dissipate before your eyes in a bright flash of magic. His tattoos seemed darker in the dim light, like the blackest earth pressed into his skin. A serpent trailed down one of his impressive biceps, his other arm decorated in a swirl of runes and etchings of a wolf and a horse, his chest covered with a dark, ethereal depiction of Yggdrasil, the world tree, it’s branches spreading across strong pectorals and its roots weaving between the hard muscles of his stomach.

“Come,” he motioned to you with his fingers, “come back and touch me.”

You had no hesitation, coming to his call like a pet would their master. It felt safe to be back in his arms again, to have your fingers running over the indigo lines of art upon his handsome skin. He proudly showed you his arms, eyeing you with great interest as you admired him.

“Your children,” you mused softly, tracing the pictures so marvelously stretched upon his musculature.

“Yes,” he laughed softly, “my children. Call me sentimental, if you must.” The enormous snake was no doubt Jormungand, the serpentine dragon that encircled all the oceans, all of Midgard. Then there was Fenrir, the ferocious wolf that was chained away somewhere from all humanity and gods alike, in wait to break his binds and eat the world as the end began again. And then there was Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse that bore the weight of Odin in all of his battles. They were all wild creatures, the offspring of the unfathomably powerful god before you. They were all beasts of anarchy, yet they looked so beautiful upon his skin, so harmless within the ink.

“Order within the chaos…” you whispered, echoing the words of the Seer.

“I want you.”

His powerful voice rumbled from within his chest. It startled you, caused your wandering hands to cease upon his arms and become still before him.

“Why?” Breathless. You felt breathless.

“I have traveled every inch of the nine worlds, regarded every corner for fascinations and enthrallments, yet it was in the homeland where I found what I wanted. You are the most beautiful, pliant little create I have ever beheld, and I want you within my bed.”

“No, you can’t! I’m nothing, no one of importance, you…you can’t.”

He left you then, smirk adorning his features as he sauntered to his bed, waiting for you to follow. And you did, an unspeakable urge to touch him, to follow him, to feel him, to be overwhelmed by him, drawing you to him like a fox to its den, to its safety.

“Well, if you don’t want me, my brother Katsuki would give up his fates in order to have such an alluring woman within his sheets.”

“Katsuki?”

He paused, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, that playful grin still upon his lips.

“Thor, if you rather. We all have many names, but I only want mine to come from your tongue. So many nights I waited to hear you pray to me, call out to me within your dreams, but I tired of lingering. So now I will have you say it, scream it, for me, little servant.”

He pulled you into his lap, hands greedy upon your flesh, pulling at your thighs and sinking between your ribs. He looked untamed upon the bed, hair almost purposely unruly and muscles rolling and ready to hunt what he wanted to take.

“Do you think you can do that for me? Pray to me? Call out for me like you need me?”

Thick fingers gripped at your cheeks; violet eyes hazy like storm clouds above the ocean. You were reminded that he was a devious deity, a shapeshifter, a trickster, the one thing that your elders warned you about as a child. A burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake, he was all those deceitful things and more. He was the epitome of chaos, yet he had chosen you, desired you, and you knew that deep within your spirit you wanted him as well. He was handsome beyond compare, but his physical splendor was not all that had you holding onto him. Behind those eyes was a promise of release from every woe, a chance to experience pleasure like you had never known before.

“Yes, Shinsou, whatever you desire.”

“So devoted to the gods,” he whispered, bringing you flush against his body, “now I’ll make you feel like one.”

Slowly, he ran his hand downward, finding the intimate, remarkably soaked place between your legs. He could feel your wetness from beneath your wool coverings and a satisfied groan builds within his throat as his lips curl even more sharply, devilishly.

“So wet for me already,” he chuckles, wrist flicking and sending your clothing away.

You gasped, feeling the threads peel away from your body by what felt like imaginary hands. Just like his tunic before, your shirt and trousers were gone, whisked away to perhaps another dimension never to be seen again.

“Look at you,” he boasts, keeping one hand tucked between your slick thighs as the other rakes across your curves, pinching, pulling, teasing at your flushed skin, “not even the goddesses compare to you. Mhm, thank the All Father for breathing life into you, I must thank him for creating such beauty.”

Your mouth could barely stammer a thanks. You were beguiled, stunned within his lap, your legs stretched over gloriously muscled thighs. You almost felt shameful to be on such display for him, but the hunger in his eyes and the hardening cock underneath told you just how pleased he was to have you.

A deft finger began to circle your most sensitive spot, making you bite your lip as a groan burned within your throat. He was slow and deliberate with his movements, gaze catching every breath you made, every shift and roll of your body. You felt hot, unbearably so, as his finger toyed with you so languidly.

His other hand found your breast, cupping it and testing its weight within his giant palm. His thumb grazed your nipple, circling it at the same pace and movement as your clit. He grinned as he watched you slowly come undone, felt your walls and insecurities crumbling away at his touch.

Shinsou then took your sensitive clit between two fingers, rolling it so perfectly that it sent sparks of pleasure racing across your nerves, surging from your thighs to your toes and back again. He kept going, stroking sensually, purposely, with such expert skill that you felt you could cum just from his slightest touches. Is this what being with a god felt like? Like you were constantly on the edge of euphoria, every touch and stroke like the gift of life within your body?

Your head tipped back as you moan, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure. He watched with glee as the column of your throat was on display for him. He took a moment to press his hot mouth against your flesh, sucking roughly against the side of your neck like he was taking your pleasure for himself. You could only moan again, the sensations already drowning you in such bliss you were surprised your inner coil of pleasure hadn’t broken for him already. He was an expert in giving pleasure just like he was the art of manipulation and sorcery.

All too easily he moved you below him on the bed, his impressive body now hovering over your own, mouth still biting at your neck, fingers still circling your nipple and caressing your pussy.

“Tell me what you want,” it was a soft command against the slick skin of your neck.

“You,” you breathed in deep, breasts pressing against his tattooed chest with your inhale, “please, more.”

“More of what? Of this?” he pinched at your nipple, tugging it and twisting it so wantonly that you couldn’t help but to shriek in pleasure for him, “or this?” his two fingers danced along the lips of your pussy, sliding between the wet folds before returning to your aching clit, swirling against it so proficiently that you felt your inner muscles clenching and begging for release.

“All of it, I want everything.”

“My, my, you are a greedy little thing.”

All at once, he ceased his motions, easing the pressure upon your body and leaving you wanting, burning, begging for more. But he is not gone from you. His fingers, coated in your slick, tauntingly trace over your clit once more, so light it’s like the kiss of life just barely brushing over your delicate flesh. You began to writhe in response, needing more friction, needing more of his touch, but he moved his weight upon your body to suppress you. He was teasing, purposely neglecting to give you the stimulation you so desired.

“Any time you want more, you say my name, little one. Say my name and I can give you everything you desire.”

“Shinsou, please.”

He groaned, he himself coming undone at the sound of your voice. He couldn’t even begin to explain how gratifying it was to hear his name come from your lips. He was no fool of a god, he knew no one prayed to him, but he wanted you to pray to him more than anything he had ever desired before. Your songs of praise would fill him in ways a mere mortal could never fathom; your prayers, his name from your mouth, was more intoxicating than any substance Odin had ever created. To have you, a devoted child of the gods, calling his name while he stole your faith away from every other god and claimed it all for himself, fulfilled him beyond measure.

His touch trailed lowered, finding your puckered pussy pulsing and waiting, ready for him. He entered a single finger, a heavy moan of approval ghosting against your neck as your inner walls contracted around him, pulling him deeper into you.

“So fucking tight,” he lifted his head, finding your eyes closed and pretty mouth agape, “I can’t wait to have my cock in you.”

Waves of pleasure rocked over your body as he moved his finger within you, curling it to massage the fleshy walls, quickly finding a sensitive spot to stroke against. His palm pressed against your clit as he buried another finger into you, the two digits working in tandem to spread you, spear you onto his thick fingers, pushing them far into your depths. Every plunge had you gasping, bursts of bliss spreading across your skin like flames.

His mouth returned to yours as he fingered you, hot and heavy, but his kiss felt controlled, like he was holding back. You reacted quickly, pushing up into him with all your strength, arms circling his neck and pressing him for more. You wanted what he can give, all of it, and you showed him with your actions. Your hands fisted into those vivid purple plumes of hair, tugging as your hips began to match the speed of the hand working within you. You moaned, loud, desperately, your tongue prodding his lips. He graciously accepted your tongue, opening his mouth and wrestling against you. His tongue licked your own, slow and wet, tasting you and groaning at the sweetness.

“Shinsou,” it was a murmur against his mouth, but he heard it, soaked it up and began to thrust and curl his fingers faster than before. You cried out at the pleasure, mouth falling from his.

“You like it a little rough, hm? You’re so easy to read, my dear. I am going to make you cum so hard you’ll be begging for all that I have planned for you.”

His words had your cheeks and ears burning with a blush. He only grinned, choosing to prop himself onto one arm so he could watch you. With every flick of his wrist, every move of his fingers inside of you, he watched your face. He watched how your lips curled, how your jaw clenched. He felt your hands twist in his hair; felt how you would pull on the violet strands in desperation when he touched the perfect spots. His eyes scanned your body as well, watching what made your breasts bounce, your stomach clench, your walls tighten around his fingers. It didn’t take the god long to discover exactly what made you tick.

He rapidly increased his pace, using his newfound knowledge to make your body feel like it could explode at any moment. He touched you just right, plunged his fingers so perfectly as to keep you on the edge of your euphoria for as long as he could. Truthfully, he could’ve kept you in suspense forever, but Shinsou was not a god known for his patience. He wanted to watch you cum, wanted to see your face when you came around the fingers of perhaps the most reviled deity. One even you wouldn’t dare pray to.

“You ready?” He called your name, making your eyes flutter open to see him. He saw the lust within your brilliant irises, your dilated pupils, and that sight alone had his cock harder than it ever had been before. He was no longer sure he could keep his composure as he watched you come undone.

He leaned down closer, close enough to catch your breath within his mouth. He would’ve expected you to kiss him had you not been so far gone, so close to otherworldly release that your lips could no longer form words.

“Cum for me,” that wicked tone of voice was back, his fingers now slamming into your body, “cum for a god, little mortal.”

His thumb returned to your clit, showing it no mercy as he rubbed tight, fast circles against it. His words, his fingers, his body, his breath, it was all too much.

“Sh-Shinsou!”

You reached a high you had never felt before as you came for him. Your head felt dizzy, like you were back to drowning within your dreams, waves and waves of euphoria crashing over you so roughly you felt like you were sputtering for air amidst the onslaught of pleasure. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his unceasing fingers, your chest tightening, your core exploding, heat blooming from every patch of skin he had dared to touch. You screamed. Over and over, the bliss felt never ending, and he baited you for even more.

“That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that, just how I want you.”

It felt like he was drawing your orgasm from your body, pulling everything he could from you. His thumb still stroked your clit, fingers still buried deep within your body as you quivered around him. Your thighs clamped around his thick forearm as you finally began to descend from your high, body loosening and sinking into his bed.

He finally stilled his movements. He merely smirked as he watched your chest heave with breaths as you basked in the afterglow of your pleasure.

“Good girl,” he cooed. In the haze you realized how much you wanted to hear those words again, recognized how much you wanted to please him. You wanted more of those encouraging words, more of his admiration, wanted to know how much of a good girl you really were. Your spirit suddenly craved even more, despite the world-shattering orgasm still lingering within your muscles, your blood, your soul.

You felt empty when his fingers left you, but watched in shocked delight as he brought the digits to his awaiting mouth. He sat up before you, sucking at his skin and cleaning your slick from his fingers with a very greedy tongue. He looked wild, uncaged, like the wolf Skoll had finally eaten the moon and brought the world to end.

“Fuck,” you whispered in awe, scrambling for purchase against his sheets as you propped on your elbows to watch him.

He quirked a brow as he slid his tongue between his fingers, relishing your slick as if it was the sweetest honey.

“I’m sorry, did I make the pious girl curse?”

“I’m not pious!” You countered, feeling flustered, shaking your head and pouting as he only laughed.

He smirked as he finished cleaning his fingers, crawling up the bed and pulling you into his lap.

“I dare not argue, not after those delicious sounds you just made for me.”

Shinsou quelled any words that were forming in your mind with a kiss, his lips tasting of you. You moaned against him, feeling his arms snake around your back and hold you to him. His cock was hard and heavy, now prodding against your still pulsating pussy.

“Mhm, how will I take you?”

It was a pondering to himself, but the words still made you tremble. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your nipples hardening as they brushed against the downy hairs of his chest. His strong hands found the flesh of your ass, lifting you to hover over his large, throbbing erection. You held in a breath, waiting, expecting him to take you hard and fast and now, but he merely teased your entrance.

“This way?”

The head of his cock began to spread your lips apart, warm and silken and making you drip even more than before. He sat there for a moment, using the strength of his arms to lift and drop you just ever so slightly onto his cock, each little movement making you gasp.

But then the anchors of his arms were gone, sliding down your thighs as he laid you back on the bed. So easily he moved on top of you again, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slithering up your body to wrap around your tender, kiss bruised throat.

“Or perhaps like this?”

He held you against the bed, cock still hard and waiting between your spread thighs, sliding ever so gently against your pussy. His fingers flexed against your throat and he watched how your eyes flashed with want, with need.

“I could always take you as a woman. You fell so easily into my kiss when I transformed earlier, hm? Would you like that?”

He could feel your gulp underneath his palm, shaky and deep.

“No,” he was smirking, plotting. His deft fingers took your hip into his hand and flipped you over, both hands skimming down your body and pulling you up onto your knees. With a stern hand he kept your breasts pressed into the mattress by applying pressure to your shoulder blades, positioning you just how he wanted. You felt even more exposed than before, your pussy open and wanting and waiting, spread before his hungry eyes like a meal ready to be devoured.

The head of his cock was back at your opening, prodding your lips apart and slowly sinking into you with agonizing slowness. You held your breath, hands fisting into the sheets. He continued to open you more and more, his cock thick and hot. His hand on your hip constrained you securely, keeping you locked into place. The hand on your back did the same, his hold strengthening as he felt you writhe before him.

“Yes,” he purred, cock easing into you, “this is how I want my little servant.”

But the rocking of his hips stopped, the head of his cock now barely pressing inside of you. You breathed heavily against the sheets, sweat trickling down the back of your neck in anticipation. Without being able to see him, face him, you could only feel him. You felt his fingertips press deeper into the curve of your ass, as if readying himself, or perhaps attempting to use restraint. The hand on your back was steady, keeping smooth pressure on your skin. His thighs were solid and strong against your own, his breaths even, his cock so fucking hard.

You cried out in anguish, your aching pussy clenching around the head of his cock.

“Please, Shinsou!”

“Pray to me.”

His tone was nefarious, teasing, almost inhuman in how deeply it reverberated from within that broad chest. You closed your eyes and imagined how the sound must have climbed the dark branches of the world tree upon his skin.

“Pray to me like you did to the other gods in the temple. I want to hear that pretty voice beg for me to fuck you.”

That breathless feeling returned. Your heart began to race, mind rolling around too many thoughts at once that couldn’t be comprehended within your lusty haze. You hastily mulled over words within your head.

“Shinsou…” you began, feeling his fingers begin to mark crescent moons into your flesh, feeling the tip of his cock throb within your core, “wielder of cunning, god of mischief, I beg of you, please bestow upon me great joy and pleasure, take my body as this offering to you, so that I may serve you and grant you the indulges of the flesh—!”

With your final praises tumbling from your lips, he slammed his cock deep inside of you, stretching and spreading you and making you feel like he had set your body alight with magic. Your body lurched forward, nearly toppling over from the power of his thrust, but his strong hands kept you in place, allowing him to begin a brutal speed. Your ass bounced forcefully against his hips, breasts jostling with every thrust. One of his hands curled around your waist to your lower stomach, and he groaned when he realized he could feel his cock bulge from inside of you. He became heedless then, impaling you with reckless abandon, eager to feel your belly swell from the onslaught of his cock.

The forcefulness of his fucking left your muscles aching and your lungs breathless. You were now moaning with every plunge of his cock, as with each stroke he lit a fresh burst of pleasure that rippled across your entire body akin to the streams of enchantments you had seen him wield.

You felt like you were slipping away, having to fight to keep your thoughts alive as he brought you up the mountain of euphoria with just the heavy strokes of his cock.

“Don’t fight the currents. Let go for me.” He grunted the words between thrusts.

You allowed ecstasy to fully wash over your body, allowed his hands to guide you, hold you, take you to far beyond what you once thought the limits of pleasure entailed.

Shinsou moved the hand from your back to your shoulder, using the leverage to pound your body back against his. You could only moan at the feeling, of being so full of his cock, of hearing his groans join the chorus of your own. You clung to the bed with what strength you have left, allowing him to completely take the reins of control and have his way with you.

With each and every thrust, he pulled you back at different angles, trying you, testing you, watching you, seeing which way he fucks you makes you react the most. He listened for sharp cries and deep moans. He felt for your walls to flutter, your abdominal muscles to tighten, learned your body and fucked you with a chaotic yet controlled force.

He leaned over your back, hand moving to your neck, pulling your face up from the sheets. This position has him somehow deeper, head of his cock kissing where the curve of your cavern meets your cervix, farther than any had ever gone before. He filled you to the brim, stretched you so wide you felt you could burst, the intense pleasure of it all bringing tears to the corners of your lashes.

He brought your face closer to his, so that he can kiss your cheek as he fucks you, feel your hair against his chin, watch your breasts bounce so unabashedly from his force.

“You like this, hm? Serving me? Letting me fuck you like this?”

“Yes, yes!”

He squeezed the hand on your stomach, making you moan as you felt the massive cock from inside of you press against your belly.

“You like being so full of my cock? No mortal could ever fuck you like I do!”

“Yes—fuck—you feel so, so good, Shinsou!”

You could feel sweat on his skin, feel his heart beating like a caged raven within his chest. He felt so human, felt so real, but the euphoria he brought you was transcendental.

“You’re such a good girl, such a dirty girl, for me, only me.”

His powerful words were becoming whispers within your hair, vestiges upon your skin. You could only nod, the plowing of his cock into your core now leaving you more breathless than before. You could feel your release nearing, the flames being fanned by every stroke of the head of his cock against your walls, every push of his hand against your belly.

Your slick was dripping down your thighs, pussy so wet that every time his cock assailed your core your ears were met with the sinful sound of drenched bodies meeting one another in animalistic rut. You were climbing the orgasmic ladder again, aided by the sublime feel of his crushing hands upon your neck, your stomach, his vast chest against your back, rough lips pulling your face into him, and his thick, repetitive cock drumming into you.

Your mind was on sensory overload, your body uncontrollably bucking against him, begging for another otherworldly release. You could feel your walls clenching around his cock, your body pleading on its own. Pleasure was singing down your body, bringing pure delight and bliss with every pulse, every push of his cock. You were so close, so fucking close, all you needed was for him to allow you to go over the edge. You had submitted to his currents and knew only he could bring the ebb and flow of release.

You began to chant his name in prayer.

“Fuck yes, little one, just like that. Oh you’re so good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” you choked out, nearly sobbing for relief, “so, so good for you!”

“Then cum, cum for me!”

He roared the words against your cheek, his command overwhelming you and sending you spiraling as the waves of euphoria returned, crashing over your body like a tumultuous sea. Your body crumpled underneath his and he held you, the violent tightening of your body sending the god himself over the edge. Hot cum poured inside of you, making you cry out at the magnificent feeling of being completely filled by him. Your snug walls struggled to flutter around the girth of his cock, prolonging your orgasm and making you feel suspended within his arms, gasping for breath and reveling in every dull thump of his cock inside of you.

He held you for a long moment, hand against your belly, hand around your neck. It was his turn to bask in the afterglow of sex, to feel wholly spent and satisfied with the girl he had handpicked for himself. You were perfect in his arms, hands fisted into his sheets, lips swollen, his seed dripping from where he was still lodged within your depths. You’d let go, allowed him to have you, to take you, and there was no way in the nine fucking realms he was ever letting you go.

Shinsou kept you within his embrace as he collapsed to the bed, inked chest heaving and Jormungand curling around your back to hold you against him.

“Mhm, all the scheming I had to do to get you here, in my bed, filled with my cum.”

“Scheming?” You asked into his chest.

“What, you didn’t think all those dreams were coincidence, no?”

You sat up to look at him, all tussled violet hair, kohl on his cheeks smeared, grin upon his lips.

“And the cats? The owls? All those eyes on you in the dark? All that time spent waiting for you, little one. I even had to whisper my indecent plans to the Seer. Can you imagine that conversation? At least he put it into fun little riddles for you to decipher.”

“I—I can’t believe you would do all of that, for me. You could’ve just taken me.”

He snorted at your remark.

“I did. My hand was forced to interrupt your fucking daily prayer time and beguile you away.”

You nestled back to him, sinking into his skin, his touch.

“Well, I am gleefully bewitched.”

“And to think,” he chuckled, curling a finger under your chin and bringing your eyes to his, “all you had to do was pray to me.”

You were far too tired for rebuttal, choosing to instead settle with a kiss. He had chosen you. And for that you were filled with adoration, filled with a need to please far greater than you had ever desired to find the veneration of any other god. It was all for him, for a god who had no doubt tricked you into his bed.

__________________________________

This was written for the Citrus Dome writing collab.

#bnha smut #my hero academia fanfic #bnhabookclub #hitoshi shinso x reader #smut with plot #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #bnha shinso #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinsou smut #hitoshi x reader #bnha hitoshi #bnha fanfic #my hero academia x reader

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years ago

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Day 5 (6-17): Aged-up | Mother and son | Brothers

Warnings: near death experiences, drowning, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Note: I felt like I've written a lot of Dick and Damian bonding this week... So I'm switching it out with Jason. I had other things I wanted to write for this prompt, but it got too late at night to write something long. Enjoy this short, hurt/comfort Jason and Damian bonding instead <3

-o-o-o-o-

Damian's only been captured for a few hours... and already he feels more miserable than he has in a long time.

None other than the Penguin stands before him, sneering cheek to cheek as his associates finish tying the knots around chest and the damp wooden pole his back leans against. The sand underneath him is rocky and sharp; he can already feel the curious laps of the returning tide against his tailbone. His hands are restrained behind the pole as well, while his legs are tied by his ankles. He's sitting, and stuck sitting thanks to the rope around his chest.

His head aches, which isn't very surprising considering the thing that got him in this situation was a well placed hit to his skull via a brick.

He didn't mean to get caught. He simply wanted to blow off some steam after getting fed up with Jason while on patrol. Of all people to be paired up with, it had to be Jason. It couldn't have been someone Damian gets along with like Richard, Duke, or Cassandra. It couldn't have been Timothy where they at least know when boundaries are being pushed with their banter. It couldn't have even been Stephanie, where she's at least funny.

No, the entire family was there, and Damian got paired with the one he doesn't know how to deal with. He got annoyed by the constant, demeaning tone Jason would use on him, and after one too many backhanded insults that only Jason found funny, Damian snapped. He doesn't even remember what exactly was said, he just knows he yelled at Jason to go on without him, and Jason didn't stop him when he turned the other direction.

Thinking back on it, Damian probably insulted him back, and the reason he let Damian go was because he was just as annoyed as Damian was.

It doesn't matter now. What matters is that he didn't intend to stumble upon the Penguin and his goons in some warehouse by the coast. He was just going to take down a few classic muggers or something of similar nature and go back to Jason and act like the argument never happened.

He intended to go back and tell his father about the Penguin's actions, but he didn't notice a pigeon until he almost stepped on it. Startled, it flew up at his face and he fell backwards right through the already broken skylight. He barely managed to slow his fall with his grappling gun, but he still hit the ground pretty hard. Hurt and surprised, he didn't have time to even stand up before the brick was smashed against his skull.

And now he's here, under Gotham's docks, being tied to a poll while the Penguin laughs to himself.

"I'll just let the tide kill you for me," he says to himself, yet his idiot goons still cackle. Damian glares at them, but they only laugh harder, sending down their own insults until the ocean water begins to pool up to Damians toes.

The Penguin makes a remark that it's time to go, and that he doesn't want to get his new dress shoes messy, and then they're gone, leaving Damian to attempt to tug on the ropes holding him against the pole. He tries to reach for the small blades he keeps in the compartments of his gloves, but his fingers come away empty. Curse Gotham's Rogues and their ability to actually use their brains and disarm their captives when they get their hands on them.

He strains harder on the ropes now, twisting and trying to reach any knots with his fingers, but all he succeeds in doing is cutting off the circulation to his hands and pressing the rope into his chest.

He relaxes with a frustrated huff and glares at the water that's already risen a few inches to ripple close to his hips. He knows that not long from now, the water will be above his head.

For now, it's freezing, and once it reaches his fingers, escape will become all the more impossible thanks to numbing appendages.

He tugs on the ropes, then tugs some more, and he keeps going until he has to stop and let the blood come back to his fingers.

The water continues to rise, seeping through his suit and into his bones, rising to his fingers, then his arms, then his shoulders... It's when it finally touches his chin when the despair and terror finally settles.

He can't get out. He can't get out. The ropes feel no more loose than what they were when he began trying to undo them, and his fingers are so numb now they must be turning blue under his gloves. His jaw aches from his chattering teeth, and his nose is beginning to run.

He pulls desperately on his bonds now, his attempts to escape becoming more and more reckless the longer he sits here. He's hyper-aware of the movement of the water around him, and his panic is making it difficult to breathe.

Through his terror, he hears something. The motor of a bike. He hears the engine cut out nearby. He can probably shout for help.

It's his last hope. He can only pray that whoever came to the docks at this hour of night, that they are friendly. He opens his mouth to yell for assistance, but he chokes when sea water enters his mouth. He scrambles his bound feet against the rocky sand, attempting to lift himself up the pole just a little higher, but he doesn't go anywhere. The ropes are too tight.

He's not sure if the water near his eyes is from him flailing in the water, or if it's because of frightened tears. Either way, he can feel the water tickling his nose, and he only has a split second to suck in one last breath of air before the water rises above any means to breath.

"Robin?" A deep voice shouts, and Damian could sob at the irony of it. "You here?"

Someone came looking for him, but they don't know where he is. He's going to drown under the feet of someone who could have saved him if they had come just minutes before.

The water rises over his head now, and he can no longer hear anything besides the racing of his heart. He can't feel his fingers or toes anymore, and he's sure he will drown with bruises under the ropes on his chest.

He's going to drown. He's going to die. His lungs hurt, already his oxygen is running out. He's panicking and it's cold and he's going to die-

He doesn't know how much longer he holds his breath, only that eventually, his mouth opens against his will and sucks in water that may as well be fire going into his lungs.

Black creeps into his vision... and with the last sight of dark bubbles erupting around him, he loses consciousness.

-o-o-o-o-

He wakes up vomiting. A strong hand wraps around his arm and holds him on his side so he can empty his lungs and stomach of salty sea water. It feels like his insides are being torn apart, but eventually it calms down a little so he can finally suck in a gasp of air.

The hand on his arm becomes two, snaking around his shoulder blades to sit him up and squeeze him against a broad chest.

"Holy shit," a familiar voice gasps, "Jesus fuck."

"J'son..." Damian murmurs, trying to make sense of what's going on. His throat feels abused, and his head pounds like drums. He's so tired, his eyes begin to drop.

"Nah don't you fucking think of it," Jason growls, pulling him away from his chest and giving him a hard shake. Damian blinks, trying to focus. Jason brings a hand up and brushes his dripping hair from his face.

Then, it all comes back to him. The tide... The water... He was drowning...

He thought he died.

But here he is, untied from the pole and on the docks, looking at Jason's bare and dripping face with his helmet castaway on the ground. He must have given him mouth-to-mouth... And his chest aches like he's taken a beating. Must be the combined bruises of the ropes and from chest compressions.

He's suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, all of his fear slamming right into him.

"You came," he croaks, not sure if it's because of his abused respiratory system or if it's because of his rekindled tears.

Jason's face twists, then he pulls Damian back in to squeeze him tightly once again. The hug is a surprise, and it hurts, but Damian doesn't fight it. He's too relieved and scared and confused and ashamed to fight it.

"When you didn't answer the comms, I thought you were still mad," Jason explains. The rumble of his voice in his chest against Damian's cheek is oddly relaxing. "But then it started getting late and I didn't feel right, so I asked Babs for your coords and- fuck- I thought I got you killed."

"How did you know...?" Damian asks, not willing to go further into the sentence and endure the pain of his throat.

Jason gives a laugh, and it's almost hysterical. "A lucky guess? I don't know, I guess it's just habit to look in the water when something goes wrong at the docks." There's a pause. Then Jason releases Damian once again. "I'm sorry. I said some things I shouldn't have. This wouldn't have happened if I kept my cool."

Damian shakes his head. It doesn't matter now. "You came."

Jason's lips twitch. "Of course I did. We're... Brothers. Even if we don't get along all the time, I still don't want anyone beating you up other than me."

Damian let's out a laugh, though it dissolves into a fit of coughs. Jason rubs his back during all of it, then once he calms down he helps him to his feet.

"C'mon," he says, "let's get you back home so Alfred can check on you. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can get getting yelled at out of the way for letting you go off on your own."

He helps Damian up to his feet, and Damian gratefully clutches to his jacket to steady himself. "I am to blame too. Once we tell father you helped save me, he will be less angry."

Jason snorts. "You think I'm worried about the old man? It's Dick I'm worried about."

"Ah," Damian grins, all the fear finally ebbing out from his system. "I'm afraid I cannot help you there."

Jason helps Damian onto the bike and returns his helmet so it's over his head. He holds Damian in front of him with one arm securely around his chest as he drives. He feels safe nestled against Jason like this. It's strong and unyielding. His relationship with the older man has always been strange, considering they weren't always on the same sides when Richard was Batman.

But this? This is safe. It's warm. Is careful and gentle. Normally he'd be embarrassed to be so vulnerable like this near Jason, but like Jason said... They're brothers.

He cannot help but feel a little disappointed once they finally make it back to the cave. Yet it seems he's misjudged Jason once again, because after he was rushed to the med-bay and Jason got an earful from Richard... he fell asleep and awoke the next morning with Jason still there.

Things may not be perfect with Jason, and they argue a lot, but Damians sure things have a chance of becoming better.

They're brothers, after all.

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #Robin #jason todd #Red Hood #dc comics #fanfiction #jin writes #drowning tw #kidnapping tw

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mandospace · 4 years ago

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Keeping Company (Boba Fett x Reader Smut)

Request: If you're still taking requests, would you write a Boba x female reader smut? I headcannon Boba as being really rough most of the time, kinky as hell, and definitely has a breeding kink. I'm not into the entire 'daddy' thing, but am game for just about anything else.

Requested By: @asaucecoveredsomething

Word Count: 4,658

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, do not interact! Masturbation, slight voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight choking, slight bondage, PinV sex, fluff at the end!

A/N: I am a whore for Boba and I got way too into this while I was writing it. I hope you Boba fuckers love reading this because I sure enjoyed writing it!

MASTERLIST

Slave One was silent besides the constant thrum of electricity running through it's wires. It was parked on some obscure desert planet, sand whipping against the metal. Boba had been gone for a week already, hunting down some Twi'lek that had wronged him before the fall of the Empire. Now as king of the crime underworld and ruler of the territory formerly known as Hutt space, Boba didn't want any ‘loose ends’ coming for his throne. So the two of you took off in his father's old ship two months ago, hunting down the various 'loose ends' scattered throughout the galaxy.

You weren't exactly sure why Boba had decided to take you along with him instead of just leaving you at the palace. Not exactly the best fighter, you were positive that you would have slowed him down with your inexperience. When you brought it up to him, Boba just chuckled and snaked his arm around your waist, tugging you to his side with an "I'm gonna need company on those long nights, sweetness."

So you tagged along behind him, excited when you learned your true purpose on his mission. The two of you had been together for some time now, and even though he wasn't a man of many words, you knew deep down that he loved you. You were completely enamored with your bounty hunter-turned-king, and were willing to do anything to please him. So, you said yes to this journey. You said yes to the picture he painted in your head of the two of you wrapped up in each other during those long nights, keeping him company.

Of course, that hasn't happened since he returned from his first hunt. It had been exactly six weeks, four days, and thirteen hours since you last "kept him company."

It was killing you.

He had become very busy with his hunts after that first successful mission, and your alone time practically evaporated into thin air. The two of you had a very, well, physical, relationship and the need you always felt for him grew with every passing minute. The ache you felt between your legs was constant. It was ever growing, it kept building every time he came back to the ship. Just when you thought that he would take care of you and keep you company this time, he would either immediately set off for another quarry or would collapse on the bed in his quarters and fall asleep faster than you could say 'Wookie.'

So, yeah, you were a little needy.

Normally, you would have just taken care of the situation by yourself, but right before Boba had left on his first hunt he made you promise him that you wouldn't touch yourself. "It'll be fun, sweetness," he had smirked at your shocked face. "Just think, it'll make the reward just that much sweeter when I come back to you."

Sure, you had thought to yourself after the fifth time he fell asleep after returning from a hunt. If you actually stayed up to get your reward.

The ache would just not go away no matter what you tried. You took cold showers, cleaned the entire ship, and even tried to learn how to sew his old pair of pants he tore chasing after a quarry. Nothing took your mind off the way your pussy throbbed at night, demanding to be noticed.

You were left with two options. Option number one, you ignore it. Force yourself to go to sleep and just hope and pray to the Maker that when Boba returns, he doesn't fall asleep on you. Option number two, you take care of it yourself. If you broke the 'no-touching' policy, Boba would surely punish you. But only if he caught you, right? He wasn't due back for another two days, so surely you would be fine.

When you made up your mind, a thrill raced down your spine at the idea of disobeying Boba's orders. He was always in charge in every aspect of your relationship, and when you pushed his buttons before, the tortuous pleasure he gave you made you sore for days. While you loved the punishment, it wasn't nearly as good as him giving you what you desperately craved. But you weren't going to get caught, so you had nothing to worry about.

That night, you laid yourself back on your shared bed with excitement. To make the moment more enjoyable for yourself, you had dug through the ship's crates and found a delicious-smelling candle. You weren’t sure why it was on the ship, but it’s scent reminded you of Boba. The thought of him sent a shiver down your body, reminding you of your own mission.

Eyes fluttering shut, you breathed in the scent of Boba. You could feel your pussy throbbing with excitement at the prospect of what was about to happen. Your hands floated down your body, light touch through your nightshirt leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Hand making its way under your waistband, your finger trailed farther south until it met your slit. A soft gasp left your lips at how wet you found yourself. Your panties were already soaked through with desire. When your nail brushed against your clit, swollen with need, you moaned and bit down on your bottom lip.

You haven’t had any type of release for a month and a half, and you wanted to draw this moment out. Pulling your hand out of your underwear, you tugged your shirt over your head and kicked off your sleep shorts and panties. The ship was cold, and goosebumps raised along your flesh. You could feel your nipples harden at the cold air, peaking in anticipation. Settling back against the pillows, your mind drifted off to Boba. You wished he was here with you, the one to give you the pleasure you so desperately craved. No matter what you did, it would never measure up to what you experienced with him.

Your hands drifted down your body, cupping your breasts. Wishing it was Boba’s large hands on you instead of your own, you brushed a thumb over the hardened peak. A soft moan left your mouth when you gently pinched the pert nipple. Pleasure rippled down your body and settled in your core. Your hands continued on their trail south and you spread your legs wide in anticipation. Two fingers dipped down to your entrance and gathered the slick that was beginning to pool on the sheets. You dragged the wetness to your clit and began rubbing slow circles into the bundle of nerves.

“Boba,” your breath hitched in your throat when a wave of pleasure coursed through your veins. Your left hand squeezed your breast as you flicked the bundle of nerves. You imagined that it was Boba’s thick fingers that were moving down to your sopping entrance instead of your own. Slipping two fingers into your heat, another moan fell from your lips. It had been so long, and you almost cried at the feeling of something in your pussy. While you wished it was Boba’s thick cock instead of your fingers, you made do with what you had available. Boba’s name constantly fell from your lips with breathy moans, wishing your bounty hunter was next to you...

———

The walk back to the ship was long and arduous. It had taken longer than Boba expected to find the Twi’lek that wronged him all those years ago, but he was glad it was finally over with. He didn’t even bother dragging the body back to the ship, there was no use carting around a corpse worth nothing when you already collected on the reward. Besides, Boba was thinking more about a different reward that waited for him on his ship.

When the ship came into his view, Boba sighed in relief. He couldn’t wait to walk up that ramp, throw off his helmet, and wrap you in his arms. These past few weeks were killing him. He wasn’t the young bounty hunter he once was, the hunts took more effort nowadays. By the time he was ready to spend some time with you, he often found himself asleep next to you within a few seconds. Boba ached to be inside you, it had been too long. He originally thought the ‘no-touching’ policy would be a great idea- a way to build up the anticipation and excitement while he was away from you. He just didn’t expect it to be this long of a waiting period.

Boba pressed a button on his vambrace that lowered the ramp. The hull was dark and quiet, only the sound of electricity hummed through the air. He didn’t see you in your usual spot where you waited for him. You must be asleep, Boba figured, and pressed the button again to close the ramp. He couldn’t blame you for sleeping, it was the easiest way to make time pass by faster. Once the ramp locked in position, Boba started to make his way towards his quarters. If you were asleep, he decided that he would join you and get his reward once the two of you had gotten some rest. He had only walked a few paces when a noise stopped him dead in his tracks. He waited to hear it again, trying to discern if it was just a figment of his imagination, but then he heard it-

“Boba.”

He would recognize your voice anywhere. Boba was pretty confident that he could pick your voice out of thousands, but he was damn sure he would be able to if you said it in the tone you just used. Your breathless moaning of his name was his favorite sound in the world.

Boba could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan. He immediately knew what you were doing, but he wanted to see it for himself. He had to catch you in the act if he was going to punish you. So he quietly made his way to his quarters, and stopped just inside the door.

The image of you sprawled out on his bed, naked, hand in between your legs playing with your pussy sent a lightning bolt of lust through his body. His dick pressed against the confines of his pants as he stood there, watching you. Your eyes were closed- you hadn’t seen him come in- and you arched your back in pleasure. Boba’s eyes never left your body, watching the way you thrust your fingers in and out of your wet heat.

“Boba,” you moaned again, biting down on your bottom lip. He couldn’t just stand there, watching you pleasure yourself. That was his job.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

The deep timbre of Boba’s voice through the vocoder of his helmet made your eyes snap open. Immediately, you glanced to the doorway and saw him standing there, full armor on, staring at you pleasuring yourself in his absence. Which you definitely were not supposed to be doing.

“Boba-” you gasped, but he quickly cut you off.

“I thought we agreed to something, princess,” his words dripped from his tongue with lust, the sound making your pussy throb. “No touching while we were apart, right?”

You tried to come up with an excuse whilst you just laid there, fingers still buried between your folds. You were too scared to pull them away. Boba was in charge now.

“Did you really miss my cock that much, sweetness?” His tone was mocking and you couldn’t help but whimper out a measly ‘yes.’ Boba growled deep in his chest. “Hands up.”

Not daring to disobey his orders anymore, you brought your hands up and above your head, resting them on the pillows. Boba stalked towards you before grabbing both of your hands in one of his large gloved ones. He grabbed the cuffs from his belt and cuffed your hands together before magnetizing them to the metal wall at the head of the bed. You weren’t going anywhere.

Boba stood over you, dark visor peering at your flushed face. You squirmed on the bed in anticipation, you knew you fucked up- now was the time to pay for it. “Boba.”

He hummed low in his throat, gloved hand trailing down your neck before resting between the valley of your breasts. You could feel the warmth of him through his glove, and his touch set you ablaze. He had barely touched you, just a single graze, and you were already putty in his hand.

“Please,” you choked out as his hand moved further down your body. He cupped your heat, middle finger gliding through your folds.

“And why should I?” Boba questioned, languidly drawing circles on your clit. He was moving too slow, not giving you the friction you craved. “You disobeyed me, little one.”

Shit, you were really in trouble now. He never called you ‘little one’ unless you really fucked up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I thought-”

“You thought what?” Boba stopped his movements, pulling his hand away from your cunt. He dragged his fingers back up your body, smearing your slick over your stomach. His hand rested at the base of your throat, squeezing slightly. The lack of oxygen made your head swim even more and caused you to let out a whine. “Thought you could touch yourself and I wouldn’t find out?”

All you could do was nod your head. No use in lying to him now. Boba ‘tsked,’ giving your throat another squeeze. “Guess I’m going to have to punish you, little one.”

He was going to make you cry. “Boba, please, I’ll be good.”

“If you aren’t punished,” Boba moved his hands up to his helmet, pulling it off to reveal his lust-filled eyes. “You’ll never learn.”

His hand groped your breast, flicking your nipple before wrapping his warm mouth around it. He sucked your breast into his mouth, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched off the bed in an attempt to push your chest closer to him. Boba lightly bit down on the sensitive bud, causing a pathetic whimper to leave your mouth. He moved over to the other breast, giving it the same attention before he trailed his lips down your stomach. Settling himself between your spread legs, Boba made eye contact with you momentarily before he licked a broad stripe up your pussy.

You screamed at the sensation of his warm tongue running through your folds. It had been forever since he ate you out and it was your favorite kind of torture. Boba’s mouth focused on your clit, sucking hard on it and leaving you breathless. You tugged at your restraints, wanting to use your hands to pull him closer to your dripping heat. Instead, the cuffs dug into your wrist- surely leaving marks. Boba continued to lick your pussy, giving your clit small, fast licks. He brought his gloved hand to your entrance, easily sinking two of his thick fingers into your heat. His fingers felt so much better than yours did, and the way he thrust them in tandem with his tongue licking your clit drove you crazy. You could feel the heat pooling in your tummy, each flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers adding fuel to the growing flame.

“Boba,” you whined when his teeth grazed your clit. Your hips began to lift off the bed, trying to get closer to his mouth, but he just slung an arm over your hips and pinned you to the bed. His ministrations on your pussy felt delicious, causing breathless whines and moans to roll off your tongue. He added a third finger, pressing them into your dripping cunt before curling upwards. The leather of his glove just barely grazed against the spongy flesh of your walls, and it felt like you had been electrocuted. Your head leaned back in pleasure, mouth forming an ‘O’ as he pressed against that one spot and sucked your clit harshly. It was too much, the feeling of him giving you attention after all these weeks. You could feel the coil in your belly tighten, and a soft cry left your lips. “Boba, I-I’m going to-”

Just as the coiled spring in your tummy was about to snap and send you crashing over the edge, Boba pulled his mouth and fingers away from your cunt. Eyes snapping open in fury, you stared down between your legs where Boba sat on his haunches. His eyes were dark as they watched your heaving chest. You could see the sheen of your slick covering his mouth and chin. You were furious. “Boba, what the hell?!”

Boba just chuckled at your fury, crawling over your body. Tears were starting to pool in your eyes. It felt so good having him between your legs, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands over his body. Boba brought his slick-coated fingers to your mouth, lightly tapping your bottom lip. “Suck,” he demanded, pushing his fingers into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of you on the old leather, tongue licking clean his fingers. You made sure to meet his gaze before you sucked on his fingers, hard.

“I want you, in my mouth,” you gasped when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Boba just stared at you, and brought his own fingers to his mouth to lick off the remnants of your desire. You squirmed under his gaze, and you could see just how hard he was by the tent in his pants. “Please.”

“Bad girls don’t get what they want,” Boba hummed while his hand traveled down to his pants. He quickly unbuttoned his trousers and shoved them down his thighs a bit. His cock sprang to attention, almost slapping against his armored chest. He was swollen with need and extremely hard. His tip was a lovely shade of dusty rose, and precum dripped down his shaft. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him. He was gorgeously thick, and you ached to wrap your lips around him.

He gripped his cock at the base and slowly dragged the head through your wet folds. Your breath hitched in your throat when he brushed against your clit. The need and desire that coursed through your veins made you hot to the touch. Boba just knelt there between your legs, lazily dragging his cock back and forth through your pussy. It brought tears to your eyes and you desperately wanted him to do anything besides just tease you like that.

“Boba.”

“Yes, little one?” He didn’t look at you, just watched the way his cock glided through your folds. You could see how tense he was in his beskar-covered shoulders. You wished you could reach out and touch him.

“Please,” you whimpered. You must’ve sounded really desperate because he finally met your gaze. Boba smirked as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Fuck me.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest whilst his free hand grabbed your hip. “Anything for you, princess.” Boba quickly entered you with a snap of his hips. The feeling of him stretching you out with his thick cock was slightly painful after all of these weeks. Pain melted into pleasure though when he bottomed out in you with a groan. “Fuck, always so tight for me.”

Boba was practically splitting you open on his cock and you couldn’t do anything about it. You pulled at the restraints but it was no use. You pleaded for Boba to move, and he graciously pulled himself back out of your heat, only leaving the tip in. He rested there for a moment and your chest heaved in anticipation. Just when you thought he wasn’t going to move, he slammed back into you and a strangled cry flew past your lips. Boba set a hard and fast pace, pounding into you with no reluctance. His grip on your hips was surely leaving bruises on your skin, but with each drag of his cock against your walls, you found yourself no longer caring. The feeling of him pounding into you was electrifying, and the desire started to build in your lower tummy.

“Boba,” his name constantly slipped past your lips. You were a moaning mess under him, and you wanted nothing more than to pull his face towards yours so you could kiss him. “Please, I need to touch you.”

Boba grunted with each snap of his hips against yours. You weren’t sure if he even heard you over the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, but he momentarily pulled out of you so he could reach up and undo the cuffs restraining you. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long, but you didn’t care. Your hands immediately went to Boba’s scarred face and pulled him towards you. Lips crashing against his, you moaned into his mouth when he pushed his cock back into your pussy. His arms snaked around your waist and tugged you closer to his armored chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned at the feeling of him pounding into you deeper at the new angle.

“Fuck, sweetness,” Boba moaned against your lips before trailing them down to suck a mark on your neck. Your hands roamed his back and finally settled on his shoulders, fingers gripping the pauldrons to stabilize yourself.

“Missed you so much... Been wanting this sweet pussy for weeks.” Moaning at his words, you could feel the coil in your belly tighten. Your walls fluttered around his cock and he could feel your approaching release. Boba reached down between your bodies and began rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Come for me, little one.”

The combination of Boba’s cock pounding into you, his leather-clad fingers circling your clit, and lips marking your neck sent you over the edge. Pleasure crashed into you and sent you spinning with every pulse of heat coursing through your veins. You moaned loudly and your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. The feeling of your walls clamping down on Boba’s cock as he rode out your high made his own quickly approach. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he pulled them up into his hips in time with his thrusts.

“Feel so good,” Boba’s words started to slur with his approaching release. “M’ sweet girl... take m-me so well.” His hips pistoned into yours. “Fuck, gonna f-fill you up, m-make warriors wi-with-“ Boba’s sentence cut off abruptly with a groan as his balls pulled up tight. He buried himself deep in your fluttering heat, releasing his seed. His cum painted your walls in thick ropes, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock giving you everything he had.

Boba’s forehead rested against yours as the two of you came down from your highs. He pulled out his softening cock from you with a squelch, your combined releases leaking out of your weeping pussy. The sight of his cum leaking from you made Boba swell with pride. He loved knowing that he was the only one who could make you feel this way, the only one who was allowed to come inside of you.

His fingers lightly grazed across your skin, rubbing soothing patterns into your aching muscles. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he gathered what remained of his cum that was leaking out of your entrance and pushed it back in with two fingers. He meant what he said earlier- he desperately wanted to make warriors with you. Boba yearned to watch you swell with his child, becoming round from his seed. The image of you pregnant caused a chill to race down his spine, and Boba pressed his lips to yours.

“Missed you, princess,” he mumbled against your lips. His fingers lazily pumped into you, making sure you were stuffed full with his cum. A breathless sigh escaped past your lips at the feeling, and you pulled back from his kiss to look him in the eyes. They were softer now, content to just be here with you.

“How was the hunt?” You absentmindedly asked, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his neck. You could feel the knots and tension that laid beneath the tan skin.

“Okay,” he shrugged, giving your lips a lazy peck. “Got the bastard. Should only be a few more left.” His thumb brushed over your clit, body shivering at the overstimulation.

“Yeah? And then what?”

“Then, my sweet girl,” Boba pressed another kiss to your mouth. “We go home. And we fuck until the sun goes down.”

“I like that plan,” you smiled. The idea of not having to travel for once, to be able to stay in one place with the man you loved was intoxicating- even if it was on a planet like Tatooine. The feeling of Boba pushing his cum back into your abused pussy made another idea pop up in your mind- one that made your cheeks flush.

“What is it, princess?” Boba hummed against your lips.

“I was just thinking,” you started, unsure of how to proceed. “Do you think there’s any good schools on Tatooine?”

“Schools?” The confusion was evident in Boba’s voice. “You want to go back to school?”

“No,” you giggled, lightly smacking his pauldron. “I was just thinking, if we ever have kids, we are going to want a good school.” His silence made you nervous and you began rambling. “That is, if you want to have kids with me. I’d understand if you didn’t, but I-“

Boba cut your ramblings off with a kiss. He wasn’t really a sappy, romantic man, but you echoing his previous thoughts made his heart soar. “Of course we will get them a good school. If there aren’t any on Tatooine, we’ll build one. Right next to the palace.” The words just flowed out of him. “I’ll hire the best teachers. I’ll teach them how to fight, and you’ll teach them how to be kind and good.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You never knew that Boba shared the same sentiments as you, and hearing how he talked about it made you pull his lips back to yours. It was a passionate kiss, lips sliding past each other’s and tongues licking into the other’s mouth. Boba’s hand retreated from your pussy in favor of gripping your hip. He could feel his cock stirring again.

Before Boba could do something about it though, you were pushing on his shoulder to roll him onto his back. You followed the motion, legs on either side of his as you sat down on his thighs. His cock was starting to harden again at this new position, and the sight of it made you bring your lip between your teeth. You reached out for it, fingers wrapping around the base before slowly pumping it.

“Sweetness, not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” Boba’s words fell from his lips with a soft moan. The image of you straddling him and pumping his hardening cock sent swirls of desire through his veins.

“Why wait until we get back to the palace for you to fuck a baby into me?” You slightly lifted your hips and gripped his cock, nestling it at your entrance. The tip of his head pushed in, and you sank your body down on his cock with a moan. Boba’s hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed when you started gently rocking your hips on his cock. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Buckle up, old man,” your chuckle evolved into a moan when his tip brushed up against that sweet spot inside of you. “I’m planning on getting pregnant before the sun comes up.”

Your words made a growl rip through his chest, hips jutting up into yours. “We’re just getting started, little one.”

#boba fett x reader #boba fett smut #boba fett imagine #boba fett x you #boba fett x y/n #boba fett drabble #boba fett oneshot #boba fett one shot #boba fett masterlist

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years ago

Text

the forest > bucky barnes

|| pairing: bucky barnes x black!reader

|| word count: 11,557

|| warnings: language words, smut, sex, sex pollen kinda, animal transformation, grumpy bucky, angst/horror?, fae/faries, fairy tale vibes

|| challenge: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge - Werewolf AU - You have been lost in the forest due to a curse that won’t let you leave.

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo SSB2020 I3: “This is not what it looks like”

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo K2: Survival in the wild

|| summary: You wake up in a strange, magical place. All alone, you start to walk and find that you aren’t the only one wandering the trees.

|| link: ao3

|| note: i don’t know why i’m nervous to post this, but i am! forgive me, my brain gets the best of me sometimes. i hope you guys enjoy this - despite the posting anxiety, i did enjoy weaving this little tale. i just hope it all makes sense :)

line dividers by writeyourmindaway!

Your feet are blistered and bloody. You’ve been walking for hours. Your throat is dry, your eyes puffy and swollen; watery. Your sundress is tattered and ripped and you don’t know why. You can’t remember. You don’t know where you are, why you’re here, or how you ended up in this place - but the fear sitting in your belly is the only thing keeping you moving.

It’s dense here. Thick, green, lush trees and shrubs line the dirt path that you walk on. Sun rays peek through the treetops, but because they’re so thick, the trees, it looks like a dark day; a muted day. You can hear birds chirping, little bugs buzzing around, even spot a butterfly or two. It’s beautiful - but ominous. Like there’s danger lurking just around the bend.

You hear crackling in the distance - leaves being crunched, twigs being broken - and you freeze, snapping your head towards it. You swallow hard as you zero in on the noise, everything else going silent around you. You clutch the hem of your dress in your hand, as it’s the only tangible thing that makes any of this real, and just listen. Your heart beats loudly in your ears. A bead of sweat slips down the side of your face. Your breath is shallow.

The crackling stops. You wait for a beat or two, blinking slowly, listening hard, and then you start moving again - trying to find something, someone… anything. You nervously continue to play with the hem of your dress as you pad through this still forest, the soft dirt squishing through your toes. The sound of water soon hits your ears, soft and rippling, and just at the end of the path, there’s a small bank leading to a quiet little river.

You quicken your pace, stepping into the grass, and then the wet sand before you fall to your knees and dip your hands into the water. You splash your face, once, twice, three times, before dipping your hands back into the surprising cool liquid, cupping them to collect a small amount. You bring it to your lips to drink, slurping it in haste as your thirst overwhelms you. Handful after handful, you bring the small offering of water to your lips, barely finishing the gulp before thrusting your hands back in the water.

You’re so consumed with the cool liquid that you don’t even hear the crackling of the leaves behind you. You drop your hands back into the water as you lift your eyes to the other side of the bank slowly. Your breath goes shallow again as you blink rapidly, now acutely aware that you’re being watched by someone, or something. You swallow hard and let your lips part as you turn your head, peeking over your shoulder - and suddenly, you’re face to face with a large, white wolf.

Your chin starts to tremble as fear paralyzes you. The animal’s eyes are a piercing blue as they stare back at you. Its head is low, ears laid back on its head. Its nose twitches as it sniffs at the air, but it never takes its eyes off of you. It lowers its head to the ground, sniffing at the footprints you left behind before it lifts its gaze to you again.

It takes a step towards you, slowly, and then another, and another. You don’t move - you can’t. You just start to tremble as it closes the distance between you, a single tear slipping down your cheek as your eyes cloud over with water. It gets nose to nose with you, blinking slowly as it starts to sniff you. You let out a sob as it pushes its nose into your hair, breathing you in. It lets out a hard breath, tossing your hair with it before it tilts its head towards the sky and howls loudly.

You jump and gasp at the sudden burst of noise as it rocks through the forest. Birds flock from the trees as more howls from somewhere deep in the trees, making you snap your head towards the chorus, your chest now heaving.

“You’re quick,” a deep voice sounds, making you snap your head back again, “Took me hours to track you.”

The wolf is suddenly gone, now replaced with a very tall, blonde, blue eyed, naked man. Your eyes go wide as you scramble back into the water. You blink furiously, pushing more hot tears down your face as your mind starts to race. You shake your head as your face breaks, finally giving into the confusion and fear that’s motivated you for most of the day. The man kneels and tilts his head as he watches you, his eyes still searching as if he isn’t quite sure of you.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, holding out his hand, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you cry openly, “I don’t - I don’t know where I am.”

“It’s okay, I’ll explain it to you on the way. Come.”

He wiggles his fingers, trying to coax you out of the water. You shake your head again frantically, dragging in a breath, nearly choking on it, “Please, I just, I want to go home. Please.”

“Come.” He says again, his voice still soft- still calm.

“No, please let me go. Please.” You beg.

The man sighs, blinking back at you slowly, “You can’t go home. Come with me please, before something dangerous finds you.”

You stare at his hand, still outstretched towards you, before you cut your eyes back up to his. A deep growl sounds through the trees, followed by a series of menacing barks. You and the man both snap towards the noise. A black wolf moves through the trees on the opposite side of the stream, instantly sending chills down your spine. Its eyes are golden, but a darkness looms in them as it peers at you. It starts to growl again, lowering its head as it bares its teeth, barking loudly again.

“Cut it out,” the man behind you says sternly, “She’s already claimed, Rumlow.”

You gasp when the black wolf changes right in front of you. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, a dark haired man stands on the bank, “She hasn’t been marked yet,” he smirks, his eyes bouncing between yours and the man behind you, “So technically, she hasn’t been claimed, Rogers.”

“Back off. I’m warning you.”

“Ooooh,” Rumlow laughs, “Scary voice.”

You swallow and glance up at the man behind you, Rogers. He keeps his eyes across the stream, his hands balled at his sides, his chest swollen with possession, “Get behind me,” He hisses, “Now.”

You oblige - and fast. You scramble to your feet and step behind him, peering around his arm at the menacing Rumlow. He sneers at you, wiggling his fingers, trying to intimidate you. The golden eyed man takes a step into the water and Rogers transforms back to his four legged alter ego. He digs his paw into the wet sand and lowers his head as a deep growl rumbles in his throat.

You skirt your eyes back to this Rumlow, watching as he turns, thick black hair and four legs returning to his frame. He barks at you and Rogers, saliva dripping from his mouth as he bares his teeth.

They lunge at each other without so much as a warning, making you stumble back as you inhale sharply. The sounds of nails ripping through flesh, water splashing, loud barking and growling fill the air as you once again blink back tears. You stand in utter disbelief as these two half animal, half man creatures rip into each other - one, seemingly for your protection, the other for ownership.

Rogers prevails. He pins the black wolf to the mud, his teeth biting into the others throat and neck, shaking his head back and forth. The black wolf whelps in pain as it kicks and scratches at the much larger, much stronger opponent. Rogers releases him, taking a few steps back but keeps his eyes on the other as it scrambles back up the bank. The golden eyes are back on you as he whips back around, growling lowly, but soon scampers off with a heavy limp.

Rogers watches the trees for a minute longer before he turns and moves slowly back to your side. He rubs his head against your hand, licking your fingers gently. You look down at him, his big blue eyes gazing back up into yours and you can’t help but pat the top of his head. He did just save you, after all.

“Thank you.” You offer softly.

He takes a few steps past you and then turns to look at you, waiting for you to join him. You really have nowhere else to go and knowing now what exactly lurks out in the trees, you’re too afraid to have him leave you. The two of you start to walk back in the direction that you first came. He stays in his wolf form, his heavy paws padding softly in the dirt next to you, his eyes wide and alert as you traipse through the forest. Your mind races with the silence, his words playing over and over again - you can’t go home. You can’t go home. You can’t go home. Your stomach starts to twist all over again. Why can’t you go home? What did you do to make it so?

Maybe it’s a dream - maybe it’s just all one big, bad dream and you can’t wake yourself up. You start to pray, closing your eyes as you walk, pleading with God to just wake you up from all of this. But you don’t - wake up that is.

You walk for hours. The heat beating down on you from the sun starts to wear on you, your throat going dry again as sweat beads on your forehead. Your feet ache as each footprint you leave behind starts to clump with blood. Your vision starts to blur and you stumble slightly, making Rogers snap his head towards you.

He circles your legs, barking a few times before he changes into his human form again. He grabs your elbow, his eyes searching yours intently before he brushes your messy hair away from your face.

“We’re almost there, let me carry you.”

You pull away from him but stumble again, “I’m fine, I -”

Without another word, you’re lifted from your feet with ease. He curls you into his broad, hairy chest, wrapping an arm around your back and tucking the other underneath your knees. You’re too exhausted to fight him. You rest your head against his chest and let him carry you slowly the rest of the way, your eyes closing to slits. You’re barely conscious when Rogers steps through a wall of brush and shrubs and suddenly, you’ve stepped into a utopia.

You blink furiously as you try and make sure that you are seeing what you are really seeing. The air smells sweeter. The trees and grass are alive with motion as a breeze whips over your body. You feel eyes on you as Rogers moves you through this new town-like place. You can see cottages placed randomly throughout the trees as people start to come out from them, watching. You tense, but Rogers is quick to quell your fear.

“It’s okay. Your scent is spreading, that’s all.”

“My scent? I smell bad?”

He smiles a little, keeping his eyes straight ahead, “Not bad, just new.”

“Where are we going?”

“To see Wanda. She’s our seer.”

He moves you through another set of trees and you’re standing at the edge of a large lake. The water level is low - a wispy waterfall to your left barely dribbles into the body of water. That’s when you spot her, a redheaded woman bathing in the water. Her back is to you, but she’s calm as she sweeps her hand over her outstretched arm, smoothing water over her skin. Rogers sits you on your feet but keeps his hand on the small of your back to help keep you steady.

You glance over at him, where he meets your gaze, shaking his head gently as he taps his index finger against his lips, “Wait until she calls for you.” He whispers.

Another man pops up from underneath the water seconds later, scaring you slightly. He pushes the water away from his face with his hands before he sweeps them over the top of his head. He smiles at you, and you smile back without hesitation - he’s so beautiful. It’s a warm, gentle, friendly smile - the gap in his teeth and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes invite you to feel just a little more comfortable. The sun makes his brown skin glow, accentuating the drops of water that collect on his shoulders and chest.

“Steve?” You hear the woman say.

“Yes. I have her.”

“I know you do,” her voice is sweet, thick with comfort and amusement, “Sam, can you bring her to me?”

She disappears under the water. You watch as the other man, Sam, swims towards you and glance nervously over at Rogers - no, Steve. He gives you a reassuring nod and a hint of a smile before you turn back just as the smooth skinned Sam emerges from the water. You quickly avert your eyes towards your feet, as he’s stark naked as well, but steal a glance or two. Water cascades down his rippled chest and stomach, glinting underneath the strong sun.

Sam outstretches his hand, a broad smile lighting up his face, “Hi, I’m Sam. Welcome.”

When you hesitate, Steve steps a little closer, “She’s still a little foggy.”

“That’s okay, darlin’. We’re not going to hurt you. Promise.” Sam reassures, keeping his hand open and outstretched.

You take it with trepidation, allowing him to slowly pull you into the cool water. It feels good on your achy, bloody feet, and sore limbs. Sam turns to you again, “It’s okay if you want to dip under. You’ll feel a whole lot better, I swear it.”

You don’t even hesitate. You push your body underneath the water, closing your eyes as your hearing gets muffled by the liquid. You pop back up seconds later, pushing your hands over your hair as the sun warms you again. He’s right. You do feel a whole lot better - clean.

Sam wraps his long fingers around your arm and places it over his shoulder, before doing the same with the other. Before you can question him, he starts to swim out deeper, pulling you with him. You let him carry you towards the mysterious woman, who is now wearing a bright smile as she wiggles her thin fingers at you as you approach. She swims underneath the waterfall and Sam follows, setting you on your feet before he exits.

“Hungry?” She asks, handing you a small bowl of assorted fruits, “I wish I could offer you more, but we’re going through a bit of a rough growing season. I had to walk for miles to find these as it was.”

“That’s okay,” You greedily take the bowl, stuffing the sweet berries into your mouth, “Thank you, I’m- starving. Thank you.”

“Eat up, baby. I know you’re exhausted.” She watches you as you eat, her eyes twinkling as she smiles. She closes her eyes after a few minutes and tilts her head upwards, nodding every now and again as if she’s listening to something - or someone.

She moans softly as she sways her hands back and forth in the water, her fingertips just barely touching the surface. Then, suddenly, she pops her big eyes open and blinks at you, “My God,” she whispers, “It’s you.”

“M-me? I-” You stammer, glancing around nervously.

She smiles big as she grabs your hands in hers, “We’ve been waiting for you. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are.”

You shake your head slowly as dread fills your stomach, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t- I don’t even remember how I got here and Steve says that I can’t go home. Please. I just- I want to go home.”

Wanda pulls you into her bare chest, hugging you tightly. She pulls away seconds later, her eyes bouncing between yours, “This is scary at first, it was for all of us, but you’ll come to love it here. You are going to rule this forest one day and drive out all of the evil. You, dear girl,” she smiles at you again, “You will finally bring us peace. Please, close your eyes.”

“Wanda, I don’t-”

“Shhh,” she coos, “Close your eyes.”

You take a breath, letting your shoulders slump slightly but close your eyes. You feel Wanda braid her fingers with yours before she starts to speak again.

“Only the cursed inhabit this enchanted forest.” She says softly. Your lips part as fear flushes through you, “All of us, at different times found ourselves wandering through these trees, cursed to never be able to leave. Each one of us has gained an affliction over time, some sooner than others.”

“Affliction?” you whisper, your chest starting to heave.

“I’m a seer. I wasn’t at first, it came to me over time. I can see other’s afflictions before they manifest. I’m also known to have premonitions and visions of what’s to come. Steve and Sam, they are lycans, able to shift between wolf and human form. Bucky, whom you’ll meet soon enough, a werewolf. Unlucky for him, full moons come around every night. Clint, another shifter of an avian kind. Natasha and Carol, mermaids, unable to walk to the earth.”

“Then what am I?” You ask, your voice trembling.

“We’ll get to that soon,” She answers. You feel the water shift as she moves around you. She drags her hands up your arms and shoulders softly, “Try and remember. Remember what brought you here.”

You focus your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth, as you force your brain to try and remember. You squeeze your eyes tight, but nothing forms - not a thought, not a memory… nothing. You shake your head as your chin starts to tremble, all of the fear and anxiety rising up in your throat.

“I can’t,” you start to whimper, “I can’t remember, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda coos, hugging you from behind, “It’s okay. Relax, just try and remember. Feel the water and the warm sun, just let it carry you away. Focus on the waterfall, hear it.”

Tears stream down your cheeks but you push out a shaky breath as you digest her words. Feel the cool water. Hear the waterfall. Wanda grabs your hand, flipping it over before she presses her fingers into your palm, drawing gentle circles, “Just try and remember.”

A quick image flashes before your eyes - pink. Balloons, a congratulations banner… the clinking of champagne glasses. Then, there’s faces, happy ones - Shelia! Romero and Tammy are also there, all hugging you, wishing you luck. You’ve worked so hard for this! No one deserves this more than you!

“I got it,” you whisper, “I got the job. I was promoted to bank manager.”

“That’s it. Stay there, just remember.”

You see it now. They threw you a party during your lunch break - bought you a cake and everything. After the celebration, you walked back to your desk and there it was - one singular cupcake, topped with pink icing and white sprinkles.

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god.”

Wanda sways you back and forth softly, resting her chin on your shoulder, walking you through it. You looked around, but saw no one paying you any attention. You sat in your chair, stuffed to the gills from the lunch and the cake - but you brought the small pastry to your nose anyway, inhaling the sweetness of it. You moaned as a smile spread on your face. You were always a sucker for a cupcake.

You peeled away the wrapping and brought it to your face again, ready to take a bite, when you noticed a small slip of paper peeking out from underneath your keyboard. You pulled it out with the tips of your fingers and furrowed your brow as you read the unfamiliar handwriting. You deserve all that’s coming to you.

More tears spill from your eyes as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

You looked around one final time to see if anyone was watching, but found no one paying you any mind. You looked back down at the cupcake in your hand and shrugged before closing your eyes and taking a bite. You moaned again as the spongy cake exploded on your taste buds. It was the best cupcake you had ever had. You finished it quickly and tossed the wrapper and note, before waking up your computer and returning to your emails, not even noticing the little old woman slipping out through the front doors.

“I didn’t give her the extension.” You whisper, your voice shaky, “She was months behind on her mortgage, we had already given her three. I couldn’t. My hands were tied. I couldn’t grant her another extension, I just couldn’t.”

“It’s okay, dear girl.”

“It’s not okay!” You shout, “She cursed me! She sent me here!”

“I told you it was going to be hard at first.”

You pull away from her, spinning around to face her again, “I want to leave! Now!”

“Honey -”

She reaches for you but you slap her hands from you as you back away, “I’m leaving. I’m not- I don’t know what you want, but I’m leaving!”

You move underneath the wispy waterfall and back out into the large lake as Wanda screams for you to stop. You swim hard, and fast towards the shore, feeling Sam and Steve’s eyes on you as they lounge underneath one of the large trees. They both stand, their eyes wide as you stumble up onto the bank, tripping over your own feet as you try and gain some traction.

You run towards the trees, the weight of your wet dress not slowing you down in the least bit. You hear Wanda’s voice again, this time instructing Sam and Steve to let you go, “She’ll get lost out there.” Steve worries.

“She’ll be fine,” Wanda says, taking a breath as she wades in the water, “You’ll just have to find her again in the morning.”

You run for miles. You run until the sun is replaced by the moon and the sounds of the day have completely stilled. You hear nothing but your own footsteps and the chirp of a cricket that you never seem to find. It’s cooled down considerably, your body is racked with chills as a gust of wind whips around you. The only thing keeping you going is fear. You’re afraid to stop and rest, not knowing what or who is out in these woods in the dark.

You push deeper, trying to use the moonlight as a guide but you have no idea what you’re looking for. Every time you think you’ve found a way out, that maybe you think you see a road or hear a car, you just move into a section of trees and shrubs and grass. This forest is never ending. Maybe they were right. Maybe you can’t -

You snap your head and gasp as a loud scream erupts from deep in the trees. It awakens the birds, making them all screech and fly out from their nests. The scream erupts again, this time louder, so loud you have to cover your ears. It sounds like a man being ripped apart from limb to limb. He screams again - a blood curdling one - and you cringe as it seems even louder, like he’s right behind you.

You start running again. The screams continue but each one gets deeper, more animal-like, more painful. You freeze right in your tracks when a loud, long howl sounds through the sleepy forest - a bay at the large, white moon in the sky. Unlucky for him, full moons come every night.

Soon, all you can hear is your own breathing. You cower behind a tree, hugging it tightly as you keep your eyes wide, your pupils surely blown. There’s a rustling in the trees and brush, twigs snapping, heavy, fast footsteps. Another howl, followed by random barks and then rushed footsteps again. Your eyes fill with water as your mind races, unsure of what to do, where to go. You don’t want to die out here.

Smell? I smell bad?

Not bad, just new.

Fuck.

You snap your head over your shoulder, watching as the bushes in the distance start to shake as something moves through it. You push away from the tree and dart off to your left, ducking and dodging random limbs and vines as you try to flee. You keep turning around as you run - but you see nothing. You just hear it. Barking, growling, howling - the heavy footsteps pounding into the ground as it closes in on you.

“Shit!” You cry as you push yourself as hard as you can, willing your feet to carry you faster. Your lungs and legs burn as you cut through the trees, ignoring the stinging cuts on your arms and feet from the branches whipping against you. You turn again, gasping you finally spot the beast chasing you emerging from the brush.

Just as you do, your foot tangles in an exposed root, tripping you. You hit the ground hard, face first, screaming as pain rips through your ankle and lower leg. A shadow casts over you as a large mass jumps clear over your head. It lands on all fours, the ground shaking with its weight when it lands. You sit up quickly, trying to back away, dragging your now bum leg as your fingernails dig into the dirt underneath you.

You drag in a deep, shaky breath as instant tears flood your face. Your body shakes as your face completely breaks with emotion. You stare back into a pair of pitch black eyes. This beast is huge - larger than Steve and Rumlow combined. It howls again, making you scream as your eardrums nearly burst from the sound. It stands on its back legs as it bays again and you could swear it’s seven feet tall. It falls back to the earth with another heavy thud, then lowers its head as it zeros in on you again.

It starts to growl, snarling its lip to show its sharp, white teeth. It barks and snaps at you, saliva dripping from its mouth as it takes a step towards you. You scamper backwards but your back slams into a tree. You try to stand but fall back to the ground as your leg just can’t carry you. It steps towards you again, still growling, still snapping.

You push up against the tree as hard as you can, almost wanting it to swallow you whole. You shut your eyes as the heat from its breath washes over your face, the rush of air pushing from its nostrils tossing your hair. You squirm, whimpering when you feel its wiry hair on your legs, its whiskers grazing against your cheek. You turn your head as it sniffs at you loudly, pushing its long nose through your hair and down your neck.

It pushes out another forceful breath through its nose, making you jump. You blink your eyes, slowly opening them as you turn back to face it. You pull in deep, audible breaths as you stare back at this… thing, this affliction, as Wanda’s words come back to you. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are…

“Please,” you whisper quietly, so quietly you barely hear yourself, “Bucky, please.”

It tilts its head at the sound of the name - but not in the way you’d hoped. His eyes narrow as he snarls his lip again, that menacing growl rumbling through his chest and throat. His ears lay back on his head as he drops it, clearly threatened. He crouches down as he snaps at you again, dragging his front paw through the dirt as he readies himself to pounce.

You start to sob loudly, holding your hands out as you plead and beg - screaming for your life. The adrenaline and anxiety coursing through your veins becomes ever present as your head starts to spin. Your palms get sweaty, your heart racing and thumping against your chest as your body shakes. You can’t catch your breath, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t fill your lungs with air. You’re hot and cold all at the same time. Your vision tunnels - your pupils shrinking to the size of the tip of a pin.

Suddenly, everything goes black.

Bucky glances down at the woman in his arms as he trudges through the trees. It’s early morning, the sky still orange and pink as the birds start to sing. He’s not sure who she is, he just remembers her smell - strong - calling to him in the dark of the night. It’s the most vivid scent he’s ever encountered. So pure, so heavy that he can remember it even after his change. She’s not the usual newcomer around here - that he can tell.

He pushes into his home surroundings, most of their small community still snuggled tight in their cottages - “Bucky! There you are.”

He snaps his head towards the approaching Wanda, eyeing her as she steps next to him, sweeping her hand over the passed out woman’s forehead, “You know this one?” He asks.

She nods, “Just came to us yesterday. She’s -”

Bucky just nods, glancing out into the distance as he knows what she’s about to say, “She’s hurt. I think her ankle is broken. I might have - I think the gashes are from me.”

“No worries, I’ll get her fixed up. Do you mind taking her to your cottage?”

He sighs heavily, sending his eyes towards the small redhead, watching as she smiles softly, “Wanda,”

“You and Steve have more space,” she shrugs, her face filling with surprise as Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Sam and I just had a baby. This poor thing needs rest and looking after.”

“Well,” Bucky starts gruffly, “Steve can look after her then.”

Wanda throws her hands on her hips, giving him a stern look before she turns her attention to the shuffling coming from behind them, “Clint? Can you do me a favor?”

The short blonde approaches, nodding his head towards Bucky, “Of course. Who’s that?” He asks, pointing towards the unconscious woman in his hands.

Wanda smiles brightly, “She’s our Faery.”

Clint’s eyes widen as a smirk spreads on his face, “No shit, really?”

Wanda nods, and Bucky rolls his eyes again.

“What’s the favor?” Clint asks, chuckling softly.

“See if you can find Steve and Sam. They’re out looking for her. They couldn’t have gotten far.”

With another quick nod, Clint is now soaring towards the tops of the trees, his arms replaced by long, sleek wings as he transforms. He screeches, his bird call rippling through the forest as he flies out of sight.

Bucky starts to move again, readjusting the woman in his arms as her legs bounce against his naked thigh. He moves into he and Steve’s shared cottage, Wanda right behind him as he moves into his room. He lays the unconscious woman down on his bed before walking back out of the room without a word.

He collects a large bowl from the kitchen and fills it with warm water while grabbing clean towels and cotton swabs. He pads back into the room, sitting the supplies on the small table next to his bed before he pulls open the drawer, grabbing his stitch kit and tossing it on the bed.

“Where are you going?” Wanda questions from her spot on the bed, watching as he walks back towards his bedroom door.

Bucky doesn’t even turn around. He just holds up a bar of soap as he heads for the main door, “Bath.”

Bucky runs his hands through his short hair as he comes up from underneath the water. He’s still not really used to it, but he needed the haircut, and Steve actually did a good job on it. He keeps his eyes closed and his head tilted towards the sky as the sun beats down on him, warming him as he stands in the cool water. There is nothing better than a bath after a night of pillaging.

His mind floats back to Wanda and the strange woman keeping him from collapsing into his bed. He scoffs at just the thought. He’s never bought into Wanda’s bullshit. She’s been blowing smoke up his ass for years, but it just goes into one ear and right out the other one. She’s coming Bucky, I can feel it. She’ll fix this place and she’ll love you forever, plus a day. He rolled his eyes then and he rolls his eyes now. She seems to forget this place is a literal curse.

Who could love you? Bucky pops his eyes open as the thought floats through his mind. Who could actually love a monster like you? “Nobody,” he mumbles to himself, letting his eyes drop to the water. That’s why it’s all bullshit.

He hears a rustling in the trees and turns his head and body to watch Sam, Steve, and Clint emerge. Sam lifts his hand towards him, which Bucky returns with a head nod, before he swims towards the bank to join the three men.

“Where did you find her?” Steve asks as soon as he’s on the bank.

Bucky shrugs, “Out pretty far. I came across her on my way home.”

“She’s hurt?” Steve questions again, his face and eyes full of concern.

“Broken ankle, some gashes and cuts, but she’ll live.”

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?”

Bucky grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes, “I don’t know, maybe. What’s with all the fucking questions?”

Clint slaps him on his arm, smirking all the while, “You know Steve and that bleeding heart of his.”

“She’s our faery, we’re all supposed to take care of her.” Steve says, pushing past Bucky.

“Jesus,” Bucky mumbles, dropping his head into his hands to rub his face, “I’m not in the mood for all of this.”

“When are you ever in the mood?” Sam quips, shaking his head, “Where’s my wife?”

“In my bedroom, tending to our fabulous faery.” Bucky huffs, “Fuck, I just want to sleep. I should have put her in Steve’s room.”

“I wouldn’t talk about your soulmate like that, Barnes. Women don’t like sarcasm.” Sam smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t you start. She’s not my soulmate, she not gonna bring peace or whatever the fuck Wanda is always spouting off about. She’s just another cursed soul, just like the rest of us. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Sam and Clint glance at each other, shaking their heads at the cynical man before them, “Whatever, fuck off. I’m going to sleep.” Bucky grumbles, turning back towards his cottage.

“You can sleep at ours if you want,” Sam calls, “I'll bunk with Steve until the girl is back on her feet.”

“And have that sniffling, whiny little brat of yours waking me up every hour? No thanks.”

He ducks quickly as a rock whizzes by his head, “Don’t talk about my baby boy like that, Barnes!”

Bucky bounds inside his shared home and makes his way towards his bedroom, leaning against the door frame as he listens in on Wanda and Steve. The girl looks better already, the dried blood splattered on random parts of her body gone. Her tattered dress is also gone, replaced by one of Wanda’s hand sewn tunic’s. The deeper of her gashes are sewn together, her feet wrapped in leaves of the bountiful lamb ear.

Her face is soft as she breathes in and out gently. Her hands are crossed over her chest as Wanda crushes up more herbs beside her, smoothing the goop over her flesh wounds. He turns away after a few minutes, as her scent starts to make him dizzy in this confined space. He wonders how Steve can handle being that close.

His heavy feet carry him into the living room, his eyes growing heavier and heavier with each step. He falls onto the old, lumpy hand sewn pillows that sit atop the nicked up couch that Steve fashioned with his bare hands, and grabs the blanket thrown over the back. He covers his entire body and head while burying his face in the cushions as he tries to drown out Wanda and Steve’s hushed voices.

Bucky wakes with a start hours later. A loud pounding noise beats over the roof of the small cottage, making him spring up. He snaps his head towards the front door, finding it wide open. He stands quickly, peeking his head into his room, finding the woman still asleep on his bed but doesn’t find Wanda or Steve. He takes off towards the front door, but stops in his tracks when he realizes what the pounding is.

Rain.

He moves out onto the small porch, finding Steve sitting on the step, “How long has it been raining like this?”

“Hours,” Steve smiles up at him, “Started right after you fell asleep. Do you remember the last time it rained like this?”

Bucky shakes his head. They get showers here and there, just enough to keep the stream and the lake flowing but this? It’s been months since they’ve seen a steady, strong, purposeless rain.

“Wanda had a premonition, a strong one. She had to go lay down.” Steve says gently, not taking his eyes off the rain, “She said this is just the beginning. This is because of her.”

“Steve, come on-”

“There’s not going to be a full moon tonight.” Steve says, cutting him off, “Wanda saw it, Buck.”

Bucky squares his jaw as an irrational anger flushes through him, “That’s not possible.”

“It is. She saw it, Bucky. Wanda is never wrong, you know that. She’s proved it time and time again.”

“I’ve been here for seventy years,” Bucky growls, his tone hard, “I’ve turned every night - every single night there’s a full moon. That’s my affliction, it doesn’t just go away because some woman shows up one day.”

Steve drops his head, shaking it softly. He shrugs after a minute or two, not wanting to pick a fight, “Okay, Buck.”

“I don’t know why you fall for that shit.”

“Maybe because I want to believe in something more, something bigger. I get it,” Steve retorts, “We fucked up in our old lives, but we were given a second chance.”

“A second chance?” Bucky asks incredulously, “You call this a second chance? Bound to a god forsaken forest and having to skulk around like an animal for the rest of eternity?”

Steve hangs his head, but smirks nonetheless, “It’s not that bad.”

“For you,” Bucky reminds him, “Try having your limbs twist and break every night and get back to me about it being a second chance.”

Bucky pushes past him, off of the porch and into the rain. He lets it beat down on him, cleansing him of the anger building inside of his chest before he pushes his hands over his hair, “I’m going for a walk.”

Steve just nods in acknowledgement and returns his gaze towards the gray sky.

You wake up slowly, fluttering your eyes as you stretch out your limbs. You rub your face as you groan slightly, rolling your head into the pillows beneath you. You sit up and let out a yawn before you glance around the unfamiliar room. It’s minimal, a table, a chair in the corner, and a bed. It’s cozy still, even with the scarce decor.

You’ve never felt better in your life. All the aches and pains in your body are gone. There’s no anxiety or fear. Your eyes don’t burn, your throat isn’t dry. You feel so good. You glance down, running your fingers over the hand stitched garment that covers your body. You then graze your fingers over the stitches in your leg, a purple and blue bruise surrounding it, but you feel no pain. You unwrap the leaves around your feet and wiggle your toes before you toss your legs over the side of the bed.

You notice a small bowl of fruit and a homemade mug sitting on the small wooden table next to the bed. You pick up the bowl, popping what looks like a blueberry into your mouth before you moan in satisfaction, closing your eyes as you swallow. You stand, tucking the bowl into your chest and grabbing the mug before you head out of the bedroom. You glance around as you move slowly through the cottage, from room to room, finding it empty. As you pop a strawberry into your mouth, you move out of the second bedroom and back into the living room, where you peek out of the small window.

A steady, hard rain pours from the gray sky. You stand and watch for a few minutes, bringing the mug to your lips and draining the cup of it’s sweet liquid. You sit the now empty cup and bowl down and walk out onto the porch, the defending sound of the rain now unmuted by the walls of the cottage. You reach your hand out, letting the fat drops plop against it as a smile spreads on your face. You’ve always loved the rain.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, breathing in the earth - the dirt and leaves and grass - letting it fill your lungs as they’re all nurtured by the water. Without thinking, you step off of the small porch, right into the rain, letting it wash over you. Your hair sticks to your head, your thin tunic becomes glued to the curves of your body, accentuating your hips and breasts as you start to walk aimlessly through the quiet, sleepy little community.

You move into a field of tall grass and hold out your hands as you walk slowly, letting the blades graze your palms. You close your eyes again as your head starts to swim and a warmth starts to spread through your body, starting in your toes and moving all the way up to your head. You’re not sure what exactly has happened over the past twenty four hours but, now, with each passing minute, you start to feel like you’re home - almost as if this is what you’ve been searching for your whole life.

“What are you doing?” You jump at the sound of the deep, gruff voice. You pop your eyes open, spinning on your feet to come face to face with a dark haired man. His eyes are a crystal blue, his jaw square, his eyes crinkled in the corners as he squints at you, “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“W-why not?” You ask softly.

“You’re ankle, it’s-” he drops his eyes to your feet, his lips parting as he finds them in perfect condition, “What did you do?”

He moves towards you quickly, scaring you slightly as he lifts the thin material covering your body, “What did you do?” He asks again, his voice irritated, his eyes angry.

“N-nothing. Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Your ankle was broken. Wanda had to give you stitches in that leg.” He points.

You snatch the material of your tunic from his fingers, stepping back, “I still have the stitches,” you rebuff, glancing down at your leg, “See? They’re right -”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at your now healed leg. You shake your head, letting out a breath, “I just… the stitches were there, my leg was bruised, just… just right before I walked out here.”

You look up at the man standing before you, your eyes bouncing wildly between his as he stares back at you. You can’t read his expression, but the wheels in his head are definitely turning as he drops his eyes from yours. He turns his head to the side slightly and stares into the grass as he tries to work something out in his brain.

“Do you know what’s happening to me?” You ask softly as you push your wet hair out of your face.

He turns back to face you as soon as the words leave your lips. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. He just stares at you as the rain beats on him, slipping down his neck and chest and abs before it hits the ground below.

“You haven’t spoken to Wanda?”

“Just a little,” you shrug, swallowing hard as you drop your head to look at your feet, “I didn’t really, um, give her a chance to explain it all. I was... scared.”

You feel his eyes roam over you as you twist the bottom of your tunic in your fingers, “You need to talk to Wanda. She’ll explain it to you.” He answers simply as he turns away.

You watch him as he walks away from you. His shoulders broad, the muscles in his back flexing as he moves. You bite your lip as your eyes fall to his behind, sculpted and hard, and his thighs, thick and sturdy. Your stomach clenches. The rain doesn’t help either - the water droplets cascading down his sinewy body, providing you with quick, fragmented images of your tongue licking each droplet away.

You let out a breath, and then Wanda’s words float back to you again, stronger and louder this time. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are.

“Are you, um,” you call out to him, “Are you Bucky?”

He stops, rolling his shoulders in irritation, “What about it?”

“You’re what attacked me last night?”

You watch as he drops his head, his back muscles tensing as your question reaches him. He turns to face you, his jaw tight, his eye narrowed, “You’re still breathing aren’t you?”

You glance around nervously, “Well, yeah, I-“

“Then I didn’t attack you, did I?”

You swallow. You’re not sure if it’s just you or if he’s always like this, but he’s trying really hard to intimidate you. It’s working… kind of, “You tried too.” You answer back quietly.

He scoffs at the notion, “If I had tried to attack you, I’d be digesting you right about now. I should’ve, I wouldn’t have to eat for a week. That would be a welcome change.”

You squint your eyes at the unnecessarily rude comment, “You’re an asshole.” You spit back angrily, your brow furrowing, “I’m just trying to-“

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do.” He shouts, “Keep outta my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“No problem there, pal.”

“Wonderful, darling.” He sneers, before turning and walking off again.

You scoff hard, crossing your arms over your chest in a huff. You cut your eyes back towards him as he moves through the grass and your stomach tightens again. A warmth spreads through you as your fingers start to itch - wanting to feel him. Your lips part as your breath starts to come a little faster - a little harder - and you’re not even sure why. Something is just drawing you to him.

You don’t understand for the life of you what’s happening in this moment. Maybe it was the berries and fruit, or that drink that was left by the bedside, but you’re warm all over, your head is spinning and you want nothing more than to feel that man inside of you - even now after your tense exchange. Heat rises in your cheeks as your breath starts to rush. You twist the bottom of your tunic harder as you become acutely aware of the ache between your legs. A fire starts to rage in the pit of your stomach - you want him to put it out.

Before you can stop yourself, you're running after him, your feet squishing in the mud as you move. You reach out for him once you’re close, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. He turns quickly, bringing to you a quick halt in front of him. He scrunches his face in utter confusion and maybe a little annoyance as he blinks down at you, “What? What do you want?”

You push up onto your tiptoes and kiss him hard. You moan into him as you rest a hand on his shoulder and push the other into his hair, pulling him closer. He pulls away seconds later, his lips parted and swollen, pure befuddlement playing in his eyes.

You blink back at him as your chest heaves. You open your mouth to speak, but you can’t find the words. Your mind is just - blank. You rest your hands on his shoulders again and drop your eyes to his chest as your fingers start to trace the light scars littered across his otherwise smooth skin. Some are old and white, some deep and purple, some raised, some smooth. They’re all beautiful - they make him beautiful. You drop your hands down to his stomach, just feeling him, his muscles, his masculinity, his strength.

You bite your lip.

You take a deep breath as you feel his arms wrap around you, his hands cupping your ass before he lifts you right off your feet. You stare back into his ice blue eyes as you push your hands into his dark hair again and wrap your legs around his waist. He kisses you - deeply. You accept his tongue into your mouth, letting it massage the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. You push your chest into his as your lips smack against one another’s, both of your moans rising into the air around you.

The rain is still heavy as he lays you down in the grass. You tug at the wet garment covering your body, pulling it over your head to expose your nakedness to him. You’ve never been this forward in your life, but something is pulling you, filling you with confidence and power and awareness. You want to be one with him, with the earth, with the wind and the rain. You want to connect with everything around you. You let him grope your breast with his large, calloused hand. You let him drag his lips along your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin.

He pushes your legs open gruffly with his hand as he pulls away from you. You dig your feet into the wet, soft earth, the mud squishing between your toes as you feel his rough fingers sweep through your folds. He rubs at your clit quickly, not really for you, but for him - just to touch you - giving you the feeling that it’s been a while since he’s felt a woman. Pride swells in your chest.

He then leans over, his lips hovering over yours, his fingers gripping the grass. Then - oh, and then - he starts pushing at your opening, breaking into your awaiting cunt. You gasp as your body inhales inch after inch of him until he’s buried to his hilt - his hips flush against yours. You whimper softly as your flesh stretches wider than ever before to hold him. It feels good. You let out the breath that you’ve been holding as Bucky settles into the feeling of you. His eyes flutter as his mouth hangs, the rain dripping off of his brow and the tip of his nose down onto you.

He bucks into you and you grunt, grabbing onto his forearms and digging your nails into his thick skin. He pushes again, and again, and again until he has a succinct, hard rhythm. Your body bounces with each thrust, your pussy gripping him harder and harder with each pass. The sky really opens up then. A flash of lightning streaks across the sky as a crack of thunder rips through the silence. Not that either one phases the two of you.

You lean up and kiss him again, biting down on his lips as he fucks into you. You wrap an arm around his shoulders and neck, hanging on for dear life as you breathe him in - the raw, carnal scent of him filling your lungs. He thrusts into you suddenly, as hard as he can, and then just stays there, pressing against the deepest part of you. Another bolt of lightning slashes through the sky as you cry out - his name falling from your lips - the sound of it tripping off your tongue sending a shiver right down his spine.

Your pussy starts to quiver as he moves again. His hips are quick and swift, his cock pushing, pushing, pushing until you’re writhing underneath him. Tears sting your eyes as the intensity of the past twenty four hours rolls through your body. Every synapse within you fires as the warm tears start to slip out of the corners of your eyes, the hard rain sweeping them away.

You cry out again as a sharp pain travels through you, your sensitive nipple now between Bucky’s teeth. Thunder claps again. You push your chest into his wet mouth as his tongue swirls around your skin. He bites down again and your hips jerk up into his as you roll your head in the mud. You run your hands up and down his arms, gripping and groping as his weight pins you to the ground. You’re almost certain that as he drills his hips into yours, he’ll push you right into the ground, straight down to the earth’s core.

The orgasm that’s been laying in wait, deep inside of your belly, starts to ripple through you. The sparks start to fly, soft as first but within minutes, the embers are now a full blown fire. You screech and wail as your body tenses and curls into his. The rain gets harder, the lightning spidering through the clouds, the thunder so loud it could burst your eardrums. Another push of his hips and you let out a long, deep growl as your release is finally set free.

The air whips up around you as you come undone beneath him, shaking the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass. His hips still crash into yours as you claw at his back with your fingernails, but they grow more desperate as the seconds pass. A moan rumbles through his chest, then his breathing hitches - his eyes slam shut. You tense, squeezing your slick pussy around his cock as he starts to spill his seed. You want it all, every last drop - not an ounce to be wasted.

You grab his face in your hands and press your forehead into his as you both ride out the waves of your orgasms. The warmth of his thick cum spreads through you as his hips jerk and his body shudders. His body slides against yours until he is totally spent, collapsing on top of you when he just can’t hold himself up any longer. You cradle his head with your hands as he tucks into the crook of your neck. You push your fingers through his wet, dark tresses, massaging his scalp slowly as you stare up into the sky.

The rain slows - it’s still steady, but calmer than before. The lightning and thunder disappears, the wind dies away. You and Bucky stay connected as you drag your fingers up and down his spine. He leans back after a few minutes pass, and stares down at you, his eyes roaming your face as he tries and fails to figure you out.

“Who are you?” He asks softly, slowly realizing the power you hold.

You breathe gently as you blink back at him, “I don’t know.”

You throw your head back as you pant loudly. Your hips roll against Bucky’s as you ride him on top of his bed. You lean forward slightly, pressing your palms into his broad chest, your fingers digging into his flesh. His strong hands are around your hips, helping you move, pushing you forward and then backwards, and then forwards again.

A bead of sweat slips between your breasts but his tongue captures it before it can delve any further. He falls back onto the thin mattress that holds the two of you and lets his hands fall to your thighs, “God,” he pushes out between clenched teeth, “S’fuckin’ good, girl.”

You start to bounce on top of him, pushing more of your weight into the center of his chest. His hands leave your hips to grip your bouncing tits, massaging them hard before he takes each of your nipples between his rough fingers. He slips his hands around to your back, groping your flesh quickly before he grabs your long locs to pull them gently. You groan as a slight pain prickles at your scalp, but smile as you push your hands up to cup your breasts.

The rain picks up outside again as the familiar pull of an orgasm starts to tickle your insides. You work your hips, up and down, up and down, up and down on his cock until you’re quaking. Your clit jumps with convulsions as you come, your thin fingers stroking the aching flesh to exacerbate the feeling. Bucky isn’t far behind, just like the other four times the two of you have made love throughout the day and evening.

He hisses and grunts as he lifts his hips into yours, fucking up into you as his spunk fills you to the brim before it slips back out and down his shaft. The thunder outside cracks again as you fuck him for all he’s worth, until you literally can’t sit up any longer. You fall onto his chest, your breath heavy and hard as you nuzzle into him. Your skin sticks to his as humidity fills the room but you hum happily.

You start to trace the scars on his chest with your index finger, your eyes growing heavy. You still don’t know what is drawing you to this man. One minute, you’re both seething with anger directed at one another, the next, you’re making love like it’s your last hours on earth. With each passing moment, you feel him seeping into your heart - your soul - and you don’t even know him. All you know is that you don’t ever want to leave this bed again.

“I have a question.” You whisper after several minutes.

“What’s that?” He slurs, half asleep.

“How long have you been here?”

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding your body tight to his, “Too long.”

“How long?” You press.

“Seventy years,” he says, letting out a breath, “Give or take a year or two. Go to sleep.”

You giggle but close your eyes anyway, “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that a time or two. Now shut up, I mean it.”

“Steve said that I was already claimed. What does that mean?”

“You’ve asked your question, girl.”

“Come on,” you whine, “Please?”

He sighs heavily, turning his head into the pillow, keeping his eyes closed, “There’s evil out there in the woods. Not everybody is as nice as us.”

You sit up, flattening your palm to his chest as you blink at the side of his face, “Rumlow? He’s evil?”

“You saw Rumlow? When?” He asks, popping his eyes open as he turns to face you.

“Yesterday, when Steve found me.”

Bucky lets out another breath, his eyes calming, “He’s evil. It’s a good thing he didn’t find you first.” He reaches towards you, sliding his hand along your face before he cups your chin, “Now, I’m going to put you out if you don’t go to sleep.”

You smile softly and lay back down on his chest, nuzzling into him, “Sheesh, okay grumpy.”

He tightens his grip around your waist and just as you are slipping between consciousness and sleep, you swear you feel his lips on your forehead and hear a faint goodnight, girl.

Bucky sits straight up as a jolt of fear flashes through him. He snaps his head towards the window as the sun peaks in behind the thin, white curtains that cover it. Daytime. It’s daytime and he’s still in his bed. How in the -

Something shifts beside him and he jerks again, letting out a breath as an arm slinks over his chest. He eyes the small woman next to him, her leg slung over both of his, her face nuzzled into his bicep as she drags in deep, calm breaths. The previous day’s events flash through his mind - his lips on hers, her nails dug into his skin, her sweet gasps as he plunged into her over and over and over again.

She’s coming Bucky, I can feel it. She’ll fix this place and she’ll love you forever, plus a day.

Wanda’s words play back through his mind. He huffs, letting out a breath before he lowers his head to his hands and rubs his face. He turns his head and peeks over at the sleeping woman next to him. It’s been a long time since he’s woken up to such a sight. Warm brown skin, long locs spidering across the stark white sheets, a gentle, soft face… it takes him back to the 40s. How it felt to wake up next to his girl everyday. God, he wonders where she is now, if she’s even still alive.

He blinks and reaches out slowly, placing his palm flat on her back. He watches as it rises and falls with each steady breath before he sweeps his fingers across her smooth skin. He cups the side of her face and rubs his thumb across her cheek… it’s been a long time… and it feels nice. She feels nice.

Movement outside of his door grabs his attention and then a soft knock spreads through the room. Steve pokes his head in, smiling softly as he eyes the sleeping girl.

“This is not what it looks like.” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face again.

“Of course it isn’t,” Steve shrugs, “Wanda’s here for you.”

“Wonderful,” Bucky titters, “Give me a minute.”

When Steve disappears, Bucky turns back towards the sleeping body next to him. He dips down and places his lips to her forehead, and then the side of her face, and then on the tip of her nose before he sits up straight. He watches as she smiles in her sleep, before she hums softly. He smiles back. He throws his feet over the edge of the bed and stands - what the fuck is happening to him? He couldn’t stand her twelve hours ago.

“Wanda,” he starts as he moves into the living room, shutting his door, “What brings you here so early?”

She smirks, tossing her red hair over her shoulder as Steve hands her a mug, “You know why I’m here.”

“Do I?” He asks sarcastically - smirking as she levels a slap to his arm.

“How is she?”

“Who?”

“Goddamn you, Barnes!” She laughs.

“She’s fine,” he shrugs, “Still sleeping.”

“With you?”

Bucky sends his eyes towards her, squinting them just a bit as she smiles back at him. Steve hands him a mug seconds later, which he accepts and sips before he answers, “Nosy ass.”

“You are awfully nonchalant about this whole thing,” Steve pipes up, “It rained like hell all day and well into the night, and then, more importantly, you didn’t turn. No full moon, and all we get from you is your usual sarcasm.”

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, that was nice.”

“That was nice?” Steve scoffs, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Bucky laughs lightly, “Okay, yes, some weird shit is going on, alright? I don’t have an answer for you.”

“It’s not weird, it’s her.” Wanda says, sending her eyes to his closed door, “She is powerful.”

Bucky rubs his face again, his brain turning, “It still doesn’t make any sense. You have to be cursed to end up here, right? So how does she have all of this power? Where is it coming from? Who fucking decides?”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” Wanda says, tilting her head, “We may have been cursed, but even here, in this place, we all still have a destiny to fulfill. We were meant to adapt and survive for some reason or another. Our afflictions have shown that.”

Bucky casts his eyes to his feet as he runs his hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to bring up that within twenty four hours, her broken ankle is completely healed. That not one scratch is present on her body. That every time she came in his arms, the wind and the rain got stronger and harder. If he does, it’s real. Everything Wanda’s been telling them for years is actually coming true - and he’s found the love of his life.

“What is it? What happened?” Wanda asks, eyeing him quietly, “What are you thinking?”

Bucky clicks his tongue, throwing her a look, “Nothing, damn.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, so help me!”

He rolls his eyes, “She’s… her ankle, you remember? It was broken, clearly.”

“I remember.”

“Well, it’s not, now,” he says slowly, shifting his eyes around the room, “It wasn’t yesterday when she was roaming around outside.” He snaps his eyes to Wanda when she gasps and covers her mouth with her fingers, “The gash on her leg, her feet, they’re all healed up. It’s like nothing even happened to her.”

Wanda’s eyes go wide as she glances off into space, her mind racing. She opens her mouth to speak, but a loud knock at the front door interrupts her, “Babe,” Sam starts as he pops his head inside, “You gotta come look at this.”

The three of them follow the excited Sam as he pulls them down towards the lake. The waterfall rushes with intensity, the water level of the lake higher than they’ve ever seen it. They rush up the hill just to the side of the lake and waterfall to the connecting stream above and stop in their tracks as they push through the trees.

Fish, all sizes and colors, leap from the water and then dive back in as they swim along. Natasha pops her head up out of the water, her green-blue tail swishing behind her, “Do you see this?” She laughs, “This is incredible! We haven’t had fish like this in God only knows how long.”

“When did this start?” Bucky asks.

“Last night, but it was just a few. Carol and I just thought a few got separated from their school, but we woke up this morning to all of this.”

The water starts to ripple upstream as something cuts through it with ease. Once the shadow underneath reaches them, it circles Natasha before it bobs up in the water, Carol’s blue eyes and warm smile falling onto the group, “Go check the orchards. I’ve never seen them like this.”

Apples, oranges, peaches, and lemons scatter the ground as Bucky, Sam, Wanda, and Steve move through the trees. They haven’t yielded in months and now they are so full, they can’t even hold their production. Wanda’s eyes fill with tears as she reaches towards a blueberry bush, plucking off a single berry. Sam wraps her up in his arms, kissing the side of her face as she smiles up at him through the emotion, “She’s going to save us, Sam. We’re going to be okay.”

“I never lost faith, baby.” He whispers, swaying her gently back and forth, “Never for a minute.”

Steve picks a bright red apple from the sprawling tree above him and brings it to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it. He closes his eyes and hums in appreciation as the sweet taste explodes against his taste buds.

Bucky wipes at the corners of his mouth, wiping away the juices from the plumb he’s just inhaled. Wanda was right. He should have never doubted her.

“Is everything okay?” A soft voice sounds behind them, making them all turn. You stand a few feet away, worry written all over your face, the bottom of your tunic bunched in your hand, “I woke up and everybody was gone.”

You cut your eyes to Bucky as he plucks a handful of blueberries from a small bush. He walks towards you, stepping right up to you before he brings one of the berries to your lips. Your eyes bounce back and forth between his, searching for an answer that you’re not sure he has. You’re almost shocked when he smiles back at you. You open your mouth and accept the small piece of fruit, chewing slowly before you swallow.

“Everything’s okay.” He answers, kissing your lips quickly - softly, “We’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you.”

You turn your head towards Wanda as she advances, placing her hands on your shoulder, a smile on her face, “Come, baby. I have much to tell you about your journey.”

#ldamc #buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #SSB2020 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #you x bucky #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #black reader #bucky barnes x black reader #avintagekiss24

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wolfish-trickster · 4 years ago

Text

Liar

Loki x female!reader

Part 2 (I wanted the first part to be only oneshot, but since a lot of you asked so nicely)

Word count: 2,5K

Warning: angst, fluffy doggie

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz @lokis-leah @belovedadam @getyoutmoon

You heard him through your door shouting your name, begging you to listen to him, to let him inside to talk to you. You didn't. Your hands tried to cover Rex's ears. Poor pup, he started shivering from all of that shouting and was clinging to you for dear life.

When Loki became quiet for few minutes you kinda expected him to kick the door, call you a bitch and leave. But nothing like that happened. Instead hard footsteps started leaving your door. You were alone once again, feeling more hollow than ever.

Sun hasn't even risen yet when you exited the Tower with Rex on the leash. You spent big part of the night making your little friend used to the feeling of being on string and he was already eager to try it out outside your room. You haven't met anyone on your way out, thank heavens.

It started to dawn when you finally got to the park you've been in yesterday. First rays of sun tickled you on your cheeks. Rex was running around, sniffing and marking every tree, chewing on grass and lower parts of benches. You threw him some branches and cones and giggled when he tripped over his small paws. He was so full of life. Unlike you.

You missed Loki. You hated him for what he did, true. But you still missed him. He was so desperate to explain, to make up with you. But you couldn't let him manipulate you anymore. You almost believed him when he called you 'love' and stayed at your door, pleading to be let in.

Almost.

Now that your dog was freshened up after a morning walk, both you and him deserved breakfast. You didn't feel any hunger, but you still needed to put something into you. Even if it will taste like sand in your mouth.

The elevator dinged on the floor containing living room and kitchen. You prayed Loki wasn't there. He wasn't, but you were greeted by another god instead.

Thor was sitting at the table, he had his back to you, but you knew he heard you coming. Rex excitedly ran towards him and started sniffing his leg. You gently pulled him backwards a little.

"Morning," you greeted, your voice a little less cheerful like it used to be.

Thor swallowed anything he was chewing and turned towards you. "What did you do to Loki?"

Of course he had to go and complain to his big bro. "None of your business," you retorted and tied the end of the leash around one of the chairs. You knew if you let your pup go you would have to chase him around the whole New York.

"It is my business. He is my brother-"

"Adoptive," you reminded him his own words he once said the first time you met.

"-adoptive brother. But still mine. Y/N, you used to be so close, why did you lash out on him like that?"

You rolled your eyes. "He deserved it," you started to pour water into kettle.

"He deserved it how?"

"Look, I know what are you going to think when I tell you the truth. But frankly, I don't care. He betrayed me- no, he lied to me. Our whole friendship was a damn game to him. I was a damn game to him. He manipulated me, played the poor sad victim of abusive father so I could get him out of the prison. Which I did! I was so stupid. You were right, all of you were right and I was wrong. He's a villain who can't be trusted," when you ended your rant you realized you gathered enough water for two cups of tea out of habit. You poured half of the kettle down the sink.

"And why do you think he did all of that?" Thor asked

You gulped down the lump creating in your throat upon remembering his words. "I heard him," you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

While the water was heating up you filled Rex's bowel with some canned meat and put it infront of his little snout.

"You must've heard wrong then."

"And how can you be so sure? You weren't even there!" water started bubbling.

"I know Loki better than anyone in this building," he pointed at his chest.

"Well, you know him wrong, just like I did! I trusted him and he-"

"He trusted you back! With his own life!"

"No," you sniffed. "He did not. And I see it now. All those nice things he did, all those hugs and gifts. He did all of it so I could trust him more," you turned away from him. "I don't know why he's still keeping up the 'good guy' facade. He knows I found out. Does he really think me so stupid to fall for his trick again?" a tear or two escaped your eyes.

"He doesn't. I have known him his whole life Y/N, he's not that kind of a person. He is genuenly sorry."

"Then why isn't he here? Why isn't he telling me he's sorry? Did he make you fix his mistake?" you asked a little too tetchily.

"Y/N, I-"

"Y/N! My dear, you are up earlier than I expected," Thor's voice came from behind you. The one in front of you, did a facepalm, pain on his face. "It is a nice sight to wake up to," the Thor behind you winked, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the other Thor hiding his face in his big palm.

You turned to the facepalming Thor. "Loki, you nasty bastard!" your hand was twitching to throw still burning kettle at his head as he let the illusion vanish, but you didn't want to scare Rex.

"Y/N, listen to me," he took a stwp forward, you step backward and your lower back hit the counter.

"And why should I?! You lied again! How am I supposed to trust you after all your lies?!"

"Technically I didn't lie, you never asked if I was the real Thor," there was his silvertongue again.

"Fuck you and your sarcasm, Laufeyson," you never wished for a puppy to finish eating more than now. All you wanted to do was pick him up and hide in your room again.

"Whoa, is this about the yelling we heard yesterday?" Thor asked.

"You heard it?" you couldn't have been so loud, could you?

"Yelling yes, topic no."

"Oh, so he didn't boast?" you glared back at the trickster god.

"No, I am a big boy, I can fix my own problems without pouring my heart out to anyone. So to answer your previous question: no, I did not make Thor fix my mistake. And for your second question: I am here now, and I am willing to apologize, even though I did nothing wrong, technically."

"Yeah, technically you only broke my trust and my heart," you took your cup of tea in one hand, put Rex's bowel in the sink and untied his leash with the second hand.

He ran before you and held you by your shoulders. "Technically I was doing what I had to."

"Yes, getting some gold digger drunk and getting in her pants is something you had to do," you tried to walk by him but his grip was firm.

"No, you misunderstood the whole situation. It was part of a mission. She was a mistress of one retired agent of hydra and she allegedly had some useful info. Tony thought that with my charm and silvertongue I could make her give it to us," his eyes seemed to tell the truth.

"And how did your conversation turn to me, huh?"

He sighed. "She saw my lockscreen and asked who was the girl on it. I had to lie. I had to tell her all those filthy lies to convince her I truly want her. My tongue burned the whole time, believe me."

You looked at him, long and hard. A sad chuckle escaped your lips. "You are a master at lying, I give you that. And this one," you slipped from his grasp, "was well thought out."

You ran to your room, leaving both brothers bewildered in the kitchen. When you closed the door behind you and let Rex go off his leash, that's when you broke. You fell down toyour knees and started crying. How could you be so stupid to fall for one of his tricks again?

You felt Rex's little tongue licking salty trials from your cheeks, his wet cold nose nudging your face. He brought you one of his squeeky toys and showed you how to play with them. He was doing anything to cheer you up.

This little guy knew you for only a day and a half and he already loved you with his entire being. The stranger in park was right, dog really is man's bestfriend.

You played with your pup. You didn't have enrgy to do anything more productive. He already understood the concept of retrieving and he always came running back to you with any toy you threw him.

When it was time for lunch, you put a leash on Rex and using secret staircases and halls to avoid kitchen and any common areas you got out. On your way to the park you bought yourself something to eat.

Rex smelled the meat in the food and stood up on two legs, begging for a treat. One does not simply resist his puppy eyes.

When you entered through the gate circling the park you spot a big familiar golden retriever. Ollie.

He recognised you and was dragging his owner by his leash towards you. The owner recognised you too. "Hello there, do you remember me?"

"Of course I do. As well as this pretty boy," you patted Ollie on the head. Rex got jealous and instead of greeting a fellow canine he tugged your jean with his tiny needle-like teeth. You scratched him behind his ears. "But of course, you are much prettier boy," as if he understood the praise he puffed his tiny chest and looked very pleased with himself.

"I see you followed my advice," the man pointed at your dog.

"Yeah, and you were right. He did make everything a little better. At times," you smiled sadly.

"Don't worry, time heals everything," he put his hand on your shoulder sympatheticly.

"I hope so," you sighed.

"By the way, seems like we are becoming dog buddies. Wouldn't it be good to know each others' names?" he changed the subject.

"Yeah, I suppose it would," you held out your free hand. "Y/N."

He took it. "Max."

You convinced Max to stay out with you as long as he could. You really didn't want to return to Tower anytime soon. You made at least 4 rounds around the enormous park, Rex gave up walking after the thrid one and you had to carry him.

Max told you how he got cheated on in more detail. How it resoluted in a big fight, flying plates and broken bottles. You told him your own situation. You had to change few details, so he wouldn't find out you are an Avenger.

"What do you think Max? Should I trust him?"

"Honestly? I don't know. He did sound like a cool guy until you got to the whole 'gold digger' part. Do you want to trust him?"

Your eyes studied dirt below your boots. "Yes, he was my closest friend. And I miss him. But I can't let myself be his toy again. I don't want him to hurt me," you hugged Rex tighter to your chest and he started licking any piece of skin he could reach, mainly your neck.

"He sounded like he was really sorry. I would try to reason with him and talk to him more, but I can't tell you what to do."

You hummed. Your bag started to buzz. You fished out your phone and looked at the icon. It was blank, but the caller ID was called 'Loki'. You made few changes at night and deleted the old selfie.

"Speak of the devil," you reluctantly picked up. "What do you want?"

"To show you a proof," his voice sounded tired and emotionless. A little hoarse.

"Why are you still trying?" you asked, tiredness evident in your voice too.

"Because I don't want to loose you. Please, just this once. Let me show it to you, and then you are free to leave. For good," he really sounded defeated. If you didn't know better you would run to him and hugged him tightly.

You pondered it a little. It could be another trick. Eventually you gave in. "Fine, I'll be there in 10 to 15 minutes," you hung up and turned towards Max. "I'm sorry, I have to go. It was great talking to you!"

"You too. Good luck!"

"This better not be one of your tricks," you entered Bruce's second lab, just as Loki instructed. He was sitting at one of Bruces desks behind a big monitor. "It isn't, trust me."

"That's something that's really hard to do," you glared.

He hid his hurt and pressed play. A video from security cameras was playing. With audio as well. You saw him pouring red wine fro him and the woman. She wasn't blond how you imagined her but the rest of her looked exactly like in your head: plastic.

Few flirts were exchanged and then you heard the part you were already familiar with. Your heart hurt and you felt Rex rub himself on your leg.

He was telling the truth. When she said what they wanted to hear, Loki touched her forhead and she stood up and left as if nothing ever happened.

He turned the video off and turned to you. You didn't know how to react. You were so glad he didn't mean those words he said. But hearing them still hurt.

"Loki, I know what you said wasn't truth, and I really want to trust you again. But..."

He hung his head. "I understand. Being friends with a liar is risky as it is," he stood up and walked toward glass doors.

'Move! Tell him something! Anything! Tell him you're sorry! Tell him you want to be friends again!' your mind screamed at you. You opened your mouth, but no words left it. You felt paralyzed.

Before he could exit completely, he turned towards you and smiled, though his eyes were hollow and wet. "He does deserve the 'best friend' title more than me," his voice broke in the middle of the sentence and left, before you could hear his heart breaking anew.

Part 3?

#loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki angst #loki x reader angst #im sorry

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capituloperdido1 · 3 years ago

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ACOSAS

Chapter 1

Here is the first chapter, please let me know what you guys think! Warnings: Anxiety Attack, mentions of SA

There was not a night, in which the shadowsinger did not wake up sweating after his night terrors. It had become a routine for him, to see the flames in his dreams, to see the smiles and dark eyes of his so-called brothers while they laughed at his pain. At first, he would find ways to comfort himself, he would read, pray to the Mother, and even journal (a suggestion given to him by his blonde friend). However, after the years passed, and his nightmares did not disappear, he had come to realize that the nightmare was a punishment from the cauldron. The scars, the nightmares, the fact that he did not have a mate; it was all a punishment for the horrors that he had committed. So he accepted the nightmares, he accepted the scars, the accepted the loneliness, he accepted the punishment Azriel rolled over the bed, taking off the sheets that had covered his body; and sat at the edge of the bed. He took a couple of seconds to look around his room. Five... the grey walls, the black wooden desk, the leather chair in front of the fireplace, the basket of dirty clothes, and the book that the priestess had let him borrowed. Four... the satin sheets on his bed, the trim curls on his head, the fleece black pants he wore, and the wooden decorations that surrounded his bed. Three... the chirping of birds in the morning, faint music from Velaris, and the sound of trees moving with the wind. Two... whiskey and roses. One... the taste of the chocolate pudding the house had given him the night before. He exhaled as his mind acknowledged reality. Sometimes, when the nightmares were too real; he woke up afraid to be in that cell... prison that his childhood self had called home. He stood, looking for his fighting leaders as he got ready to go to the training ring. Maybe the day ahead was not going to be bad, maybe something good might happen. Maybe, a certain auburn-haired priestess would be there. -.-.-.-.- The sun was just rising, the cold autumn wind tickled his wings as he flew up the house of wind. As if she had guessed he wanted to see her this morning; Gywn moved with gracious velocity while she tried the new obstacle arrangement that was meant for that morning. Azriel smiled to himself, one thing that he admired of the priestess was her willingness to overcome any challenge. She had become known around Prythian, the priestess, and her Valkarie friends, as the fiercest women in their territory. Some feared the group of females, others wanted to become like them. After the Valkaryes had conquered the mountain, many more priestesses had come to train with them; even some Illyrian females, not more than a dozen, had decided to learn the ways of the warriors. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn had to help him and his brother train the new recruits; so they had resolved that the hour after the normal training would be focused on the three of them. However, over the last few months, he had a few one on one training sessions with the priestess. Once her smell hit him, his shadows became restless; one mischievous shadow shooting towards Gwyn and flying around her. They always reacted to her that way, as if they were anticipating throughout days and nights when they would see her again. At first, Azriel had been mortified; he worried that being surrounded by his shadows would make her uneasy, afraid or even disgusted. But, as always, the priestess had surprised him by smiling and opening her hands every time she saw them; welcoming his shadows with eagerness, not fear. -I was wondering if you would come today- she said playing with his shadow. Stop, come back he said to the shadow; but again it ignored him and flew around her hair as if saying i'm not leaving until i want to. -I had a feeling you were going to fail the training course, i could not miss it- he said jokingly. -mhm, sure shadowsinger- she smiled, taking a sip of her water - we both know I'm faster and more agile than you ever were- He laughed and took his leather jacket off A moment passed, and he confessed,- i couldn't sleep- -me neither- she said smiling sadly. They had never talked

about it.

What kept them up at night, they didn't need to. They resorted to talking about books, trains and make snarky remarks to each other. He had to admit that her competitiveness matched his own; and in some way, it helped him forget about his nights. -well... how about you time me, and then i'll time you shadowsinger- she said. He smiled, he appreciated that she never pushed him; and in return, he never pushed her. He knew her terrors, he had been there to witness most of them. But unlike him, he prayed to whatever deity existed that she could overcome them. If there was one person in this world who did not deserve one bad dream was Gwyneth Berdara. -hmm... but let's make a bet priestess- he smirked. -you win, ill bring you the stash of chocolate brownies Nesta hides in the house. I win and you will let me look at more of your notes on mind-stilling- The priestess had come one night with stashes of papers in her hands; she had dumped the papers in his lap and said - i have not finished it, don't judge the writing. But read it, and try some of the exercises, it has helped me with... you know- From that moment on, he read mind stilling exercises for his anxiety after a bad dream. Gwyn smiled, tying her long hair up in a ponytail. His shadows stilled for a moment, not in fear, but in admiration. -sounds like a deal shadowsinger- He dared to open his mind to his shadows, curious to hear what they were thinking; beauty, they said, autumn beauty. -.-.-.-.- Somehow, they ended up training until Nesta and Cassian came up the stairs. Neither of them had completed the course without busting their asses in the sand at least once. However, she was happy to convince him that even if there was no winner she would let him borrow another copy. Azriel knew that meant he would have to bargain with the house (who somehow held the brownies away from anyone) and exchange some smut books for at least one or two. His brother approached him smiling; after the Blood Rite and all the mess that had been the last couple of months, Cassian and Nesta were finally able to plan their mating ceremony. Azriel never pictured Cassian as the man who would talk for hours about how Magnolias and Lilies could not go together. But his brother was so happy, so excited to plan his ceremony; that he had been part of every decision made until that point. Nesta was more than happy to lay off the decisions of lighting and colors for their mountain ceremony; she was more focused on the guests. Cassian had insisted on inviting some of the high lords; to satisfy Rhys and make it somehow a place to prepare for Koschei. Nesta had refused and had threatened to poke Rhysands eyes out if someone other than Hellion, and Kallias arrived to their ceremony. -hey Az, you look like a whole building fell on your face man- said Cassian while tying a bun with a string of leather. -and you look like you need an ass-kicking, should I tell Nesta to humiliate you in the ring again?- he responded, smiling while he remembers the oldest Archeron sister kicking his brother out of the ring in their last hand to hand combat As the rest of their class arrived, Azriel took the chance to get near Gwyn. - Listen, I know I didn’t let you go back to your chambers. But... thank you, for ... you know being here - he said while scratching the back of his neck. She smiled. And his shadows danced happily looking at her dimples and red lips, beautifully matching her hair. -you know Azriel, I know I’ve never said it. But as your friend, I will be here whenever you need me. If you need to talk, fight, or read some smut... I’ll be here - Gwyn said. He nodded and attempted to show that her words had not just opened a light inside him that for five hundred years had disappeared. -thank you Gwyn-. -.-.-.-.-.- After the training, Azriel walked to his chamber when he heard the voice of his brother in his head. I need you, there is a mission that needs attending. Now. He sighed, he hated that Rhys sounded upset every time he talked to him; but after the mess during solstice, he had not been able to make

things right with him. With anyone for that matter; he had avoided Rhys and Elain, too scared to face the feelings that surged when he now thought of the seer. He flew to Rhys house, landing at the roof where his brother watched the bright morning of Velaris. - Azriel- his brother acknowledged him with a nod. After a couple of minutes, his high lord spoke. -how close are you with Gwyn, the priestess-. His eyebrows furrowed -why? Am I going to have to stay away from her too? - he said with an intentional bite in his tone. Rhys looked at him angrily -no. I need you and her for a new mission. One that requires trust, and your head on your brain, not your pants- -I would never think about her like that Rhys, not knowing what she had endured- he responded in a low voice. Rhys got close to him and put a hand on his shoulder - you’re right, I’m sorry. I know how much you respect and connect with her- -which is why I need you to take her to Helions library for a couple of weeks, I need her to do some research on the possibility of a fourth trove and how to help Vassa- It took Azriel a minute to process what his brother was asking of him... No, what he was asking of Gwyn. -no- he responded. Rhys grabbed his shoulder a little harder -what? What do you mean no?- -I mean that Gwyn will not leave the library under your orders. She is not ready for that- he said, his voice rising at the anger and protectiveness he felt in his chest. -how do you know that?- Rhys responded with the same tone. -because... because I know- Azriel answered -and you keep making decisions without regarding people’s feelings and fears, and that’s not okay Rhys- He knew that was unfair; his brother did what he did for the sake of the court, for the sake of the world. -Azriel that is not your call to make- his brother said in a softer voice. -neither is yours, especially because you don’t even acknowledge her existence. Or any of the Valkyries for that matter- he moved away from his brother. It took him a minute to look at Rhys, who had a pained look in his eyes. -you’re right, I can’t argue with that- he sighed-I’m sorry, I know I should’ve talked to her first; and now I will. However, if she says yes, I will task you to protect and help her. I can’t send Cass because he is ... mated now- Azriel laughed sarcastically. Of course, he thought, leave it to Rhys to make his cut bigger with a few words. -of course my lord- he said, and shot up to the sky without saying goodbye.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

At the library at the bottom of the house, things were usually quiet. That was one of the reasons why Gwyn had begun to train; the library offered no distraction to her mind, no way to still it if thoughts raced through her. She had been shelving books that Merril had given her for the past hour; thinking and avoiding the memory of last night's nightmare. The blood, the rough hands holding her down, the children screaming. It was all too much, it was all too real. She had gone up in the morning to the training pit. To avoid sleeping, yes, but also because she somehow knew that Azriel would be there. She hated that he had to go through what she went through, but she was grateful for his presence at the moments when she needed him the most. Steps sounded at the end of the hallway, and Gwyn stiffened. They sounded male, heavy, and loud. She knew it was not Azriel, his shadows always let her know that he was approaching. She looked up from her book nervously, ready to run away if needed.... But that was her high lord looking at her with a sweet smile on his face -hello Gwyn, Valkyrie, Carynthian warrior- he smiled. And she realized that out of the three brothers, Azriel had the best smell. She liked the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar, the others smelled too sweat and too flowery for her taste. -high lord- she courtesy nervously. -please, don’t do that, we are practically family right ?- he said while offering her a bag that she had not noticed he carried. -I’m bringing you the best chocolate croissants in the city, Feyre told me you and Nesta enjoy chocolate at the same rate. I hope you like them- he placed them in her cart, knowing she would not touch him. Another set of steps sounded at the distance, and her sister appeared walking with rapid-fire towards her. - I told you to wait Rhysand- Nesta said. -I...it’s okay Nesta, thank you High... Rhysand— Gwyn said, opening the bag and smelling it. Damn... that was dark chocolate in the croissants; her favorite. -what can I do for you guys?- she said while taking a bite of the soft, sweet bread. -we were wondering if you wanted to dine with us tonight, here in the House, only Az, Cass, Nesta, Feyre and me- The High Lord said. - we have a proposal for you, but we want to talk to you about it first-. She looked at Nesta, who was stealing some of her croissants. - su...sure... I’ll gladly accept. It would be an honor - she smiled. -.-.-.- After her shift with Merrill ended, she went to her chambers to bathe quickly. She should change, she knew they dined casually, she wanted to fit in with the group. So she bathed, braided her hair and decided to wear a flowery blue dress that showed the mid of her back; it had a tight bodice and a skirt that flowed until the top of her knees. It had been a gift from Nesta, she had told her to use it whenever she wanted to practice what she would do when she went to Velaris for the first time. As she climbed up the stairs, she imagined what life would be like if she was brave enough to leave the library. Gods she wanted to be in the city, wanted to try the food, hear the music, look at the people. But it all scared her too much. She was waiting for an opportunity, she said to herself, an opportunity to escape the library and be dragged to the real world. The smell of roasted potatoes, beef, and vegetables filled her nose; she thanked the Mother that the house cook. she approached the dining room and smiled at hearing Nesta laugh so hard, probably at something her mate had said. She was happy that her sister had found a man that grounded her, filled her (in every sense of the way) and that respected her. She was a bit jealous that she had found a mate though, she had studied the relationships of mates for months, and understood that they were rare but only rare among powerless faes. Which meant, that the possibility of finding hers was minimum... or as Merril liked to say an absolute zero. -you came!- said Nesta, smiling. Gwyn strode down the hall to sit beside Nesta; her eyes looking around the room to acknowledge everyone who was there.

-thank you for inviting me - she said, coming out as barely a whisper. Rhysand approached with a smiled that brightened the entire room, - thank you for coming, Gwyn, i know the effort it must have been but i appreciate it-.

She smiled -those chocolate croissants were really persuasive my lord-. Rhysand got even bigger -look at you, already teasing me as Cassian does-. The house placed food in front of her, adding extra vegetables. To which she frowned "i didn't know you cared for my vitamins". She ate silently, admiring how the dynamic between all of them was. She couldn't deny the jealousy that threatened to rise, she missed having a family. No, she missed being able to enjoy family without the fear of the outside world suffocating her. Minutes, hours passed and they all kept talking. Azriel had changed his seats to be in front of her, the shadowsinger looking deeply at her while she played with her water. She felt even more comforted now that he was near her. Rhysand stood and cleared his throat -well, i'm sure Gwyn has had enough of our voices; so let's get to the point-. He approached her slowly and passed her a paper she had not noticed he carried. -we want to officially invite you to be part of this court- he started. -Everyone that is here admits that there is no one more deserving and capable to be the official scholar of the Night court-. He laid the paper in front of her. A contract, offering an obscene amount of money. -you... want me to work for you?- she said -yes, if you are comfortable doing this of course- he responded. The contract asked her to inform, research,and educate the leaders of the court, on different matters she would be asked to. -Before you accept- Azriel spoke softly, looking at Rhysand, -you should hear what the first mission would ask from you-.

Rhysand nodded, -we are looking for the possibility of a fourth trove, and we can only do so in the biggest library of the country.... in the day court-.

Leaving the library, she would not only leave the library but also the night court.

Was she ready for that?

-Would i go by myself?- she asked him

-No, you would go with Azriel as your bodyguard, or assistant, whatever you need from him- Rhysand responded.

She smiled, looking at the shadowsinger. - And you accepted this?-

His mouth quirked upward -if i didn't we would have had Nesta to deal with-.

This was it, this was the push she had asked for.

-Rhysand, i would be honored to be the scholar of your court- she said, - and i thank all of you for trusting me, i will not let you down-.

She looked around the room to find every single one of the court's members looking at her with loving, proud eyes.

She would go to the Day Court, she would find a way to help her friends and her world.

Gwyneth Berdara looked at her future companion, the beautiful male with eyes of honey that she would daydream about.

Who knows? Maybe this mission would bring them closer. Maybe they would finally talk about their nightmares, their fears.

Maybe she would finally be able to show Azriel how she felt about him. And maybe this time, he would listen.

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

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charincharge · 4 years ago

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Cruel Summer, Part 20

cruel summer masterlist

AN: This was supposed to be ready hours ago. SORRY. Only five chapters to go. Have I mentioned how much I appreciate all of you who read, reblog and review this? It has seriously brightened up a shitty time in my life.

Rowan feels like he’s barely slept when Aelin’s alarm goes off. He grumbles and pulls her closer, so he can bury his face into her shoulder, away from the thick rays of sunshine pouring through her window. “No…” he groans.

“Yes,” Aelin laughs as she turns over to face him. Her finger traces over his lips, and he kisses it softly. Her eyes lock with his, and he can’t help the warmth that blooms in his chest at her staring.

“What?” he asks, kissing her finger again. Her eyes flit across his face, observing him closely.

“You’re pretty in the morning,” she says, and Rowan narrows his eyes at her.

“Pretty?” he asks, incredulous. She nods and giggles quietly as Rowan climbs on top of her, pinning her hands beside her head on the mattress. “I’ll show you pretty…” he growls. His lips dive onto her neck, and he can feel her laughter against his chest.

They both hear her door open and slam at the same time. They freeze, their heads turning in the direction of the noise, praying against all odds that it isn’t one of Aelin’s parents.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

Dorian stands with his back pressed against Aelin’s door, his hand covering his face again. Rowan sighs a breath of relief and rolls off the bed. He can’t believe how close that came to being a nightmare. They really need to be more careful. He grabs his work uniform, which is crumpled on the floor and pulls his pants on quickly.

“Dor?” Aelin asks from under her covers. “Why are you in my room?”

“I volunteered to wake you up,” he says, eyes still closed. “I had a feeling. Your entire family is downstairs. It’s Saturday, remember?”

“Shit,” Aelin mumbles as she rushes to her closet and throws on shorts and a tank top.

Rowan looks at the clock. Thirty minutes until works starts. And he has no idea how he’s going to escape this house with Aelin’s entire family downstairs. It’s not like he can climb out her window – he’d be spotted in a second.

Dorian finally cracks his eyes open and sees that everyone is fully dressed and relaxes slightly. He nods to Rowan, who nods back uncomfortably.

As they exchange hellos, Aelin heads straight into her bathroom and plugs in her curling iron. Rowan stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. He shoves his hands into his pockets and watches as Aelin starts wrapping her hair around the hot metal rod. She examines her bruise in the mirror and dabs some makeup over it with her free hand.

“Dor?” Aelin calls from the bathroom. “Can you tell my family that I am curling my hair, but I will meet them at the park shortly?” She pokes her head out of the bathroom. “Just, get them out of the house quickly. Please,” she implores him with wide eyes, and Dorian salutes her and takes off.

By the time Aelin’s hair is curled, and her family has officially left the premises, Rowan has about five minutes to make it to work. He kisses Aelin and makes a mad dash for the park.

“See you there,” Aelin calls out after him as he takes off into a quick sprint. His cross-country skills are put to the test as his feet sink through the sand with every step. By the time he reaches the park entrance, he’s only one minute late. He’s impressed with himself.

Breathing hard, he slows to a brisk walk, making his way through the throngs of crowds lined up to get in.

Rowan pauses, his brain finally catching up to him, and looks around. The park is packed. Shockingly crowded.

The line of cars to enter the park is so long, it extends past the parking lot and onto the street, and at the front gate, a hefty crowd is gathered, waiting to get in.

“What the fuck?” Rowan mumbles to himself.

Inside the park, a very stressed out Lorcan mans the admissions booth with Fenrys. “Rowan!” he calls out. “You’re here! Come help us.”

Rowan apologizes for being late, but Lorcan just attributes it to the long line of cars and waves Rowan off. He’s just grateful for the help.

As Rowan starts handing out tickets and wristbands, he finally asks Lorcan what the hell is going on. Apparently, the park was featured on some big reality show called Hometown Hotspots earlier in the week, and the park is seeing the after effects. Lorcan has never been more stressed. He’s not exactly a people person, and these people are impatient, entitled, and anxious to get into the park. Rowan feels for him.

The overflow of people is never ending, and Rowan ends up staying at admissions until well into the afternoon. He barely has time to even think about missing Aelin, being kept so busy. Until, finally, he checks his phone during his lunch break and sees he has a slew of texts from her.

WHOA, what’s up with these crowds???

You were so busy this morning, you didn’t even see me come in! Luckily, Fenrys was far more cordial ;)

Rowan glares at Fenrys, who eats his lunch across the table from him. He can’t believe he didn’t’ even see Aelin enter the park.

Lys wants me to tell you that she knows this is not a curler burn. *facepalm*

Gavin heard your name and got excited, and now my family is insisting you join us for dinner.

You’re going to go down in history as being Gavin’s favorite person ever, just for buying him cotton candy that ONE TIME.

Rowan can’t help but smile at this phone screen, despite how tired he already is. He texts back quickly.

I’ll be there.

At the last second, he adds a red heart emoji and sends it. He’s never been an emoji person before, mostly using texting for utilitarian purposes only. But with Aelin, he can’t help himself. It’s silly, he knows. But the red heart sitting in his texts is his silent way of opening up more. Of silently insinuating the three words he’s tried to push to the back of his head and not let overtake his thoughts. He smiles when Aelin immediately returns his text with three kissing face emojis.

He must be smiling like a mad man, because Lorcan chuckles loudly as he takes a seat next to Rowan and asks, “How’s your girlfriend?”

Rowan’s smile disappears as Fenrys perks up from across the table. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Uhh… no… not really…” Rowan fumbles his words.

Lorcan senses his mistake and flashes Rowan and apologetic glance.

But Fenrys is undeterred. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me, Rowan,” Fenrys pouts, sounding all of his young age. “So… who is she? Townie? Someone who works here? Rich summer home crowd?”

“Someone way out of your league, kiddo,” Lorcan says, slapping his large hand onto Fenrys’s shoulder. His voice is gruff, but Rowan sees the hears the affection in his tone. He weirdly feels like he’s turned a corner with Lorcan. Maybe they could even be friends.

“It’s nothing,” Rowan assures Fenrys, who still looks on with hopeful eyes, begging for scraps of information. “It’s super low key, so we haven’t gone public, or whatever.”

“Then how come Lorcan knew?” His whining would be almost comical if Rowan didn’t want to exit the conversation so badly.

Luckily, Lorcan saves him. “Caught them in the break room the other night.” He pauses. “Which, no one should be doing, by the way.”

“What should we not be doing?” Elide asks, entering with a giant funnel cake in her hands. She’s followed by Connall and Vaughan and Gavriel, which means that Rowan’s lunch break is up. He groans. He’s not ready to deal with those crowds again. And if the group’s faces are any indication, nothing has slowed in the minutes he took off to eat. Elide looks exhausted.

“Making out in the break room,” Rowan laughs.

“Oh please,” Elide scoffs. “What do you think Lorcan and I do every night when you guys leave?” Elide wiggles her eyebrows at Lorcan, who turns bright red. His hands tug at his long hair, unsure what to do with himself. Rowan can tell he wants to be mad at Elide, but he thinks Lorcan is physically incapable of actually getting angry with her.

“Ellie,” he whines, but she just giggles as she stuffs a piece of funnel cake into her mouth. Her lips become coated in powdered sugar, and she purses her lips and motions to Lorcan.

“Come get some sugar.” She winks, and Lorcan looks conflicted as he looks at her lips and everyone else in the room. Ultimately, Elide’s lips win, and Lorcan leans down and gives her a quick kiss as everyone else in the room whoops. His entire body is flushed as he narrows his eyes at the bystanders.

“Not a word,” he warns.

Fenrys sighs loudly. “Man, did everyone get a girlfriend this summer but me?” he asks. Connall and Vaughan sit down next to him, and as the conversation turns to summer gossip, Rowan extracts himself and heads to the kiddie section of the park, where he’ll be on rotation all afternoon.

The rest of the day is even more miserable than the first half. Children are crying, upset with waiting for hours and missing their nap times; Rowan sympathizes – he’d love a nap, too. The crowds become angrier the longer they have to wait, and Rowan realizes the park is not equipped for this many people. They have no idea how to manage the crowds. And he almost witnesses a full on riot when one of the food stands runs out of ice cream bars. It’s a mess.

Somehow, he manages to keep his cool with the angry patrons, and he practically runs back to the Ashryvers’ as soon as the day is finished.

The entire family, plus Dorian, sits outside on their back patio as Emrys brings out platters of food, which smell absolutely delicious. Fleetfoot waits happily under the table, tail wagging, ready for scraps to fall. Rowan’s stomach rumbles as he approaches, seeing the spread of salads, biscuits and corn on the cobb.

“Wine?” Aelin offers him a large glass, and Rowan accepts it happily.

Gavin runs straight for his legs and wraps his tiny arms around them. He pats the top of the small boy’s head, unable to interact much more than that in his current state of exhaustion.

“Oh, sweetie, I can get you a beer, if you prefer,” Evalin says, but Rowan shakes his head and takes a large sip of the cold wine. “You look utterly exhausted.” She holds out a chair, and Rowan slinks into it without a second thought.

“The park was…” Rowan begins, but he stops himself short, not wanting to insult his bosses. Aelin sees it in his face.

“A nightmare?” Rhoe laughs. “We know.” He fills his own glass again. “We left early in the afternoon. We were not ready for those crowds.”

Evalin sighs. “The board is meeting about it tomorrow. We need to come up with some kind of solution other than hiring people to help with the parking lot. Luckily, this summer is almost over. But if this is how it is next summer… We need to get organized.”

Rowan thought the same thing throughout the day, but he’s unsure if he should bring up his suggestion. He knows his opinion likely holds no weight with this family, despite how outwardly friendly they are to him.

“Have you ever been to Disneyland?” Rowan asks, deciding to speak up after all.

“The competition?” Evalin raises an eyebrow, and Rowan becomes slightly self-conscious. He takes another sip of his wine. But Evalin cracks a smile, clearly teasing him, and Rowan relaxes. “I’m kidding. Yes, we’ve been there. But not since Aelin was nearly a baby.” Evalin smiles wider, staring at her daughter. “All Aelin wanted to do was to meet Mickey. It’s all she talked about the entire trip. We waited for over two hours to meet him, and when we got to the front, she screamed bloody murder. Just cried and cried…”

Aedion laughs loudly. “Oh my god, I remember that. She was terrified of him.”

Aelin frowns. “Okay, when you’re a toddler and you love Mickey, you expect him to be the size of a mouse, not a GIANT.” She shudders. “I still don’t like the characters.”

Rowan laughs and rubs her arm reflexively. He only realizes what he’s done when Dorian catches his eye. He pulls his hand away quickly, and prays no one noticed. Aelin seems unfazed as she sips more of her wine.

“A-anyway,” Rowan continues, “I know Disney is very different from Playland, but… the one thing they’re great at is crowd control.”

Rhoe and Evalin nod in agreement, so Rowan continues.

“Besides hiring people to direct car traffic and foot traffic, which, is definitely an important part of it – I think they really got a handle on things when they created their app,” he explains. “It’s an interactive map of the park where you can check ride wait times, see the daily schedule, preorder food, make reservations…” Rowan looks around the table and notices all eyes are on him, listening with rapt attention. “Playland isn’t big enough to need all of that, but it couldn’t hurt to have some of it. Everyone loves an app.”

“That’s not a terrible idea.” Evalin looks to Rhoe.

Lysandra turns toward Rowan and narrows her eyes. “Rowan, weren’t you telling us you used to work as a programmer for a start up?” she asks, and Rowan nods uncomfortably. He doesn’t like this many eyes on him. Especially when he’s talking about himself.

“You did?” Rhoe asks.

“Yeah. Not for very long,” Rowan admits. “The start up went under pretty quickly. Bad investors.” He pauses, then continues. “But I did computer engineering for the Army before then. I could make you a mock up, if you wanted?”

“That is very sweet to offer,” Evalin says, her voice sounding too saccharine to Rowan’s ears. “But I don’t think we’re anywhere near that step yet.”

Rowan smiles, but he can’t help but feel like he’s been blown off. He should have known they only see him as park staff. He does appreciate Lysandra taking him seriously, though.

The conversation dies down as Emrys brings out a large plate of brightly colored lobsters. Rowan can count the amount of times he’s had lobster on one hand. It’s a delicious luxury, one that Rowan absolutely loves, but is completely inexperienced with. He watches Aelin pull the claws with a slight twist away from the body and crack the shell, pulling the meat out. He mimics her actions, but somehow ends up crushing the shell into multiple pieces with his clumsy fingers.

As Aelin dips her piece into butter and drops it into her mouth, she sees Rowan’s struggle and leans over to help.

“Here,” she whispers as she takes her knife and cracks open the knuckles for him. He feels like a child. In fact, he notices Lysandra doing the same thing for Gavin and Evie.

“I can do it,” he protests, but Aelin has already finished cracking it for him. He sighs as she moves to twist off the tail, hoping his cheeks aren’t red with the embarrassment he feels.

His embarrassment fades quickly, though, when he sees Evalin reaching over to do the same thing to Rhoe’s lobster. Rowan looks at Aelin, who doesn’t seem to realize she’s completely mirroring her parents’ behavior and smiles behind the rim of his wine glass, which has been magically refilled.

Dinner is just as delicious as Rowan hoped it’d be, and by the end of the night he’s feeling sated and sleepy and buzzed on wine. Evalin tells him he should spend the night, since he’s not safe to drive yet, but Rowan can’t actually justify wearing his gross uniform again tomorrow. And as loathe as he is to spend a night away from Aelin, he knows he needs to go home.

“I can stay for another hour or so and sober up and then head home,” Rowan says, but his large yawn gives away his current state of fatigue.

“We can give you a ride if you want?” Lysandra offers, and Aedion readily agrees, but Rowan isn’t sure how he’d get to work the next morning without his truck.

“Fireheart, are you sober?” Rhoe asks, and Aelin nods. Rowan did notice she stopped drinking after her first glass of wine. He should have, too, but she just kept refilling it. It barely takes Rowan a second to realize that Aelin was trying to get him drunk, trying to get him to stay over. He shakes his head, sorry for her failed efforts.

“Why don’t you drive Rowan home, and then you can take an Uber back home?”

Aelin agrees, and says she’ll be quiet coming back in, in case her parents are asleep. After a round of goodbyes, Aelin and Rowan walk back to his truck where it’s still in the far corner of the Playland parking lot.

He tosses her the keys and watches as she moves her hand over the gears. As they drive, Rowan realizes he’s never seen Aelin behind the wheel before, and there’s something incredibly sexy about watching her maneuver his giant truck. By the time they reach Rowan’s street, Rowan can’t wait any longer. As soon as Aelin parks, he pulls her over to his lap and kisses her.

She squeals as he plants sloppy kisses on her face. Their kisses become more heated as it continues, so much that the windows start to steam up. His hands roam across her back and slide up her tank top, relishing in her bare skin. He just wants her all the time. Always.

Aelin pulls away and smiles. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am,” Rowan admits through another yawn. “That’s why if you come up, you’re going to have to do all the work.”

Aelin snorts, making Rowan laugh. It’s the cutest thing in the world. When she snorts. No other girl could make snorting cute, but Aelin somehow manages to.

“This is what you get for getting me drunk,” he says, letting her know he was well aware of her plan.

Aelin snickers as she opens the door and slides off his lap. She pulls on his arms, and Rowan stumbles out of the cab. And when they get upstairs, Aelin shows Rowan she’s more than happy to do all the work, and then some.

Rowan’s drunk heart feels like it’s going to explode as she moves on top of him, and he has to physically stop himself from saying the three words he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about all day. I love you, he thinks to himself. I never want you to leave. I want to be with you forever.

His resistance snaps. He’s too tired, too ready to put his entire heart into this thing. The lid he’s tried so carefully to keep on his feelings, explodes. The dam bursts, crumbling and cracking under the weight of his emotions, and he lets them tumble out, spilling everywhere, coating his skin where she touches him. He is lost to her, and he’s ready to burn.

~*~*~*~*~

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literameera · 3 years ago

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White Sails

2433 words

The oceans going to swallow him whole some day and only then could he die happy.

Caspian already gave his soul to the sea, his first great love. Initially I was excited for him and how he got to live out his dreams. He’d write to me about his exploits, I’d gasp and laugh when appropriate, as if he can see, and finally when the stories ended, I’d write to say that I’ve been living the same way: wake up, work, eat, sleep and mostly anticipate. He’d tease that I live like a widow refusing to believe her husband's dead, wasting away staring out the window, hoping for him to someday return to her. Like the ship of Theseus every time he left a part of him had been replaced, how long has he been a man I couldn't recognise, a ghost wearing my lover’s skin.

Only the wooden planks stepped on by Theseus himself belong to the original ship, the rest are imposters high off the glory of His name. Your skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days – and it’s been longer than that since my hands held his, the wind already swept all memories of my words from his mind. He can only belong to one and she’s infinitely larger than me. To him, her cold embrace feels like coming home. It’s selfish – I’d remind myself – selfish to want to steal what makes him happy all because I feel lonely, he’s loved the ocean long before he’s loved me, and he will long after. I can only hope she’s kind when she does finally take him. I’ve heard that saltwater burns your lungs and that a body only sinks for a moment and as it fills with water it floats to the top, I don’t want them to find his body, he wouldn’t want them to either. I hope his clothes weigh him down and 80% becomes all of him, that he sinks to Atlantis and the sun never feels him again, we don’t deserve it.

But then he comes home, the wind in his hair, salt clinging to his skin and horribly chapped lips, he kisses me hello and I get a taste of what he feels. He tells me he’s missed the warm water from the shower while I wash his locks, that his land legs haven’t grown back yet so can I hold on just a little tighter ‘to make sure I don’t fall of course’. I tell him our neighbours' gossip and he laugh and gasps when appropriate and says that he’s missed the shop at the end of the street, in the morning he’ll grab groceries and those chocolates he’s loved since he was a kid, and some things never change. When it’s quiet and we lull we watch the sun set, sitting on a linoleum countertop in the kitchen, he glows orange in its light and tells me he’s missed me.

When a whale dies its body sinks to the benthic zone, there where there’s no sun, no blood, no heat, no me, or him the oceans creatures eat on its flesh, their entire life's sustenance reliant on an animal they’ve never seen alive and blobfish get their namesake feature from the rapid shift in pressure, they essentially burst while being pulled up by fishermen. The universe is kept spinning by forces we don’t know and can’t name and one day the sun could burst, and we wouldn’t know until 8 minutes later when its light should touch us and won’t. But it did that day, the light travelled through a solar system to shine on him, and shine on me, and that’s how we met. It was fate. Eight years later it’s still fate when Caspian wakes up beside me, his skin a warm brown, like the terracotta pots he brings back to accommodate my ever-growing garden, and his tousled hair a sun-bleached orange, the roots betray their natural umber colour (the same as the eyes he was currently hiding behind tired palms), men like him are born out of stardust, and they can’t help but to replicate its heat. He’s looking at me now, his warm hands place a stray strand of my own umber hair behind my ear and pauses on my cheek, my bronze skin a slight contrast to his, brown eyes reflecting brown.

‘Let’s go over the plan, alright Leya?’ He breaks the silence, ‘we’ll lock up, give the keys to Theo and Honora, they promised to water our plants and dust the place while we’re gone, we pick up your jumper from the market –Eilidh promised it’ll be done by then- and then it’s me, you and wherever you can land your finger on a map.’

‘Yeah, I can’t wait. Me, you and The Caspian’ the smile I give him falters and my bottom lip trembles. He frowns.

It was my idea to come with him, I was tired of being alone and he was tired of forgetting synonyms of vast for his letters home, I knew he exhausted all the ways to say I love you when he started to transcript theology to me:

‘They believe that next to Christ, that’s what they call him, there was a man that lived in sin, two in fact but only one of them matters. They don’t know anything about this man, not even his name, except for his last words. And they were that of forgiveness and salvation. A man whose entire history is left out of the book that chronicles it. We know nothing of his home, his family, his life, not even his crimes, but we know that he loved and was loved in return. I don’t believe a lick of it but by God these people are good storytellers.’

I did want to go. Maybe the second I see the flickering reflected crescent moon on the ocean waves I’d decide I never wanted to leave, that the past 25 years of living and four years waiting can all be justified by that one experience. But I also couldn’t just leave. He was the one with adventures and loose ties and sea salt, and I’m the one that waits. The diligent partner with a cup of tea and open arms for him, who were we if not that? Who am I without anticipation and loneliness? For years, my life was contingent on feeling and watching a ticking clock, and now I just get to be free? It doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound fair on the woman I used to be, the one still waiting. He knows how I feel, he must, from the furrow of an eyebrow I know he’s got me pegged.

‘Remember the night before I left- the first time that is- and I kept going over lists, obligations and checking everything twice, I even meal prepped your food for months in advance. And you told me everything will still be here when I get back...’ He pauses to hold my face in both hands, brown eyes locked on brown eyes to make sure I was listening, ‘everything will still be here when we get back. If you don’t want to go that’s fine, we won’t, I’ll spend the next six months right here with you, and every day after that if you want me to. I’m tired of you being alone. But if you do want to go... We lock up, see the world and come back, it’s that easy.’ With that he kisses my temple -the most delicate part of the head – and climbs out of bed.

Honora and Theo promised to give all the leftover perishable foods to the family around the corner, they have seven kids and not enough to feed them all. They also ensured once a week every plant will be watered, all letters brought in, and the surfaces periodically dusted. The jumper Eilidh had made was beautiful, she told us wool is preferable when wet because it resists water and keeps you warm. She made it green, in case I miss the trees, and Caspian paid her double. I had hoped the air would be electric, brimming with something, as if it knew I’m leaving this time too. Everything was the same, same as it's always been and same as it always will. And I won’t be, I’ll go out there, replace my ships planks and come back me, but not wholly or maybe as more, and if Caspian’s with me the whole time who would notice the change, all of my red strings connect back to his.

It was half a day's journey to the port, and I felt it all. At some point my head was pulled to rest on his shoulder and every time the sun shone particularly bright he held a hand over my eyes to shield them. When we were close to enough to the sea to smell it, the briny tang light in the air, he came into himself, as if he swallowed sunlight, and grinned.

I hate this. Caspian told me I will at first, I haven’t got the familial love he has. A runaway father that was only 19 when he met his future wife at the port. The family was forcibly moved to a landlocked town when opportunities dimmed and Caspian's childhood was spending every holiday possible making the hours long treks to the beach, with just enough time to wiggle his toes in the sand and swallow lungsful of water when learning to swim, and when he was older it was learning how to sail with his father. Finally, it’d get too cold to continue so his mother would swaddle him in towels and place him on her lap, until he eventually grew too big for her, together they’d watch the sun set. He told me once that it was like the water was just a mirror and everything radiated pink and orange and golden hues until finally... darkness, and there was twice as many stars as usual. Then they’d go home and count down till the next summer. His love was intergenerational, it’ll grow on you, trust me. But it won’t, I hate this. I feel sick & disoriented, it’s too loud and quiet at the same time. Like when people move from a bustling city, heavy in smog and movement, to a quaint village, and there they find the crickets and pollen too much to bear. There was none of the sounds I was accustomed to and all too many of ones I wasn’t. I can’t even swim.

How did we plan for weeks and not think that I would need to know how to swim?

Caspian had finished prepping the sails and letting us go in the wind's direction, promising he’ll take us as far East as he can find – and then carry on. He had tried to explain all the terms to me, but words like ‘jib’ and ‘hull’ and ‘tiller’ easily slipped out of my mind like water. Instead, I stood by the helm and just watched him work, focusing on the beads of sweat running down his forehead and pushing supper down as far deep as it goes, as to not ruin this for him. When he had finished, he gave me the tour, showing me the saloon, where to cook, where to rest, where to pray, how to store in such a small space and when I was overwhelmingly exhausted from the information swimming in my head, he grabbed some pillows and blankets and led me back to the cockpit. There he prepped everything like it was our bed at home and laid down, gently pulling me down with him, our knees were bent awkwardly, and we were closer together than usual. That’s when I understood When I was younger my mother would bring me to visit her friends and after the initial gasps and hugs and ‘my how you’ve grown!’ they would largely ignore me to talk to each other. One of her friends, Mariam, had a baby boy that would sleep in a wooden bassinet pushed to the wall closest to where I was sitting, when he did stir, they’d finally address me again and tell me to rock him slightly, let him be lulled back to rest. Here, we were lightly rocked side to side by Poseidon himself and entire galaxies shining down on us, like a sleeping baby in a bassinet. I didn’t know there could be so many stars and still such a vast darkness. Caspian told me about the constellations he knows and the ones he’s made up, his own mythologies mapped out above us. And when I was too tired to listen, eyes drooping and his words bleeding into each other he tenderly held my elbow to help me up, shifting so I could rest my weight on him, and walked me to the bed, trying as best he could to push my dead weight into the cramped space. Leaving only for a moment to bring the pillows back in, before climbing into bed besides me.

The next morning, we stopped on still waters, and he taught me how to swim. In the afternoons, after I showed him my grandmothers' recipes for the cold, he tried to teach me more sailing terms and by the evening I’d read to him under the dimming light, I’d have to stop after a moment, too nauseous to read the words. It was a routine we near perfected in a month. I could tell he was happy; he was drowning in it. Shockingly, I was too, a saloon that smelled like garlic and spice, secured down potted herbs, dry storage spaces filled to the brim with my books, and his slow breaths when I should be asleep, was enough. On days the wind was too bad to pause he’d make me use the knots he taught me and shout what I need to do if we tip over, the exhilaration was more than anything I’d ever known.

Resources would run low, and he’d dock in the port of a country I'd never heard of, a culture unfamiliar and language unknown. With limited communication and lots of points & smiles we’d buy what we need and when our food was restocked, I’d ask to stay a few days more. We’d integrate ourselves in the local community and learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ and plan to return in the holiday season. We’d make pocket communities across the world and relish in hot water and write letters to the people back home.

#tw religious themes #tw death mention #tw drowning #writing #writers #writers on tumbr #prose #writeblr #studyblr #white sails #ask to tag

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morningfears · 5 years ago

Text

Vodka Pineapple

Rating: M | There’s smut, mentions of drowning, and other adult themes and situations.

Summary: Evie Porter wanted a normal summer. She wanted to be a twenty-something and enjoy bonfires on the beach and have a fling with a boy that would break her heart. Calum Hood wanted to distract himself from his past. They were a match made in heaven until his past caught up with them and they both did what they do best; run. (Mentions of drowning, swearing, anxiety, etc.)

Word Count: 34.2k (....I know. I’m very sorry I am who I am)

Golden hour had a reputation for being the most beautiful time of day. For a brief period, just when the world needed it the most, everything was bathed in beautiful golden. The light bounced off everything it touched and offered a glimmer of hope; it offered a promise of a good day ahead for some and a better tomorrow for others. It was inspiring, the muse for everyone from artists to athletes, and Evie Porter was not immune to its charm. She rarely found herself awake so near sunrise and was rarely outdoors so near sunset but with the end of the semester came the freedom to do as she pleased and nothing sounded more appealing than a skate at sunrise.

She listened to the waves crash against the shore and pulled in deep breaths of salty sea air as she sat on a bench near the boardwalk, lacing up her roller skates. It was quiet, save for the sounds of the ocean, as the small town had yet to wake for the day and with every exhale, she felt a bit more tension leave her body. It was almost surreal, having the chance to spend her summer in the small seaside town she’d frequented as a child rather than in crowded Los Angeles, but she was grateful for the opportunity as she soaked in the atmosphere.

The town was small, infinitely smaller than Los Angeles, and didn’t experience a boom in tourism until July - according to her cousin and housemate for the summer, Dahlia, anyway. There were no pushy tourists crowding the boardwalk yet and she could hear herself think as she reveled in the solitude. She had always loved the beach, particularly the one that sprawled in front of her, and only truly felt at peace when she could lose herself in it completely.

She remained still for a moment, long enough to exhale the last bit of tension and shake off the sleep that lingered in her limbs, before she stood from the bench and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Her skates were brand new, a neon green with pink laces and pink wheels embedded with silver glitter, and she was excited to break them in in the same place she’d learned to skate. Evie’s fondest childhood memories were of scraped knees and bruised shins, of hand-me-down skates and clinging to Dahlia as she guided her down the boardwalk, and she felt an easy smile quirk her lips as she slowly began gliding along the boardwalk.

The boardwalk was simultaneously exactly the same and wholly different than she remembered. There were more cracks and splinters, obvious signs of age, but she found herself navigating the changes with ease as she skirted around a pair of joggers. The wind blew through her hair, the salty air leaving it a tangle of beachy waves whipping behind her, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the freedom she felt. For the first time in months she felt at home, comfortable and calm, and it was wonderful.

Though Evie loved learning and had, once upon a time, been excited for college, the journey was far more arduous than she’d expected. Her parents were footing the bill and while she was grateful to be getting a debt-free education, she was angry at the terms her degree came with. Her parents had both chosen law, both attorneys that loved their jobs more than their children, and demanded she follow in their footsteps like brother had before her. She was given the choice of taking on a staggering amount of debt to follow her dreams or going into a field she hated with a guaranteed job waiting for her when she graduated.

She chose the latter.

With every class she took and every internship hour her parents signed her up for, Evie regretted her choice more. She loved some of the clients, she enjoyed hearing their stories and spending time with people she ordinarily wouldn’t cross paths with and being in a position to help them, but she hated the legal system and would rather learn what made people tick, not the barriers that kept them living in fear. She appreciated the legal system for what it was, a necessary sector of education and society, but she had no desire to spend her life in the field.

She had never really been given a chance to find her own path in life, her parents had always pushed her down the one they’d taken, and she carried the resentment around like a weight tied to her ankle. It lingered in the back of her throat, bitter and overwhelming as she tried to live a life she could be proud of, and only disappeared when she found a rare moment of free time to put on her skates and tune out the world.

Evie took up skating when she was a young child, desperate to emulate Dahlia in any way she could, and kept up with it even after she quit. She had never been naturally gifted at anything athletic - she wasn’t clumsy, just not athletic - so she was surprised to find herself a natural at skating. She felt at home gliding down the boardwalk, the wind in her hair and the sun warming her skin, and realized that any hard feelings she’d been bottling up seemed to trail behind her and disappear with each rotation of her skates.

When she was given the chance to have the summer to herself - her parents were participating in Lawyers Without Borders and had been too distracted to place her in a volunteer role for the summer - she packed her belongings and drove to Dahlia’s the moment she finished her final exam. She wanted a normal summer, one where she could forget her parents and the future she dreaded, and was determined to get it.

All she wanted was to relax, to sleep and skate and forget. Just for a summer.

Evie willed all thoughts of her parents, all thoughts of anything but a happy summer, out of her head as she brushed past a small family on an early morning walk. She didn’t show off often even though she was a skilled skater, but as she heard the coos of interest from the children, she took the opportunity to do exactly that. The skates were new, still a little stiff and not quite comfortable enough for her to do her best tricks, but she pulled off a spin and skated backward for a moment, just long enough to impress the children. She grinned at them, bright and sunny as her mood lifted and the semi-formed dark cloud above her head dissipated, and sent them a wave before turning back the correct way and continuing down the boardwalk.

She slowed and skated slower than normal as she drew closer to the stretch of beach that was always the most quiet, taking in the sight of the sand and the deep blue of the ocean. It was usually deserted, empty of beachgoers and the perfect spot for her to take a moment to rest, but that particular morning she spotted surfers at the edge of the water, pulling on their wetsuits and laughing happily amongst themselves. It was nice seeing a group of people around her age as most of the residents of the town were either old enough to be her grandparents or middle-aged with two or three children and no interest in befriending a college student. She made a mental note to ask Dahlia about them when she returned home and kept an eye on them for a moment too long as she contemplated how difficult it would be to learn to surf.

As she watched a tall blonde man toss a bottle of water at his dark-haired friend, his broad shoulders shaking visibly with laughter as the friend began chasing him down the beach, she failed to notice the body in front of her until it was too late. Evie slammed into the man’s back, her hands slotting between them in an effort to cushion the impact but only serving to shove him to the ground. She landed on her knees beside him, nothing at all like the practiced falls she’d learned in an effort to minimize her injuries, and hissed at the sting of sand and gravel embedding into her skin.

She felt a sharp pain in the palms of her hands and her knees, both of which hit the ground and were likely scraped, but paid it no mind as she scrambled to check on the victim of her carelessness. He was clearly headed to join the group of surfers, his surfboard had clattered into the sand off to the side and was halfway into a wetsuit, and she prayed they hadn’t heard the commotion as she steadied herself on her toe stops and offered the man her hand.

She’d fallen and hurt herself plenty of times as she learned. She’d bumped into friends as they took up the hobby alongside her. She’d shoved into people when she played roller derby. But she’d never accidentally bowled over a pedestrian and she felt a wave of panic and embarrassment wash over her as he grabbed her hand and stood from the boardwalk.

“I’m so sorry. The boardwalk’s been dead so I wasn’t paying attention. Fuck, are you okay?” Her words were rushed, her tone hinting at the panic she felt as he blinked from the shock of hitting the ground, but the sincerity of her concern was evident as her eyes raked over him in search of any obvious injuries. Her cheeks were on fire, a brilliant scarlet that creeped down her neck and blossomed over her chest, and she resisted the urge to bring her hand up and cover it.

The man, who likely would’ve stood a foot taller than her had she not been wearing her skates, nodded as he regained his footing and brushed some of the sand from his bare chest. “I’m okay,” he assured her, pausing in his assurance to reach for his board, “only thing hurt is my pride.”

Evie took a moment to revel in his presence. His voice was raspy and warm, he sounded like he’d just woken up, and she was certain that she could listen to him speak all day. There was a slight amusement hidden behind his words, as if he found the situation funny, and Evie felt her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she raked her eyes over him once more. He was beautiful, that much was obvious. He looked to be about her age, a twenty-something in the throes of young adulthood. His skin was golden, even more so in the shifting golden hour light, and covered in black ink. His short, bleached hair was a stark contrast against his skin and his deep brown eyes held a warmth that surprised her.

He looked uninjured, just slightly thrown off by the encounter, and Evie was thankful. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, her lips twisting into a grimace as she shifted on her skates and ignored the burning desire to check on her own injuries. She dug her toe stops into the ground and willed herself not to shrink away from the man’s scrutinizing gaze, even though she desperately wanted to.

“It’s okay.” He studied her for a moment. His gaze felt heavy on her skin, an acute pressure she was all too aware of, as his eyebrows lifted and his lips quirked in the corners in amused curiosity when he took in the sight of her skates and the knee high socks, shorts, and tank top combination she wore with them.

She knew what she looked like - her friends enjoyed teasing her for leaning so heavily into the aesthetic - and she’d never really been self-conscious about her wardrobe before. However, the way he looked at her left her conflicted; she didn’t know if she wanted to stand a little taller and give a flirty wink at the way his eyes lingered on her exposed legs or shrink away in embarrassment in case he thought she looked like a character from a bad eighties film. There was a reason for the uniform, a purpose for it all, but he didn’t need to know that.

He was silent for a beat, taking in the sight of her, before he met her gaze. His brown eyes shone with mirth and she felt her confusion deepen as he said, “I’m guessing you’re either a really good skater or this is a new hobby.”

“Sometimes I think I can skate better than I can walk,” she confirmed, her confusion dissipating as a a wry smile quirked her lips. She dug her toe stop into the boardwalk to hold her balance and offered a half-hearted shrug. “I just got distracted.”

“Happens to the best of us.” They fell into an awkward silence, neither knowing what to say - or if there even was more to say. The pair of them looked away from one another, both studying the group of surfers lingering near the water’s edge, and Evie opened her mouth to apologize again when the man broke the stalemate first. He turned his attention back to her, fixed her with that amused gaze once more, and said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“I doubt you have. I live in LA and haven’t been here in years. I’m just visiting my cousin for the summer.” She paused, contemplating giving the stranger her name. She wanted to enjoy her summer and though she knew Dahlia would provide adequate entertainment, a few other friends wouldn’t hurt. Especially a friend as attractive as this one. And, at the end of the day, she knew that she didn’t want to spend the summer cooped up in Dahlia’s house or skating alone. “I’m Evie,” she introduced, offering her hand once more.

“Calum.” He returned the gesture, capturing her hand in his, and she bit back a sigh upon feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. It was pleasant, fitting of the warmth that he seemed to radiate across the board, and pulled a smile from her as the embrace lingered a second too long. “Nice to meet you.”

The moment Calum released her hand, a shout of his name broke the spell they’d been under. The world around them suddenly came back into focus, the bustle of the slowly awakening city evident as a few people skirted around them, and Evie felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment once more. She glanced at the group of surfers who were now openly staring at the pair of them, offering a tight lipped smile, before she turned back to Calum.

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry, again.” She knew that she’d apologized enough, no damage had been done, but it wasn’t often that she took out strangers in the middle of a skate. She was embarrassed, more so because he was an attractive stranger, and hoped her cheeks weren’t as flushed as she imagined them to be when she offered final smile and turned to return to her car, her desire to finish the skate losing to her desire to not run into him again on the skate back. “See you around, Calum,” she called, sending him a wave as she completed a spin to show that she was capable of skating.

She didn’t miss the amused grin that lifted the corners of his lips or the way the sunlight made his eyes gleam. He looked beautiful, waving her off, and she had to turn away to keep her focus. She barely heard him but over the sound of her wheels against the boardwalk, his call of “See you around, Evie,” hit her ears and sent a small thrill jolting through her.

**********

“You know, it’s really not as funny as you’re making it out to be.”

Evie sat at one of the high tables near the counter of Flower, the bakery that Dahlia owned, and rested her chin her palm - thankfully it wasn’t scraped, just sore - as she watched her knead a batch of dough for rosemary bread. She hadn’t planned on telling her cousin anything about the incident, she was just going to mention that she’d seen a group of surfers near the water and was curious about them, but Dahlia spotted the scrapes on her knees and chided her for not wearing kneepads before interrogating her as to how exactly she’d fallen. It wasn’t like Evie to fall, she knew that much, and it was even less like her to take other people down along the way. She could tell that Evie still felt embarrassed by the accident - every time she bent her knees, the stinging reminded her of quite possibly the worst first impression she’d ever made - and it was only made worse by the fact that Dahlia knew Calum all too well.

Evie was surprised to learn that not only was Dahlia dating one of the surfers - Ashton, the one who’d been hit with the water bottle and chased the blonde down the beach, if she’d seen them right - she was friends with them all. She didn’t have to ask about the group because when she mentioned the name Calum, Dahlia told her all about them. And when she realized that Calum was the one Evie had bowled over, she decided that she no longer felt sympathy for either of them; she felt pure, unadulterated amusement.

“I don’t get a lot of amusement, kid.” Evie rolled her eyes at the nickname, she was only two years younger than Dahlia’s twenty-three, but didn’t interrupt as she waved a flour covered hand. “It’s not that funny but you have to admit, it’s kind of funny.” This time, Evie did scoff aloud and Dahlia grinned brightly at her. “Not only did you completely eat it, cause enough for amusement as long as you’re not hurt, you took Calum down with you. Ten bucks says he’s going to tease you for it when he realizes you’re my cousin.”

Evie huffed an annoyed sigh, pursing her lips and blowing a piece of hair from in front of her nose, before she rolled her eyes. “Can we just not tell him?” she asked as she stood from her stool and winced at the stiffness in her knees. “I mean, can I just disappear when you hang out with them? I can grab my skates and go bowl over another surfer or five while you have fun like a normal person.” She didn’t mean it, not really, but the thought was tempting.

Dahlia, who’d finished kneading and was dropping the dough into a bowl to proof, laughed. It was a beautiful sound, a crystal clear laugh that belonged to a Disney princess, and Evie was reminded of why she wanted so badly to be like her cousin. Everything about her was carefree and beautiful, graceful and perfect even though Evie’s parents called Dahlia rough around the edges. She was unapologetic in her existence, living her dream proudly and doing as she pleased, and Evie envied her for it.

“That’s going to be tough seeing as your skates are at home and they’re all currently there, setting up a welcome party for you.” Dahlia spoke nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on Evie, and watched out of the corner of her eye as she stopped her perusal of the display case and stared at her. Her mouth opened and closed without sound for a long moment before she stopped, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes, and Dahlia had to admit that it was amusing. She felt bad, getting so much joy out of watching one of the most outwardly put together people she knew have such a rough day, but she she knew that Evie wouldn’t hold it against her.

“It’s just going to be a few people, E,” Dahlia assured her, wiping her hands on the towel she kept in her apron pocket. “Don’t worry about it. And, seriously, don’t worry about bumping into Calum. If anyone will laugh it off, it’s him. He won’t be a dick about it and if you don’t vibe with the teasing, he’ll leave you alone. The guys are really great, I promise.”

Evie trusted Dahlia’s judge of character more than anyone else she’d ever known. Her cousin was good at reading people - better than she was - so if she vouched for Calum’s character, he had to be at least somewhat decent. And though Evie still felt the sting of embarrassment every time her knees ached, she wanted to let loose. She wanted a normal summer and a normal summer included parties and pretty surfer boys, mindless fun and long skates and sunburns; not internships in stuffy law firms and worrying about an impression she’d made on a guy she likely wouldn’t see again in three months time.

“Fine,” she huffed, her nails tapping against the pastry case as she lifted her head and stood on her tiptoes to look Dahlia square in the face. “But I reserve the right to go sulk in my room at any point if any of them are assholes.”

Dahlia, used to Evie’s antics after years of spending summers together, shook her head in good-natured exasperation. She knew that Evie was just nervous, it wasn’t often that she interacted with people outside of her classes or internships or tight-knit group of roller girls - people that Dahlia knew were very different than her own friends - and she didn’t blame her for putting up her guard. Instead of telling her to live a little, she just acknowledged, “You wouldn’t be Evie if you didn’t.”

Evie’s mouth popped open in a mock outrage as she watched her round the counter with a chocolate chunk cookie in hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked as she took the cookie from Dahlia’s outstretched hand and promptly bit into it. “Oh, the salt was a good call on these.”

Dahlia grinned at the compliment, glad that the addition of salt was appreciated by the harshest cookie taste tester she knew. “I know. Ten times better than the old ones.” She fell silent then, hesitating for a beat as she watched Evie eat her cookie, before she shook her head and nudged her shoulder. “Look, you have a habit of hiding when things get tough. You can’t do that in the real world, kid. If one of the guy’s is an asshole, dump a beer on his head. Fuck, go grab your skates and use him as target practice. Just… just try not to run, even if you want to.”

Evie exhaled a harsh breath. Although she knew it wasn’t Dahlia’s intention, she felt like a child being scolded. However, she knew that her cousin was right. When things got tough, Evie had a history of running away - she’d run from Los Angeles to spend the summer with Dahlia when the pressure to be perfect got to be too much - and she hated to admit it. She liked simplicity, she liked for the things she could control to be easy and normal, and didn’t want to invite complications into her life. If she could avoid problems, she would. But for Dahlia’s sake, she knew that she had to at least try.

She was incapable of telling her cousin no so she nodded her reluctant agreement. “Fine. But if you see me dump a beer on one of your friends, you can’t yell at me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she teased - and she wouldn’t. Just as Evie couldn’t say no to her, Dahlia couldn’t ever be mad at Evie. They were opposite sides of the same coin, different but similar enough to be as close as they were, and both wanted the best for the other. And Dahlia deemed that for Evie, the best would be indulging in a ridiculous party hosted by her friends. “Come and help me clean up. Ash just texted me. They’re almost done setting up so we can head home.”

Evie was nervous. She was nervous to meet Dahlia’s friends - ones she automatically assumed were much cooler than her own - and nervous to meet her boyfriend. She was nervous to have to spend the night making new friends. But, most of all, she was nervous to see Calum again, especially after she’d made such an idiot out of herself that morning. He was beautiful, stunningly so, and she didn’t want to come off as just Dahlia’s dorky younger cousin. She’d felt something - a spark of attraction, a few errant butterflies taking flight in the pit of her stomach, the last shreds of her sanity leaving when he smiled at her - and was nervous to see how things would play out.

She wanted to get to know him, to let something unfold naturally, but she also wanted him to see her as her ideal self. She wanted him to see her as she portrayed herself to the world - as confident and sleek, sure of herself and put together - rather than for what she truly was; an insecure, unsure girl who just wanted someone to love her despite her flaws.

But she deemed a reality check necessary. At the end of the day, she knew his opinion didn’t matter much. She’d say goodbye in August and that would be that. However, that didn’t stop her from agonizing over what he could possibly think of her as she began helping Dahlia wipe down tables so they could get home to the party.

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

Calum stood behind the makeshift bar he and Ashton had pulled together in Dahlia’s backyard. It was a set of old card tables, barely big enough to fit all the alcohol and barely stable enough to stand on their own - Calum actually worried they might collapse if anyone got too close - but the setup did the trick. It got him out of the cramped kitchen and gave him at least a little room to work while he mixed a drink for himself. He knew that he would be stationed there half the night and while he didn’t normally mind - it was his profession, after all - he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be spending his night off doing his job without the benefit of a paycheck.

He’d taken the night off weeks ago, when Dahlia first mentioned wanting to throw a welcome party for her cousin, and was glad to be spending the night away from the bar. With schools dismissing for summer, more and more college students who’d moved away were returning home while tourists were slowly starting to trickle in. Combined with his regulars, Calum was already tired of putting on his best customer service smile and just wanted to spend the night with his friends. He wanted to forget that anything outside of Dahlia’s backyard existed and hoped that his night would be better than his morning had been.

He had gone to bed around four but found himself unable to sleep with the yard work happening outside his window and the constant buzzing of his phone. Between Luke, Ashton, and Michael, he swore he received at least a hundred messages, begging him to come surf with them, and had only relented when he realized they wouldn’t give up, even if he turned off his phone.

He was sleep deprived, still annoyed from the night before, and had only been more annoyed when he was knocked off his feet by a girl on roller skates. He didn’t realize that the girl who’d bowled him over was Dahlia’s cousin until the guys asked him who he was talking to. In his sleep deprived state, he’d just assumed it was a coincidence, another girl named Evie from Los Angeles, because she looked nothing like her cousin and didn’t exactly fit the image he’d crafted in his mind after hearing her description.

Dahlia was tall and graceful with short blonde hair, bright blue, doe eyes and an openness about her that warmed everyone she met. She was bubbly and fond of the same things Ashton loved - essential oils, yoga, green juice that couldn’t possibly be made to taste good - while she described her cousin as anything but.

Dahlia warned them all that Evie was more reserved, able to put on a polite face and make conversation but more than happy to be alone with her thoughts. She preferred the outdoors and tight-knit groups of friends over parties and packed houses - part of why Calum was hesitant to help with the party; he knew what it was like to be dragged to social events and feel out of place - and was apparently studying to become a lawyer. Her family was well off, Dahlia mentioned not getting along with them at all, and he pictured someone who looked like Dahlia but had the attitude of a spoiled LA brat.

But he’d been warned that Evie would be everything but what he expected and Dahlia hadn’t exactly been wrong.

Where Dahlia was golden hour, Evie was late evening with deep brown hair that hit her ribcage and pensive, guarded brown eyes that glittered gold in the early morning sunlight. Evie was smaller in stature, even in her skates Calum was taller than her, but she filled out the cliche skate outfit she wore nicely. From Dahlia’s description, he’d imagined her to be a runner or a volleyball player, maybe even a swimmer, but never a skater. However, he could tell that she dedicated time to her hobby as he’d spotted few bruises and bright white scars marring her otherwise flawless skin.

He couldn’t have imagined his first meeting with her would go the way it did. He certainly didn’t expect to just run into her, literally, as she skated down the boardwalk and he didn’t connect the dots until Ashton squinted at her retreating figure and declared with a certainty that Calum questioned at the time that that was, in fact, Dahlia’s cousin.

He didn’t know her, not yet, but he could already tell she was nothing like he’d been expecting.

“What time are they supposed to be here?”

Calum was broken out of his reverie by Luke’s question and lifted his head to watch his friend attempt to decorate the backyard. Luke was stood atop a step ladder, blue eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to untangle a mess of string lights without undoing the work he’d already done - half the strand was already taped to the side of the house and looped over parts of the fence. Michael stood behind him with a red cup in one hand and his cellphone in the other, occasionally lifting his head to make sure Luke hadn’t fallen. Neither of them looked like they knew what they were doing - Calum was, frankly, surprised they hadn’t given up and gone inside to eat the cookies Dahlia left for them yet - and the image made him shake his head as he grabbed his cup and wandered across the yard to where they stood.

“Don’t fucking pull the lights, mate. You untangle them before you plug them in.” Ashton, who had been blowing up pool floats and tossing them into the water, glanced up from an inflatable slice of pizza and rolled his eyes as he watched Luke tug at a tangled mess of string lights. He looked exhausted, as he always did when attempting to wrangle his three best friends, and shook his head as Luke shot him a dirty look.

“Now you tell me,” Luke muttered, annoyed by the lack of direction from Ashton, as Michael and Calum laughed.

Ashton ignored Luke��s comment. Instead, he focused on the task at hand and answered Luke’s initial question. “Other people should start getting here soon. Dolly and Evie won’t be here until seven.”

Luke made a face at Ashton’s answer and Michael shook his head. The backyard was nearly ready but they still had a good bit of work to finish if they wanted it to look the way Dahlia - and Ashton - envisioned. Ashton was obviously not pleased with the job Luke was doing in the backyard and seemed to regret giving the job to him and Michael. However, it wasn’t as if he’d done it on purpose. They just grabbed the lights and started stringing them up around the backyard the moment they arrived and he hadn’t had the heart to tell them to stop he accepted their willingness to step in and help, however, Calum knew that his perfectionist of a friend wanted nothing more than to do it himself as they both surveyed the mess Luke and Michael had made.

Instead of chastising them as Calum knew he wanted to, Ashton shook his head once more and turned his attention to Calum. “You met her this morning. What’s she like?” When Calum blinked, only half paying attention to the question as he watched Luke knock himself off balance and flail his arms as he narrowly avoided falling from the ladder, Ashton rolled his eyes. “Evie. What’s she like?”

“Oh, Evie. Seems nice.”

He didn’t know what Ashton wanted him to say. He’d met her, sure, but it was a quick interaction that was over in a matter of moments. She crashed into him, apologized, and skated away. She’d been nice, polite, but it wasn’t as if he expected her to knock him to the ground and just leave without a word. Their interaction was brief and though he had thoughts based on the far off look in her eyes, in the way she seemed to revel in just skating alone without a care in the world and the embarrassment she felt at a simple mistake, he didn’t feel qualified to pass judgment.

The only judgement he did feel qualified to pass was that she was gorgeous.

“She’s cute.” Luke echoed Calum’s initial, unspoken impression as his legs wobbled. He stood on the top step of the step stool, arms stretched to reach a high enough place to hang the lights, and Calum was just waiting for him to topple off the stool and fall backward into the pool. “Is she single?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at Luke’s question and stared up at him, his hand extended with a roll of tape for Luke to grab. “How do you know she’s cute? She was too far away this morning. Your eyesight’s shit, dude.” He paused, his eyes narrowing and his head cocking to the side, before he added, “And aren’t you having a thing with that girl from the library?”

“Instagram.” When the backyard went silent at Luke’s nonchalant confession, he turned as best he could on the ladder and met the curious gazes of his friends. Michael stared at him with raised eyebrows and an unimpressed look on his face as Ashton and Calum bit back laughter at the pink that blossomed on his cheeks. “What? Dahlia showed me! I was curious. It’s not like I went stalking her online,” he defended as he returned his attention to the lights clinging to the side of the house. “And Jen and I are just friends. She’s dating that girl who works at the tattoo shop on the pier.”

Calum rolled his eyes at Luke’s answer. He wasn’t surprised he’d gone snooping to figure out what Dahlia’s cousin looked like. Luke had had a crush on Dahlia when he first met her, before he realized she was Ashton’s girlfriend, and obviously hoped her cousin would be a close match in terms of looks. However, that wasn’t to say the rest of them had no interest in Evie at all.

They were all curious, anyone Dahlia spoke so highly of had to be someone worth getting to know - and they lived in a small town, new people were always interesting -, but unlike the others, Luke had taken the initiative to ask Dahlia more about her. He wasn’t content to wait where the others were. Calum wanted to get to know her, especially now that he knew what she looked like and felt a spark of attraction for her, but he didn’t want whatever information he got secondhand to influence his feelings about her. Instead, he wanted his opinion to form naturally.

Instead of joining their conversation and speculating about what she’d be like - they all had wildly different theories and it was almost amusing - Calum focused on gathering the bottles of alcohol Dahlia had purchased the day before. He set up his bar with a few extra bottles placed near the door so Dahlia wouldn’t have so many people venturing into her home before he set about choosing an appropriate playlist - a task he’d been assigned but knew Ashton would likely regret handing off to him.

And when all was said and done, he took a seat on one of the poolside chairs and sipped his drink as he waited for the guests to begin arriving.

It started slowly at first, a trickle of guests into Dahlia’s backyard all filing in one by one. He could recognize every face that entered, each was a close friend that Dahlia really wanted Evie to meet, and he felt at ease as he sat with Michael and his girlfriend, Crystal, as another friend recounted his trip to Vegas for a bachelor party. After that, the guests started arriving in droves.

People piled into the backyard, shoving through the gate two or three at a time, and Calum wasn’t sure if he genuinely didn’t know any of them or if he’d just already had too much to drink. It looked like every person in town under the age of thirty had flocked to Dahlia’s backyard and he was mildly impressed by her ability to draw so many people away from the only bar in town, even if it was just for one night.

Dahlia and Evie were the last guests to arrive and Calum was back behind the makeshift bar when they stepped through the sliding glass doors. He was just out of earshot, just far enough away to observe but not interact, but he could guess that the party wasn’t something Evie wanted. He watched as she hid halfway behind Dahlia and only offered polite smiles - and greetings, if he had to venture a guess - as the party cheered for her. She looked taken aback at how many people littered the backyard and Calum was willing to bet that Dahlia had severely played down the amount of people she expected.

He watched for a moment, still behind the bar as people took the drinks he’d pre-mixed, as Dahlia introduced Evie to Luke and Ashton. She looked happy to be meeting friends, he could tell that the smile she flashed them both was genuine, but she still looked overwhelmed beneath the grin she wore. Her cheeks were flushed pink, much as they had been when he met her, and the flush creeped down her neck to cover her chest.

The flush spread over her skin and Calum found himself studying her much closer than he intended. She looked cute, soft and sweet with her flushed skin and shining eyes, and it was a contrast to the mischief he saw when she skated away backward, just to prove she could. He was glad to note that she’d changed her clothes since their first meeting. Instead of the tank top, shorts, and knee high socks combination she’d skated in, she wore a light summer dress in a pretty blue that looked beautiful on her. She wore a pair of sandals that showed him just how small she was and he shook his head as he watched Luke bend down to hear her reply to something he said.

He didn’t know why he felt a tinge of annoyance as Luke crowded her, a smile on his lips and clearly undressing her with his eyes, but he did his best to swallow it as he observed her. When he spotted her shifting her weight from foot to foot, a small sign of her anxiety, he began moving without much thought. He ignored the requests he was getting for this drink or that one as he reached for the vodka and pineapple juice Dahlia had purchased specifically for Evie. Her drink of choice was the easiest he’d mixed all night and it only took a minute for him to finish the drink and cross the backyard to where she stood.

He didn’t want to interrupt - he wasn’t really sure what he was doing, anyway; he was just responding to an overwhelming urge to make her comfortable - so he waited until Luke and Ashton were caught up in a conversation with Dahlia, all three of them turning their attention away from Evie for the time being, before he approached and offered her the cup. “You look like you could use this.”

Evie turned to him, surprised by his presence and the offer of a drink, and nearly refused. He could see it in the way she hesitated to take the cup and he realized how it must look, a strange guy offering her a drink, but when she met his eyes and he offered her a smile, she took the cup from his hand. “Thanks. I was going to come grab one when they let me leave,” she joked before her smile turned sheepish. “Sorry, again, for this morning. I just got a little distracted and didn’t realize anyone was crossing the boardwalk. I try not to make running over pedestrians a habit.”

Calum could tell that she still felt bad. She wasn’t quite able to look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds and he believed her when she said this was something that didn’t happen often. “It’s okay,” he assured her with the same smile he’d given her that morning. He was no longer sleep deprived, amused at the smallest things, but he found himself enjoying watching her cheeks flare red and her eyes drop to the ground.

Dahlia had warned them she was shy, a little reserved and quiet, and he could see it as he bit back the teasing jabs he wanted to make about giving her a bell to ring or asking her for a little warning before she pounced on him the next time. She sipped at her drink, her eyes roaming the backyard in an effort to avoid meeting his, and he hid his smile behind the rim of his cup. “You were good, skating away. How long have you been at it?”

Evie looked directly at him again and he noticed that she seemed surprised that he’d stuck around and even more surprised that he was asking her about her skating. He didn’t want to pry, not really, but he made a mental note to ask Dahlia about it later as he waited for her answer.

“I started when I was a kid. Eight, maybe nine?” She paused, considering exactly how long she’d been skating, and shrugged. “Dahlia’s the reason I got started.”

That surprised Calum. Dahlia did yoga with Ashton but other than that, he didn’t think she had ever even stepped foot in a gym. “Really? I can’t picture her as a skater.”

“She grew out of it. She took it up because it was cool, you know? California kid in a beach town, skating on the boardwalk; it was what everyone did and she wanted to fit in. I just wanted to be like her so I started skating, too. She grew out of it, I didn’t. I should, but it’s fun.” Evie shrugged off her explanation, a halfhearted gesture that showed Calum few people stopped to ask her about her hobby, and he struggled to hide his frown as he watched her down the rest of her drink in one go.

“If you enjoy it, keep at it. I think it’s cool.”

“Thanks.” She looked genuinely appreciative, a warmth in her eyes that told him she was grateful for the compliment, and he nodded his acknowledgement. The conversation stalled, neither of them really knowing where to go from there, and Calum chalked it up to her discomfort at being thrust into such a large crowd and his inability to read her.

He didn’t want to make a snap judgement, she seemed quite good at contradicting his assumptions about her, so he he consciously tuned out the declarations his brain wanted him to make. Instead, he wanted to add more, tell her that she should keep skating regardless of what other people thought about it as long as she enjoyed it, but before he could open his mouth, Dahlia turned her attention back to her cousin and grinned as she caught sight of Calum.

“Cal! You’re not bullying my cousin, are you?” She fixed him with a playful glare, a mock suspicion that told him she knew about the incident, and laughed when he rolled his eyes. She was the most willing to give him hell, to call him out if he was being a little snappy or overstepping in the pursuit of teasing his friends, and he knew that beneath her humor was a genuine question so he shook his head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dolly. Why would I bully anyone else when Luke is right there?” Luke, who had tuned into the conversation and stood too close to Evie for Calum’s liking, shot him an unimpressed glare and held up his middle finger in response. Calum just grinned in response, as he usually did, before he returned his attention to Evie. She giggled at the exchange, a genuinely amused smile quirked her lips, and he felt a strange sense of accomplishment as he met her eyes. “D’you want another?” he asked, gesturing to the empty cup in her hand.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though. And thanks for this one. Vodka pineapple is my favorite.”

Calum almost admitted that Dahlia told him. He opened his mouth to tell Evie that her cousin had bought too much vodka - and endured too much teasing from Calum and Ashton for the amount of vodka she purchased - just for her but Dahlia spoke before he could. “He’s a bartender,” Dahlia told her, a sly smile in Calum’s direction that he didn’t quite understand, “he’s got that sixth sense of knowing what alcohol you need.”

Evie didn’t look like she believed her - Calum knew he wouldn’t have - but she played along and nodded appreciatively. “It’s a good sense to have. Arguably the most useful of them.” She met his eyes, both of them silently agreeing that whatever Dahlia was attempting to do was not working, and he couldn’t hide his smile as they remained like that for a long moment.

It was just a small joke, a little jab to poke fun at her cousin’s exaggeration, but it was something and it intrigued him. He would’ve been content waiting to hear more, spending the night getting to know her instead of making drinks for insufferable drunks he wouldn’t get compensated for, but Michael’s shout of his name drew his attention back to the abandoned bar.

He rolled his eyes at Michael’s repeated shouting and turned his eyes back to Evie for a beat. He offered her an apologetic smile before he gestured to the bar. “I better get back before someone has to make their own drink,” he deadpanned, annoyed that he was being roped into pouring drinks when all he wanted was to enjoy himself.

“That’d be a national tragedy.”

Evie bit her lip, obviously not meaning to speak the thought aloud, but it made Calum laugh yet again. “It’d be a shame,” he agreed, his mood lifting slightly as he watched her lips curve up in a soft smile. “If you need another drink, you know where to find me.”

Calum reluctantly left Evie with Dahlia, Luke, and Ashton and crossed the backyard to return to the bar. He lost sight of her between the partygoers that crowded him and the friends of friends that crowded her. Though he hoped he would see her again, their paths didn’t cross and, as disappointed as he was, he imagined it was for the best. He didn’t want to monopolize her time, not when there were more interesting people for her to interact with, and he didn’t want to get too attached to someone who would be leaving in a few months, anyway.

There was nothing there for them, even if they both felt the swarm of butterflies he tried to drown with a shot of tequila, and he wasn’t going to fan the flames. He wanted his summer to be easy, calm and quiet, and he could see her breaking his heart if he let her in too close. So he didn’t look for her, didn’t try to catch her attention even though he knew he could. He just let it be and sat behind the bar, making drinks and counting down the hours until he could leave.

And as he thought about his night, he decided the future didn’t matter. He was just glad he’d gotten her to smile.

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

Evie woke the morning after the party with a dry mouth, something that always happened when she drank, but no other signs of a hangover. She hadn’t had much to drink - just the vodka pineapple Calum brought her when she first arrived and the spiked punch Luke grabbed for her that she only drank to be polite - so she wasn’t surprised to find herself hangover free. She was exhausted from socializing, she would’ve been content to lie in bed and pretend other people didn’t exist for the day, and found herself awake far too early for a day that had no plans but, otherwise, she felt fine.

Dahlia, on the other hand, looked like she felt worse than Evie ever had.

The first thing Evie noticed when she stepped into the kitchen was Dahlia sitting at the table with her head in her hands and an untouched cup of coffee and an open bottle of painkillers in front of her. The room was a mess of red solo cups and flickering string lights, there was even a few deflated beach balls littering the living room floor, but it was nothing compared to the backyard.

Evie spotted red cups littering the bright green grass - and the cool blue water of the pool - as well as articles of clothing and even a few remaining guests asleep in lounge chairs. There were plenty of deflated pool floats, a pizza box with half the pizza still inside, and even a few empty liquor bottles strewn across the grass and she grimaced at the thought of cleaning it all up. The aftermath made the party look far cooler than it had actually been and she balked at the state of it all as she poured a cup of coffee and lifted herself up onto the counter to stare at her cousin.

“Don’t start,” Dahlia warned, her voice low and thick with sleep. She waved a hand in Evie’s direction, her nails noticeably chipped and her skin stained with Sharpie from where Michael drew on her after she fell asleep. “Just… don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Evie hid her grin behind her coffee cup and watched as Dahlia lifted her head to fix her with a dirty look. She scowled, her blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Evie swallowed her laughter with a sip of coffee.

“If my head didn’t hurt so bad, I’d be rolling my eyes. I just wanted you to know that.” Dahlia groaned at the effort it took to lift herself from her chair and heaved a heavy sigh as she crossed the kitchen to dump her now cold coffee into the sink.

“Sucks to be you. You’ve gotta go open the shop,” Evie reminded her as she watched her run a little water in the sink to drain it of coffee. “You can’t really call out when you’re your own boss, huh?”

“God, the last thing I want to do is go to work today.” Dahlia looked like she forgot that work existed and, for a moment, like she regretted opening up her own business. However, after a moment of scanning the mess that was her house, she paused. Dahlia’s face twisted in a thoughtful contemplation, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, before she fixed Evie with a look that she didn’t like at all. “Want to open up for me?”

“No.”

Dahlia groaned at Evie’s swift response and closed the small gap that existed between them to place her hands on Evie’s knees. “Oh, come on! Please? All you have to do is open the shop up and take care of customers for a few minutes. I’ll be there by ten, at the latest. I just need to shower and, I don’t know, find a new liver.” Despite her best efforts, Evie laughed at this and Dahlia grinned as she watched her soften.

Evie was usually steadfast in her decisions, able to stick with whatever she chose regardless of how her feelings changed - her future career path was evidence of this -, but Dahlia was good at convincing her to change her mind. And it wasn’t like she didn’t want to help. She would do whatever she could to help Dahlia out. However, opening a shop she hadn’t been to since it opened and working it, alone, for an hour? That thought intimidated her.

One of her biggest fears was failing spectacularly and she feared she would accidentally burn down the shop or maybe offend half of Dahlia’s customer base and she didn’t want that at all.

However, she found herself unable to tell her no. Although the party wasn’t exactly for Evie - not really, it was more an excuse for Dahlia and her friends to party without feeling guilty - she was still housing her for the summer with little expectations. She wasn’t paying rent or doing much outside of helping with groceries so she felt like she owed her that much, at least.

She only had one option and she didn’t really like it.

Evie remained silent for a moment, her eyes narrowed at her cousin just to make her squirm, before she heaved a heavy sigh and nodded. “Fine. But if you’re not there by ten, I’m locking up and leaving the shop empty while I go skate. I want to try out the skate park before it gets crowded with kids for the summer.”

“Deal. Love you, kid. Thank you,” Dahlia exclaimed, looking brighter than she did a moment ago, as she reached out and pinched Evie’s cheek. She laughed Evie swatted at her hand and nudged her side to get her to stop. “The shop is dead before eleven on Saturday, anyway. At most, you’ll have a few people wanting pastry but that’s about it. Find what you need in the pastry case. If someone has a custom order, write it down and get their name and number and I’ll confirm with them later.”

After her explanation, Dahlia took off down the hallway. Evie watched her disappear, rushing toward her bedroom with a grace that Evie still couldn’t manage, even on skates. She was envious of how Dahlia moved, how it looked like she was floating on air even with the way her shoulders slumped and her head fell forward due to the hangover, and found herself comparing their differences yet again as she retreated to the guest bedroom she claimed as her own for the summer.

She envied Dahlia in a number of ways. Dahlia was graceful, of course, but she was also living life the way she chose. Her parents wanted her to go to college and get a business degree but her passion was baking. She knew the degree might be helpful - she sometimes lamented not choosing the college route, especially as she navigated the wonderful world of entrepreneurship - but she preferred getting practical experience so instead of spending four years in school, she worked in cafes and bakeries and trained with any pastry chef that would have her. She attended culinary school, after working long enough to save up the money so she wouldn’t feel like she owed her parents, and was steadfast in doing whatever she could to make her dream come true.

Evie, meanwhile, was stuck living the life her parents deemed appropriate just because she was too afraid to challenge them.

She didn’t want to be a lawyer. It wasn’t the life she would’ve chosen for herself. However, as she skated along the sidewalk that ran between Dahlia’s house and Flower, she realized that she wasn’t sure what life she would’ve chosen for herself. She hadn’t really been given the opportunity to dream as a child - her future had long since been determined for her - and feared it was too late now.

And, even if she was given the chance to dream, what would she do as she dreamt?

She was stuck, though she realized there were worse places to be stuck than with a paid for degree and a guaranteed ticket to law school.

Evie heaved a heavy sigh as she stopped in front of the shop. She paid no attention to her surroundings as she flipped through Dahlia’s keyring to find the front door key. Her headphones were situated over her ears and she was lost in thought as she stepped inside, rolling around the tables and flipping on lights as she did. As soon as the computer was turned on and everything was ready to go, she pulled off her headphones and sat down at one of the tables to switch her skates out for a pair of Docs.

“When you’re not body slamming strangers, you are actually really good.”

“Jesus Christ.” Evie stood from her seat, sending her skates rolling across the floor and shaking the table, as a voice echoed through the empty shop. She hadn’t heard the bell ring - a fact she chalked up to the headphones - and was surprised to find Calum standing near the entrance with a smile on his face. He was leaning against a table, arms folded over his chest, but leaned down to grab the skate as it rolled across the floor to him.

Evie was glad to see him again. She’d planned on seeking him out at the party, she wanted to talk to him, but every attempt she made was thwarted. If she wasn’t inundated with questions for Dahlia’s friends about her life in L.A., Luke was following her every move. He hung onto her like a lost puppy and while she thought he was cute, someone else had already captured her interest.

She smiled at Calum as he crossed the shop, holding the run away skate out for her to take, and willed herself not to flush pink in his presence yet again. She didn’t feel so embarrassed, not anymore. Those feelings were replaced with butterflies raging in the pit of her stomach and she willed her thumping heart to calm as she shook her head and said, “Thanks. Good morning.”

“Good morning. That happen often?”

Calum smirked at her, obviously amused by her string of bad luck when it came to him, and watched her as she moved. “Not really, no. I’m beginning to think you’re bad luck, Calum.” Evie laughed as she teased Calum, a grin on her face to let him know she was joking, and focused on lacing up the remaining boot before she placed her skates on the leash and stashed them beneath the counter beside her bag. “What brings you to Flower?”

“The guys are all dying of hangovers. It was my turn to pick up breakfast and I know the owner here,” he said, his eyes shining with mischief as he approached the counter she now stood behind and watched her brush her hair over her shoulder and away from her face.

“Mm, well, the owner isn’t in but I’ll do my best to help you fulfill your duties as breakfast bringer. What do you need?”

“Surprise me. I’ll trust your judgement.” Evie raised an eyebrow at Calum’s words, her smile still present, before she rolled her eyes and set about gathering an assortment of pastries. He made a noise, a sound that made it seem like he’d just had a thought, before he added, “I will admit, it’s hard trusting your judgement when your favorite drink is vodka pineapple but…”

Evie lifted her head, shooting him a playful glare over the top of the pastry case, before she narrowed her eyes and huffed. “Isn’t it against the bartender code of ethics or something to judge someone based on their drink choice?”

“Absolutely not. I think that’s the most ethical decision. Saves me from getting to know people with bad taste,” he defended, a laugh leaving his lips as he leaned back against one of the tables and watched her work. “And it’s a good way to pass time during slow shifts.”

Evie placed a piece of pastry paper into one box and reached for another to pack a few more items. “There’s such a thing as a slow shift at a bar here?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but this isn’t exactly L.A. There’s one bar in town and it’s only busy when kids come home from college. The rest of the year, there are plenty of slow shifts.” Calum explained with a shrug as he watched her bag up the boxes of pastries and slide them across the counter.

“You getting good at judging people based on their drinks, then?” Evie was certain she looked skeptical, she felt it, but Calum took her question in stride as he offered her a playful shrug.

“You can always come to the bar and see for yourself. I’ll share some of my judgements, you let me know how you think I did.”

Evie blinked in surprise at Calum’s offer. She hadn’t expected him to be so bold but she found that she liked it. The friends she made, the guys she dated, often beat around the bush or took far too long to ask for what they wanted. Calum, on the other hand, seemed comfortable enough to dive right in. It was a welcome change and she found herself nodding without really thinking it through.

“Okay, sure. I’ll come judge your judgements as long as you promise not to make fun of my drink of choice. Or my skating.”

“Never made fun of your skating, Evie,” Calum reminded her with a tooth-filled smile, “just your string of unfortunate luck when I’m around. My shift starts at seven tonight. Dolly usually drops by around eight with Ash and the guys if you want to join them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Calum lingered near the counter for a beat of silence after paying for the pastries. They stared at one another, both with glittering eyes and butterflies in their stomachs, and smiled as they took in the matching pink tint both their cheeks took on. Neither of them had gone into the summer with the intention of anything more than fun but they could feel something brewing beneath the surface. There was more to them than either of them wanted to admit yet, they didn’t know what awaited them down the line, but they were both coming to the conclusion that getting there would be a fun journey.

“See you around, Evie.” Calum broke the stalemate first, his words spoken softly with a hint of hope that didn’t go unnoticed. He gave her another smile, this one soft and unlike the others she’d seen thus far, before he turned to leave the shop.

“See you around, Calum.”

Evie watched as he left the shop. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he left the shop and she bit her lip to keep her smile from growing any wider as he did so. She felt giddy, an annoying sort of excitement that she hadn’t felt in a long while, and willed herself to calm as he disappeared into the morning sun. She wasn’t sure what she was getting herself into with Calum, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but for the first time in a long while, she found that she didn’t quite mind the uncertainty.

In fact, she was looking forward to it.

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

Calum stood behind the bar at Jack’s, a dingy dive that he’d been working at since he turned eighteen, and wiped at the counter as he waited for another customer to approach him. He hadn’t been old enough to bartend when he started, he just bussed tables and stocked the backroom, but since he turned twenty-one, he’d been behind the bar almost every night as he worked to save up enough money to finally leave his hometown.

He loved his family, he loved his friends, but he didn’t exactly love the life he was living. He was desperate to make a real life for himself, a better life for himself. He wanted an opportunity, a chance to prove that he could be something other than a small-town bartender or a washed up surfer, and he hoped that L.A. was the answer to all of his problems. Though, realistically, he knew that it was likely anything but.

He sometimes felt envious as he thought about the lives those around him led. His friends were settled into their small town lives. Ashton and Michael both had steady partners and were attempting to build futures as Ashton opened his own surf shop and Michael made more than enough money designing video games. Luke was just enjoying himself, having fun as he navigated small town life and worked to complete as much of a degree as he could at the local junior college. All the while Calum felt like he was drifting.

He felt like everyone around him had a plan, an idea of what they wanted from their future, while he felt like he had no idea and it scared him. He’d had one, once, but life hadn’t worked out he way he wanted and it threw him off balance. He was plunged into the unknown and it was well beyond uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to the uncertainty, to not knowing what would come next, and he felt like he needed to get his life back on track.

He just wasn’t sure how.

He didn’t know what was next, what came after spending his so-called best years working in a dive bar and not really doing anything he deemed important. He didn’t know where he would end up or what he even wanted to do anymore. He just knew that he needed to leave his hometown and make something of his life.

He needed to matter.

Calum heaved a heavy sigh, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest, as he shook his head to clear it. Those thoughts always hurt more than he cared to admit. He didn’t like dwelling on the what-if’s and the heavier parts of his life. He didn’t like the heavy feeling that lingered in his stomach or the way his chest tightened when he worried about it. And, maybe, that was why he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He couldn’t bring himself to think about it for longer than a few moments at a time. If he did, he panicked and it only served to hurt him more.

It was a catch-22; no matter what he did, he felt like he was fighting a losing battle.

Thankfully, as his thoughts started to swirl a little too quickly, a regular approached him and requested a refill on his favorite beer. Calum welcomed the opportunity to focus on work and listened idly as the man made a comment about the baseball game that played on the televisions above the bar.

He listened as the man complained about the current pitcher, a player he didn’t recognize as he didn’t follow baseball himself, and paid no mind to the noise as a new group entered the bar. He assumed it was a group of kids, just returned home from college, and worked to finish the task at hand. However, a flash of motion at the end of the bar caught his attention.

He turned his head just enough to catch sight of the customer and spotted Evie out of the corner of his eye, her long hair brushed back over her shoulder and showing off the low-cut top she wore. He had to take a moment to breathe, to swallow down the bubbling attraction he felt in the pit of his stomach, as he slid the beer across the counter. But when, with a smile and a tilt of his glass, the regular walked away, Calum had no choice but to turn his attention to Evie who flashed him a bright smile and waited for him to move close enough to hear her.

“I’m definitely not in L.A. anymore,” she commented, her eyes bright as she glanced around the dingy bar. She took in the decor, a mixture of old photographs and street signs and records, and Calum grimaced. It was rough - he knew that it looked like a bad dive from an even worse movie - and he could only imagine how it compared to the kinds of places she went to in the city. However, she surprised him when she said, “But I like it. Doesn’t feel so intimidating. I don’t feel like I need to look picture perfect, you know? I do feel kind of overdressed, though.”

Calum would be the first to admit that she looked out of place. She was definitely overdressed compared to the few older couples in casual beachwear and a few college students dressed in athletic shorts and oversized t-shirts. She wore a white, ribbed short-sleeved top tucked into a high-waisted red skirt and a pair of platforms that gave her a few inches of height. It was a good look on her - and it made Calum realize that skirts and shorts, anything that showed off her legs, were staples of her wardrobe; not that he was complaining - and he surprised himself when didn’t hesitate to tell her that.

“Doesn’t matter. You look beautiful,” he complimented as he wiped at a spot on the bar and glanced at her from beneath his lashes. Just as he expected, her cheeks tinted pink and she rolled her eyes at the compliment as she turned her head to glance around the bar once more. He spotted the others - Ashton and Dahlia, Michael and Crystal, and Luke, watching her with an interest that told Calum he wasn’t the only one who noticed how beautiful she looked - and sent her a smile. “First round on you?”

“Mhm. Least I could do for the party,” she answered with a shrug. He knew she hadn’t loved the party - he could see it on her face - but he was pleasantly surprised that she was attempting to pay it forward. “They said you know their usuals. I’d like to hear your judgements based on their orders.”

“I know them too well to judge their orders.” He began pouring the beer that Michael liked, a local brew that everyone else hated, as he lifted his eyes to meet hers once more. “But I can tell you my thoughts on some of the drinks I’ve already made tonight.”

“That’s not violating bartender-patron confidentiality?”

“Not by a long shot. See those girls over there?” When Evie nodded, subtly looking in the direction of the two college students that sat near the door, he repeated the gesture. “Both have really shitty, cheap white wine. It’s a social drink. There’s barely any alcohol in it so they’re not here to get drunk, just here to gossip and vent. They’ll both wobble out of here after one drink, that has barely any alcohol, and use it as an excuse to do something stupid like text an ex.”

“I don’t know if you need to know their drink orders to guess that. That’s just their demographic. What else you got?” She had a playful look in her eyes, offering up a challenge for something less obvious, and Calum laughed as he set to work pouring Luke’s tequila-based drink.

“That couple, way over there.” Again, she sent a subtle glance in their direction before nodding. “They’re in here almost every night. He drinks the same beer, she drinks the same vodka soda. They both like routine. He likes simple, no fuss. It’s a way to relax. For her, she gets that to pretend she’s more sophisticated than she is. Wants a drink with more alcohol than white wine but not something complicated and fruity. Sees it as a sort of marker of status or something.”

Evie nodded, a thoughtful look on her face as she watched him pour Dahlia’s drink of choice - which just so happened to be a vodka soda - before she tilted her head to the side and asked, “What does my vodka pineapple tell you about me?”

Calum looked at her. She was genuinely curious, not challenging or defensive, and he smiled as he finished pouring Ashton’s beer before he rounded the bar to help her carry the drinks to the table. He fixed her with a look and she raised an eyebrow as she waited for him to answer. “You don’t like to drink, you chose a drink where you can barely taste the alcohol, but you want to be a part of the group. If you did want to drink, you would either be a complete lightweight or drink everyone here under the table, there’s no in-between. You want simple, no fuss, and you put on that you don’t care what other people think but, deep down, you care more than anyone else.”

Evie blinked in surprise at his answer. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed and her cherry red lip between her teeth, before she shook her head and offered a half-hearted laugh. “All that from a vodka pineapple?”

“You’d be surprised what you can learn behind a bar. I’ll help you get these over to the group before they start rioting.”

Calum didn’t want to admit that he’d watched her at the party. He didn’t want to admit that he’d kept his eyes on her, even when she was surrounded by friends of friends and strangers alike. He didn’t want to tell her that those were the observations he made based on watching her interact with a group of people, nor did he want to tell her that he had more thoughts that, based on her reaction, were likely just as correct.

He kept that to himself just as he kept his growing attraction to her to himself.

He knew the signs of a bubbling crush - a term he hated because it felt so middle school but he wasn’t sure what else he could call it - and could feel them crashing over him like a tidal wave. He didn’t like the way his chest tightened when she was around. He didn’t like the way he wanted more, wanted to get to know her beyond the little bit he already guessed. He didn’t like the way he felt butterflies swirling in his stomach and climbing up the back of his throat. He didn’t like the way he was starting to feel about her and what he was beginning to learn about her from their brief interactions.

He hadn’t learned it all - and hadn’t formed his crush - from a vodka pineapple but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

Calum helped her carry the drinks to the table and averted his eyes when he watched her take the open seat beside Luke. It wasn’t as if either of them had any claim on her, both were interested but neither had made a move - even though he was starting to feel certain that she wasn’t interested in Luke the way he was in her - but he still felt annoyed watching her sit so close to the one other person who seemed to be vying for her attention.

Normally, Calum would’ve stuck around, hung out for a few minutes. He would’ve attempted to capture her attention once more, maybe crack a joke or ask her another question, but his own attention was promptly pulled back to the bar. Instead of getting to see her smile once more, he turned away from the table and missed the look she gave him, the way she watched him return to work with a crestfallen look on her face.

During his shift, Calum snuck a few breaks to hang out with the group just as he usually did. He tried not to monopolize Evie’s time, he tried to interact with her as he would with anyone else, but he found himself drawn to her time and time again. He kept his eye on her and seemed to meet her gaze every time he glanced her way.

When the bar finally emptied of anyone but them around ten, he changed the music to a playlist they all loved and laughed as he watched Dahlia and Ashton get up and begin to dance. They always took the opportunity to dance, although neither of them could move sober, and he found it endearing to see them still so smitten after so many years.

What he didn’t find endearing, however, was watching Luke hold his hand out to Evie. It was a gesture meant to entice her to dance but Calum felt a small thrill as she refused without hesitation and gestured to the bar. Instead of joining the others on the makeshift dance floor, she slid out of the booth and crossed the empty bar to take a seat on one of the barstools, all the while smiling directly at him.

He didn’t want to seem too pleased with her decision so he kept his gaze on the glasses he’d been cleaning. “No dancing for you?” he asked as she shifted on her seat and watched Luke crowd in to dance with Crystal and Michael.

“I only dance on wheels. ‘Sides, couldn’t leave you over here alone while everyone else had fun. I figured I’d keep you company.”

Calum hid his smile at the fact that she chose to spend time with him over dancing with the others and kept working as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She watched him work, her brown eyes trailing him as he moved. “You spend a lot of time on skates, huh?”

“When I have free time.” She shrugged, offering him a small smile and a nod of gratitude when he slid a glass of water across the bar to her - he had been correct; she’d only had one drink before switching to water while the others were sufficiently hammered. “I have a few friends that are into it and I do roller derby when I can but I don’t get to skate as often as I want. What about you? Living this close to a nice, more or less uncrowded beach must give you a lot of time to surf.”

“When I have free time,” he repeated her answer, smiling at her as she rolled her eyes. “I go pretty often but I’m here most nights and end up sleeping all day most days. Night shift can be brutal.” He shrugged himself, a nonchalant expression meant to show that he didn’t mind the long hours he worked, but Evie frowned at him and he felt a pang of something - affection, maybe? - as she expressed her sadness for him.

“I’m sorry. It sucks to have something so close seem so far.”

It was brief, a throwaway comment meant to ease his mind, but Calum appreciated it just the same. However, he didn’t want to dwell so he simply acknowledged her comment with a hum. He paused then, his eyes fixed on her as she glanced at Dahlia and Ashton and smiled as she watched them move. And before he could really think about it, he asked, “How hard was it to learn to skate?”

“I don’t really remember,” she answered, her lips curving downward into a brow as she turned her attention back to him. She looked thoughtful, attempting to remember how difficult her early days of skating were, before she shrugged. “I was so young when I started that I don’t really remember the struggle. It just kind of feels like I’ve always been skating, you know? Tricks are tough to learn, even now, but skating itself? I’m probably remembering wrong but it felt really easy at the time. Why? You want to learn?”

She meant it as a joke, he knew that, but Calum was serious as he nodded. “I was thinking about it, yeah.” He’d never really given any thought to wanting to learn to skate. He enjoyed watching people skate down the boardwalk in the summer and had seen a few roller girls in his day but he’d never been curious enough to want to skate himself. However, Evie loved skating so much and spent so much of her time on wheels that it seemed like the perfect way for him to spend time with her.

He felt a little embarrassed as she scrutinized him, blinking in surprise and mild amusement, but before he could walk it back and tell her he’d been joking, she grinned at him. She looked so earnest and excited at the prospect and he found it endearing as she beamed at him. “I could teach you,” she offered, smiling at him over the rim of her glass. “I mean, if you really want to learn, I could help.”

“Really?” This was exactly what Calum had been hoping for and tried his best not to convey his utter excitement as he watched her nod.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s the least I could do for body slamming you yesterday. But I’m going to ask for a favor, too. So, it’s both an apology and a sort of, uh, quid pro quo situation.”

“Ah, so it’s not just out of the goodness of your heart. What do you get from this then?” He was curious, unsure of what he could possibly offer her, and waited for her response with a raised eyebrow and his full attention on her.

“Teach me how to surf.”

To say that he hadn’t expected that would be an understatement. Calum blinked slowly, not expecting her to want to surf as it didn’t seem to be up her alley whatsoever. But, then again, he hadn’t pegged her as a skater and here she was, offering to teach him. And, as much as he hated that the thought entered his mind, he wasn’t going to complain about getting to see her in a bathing suit so he nodded. “Alright. You teach me to skate, I’ll teach you how to surf. I have Friday and Saturday off. We could meet at the rink on Friday morning and the beach on Saturday? I don’t think I’m ready for the streets yet.”

Evie laughed at his admission and nodded her agreement. “The rink sounds like a great option. I’ve been wanting to check the one here out. I’m looking forward to it.”

She was completely sincere in her words, her excitement evident and catching as Calum felt his own smile widen. He was looking forward to it, too, and told her as much as she caught Dahlia’s eye and nodded her acknowledgement that they were getting ready to leave. “I can’t wait,” he admitted, a grin on his lips and a flush to his cheeks. “I’ll see you on Friday, Evie.”

He didn’t miss the way Luke, Michael, Crystal, Ashton, and Dahlia looked at him. Everyone - apart from Luke - looked amused at the situation at hand. He knew they all heard him tell her he’d see her on Friday and he knew that they would all know their plans soon enough but he reveled in the annoyed look on Luke’s face as he waved them out with a smile. Evie was the last to leave, calling out her own goodbye over her shoulder before she disappeared into the warm night air, and Calum felt his grin grow.

He was still worried about his future, deep in the back of his mind, but he decided that the near future - Friday, to be exact - was more manageable for him to think about. He had something to look forward to, plans that didn’t make him anxious, and he was excited to see Evie again. He still didn’t want to admit it to himself, not with the luck he’d had in terms of summer flings, but he was looking forward to her company.

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

Although Evie and Calum didn’t plan to see one another again until Friday, they’d been able to speak a few more times over the course of the week that separated them. He hadn’t been joking about his - hers now, too, she supposed - friends visiting the bar regularly. She’d spent almost every night in Jack’s, right alongside the group she was quickly coming to know and love, and kept Calum company whenever the rest of the group got too drunk to be much fun.

They talked, mostly about their friends and stories from their lives that were deemed safe for getting to know each other, and she found herself even more excited for their skating session now that she knew a little more about the kind of person Calum was. She found herself growing attached to him, looking forward to seeing him at Jack’s or getting a meme from him at three in the morning when he finally got off work and made it to the house he shared with Ashton, and that worried her.

Evie knew herself well enough to know that pursuing something with Calum wasn’t exactly realistic. They had no future - she would be back in L.A. in a matter of less than two months and a three hour commute for a summer fling didn’t seem to be the most feasible idea. However, she tried hard not to remind herself of the harsh reality that awaited them come August.

She liked Calum, far more than she believed she would at first, and felt a more intense swarm of butterflies swirling in the pit of her stomach every time they crossed paths.

As much as she wanted to overthink it, as much as she wanted to rationalize her way out of pursuing him, she didn’t believe that was possible. She felt her rationality chipping away, piece by piece, with every smile Calum gave her. And, besides, that felt too much like running and she didn’t want to disappoint Dahlia. So, instead of thinking her way out of a fun summer, she decided to just let fate control her destiny.

If a summer romance was in the cards, well, who was she to run from it?

Evie tried her hardest not to get lost in her head as she arrived at the rink. The parking lot was deserted, there was only one other car and she imagined it belonged to whoever had the opening shift, and she wasn’t surprised to find the rink empty as she entered. It was barely ten, the rink had only been open for a matter of minutes, and from what Dahlia told her, the rink didn’t see many customers until the sun went down.

She felt a pang of longing for her own rink, a place that felt more like home than her own home did, and although she missed the crowds and the staff at her own rink, she was glad that it was empty for Calum’s sake. She didn’t really remember learning how to skate herself but she couldn’t imagine it would be fun having the whole town watch you fall on your ass. It was more fun skating with a group when you knew what you were doing, however, learning alone was far easier.

She’d arrived early enough that she still had fifteen minutes until Calum was supposed to meet her. She lingered near the door for a moment, contemplating her options, before she decided to spend the little time she had alone skating around the rink. She knew that she would be spending the rest of the morning guiding Calum around, that was what she signed up for, so she wanted to utilize the time to both loosen up and free herself of the thoughts that were plaguing her.

The best way for her to clear her mind had always been going for a skate.

Evie didn’t really stop to think about it as she took a seat on one of the neon green benches and pulled off her sneakers. She shoved them into her backpack before pulling on her skates - complete with a fresh set of indoor wheels - and stepped out into the rink.

It almost felt strange being in a rink again. She hadn’t been to one in months, most of her skating was done outdoors or in a derby setting, and had almost forgotten how much she loved it as she started off slow. She took her time as she made a few laps around the rink, just enjoying the music (the same 80s hits that seemed to play in every rink she’d ever been to) and warming up. It was nice, getting a second to breathe, and she was grateful for the opportunity as she lost herself in the feeling.

As she took a few laps, she didn’t notice the door open, nor did she notice anyone enter the rink. She was focused on her movements, on trying a few tricks that she hadn’t quite nailed on asphalt but could complete with no problems on the rink floor that mimicked the hardwood of her apartment, instead of on the world around her. If she had looked, she would’ve seen Calum standing off to the side, his elbows resting on the wall that enclosed the rink and a soft smile on his lips as he watched her. He looked awed by her movements, his eyes bright and excited as he watched her spin and jump, and resisted the urge to clap as she landed a trick that looked effortless but likely took more practice than he ever could imagine.

Evie knew that she was more graceful on skates than she was on her own two feet and she sometimes wondered how she managed it. Her friends claimed it was odd, how she could trip over nothing when walking down the street but could glide and spin and flip with the best roller girls, and she wished she knew why. It was just the way things worked out for her.

She focused on loosening up, on pulling a few practice moves for a few more minutes, and enjoyed the feeling of the wood gliding beneath her skates. She loved feeling her hair whip around her, blowing behind her as she moved, and grinned at the rush she felt as she glanced over and spotted Calum near the wall. She shot him a smile as she skated across the floor to him, her eyes wide and her chest moving a little faster than usual as she caught her breath. She took in the sight of him, looking as out of place among the neon decor of the rink in his all-black ensemble as she had at Jack’s.

“Hi,” she greeted, her voice displaying her slight lack of breath from the exertion. “You look comfortable.” He did, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and she was glad he’d listened to her when she told him to dress for comfort.

“I didn’t get the memo. Is the aesthetic necessary to the learning process or do I magically get a pair of knee high socks when I get good enough?”

She was wearing an outfit similar to what she’d worn the first day they met, a crop top and shorts with a pair of knee high socks, and rolled her eyes at his teasing. “Yeah, your fairy skate mother brings them to you along with a pair of new skates and a fanny pack. To be a good skater, you have to dress like a roller girl from the seventies. It’s the first rule in the handbook.” Calum grinned at her teasing and she shook her head before she gave him a once over. “D’you at least wear a pair of high socks?”

“I did,” he confirmed, lifting the leg of his sweatpants just enough to show her the highest socks he had in his collection and felt silly wearing. “I’m ready for my first lesson, coach.”

“Come on, then,” she laughed, stepping out of the rink and gliding across the carpet with a gesture for Calum to follow. “Let’s go get you a pair of skates. What size shoe do you wear?”

Calum told her his shoe size and she relayed the information to the worker behind the window as Calum caught up with her. He glanced at the racks of skates and frowned at the standard beige and orange combination he saw. “These aren’t as cool as yours,” he commented, glancing down at the neon green skates she wore, now with black wheels. “These are… boring.”

Evie laughed at his observation and shrugged. “These cost five bucks to rent. You’ll probably hate me if I tell you how much mine cost.” When he made a face, something that told her she was right, she shook her head and pressed the skates into his hands. “Come on, first lesson is how to tie these things.”

Calum followed Evie across the rink, back to the bench where her backpack laid, and took a seat as she leaned against the wall. He kicked off his own Vans, sat them beside her bag, and began pulling on his skates. When he went to tie them himself, Evie shook her head.

“They fit okay?” When he nodded, she repeated the motion and stepped closer before kneeling down in front of him. Calum blinked, willing himself not to get any ideas on her close proximity and position, as she said, “Give me your foot.” He raised an eyebrow at this, unsure of what she was doing, but she paid him no mind as he followed her directions and she yanked the laces tight on the boot and looped them over the three metal hooks at the top before tying them in a bow.

“Okay, wow, that’s a little tight,” he mumbled, not wanting to sound like he couldn’t handle it but completely surprised at the feeling as he watched her shift to his other foot. “Fuck, you skate like this?”

Evie laughed at his reaction and nodded her head. “You get used to it.” She stood from her position and brushed her knees off before she explained, “You don’t want your skates flying off your feet or your feet coming out of them when you fall. Plus, it keeps them tight to your ankle and helps with balance. It keeps you secure. Ready for lesson number two?”

“If that’s standing then, uh, maybe give me a second?” Calum requested as he glanced down at his feet and gave them an experimental roll across the carpet. Evie bit back a laugh as she watched, amused by his actions and the widening of his eyes, but nodded as she waited for him to deem himself ready. It took a long moment but he finally lifted his head and looked at her again. “Okay. Ready to stand.”

“Alright. See that thing on the end of your boot?” Calum looked down and she hid her laughter as she watched him nod. “That’s your toe stop. Dig that into the carpet with one foot and use that to help you keep your balance as you stand. I recommend using the toe stop on your dominant foot.” He looked uncertain, shaky at best, but his eyes narrowed in concentration as he attempted to follow her directions. It took him a moment, he took a deep breath to build himself up, but he finally managed to dig the toe stop into the carpet as she directed and lift himself from the bench.

He wobbled on his skates, his arms flailing by his side as he attempted to steady himself, and Evie swallowed her laughter as she reached out and grabbed his arm to help him regain his balance. “I’m good,” he nodded, though he looked a little wide-eyed and panicked just standing there, “I’ve got it.”

Evie didn’t believe him, not in the slightest, but she nodded. “If you say so, champ,” she teased, her grin prominent as she began skating backward toward the rink itself. “Come here, to the edge, and I’ll show you what you need to be doing. You can hang on to the wall here.”

Calum slowly moved across the carpet, his movements steady and unsure, and Evie kept close to him just in case he started to go down. She bit her lip to hide her smile as she watched him barely inch across the carpet but when he paused, eyes wide as his feet started to shift in a way he didn’t like, she laughed and glanced at her watch.

“Shut up,” he snapped, though there was no real malice in his voice as he finally made it to the wall and gripped the edge as he watched her step out onto the hardwood floor. “Not all of us are professionals.” He leveled a glare at her, his eyes narrowed and his fingers digging into the wall as he said, “I can’t wait to laugh at you tomorrow.”

“Mm, I’m sure you can’t. I’ll do my best to remember I have it coming,” she confirmed, a peal of laughter leaving her lips as she gestured for him to step out onto the wood himself. She could tell that he felt even more unsteady, even as he clutched the wall, and she kept close enough to reach out but far enough to not get hurt as he settled into one spot. “Okay, so, starting is pretty easy. You want to stride. If you try to move like you’re walking, you’ll trip and hurt yourself. Now, I want you to make a penguin shape.” She demonstrated, placing her feet in a ‘v’ shape and bending her knees slightly, and Calum frowned in concentration as he replicated her movement.

Evie nodded encouragingly as she watched him move. “Good. When you move, you don’t want your toes to be pointed straight because you won’t really go anywhere. Shift out, like this. She demonstrated the move, striding with her feet shifted out, and smiled at how concentrated Calum looked as he watched her feet move.

Calum slowly began copying her moves, his feet shifting as he attempted to stride, and clutched onto the wall as he did so. She moved along beside him, slowly gliding over the floor in a way that she hoped looked effortless, and nodded encouragingly as he attempted to let go of the wall and move on his own, unaided.

“You’re a natural,” she teased, her voice clearly expressing how much fun she was having as she watched him shuffle along. He shot her a dirty look and she laughed as she watched him flail. “When you feel like you’re going to lose your balance, bend your knees. Whoa, whoa, drop it low, okay?” Calum raised an eyebrow at this and Evie shook her head as she gestured to his knees. “Just bend your knees, please. It won’t hurt so bad when you hit the floor this way.”

“That’s really encouraging, thanks.”

Evie laughed at Calum’s deadpan words and reached out, without thinking, to lift his chin and keep his gaze off the floor. “Don’t watch your feet or the ground. Keep your chin up. You’re going to fall. It’s just how it is. Everyone falls when they start, I fall and I’ve been skating most of my life. You just take steps to minimize the pain.”

Calum hummed, a thoughtful noise, and nodded his understanding as the pair of them slowly began shuffling around the rink. She watched him, a quick glance at his feet before her eyes flickered to his face, and felt a soft smile quirk her lips as she watched him begin to relax.

“You’re doing good, Calum. You want to hug the wall for the rest of the morning or do you want to try and move away a little?”

“The wall’s comfortable. We’ve become best friends.”

Evie rolled her eyes at Calum’s words, a laugh leaving her lips as she reached for his hand. She was gentle as she took his hand in hers and guided him away from the wall. Neither of them thought about the contact, her too focused on keeping him upright and him too alarmed at the thought of his safety net disappearing, but she knew that she would dwell on it later as she squeezed his hand and began guiding him around the rink.

“Don’t think about it,” she advised, her words gentle as she spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Just feel it. Don’t look at your feet, don’t look at the floor. Shoulders back, chin up, knees bent; there you go.”

The pair of them moved just a little away from the wall, Calum doing his best to follow her instruction, and she watched as he struggled to find his balance. He was athletic and she knew that balance was necessary for surfing but balancing on wheels didn’t seem to be his strong suit. With every stride he made, his footing grew less steady and despite her repeated calls for him to bend his knees, he remained stiff once she let go of his hand. He was on his own, moving slowly, and she could see the fall coming before he knew what was happening.

She watched as he hit the ground, landing square on his ass and wincing as he tried to catch himself on his hands - something she reminded herself to teach him not to do. She bit back her laughter, amused at the look of sheer surprise on his face, as she lowered herself to the ground beside him so she could teach him how to get up.

“You okay?” Her question was serious, a genuine inquiry as to how he was doing, but Calum took the muffled laughter as a sign of her amusement and rolled his eyes as he flipped her off.

“Perfect,” he mumbled, his voice displaying his annoyance at both his fall and how difficult he was finding learning to move on skates. “How the fuck do I get up?”

“Similar to how you got off the bench. Also, when you fall, don’t try to catch yourself on your wrists. I know that’s your first instinct but you’ll break your wrist. Fall on your knees or your butt. Okay, get on your knees.” Calum studied her for a moment, a look of skepticism on his face, but when she moved into position, he followed suit. “Okay, place one foot down - use your dominant foot - and press your hands really hard against your knee. Use your toe stop on the other foot to push yourself up.” She stood, just as she practiced time and time again, and Calum took two tries to get back up on his feet the way she had.

“I’m glad this place is empty,” he huffed as he stood there, his toe stop against the floor and his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. “I’d be fucking embarrassed to get shown up by a group of eight year olds right now.”

“Yeah, that’s why I chose a time I knew it’d be empty. Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego again,” she teased, calling back to their first meeting.

Calum narrowed his eyes at her, however, he wasn’t able to hide his smile as he shook his head. She felt the butterflies in her stomach again, a furious storm of them fluttering about, as he smiled wide and laughed at his own mistake. He took a second to calm his laughter, and hers, before he asked, “Alright, what am I supposed to do again?”

Calum did his best to follow Evie’s instructions to the letter this time and she was pleased at how well he was listening as they completed their first circle. He took to bending his knees and she could hear him mumble, ‘Whoa, whoa, drop it low,’ under his breath every time he so much as wobbled. However, instead of holding his arms out in the way that she’d been taught, he took to gripping onto her whenever he felt unsteady.

“If I go down again, you’re going with me,” he explained, a teasing lilt to his voice as they made yet another rotation around the rink. Evie wasn’t complaining, not in the slightest, however, she could tell that he was growing more comfortable as his grip on her hand grew less panicked and a little more casual.

“Sure thing, Cal.” She knew how to fall, she knew the way to minimize her injuries, and figured whenever he fell again, he would take the brunt of it. Until then, she decided to just let him get a feel for moving. They remained silent for a moment, the sound of an 80s song she couldn’t identify filling the lull in conversation, before she asked, “Want to play twenty questions?”

“Is that your way of distracting me? Because if it is, it’s not going to work. I’m still sort of freaking out here,” he informed her, his smile showing that he was only partially serious. “But sure.”

“How long have you been surfing?”

“I started when I was about thirteen. I didn’t have many friends so my parents encouraged me to play sports or something to make some. My sister was a lifeguard and there were surf lessons, they took advantage of them. I met Luke and the rest is history, I guess.” Calum shrugged, a soft smile on his lips, before he turned his head just enough to look at Evie. “Why’re you spending the summer here instead of in L.A.?”

“I just needed to get away for a while. My parents left before they could, uh, encourage me to find an internship for the summer so I have a few months free for the first time in ages. I just wanted to do nothing for a while, you know?” Evie knew that she likely sounded like a spoiled brat, desperate to free herself of responsibility for a summer, but she didn’t know what else to say. However, Calum nodded, a look akin to understanding on his face, and she hoped that he really did get where she was coming from. Instead of allowing herself to dwell, though, she asked, “From the vast amount I know about them, Michael and Ashton don’t seem like the surfer type. They just fall into line somewhere along the way?”

“Mhm,” Calum confirmed, a smile on his face at the sarcasm that laced the beginning of her question. “Luke and I became friends, went surfing all the time. I met Michael in junior high and we became friends. He would come, sit under an umbrella while we surfed. He didn’t get in the water until a few years ago. Ash came along about a year after that and we’ve been friends since. They started surfing because of me and Luke.” He paused, his eyes lighting as he recognized the song playing and began bobbing his head to the beat, and Evie grinned at the endearing sight. “What kind of law are you studying?” When she shot him a look, confused as to how he knew what she was studying, he clarified, “Dahlia told us.”

“Ah. I’m pre-law right now. No specialty but I’m thinking about criminal law. Or maybe media. I don’t know. I haven’t found my niche yet, I guess.” She shrugged, unsure of herself and unsure of how to explain it to someone else, but didn’t let the subject linger as she asked, “You grew up here?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he confirmed, nodding as he followed her around the rink and grew a little steadier on his skates. “My parents moved here in their twenties, settled down, and raised me and my sister here. What about you? You grew up in L.A.?”

Evie nodded and took Calum’s relaxed grip on her as an opportunity to practice her footwork a little as she slowly guided him a little farther from the wall. “”Born and raised. Some people really are from L.A., I guess.” She shot him a wry smile, poking fun at her home, before she asked, “You’re a surfer. That the ultimate goal or are you still figuring it all out?”

“It was,” Calum answered, his voice taking on a quality that Evie didn’t quite recognize. He seemed a little more guarded with this question, a little less ready to answer it, and she didn’t blame him. If he asked her the same, she would likely hesitate, too. “Plans change, though. I’m still figuring out what the new goal is.” It was short, but honest, and Evie nodded her understanding.

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What do I want to do with my future?” She breathed a heavy sigh, one that she hoped conveyed her understanding, and Calum looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she tried a grapevine move.

“Aren’t you going to be a lawyer?” He, like most people, assumed her future was planned out and that she was well on her way to reaching her goals.

“Mm, yeah. But the real question is, do I want to be a lawyer? And the answer to that is no, I don’t.”

Calum stumbled slightly as he fully turned his attention to her. He looked surprised by her admission, shocked that she didn’t have her life as together as he imagined she would, and said, “You’re still figuring it out, too.”

“I am. That’s part of why I wanted to come spend the summer here. I’ve never really had time to just sit down and think about what I want so… maybe now I can.”

Evie didn’t know that Calum had the exact opposite problem, too much time to sit and think about the future, but as he tightened his hold on her hand, she realized that they were in much the same boat. They were drifting, floating through life without a real idea of what they wanted, and a small part of her wanted to suggest that they float together. But, realistically, she knew that she was projecting her desire for a dream, something to hold onto, onto Calum.

So instead of voicing that thought aloud, instead of telling him that though their circumstances might be different, she understood where he was coming from, she held onto his hand and hoped the embrace would convey everything she left unsaid as they continued their rotation around the rink.

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

Calum and Evie spent far longer at the rink than either of them imagined they would. They’d skated until an employee informed them they were closing to set up for the night skaters and Calum had gotten significantly more comfortable on his wheels as the time went on. Their conversation didn’t dip much below surface level, not after their brief discussion surrounding their mutual uncertainty about the future, but it was nice.

Calum learned a lot about her. She grew up rich, yes, but she spent most of her free time interning at law firms and helping with pro bono legal work - research mostly. She’d had a job before quitting to spend the summer with Dahlia - she worked in a boutique that a friend’s mom owned - and wanted to get another when she returned to L.A. She had a greater work ethic than anyone he’d ever met and he was surprised at how much time she devoted to something she wasn’t certain she wanted to do.

He was also surprised at her taste in entertainment. She sheepishly admitted that she loved a lot of the same artists he did and balked when he told her he’d never seen the original Star Trek.

They got on like a house on fire, continually surprising Calum as he tried his best to get to know her in whatever way he could, and he felt his crush on her grow exponentially the more time they spent together.

Neither of them had wanted the night to end - Calum was glad he wasn’t alone in feeling something as she lingered near the entrance with him, her skates slung over her shoulder and a coy grin on her lips as they said goodbye - and he’d gone to bed with the giddy knowledge that he would be seeing her in a matter of hours. (Plus, he got to see the look on Luke’s face when he arrived home and would be lying if he said he didn’t get at least a little bit of joy out of being the one to get the girl.)

Calum was growing to like her, genuinely like her, far quicker than he had anyone else in a very long while and he tried not to let that thought scare him. He wanted to remain open, to let the universe guide him wherever he needed to be, and as he glanced out at the perfect ocean view, he liked to think that the universe was guiding him here and bringing her along for the ride.

He heard her before he saw her. The roll of her wheels down the boardwalk, the laughter of children as she passed them by and did a trick for their amusement, all signaled that Evie was approaching. He turned just in time to watch her untie her skates and place them on the rainbow leash she wore over her shoulder before she bounded down the steps. Her hair billowed behind her, a curtain of brown waves that he wanted to tangle his fingers in, and he willed the thought away just as quickly as it hit.

She carried a picnic basket in one hand and a beach bag in the other but that’s not what had Calum grinning at her. She wore a pair of shorts, the standard high-waisted black that he was coming to really love, and a lime green bikini top that looked neon in the sunlight. He shook his head at her, amused by the sunny smile on her lips and the spring in her step, as she crossed the sand and dropped the items in her hand near him.

“Good morning!”

He wasn’t sure if she was just a morning person or if she was genuinely excited about surfing. Either way, he raised an eyebrow and teased, “You’re really fucking chipper for it to be so early.” His voice was tinged with good-natured humor, the tone he found himself using more and more often when she was around, and he watched as she stowed her skates in a zip-up bag before she dug around for a can of sunscreen. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“I could barely sleep,” she admitted, a laugh escaping her lips as she sprayed her shoulders and chest with sunscreen. “I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf. I’m definitely going to wipe out but at least I can say I gave it a shot.” Calum smiled at her, thrilled to see her enthusiasm, and held out his hand to take the can from her when she seemed to be struggling to cover her shoulders.

“If I knew you wanted to learn this bad, I would’ve asked for something more than a skating lesson.” He wasn’t serious, he was glad to be teaching her and had thoroughly enjoyed his own lesson, but he liked seeing how her cheeks flushed and her mouth dropped open when he winked at her. He nudged her shoulder, gesturing for her to turn, and laughed.

She was quiet for a moment, contemplating her reply, but before Calum could clarify that he’d been joking, she shrugged. “I mean, we don’t know how good a teacher you are yet. There might be a bonus in it if I learn something today.”

She met his gaze, a playful spark of something he was beginning to recognize as uniquely Evie shining in the honey of her eyes. They remained for a beat too long, neither of them wanting to blink, but Calum broke the stalemate when he grinned. Evie returned it, just as bright, and Calum felt the overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss her.

Instead, he turned his attention to picnic basket by her side. When Evie noticed where he was looking, she turned the bashful pink he loved seeing and shrugged. “I made the mistake of telling Dahlia what we were doing so she sent some things for lunch. Mostly new stuff she’s working on for the shop. She wants us to be her guinea pigs, I guess.”

“Hopefully it’s better than the time she decided to make savory and sweet combinations. She saw this article about flavors that shouldn’t work but do and… well, the flavors really don’t work.”

Evie made a face, her lips twisted into a grimace, and Calum laughed as he recalled the way Michael dropped his pastry in horror and refused to eat any of Dahlia’s food for months after that. “Yikes. Remind me not to encourage her experiments, then,” Evie mumbled, digging her toes into the sand and watching as Calum reached into his own bag.

“You’re not the only one who came with gifts from friends. Ash sent this for you,” he told her as he pulled out a wetsuit. It was basic and black - and Calum hated asking her to cover the bikini she wore - but he knew it would be more comfortable for her when they finally got in the water. The only consolation was that it, like the rest of her wardrobe seemed to, showed off her legs and fit her well.

“That’s so sweet of him!” She looked amazing, surprised by the gift, and excitedly stripped her shorts to pull on the wetsuit. Calum grinned at her excitement and obliged when she turned and requested his help with the zipper. “How do I look?”

“Like a real surfer.” She beamed at his comment, happy that she looked the part, and pulled her hair back into a high ponytail as Calum reached for the boards he’d brought. He had his, the lucky green one he’d used for years, and a smaller one that Ashton had taken to letting the guys - mainly Luke - borrow to teach their partners how to surf if they so chose. “Ready to work on the basics?”

“Lead the way, coach!”

Calum knew that his teaching style was different than hers. She’d gone slow, one step at a time, and was good at breaking things down into manageable chunks of information. He, on the other hand, knew where his strengths rested and a slow breakdown was not something he was good at. However, he wanted her to get he best experience she could have - especially because she was so excited - so he bit back his uncertainty and handed her the board.

Evie was a much more serious student than Calum had been and far more eager. She didn’t hesitate to follow the directions he gave her. She was quick to complete the drills, her agility from skating working in her favor as she practiced moving into a standing position on the sand. She didn’t complain about having to repeat the same motion a dozen times and Calum was impressed by how serious she was taking it all.

He was also impressed by how willing she was to get out into the water after nearly an hour of practicing on sand.

“You know, I thought I was going to be making fun of you for being afraid or falling but you’re making that really hard,” he joked as he helped her wrap the leash around her ankle securely.

“What I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm.” She winked at him, clearly teasing him as he’d done her, and he found himself unable to think of a reply as he shook his head and grabbed his own board.

“Alright,” he laughed, his own cheeks tinting pink as he willed himself not to think about the other ways she could mean that statement, “in the water, Porter.”

Evie eagerly rushed toward the water, board held in her arms as best as she could. Calum held back his laughter at how small she seemed compared to the board, it was comical watching her try to maneuver it when she was so clearly not used to needing anything other than her skates but he didn’t want to discourage her. He wanted her to be able to surf just as badly as she’d wanted him to be able to skate - a skill that he hoped he’d get to work on while she was in town - and was hopeful that she’d be as naturally gifted on a surfboard as she seemed to be on skates.

“Okay, remember what I told you. We’re not going out too far yet. Just far enough for you to catch a wave. It’s kind of like skating, fall on your butt. As soon as you realize you’re going to fall, jump away from your board. If you get caught by a wave that feels too big for you, go low and come up slow. Put your arms over your head because you don’t know where your board is going to be and it hurts like hell when you hit your head on it.”

“Fall on my butt, jump away from my board, go low and come up slow with my arms over my head; got it. Anything else?” She had a bright smile on her lips and looked so excited that it was catching.

Calum felt his own smile grow a little larger as he watched her bounce on the balls of her feet and shook his head as he thought about a warning. While he hadn’t exactly been eager to learn - it was more or less forced on him - he knew how exciting the prospect of catching a wave was. He didn’t want to crush her spirit but he did want to make sure she was being safe.

He knew exactly how disastrous it was when safety wasn’t the top priority and felt a shiver run down his spine as he willed himself not to think about what could go wrong.

“I think that’s it,” he finally agreed, nodding as he glanced out at the ocean. “Like skating, you just have to go for it. Don’t go for a big wave first. Try something a little smaller, until you get comfortable. And then we’ll see about getting you a bigger wave. Alright?” Evie nodded again, her smile still bright as she turned her head to look at the ocean, and Calum laughed. “Let’s go, then.”

Evie rushed forward, dropping her board into the water and climbing on to paddle out into the waves, and Calum followed suit. He was used to bigger waves, he’d learned how to handle himself over the years, but he stayed by Evie - close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough to avoid an accident - as they waited for the first wave. She had done the same for him at the rink, slowly moving around the hardwood at the rink, so he decided it was time to return the favor.

“I know your answer will probably depend on how well surfing goes today,” he said as they waited for a suitable wave, his eyes on the water instead of her, “but I’d love to go skating with you again.”

“It doesn’t matter how well surfing goes today. I mean, I’d love for it to go great but either way, I’d love to skate with you again.”

Calum felt his heart thud in his chest at the prospect of spending more time with her. He’d only known her for a week but it had been a really good week that was needed in the otherwise bleak year he’d been having. He was quickly falling for her, head over heels into something that he couldn’t have imagined he’d want, but the thought of spending time with her, of kissing her, of falling in love with her made him happy and he desperately wanted happiness.

He just hoped she wanted the same thing.

As quickly as the thought crossed his mind, it left. A wave, suitable for Evie, was approaching and he nodded to her when he noticed she was getting ready to start paddling. “You got it,” he encouraged her, offering a bright smile as he watched her move, “go for it!”

The wave was small enough that Calum could ride it out sitting on his board but Evie paddled like it was the biggest wave she’d ever seen. He watched, amused and endeared, at the look of concentration on her face as she attempted to stand on her board. She got halfway up, almost on her feet, but before she could fully stand, she was knocked off balance and fell into the water.

She fell just as he instructed and he imagined it was because of her skating background. The moment she realized she was going down, she fell back into the water and Calum waited for her to pop back up. He’d been difficult, pouting and annoyed, when he fell - mostly for show, to make Evie laugh, but also because he wanted to know he could do something as seemingly simple as roller skate - but she was all smiles when she surfaced. The moment she opened her eyes and got her bearings, she laughed and Calum couldn’t help but laugh along.

“I think I got water up my nose,” was the first thing out of her mouth and he couldn’t say that he was surprised. She wiped at her face, eager to get some of the salt water off her skin, before she attempted to get back on her board.

“I’m kind of annoyed. I still don’t have anything to laugh at here. You’re too well-adjusted for this.” His complaint was teasing, a joke that she took with a wide grin, and he felt his heart ache in his chest as he watched her eagerly await another wave.

“What can I say, I give my all, enthusiastically, no matter what I’m doing.” Another innuendo, another teasing grin, and Calum bit back his groan as she paddled away with a laugh that told him she knew exactly what she was doing. He shook his head, willing himself not to think about anything other than ensuring her safety as he was well aware his wetsuit left little to the imagination, before he followed her back out.

The pair of them spent an hour in the water, him encouraging her to catch waves and her trying her best to stand, but wave after wave, she got halfway up on the board before she fell into the water. Each fall was practiced and perfect and she kept pushing but Calum could tell that she was getting frustrated. He could see the set of her jaw and the way her eyebrows furrowed. He could see her growing more annoyed with her inability to stand and he didn’t hesitated to paddle a little closer to her.

“Tell me what’s happening when you try to stand,” he instructed, his voice even as he reached out to tap her board to get her to look at him.

“I don’t know. I try to stand, I feel fine, and then all of a sudden it feels like I’m falling and I bail before I can wipe out. It’s like…” She paused, trailing off as she searched for the right words to convey her feelings, and Calum waited patiently. “It’s like when I’m trying something new at the skate park, if I’ve fallen or something. It’s a block. I just need to either get it or really fall once and I’ll be okay.”

Calum could relate. He had mental blocks often, times where he just couldn’t make himself stand on his board and ride a wave, and knew that for him, the easiest way to get over them was to do exactly as she said; get it right or fail spectacularly.

“Come on, then.”

With anyone else, he would never have taken them that far out on their first surfing adventure. But Evie was different. She could hold her own, he knew that, and she was determined to get it right. He wasn’t as wary, not as concerned for her as he maybe should have been, as he paddled a little farther out and began watching for bigger waves.

Evie glanced at him curiously, unsure of whether she was reading the situation right, and Calum nodded at her as a perfect wave began rolling in. “Get it right or fall,” he encouraged her, “I’ll be here when you come up.” She stared at him for a long moment, fixed him with a look that he couldn’t read, before she nodded and began paddling.

Calum did his best to ride out the wave on his board, just as he did the others, and kept an eye on Evie as she finally managed to stand on the board. He cheered, a large smile covering his lips as he watched her ride the wave for a brief moment, and clapped as she fell into the water. It took her a second longer to come up but the smile she’d worn at the beginning of the day was back and brighter than before as she searched for him.

“I did it!”

He paddled to where she was climbing back onto her board, his own grin just as bright as hers was, and held up his hand for a high five. “You’re really starting to make me look bad here,” he teased, his words light as he watched her continue to beam. “Can’t half ass anything, can you?”

She shrugged, a sheepish grin on her lips, and Calum felt a fondness wash over him as she turned her head to watch for another wave. He knew she was determined, desperate to get things right even if she didn’t want to, so he knew he was only seeing a fraction of what she was capable of as she attempted something she truly wanted to accomplish.

Throughout the day, as the hours dragged on and the pair of them grew weary from the sun and the water, Evie managed to stand and ride a wave to completion more than once. She got better, her footing grew steadier, and Calum grew prouder with every attempt she made. Just as she’d stuck by his side in the rink and held his hand, he gave her space to surf safely on her own but rode along beside her. And when the sun was high in the sky, he all but dragged her from the water and encouraged her to sit with the picnic basket she’d brought along.

“That was so fucking cool!” She was beaming, proud of herself and happy that she’d finally gotten over the block that was keeping her from achieving a goal, as she bit into one of the treats Dahlia had sent along. “I surfed! That felt as cool as it’s always looked.”

“Why have you never gone before? I’m sure you could’ve found someone to teach you in L.A..” He was grateful that he was the one to teach her - he loved seeing the smile she wore and the excitement in her eyes when she finally got it right - but she could have easily gotten lessons. If it was something she’d wanted to do, there should’ve been nothing stopping her.

“I didn’t have time.” She shrugged, a gesture Calum was growing used to seeing her use, before she took another bite and stared out at the ocean. Calum remained silent, waiting for her to go on, and when she realized he wanted to hear more, she brushed her hands off and brought her knees to her chest. “My life was always planned, you know? Super structured. Debate team, Model UN, gymnastics, AP classes, internships; I didn’t have time for new things that wouldn’t look good on a college application. I had skating and I had to sneak out to do that. There was a tennis court near our house so when my parents went to bed, I went there and practiced. But new things weren’t really an option. It was routine.”

“Is that why you’re going to be a lawyer? It’s what your parents want?”

“Want isn’t really the right word there. Demand, maybe. But, yeah. My parents are both lawyers, so is my brother. The deal was, they’d pay for school if I went to law school. College is expensive and I’d rather have no debt and a solid career trajectory than crushing debt and no real plan. Stability is stability, even if I hate it.”

Though Calum didn’t have the same problem - his parents had always been very supportive of his dreams, whatever they happened to be when they asked him - but he understood where she was coming from. It made sense. She grew up with a safety net, no debt and no worries about money, so to take on staggering debt of her own and go off into the unknown, even if it was what she really wanted, was likely terrifying. Calum understood.

He knew that if he had been in the same position, he likely would’ve done the same thing.

“What did you want to do?” He was curious, eager to know what she would’ve wanted from her life had she been given the chance to really live it. But she just shrugged.

“Dunno. Never had a chance to think about it.” She turned to him, a sad smile on her lips as she met his gaze for the first time since sitting down, and shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now, I guess.”

“It still matters. You should get a chance to be whatever you want.” He hesitated, wondering whether it was his place to comment on her life, but ultimately decided he’d like her to know what he thought of her. “I think you’d make a good teacher.” When she laughed, clearly skeptical, he shook his head. “Seriously, I think you’d be good. You’re smart and you’re outwardly positive, even when you don’t feel it. You’re good at breaking things down. You listen and have the ability to capture a room when you speak. And you’d definitely be the teacher all the kids have a crush on.”

At this, Evie blushed and shook her head but Calum could see her lips curving into a genuine smile. She was quiet, staring out into the ocean, and Calum wanted to ask what she was thinking but he chose not to. Instead, he remained quiet beside her and watched as other surfers began swarming the ocean in a contemplative silence.

Hours later, when the sun began to go down and their cheeks were tinted pink from the sun, Evie packed her bags and shrugged off the wetsuit Ashton had gifted her. “Thank you, Calum.” He looked away from her exposed skin and met her eyes, surprised at the gratitude she expressed. His confusion must have been evident as she clarified, “For today. For teaching me to surf, for helping me get over that mental block, for helping me try to figure out my future. This has been the best weekend I’ve had in a really long time.”

In another surprising move, Evie stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He blinked, his cheeks going even redder than they had been, and she grinned. “I’ll see you later, Cal. Have a good night.”

She bounded away, only stopping at the top of the stairs to put her skates on, and Calum stared in the direction she disappeared for another long moment. His own smile grew brighter and his cheek burned in the most pleasant way where she’d kissed him. It was small, nothing that had ever affected him before, but he felt her presence so clearly and every move she made seemed to hit him harder than anything ever had. She was overwhelming in the best possible way and it made him forget everything he worried about.

He’d been worried about the past, about things he could no longer change and people he could no longer save. He’d been worried about his own future, about plans that fell through and dreams that had been crushed. He’d been worried about his own present, about letting her get too close and break his heart when she left for L.A. after a magical summer. But as the waves crashed and laughter rang out around him, he felt his worries melting away. He was happy, glad to exist and eager to see tomorrow for the first time in a long while, and he felt excited to see what tomorrow would bring him.

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

Two weeks of bliss.

That was the only way Evie could describe the last two weeks of May, the two weeks after her surf lesson with Calum and the kiss she gave him on the cheek. There were minor annoyances - Dahlia had taken advantage of her presence and asked her to open Flower most mornings, even though Evie really had no idea what she was doing; tourists and students were starting to flock to town, crowding the boardwalks and streets and skate park; her parents had found the time to call and encouraged her to get some work done instead of just lounging around - but they were vastly outweighed by the good.

She continued to spend almost every night at Jack’s, the barstool on the lefthand side of the bar was always left vacant for her as if it was some unspoken rule, and kept Calum company as he worked. Whenever there was a lull in business, she listened to him share more thoughts about customers or drinks and tried cocktails he decided to experiment with when no one else would.

On the days that Calum didn’t work they spent their mornings at the beach, usually with their friends in tow, and their nights at the rink. Calum had gotten better at skating, able to keep his balance without needing to hold onto her for stability - though he still held her hand, something she certainly wasn’t complaining about - while she had gotten better at surfing. She was able to ride mid-sized waves and joined the boys in the water while Dahlia cheered them on from the shore.

There were nights where they all got takeout, all sitting in Dahlia’s backyard with containers around them and happy smiles on their lips as they listened to music and talked, and there were nights when Calum and Evie ate alone on the beach. She learned so much about him on those nights, bits and pieces that helped her make sense of who Calum was, and she loved them more than she’d loved almost anything else.

It was something out a dream, a summer ripped from a romance film she once would’ve deemed cheesy, and she felt excited to see where the day would take her when she awoke. Her crush on Calum was unbearable, teetering quickly into head over heels territory, and Dahlia wouldn’t leave it alone as they packed up a picnic basket for their bonfire on the beach.

“Just tell him you’re into him. We’re all tired of watching the two of you eye-fuck whenever we hang out.” When Evie scoffed, an incredulous look on her face as she turned to stare at Dahlia, her cousin rolled her eyes.

“What do you want me to tell him, D? ‘Hey, Cal, I’m leaving in a few weeks but I’m super into you. Want to makeout and pretend everything is cool until I have to go?’ I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

Evie knew that that was what they were already doing. They were avoiding the elephant in the room of her inevitable departure and enjoying their time, but they hadn’t done anything they couldn’t write off as friendship thus far. There were flirty jokes and kisses on cheeks but she could pretend that that was just the way she was. She could just leave it, blame it on her newfound sense of freedom, and that would be the end.

If she went any further, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to come back from that.

“Not everything has to be so serious, Evie. Have fun. Be young! You’ve never had a summer fling so why don’t you just go for it? If you and Cal get serious, cool. You can come here for breaks and stay with me. If not, well, I’ll help you avoid him whenever you come to visit. Just stop thinking about it. He makes you happy, right?” When Evie nodded, Dahlia repeated the gesture. “Then just let him. Even if it’s only for a few weeks.”

Evie hated to admit it but Dahlia was right. She always dated with the intention of having it last forever and ended up having her heart broken when it didn’t. She wanted something real, something full of love and light, and hated the idea of wasting her time on someone who wouldn’t be a part of her future. However, she knew that she shouldn’t think that way. If she really enjoyed it, if she loved them and found herself better for having known them, it wasn’t a waste of time. Calum wasn’t a waste of time.

She wanted to enjoy herself, to have fun while she could, and even if Calum wasn’t going to make her happy forever, he was making her happy right now and that was all she could ask for.

By the time they made it to the beach, Evie with a blanket in one hand and a box that held a gift for Calum in the other, she’d made up her mind that a few weeks of bliss were worth more than months of heartache. She knew that, should things not work out, she would mourn her relationship with Calum as a devastating loss but she believed the old saying; to love and lose is better than to never love at all.

“What’s in the box?” Evie yelped, surprised by the sudden voice in her ear, and glared at Luke as he grinned. He still hadn’t given up, despite her obvious feelings for Calum, and she rolled her eyes as she nudged him away with her elbow. Undeterred, Luke remained at her side and stared curiously at the unmarked box she held in one hand.

“None of your business, Hemmings.” She paused, taking a good look at the towering blonde, before she frowned and asked, “What’d you do to your hair?” It was lighter than she’d seen it, and shorter, and she knew that neither were from the sun. Her assumption was proven correct when he grinned at her as he ran a hand through it.

“Cut it and bleached it. Wanted something new. What do you think?”

Before she could answer, tell him that it was different but nice, Michael chimed in with, “Bullshit. He got gum in it so Crystal cut it for him and then he decided to bleach it just for the hell of it.”

Luke rolled his eyes but shrugged off Michael’s explanation as he kept his eyes on her. “I’m thinking about dying it pink but I can’t decide what shade. What d’you think?” He stared at her expectantly, a bright smile on his lips as he watched her shake her head and begin spreading her blanket on the sand.

“Pink would be nice. Pastel, rose gold, maybe?”

Luke looked contemplative, like he was seriously considering the pastel pink, and opened his mouth to speak when a different voice cut him off. “Don’t encourage him. Our bathroom is already stained from the time Ash dyed his hair red. And then black.” She felt her own grin grow wider as she spotted Calum and he returned it as he approached the pair of them and nudged her hip with his own. “What’s in the box?”

“Everyone is so nosy,” she teased, a laugh leaving her lips as she nudged the box to the side. “You’ll see. D’you bring the alcohol?”

Calum, the permanent bartender for their group, hummed his confirmation and held up a beach bag full of pre-made drinks. They were all things he knew each of them would like, bottles of their favorites ready for them to pour, and he handed it off to Michael as he cheered at the sight. He kept his eyes on the box, a curious glint that told her he wanted to pry, but ultimately left it alone as he helped Ashton begin the bonfire.

When the bonfire began to rage, the seven of them crowded around it and poured their respective drinks. It was better than the party they’d thrown for her on the first night, more her speed than anything they’d done thus far, and Evie felt at ease as she watched her friends enjoy their night.

Time seemed to both still and move much quicker as they sat around the bonfire. The sun sank below the horizon and the stars were shining bright in the sky as they sat around the fire for hours, just enjoying being together. They were a happy group, each interacting, but everyone had a distinct role and she could easily see it as they joked around.

Michael, who Evie was surprised to learn played guitar in his free time, strummed along to a song that she vaguely recognized as Crystal sat by his side and cheered him on. Ashton waxed philosophic about the state of the world and how beautiful the beach was at night with Dahlia curled into his side. Luke, who frowned every time Calum touched her, sat too close and bumped knees with her every time he laughed. And Calum, Calum was biting back his laughter every time she shifted closer to him to avoid it.

It was nice. She had friends but she’d never done anything like this. It was stereotypical California, a part of life she’d longed to experience, and she reveled in it as she let herself rest her head on Calum’s shoulder. She laughed at a joke Michael told and enjoyed the warmth the felt. She was pleasantly tipsy from the vodka pineapple Calum mixed just for her and would have been content to stay there forever, basking in the glow of the firelight and feeling Calum’s eyes on her, had he not nudged her side when the rest of the group began teasing Luke - lovingly - for his newly bleached hair.

“Want to go for a walk?” Calum’s voice was quiet, not wanting to draw attention to them as Luke whined at their teasing, and she nodded rather than voicing her agreement aloud.

He stood, offering his hand to her, and she took it readily. Before they began their walk, she grabbed the box to her side and grinned at Calum when he raised a curious eyebrow. Neither of them cared that the others spotted them and shared knowing looks and grins of their own, everyone except Luke had been urging them to share their feelings with one another since day one, as they set off down the beach.

Their hands found one another, fingers intertwined and swinging between them, just as they tended to at the rink and she bit her lip as she thought about what to say. She had so many things she wanted to tell him, a number of words she wanted to share, but opted to show him what was in the box instead as they found an uninhabited stretch of shore.

Calum looked slightly confused but said nothing as she pulled him to a stop and tugged her hand free of his. She spotted a smooth rock, a large enough surface for her to place the box on rather than putting it in the sand, and grinned when she dropped it and gestured for Calum to open it. “It’s for you,” she confirmed, a grin on her lips as she watched him furrow his brows and reach out to brush his fingers over the cardboard.

In the box rested a pair of skates, a bright yellow that Calum loved, and he lifted his head to look at her when he realized what they were. “You got me a pair of skates?”

“Mm. I figured I could teach you how to skate outside now. You’re good enough in the rink. Town’s getting crowded but Dolly’s neighborhood is empty most of the time and if you get confident enough, we can go to the skate park.” She fell silent for a moment, carefully choosing her next words, before she continued. “I…I just wanted to say thank you. No one has ever really taken an interest in my skating, you know? No one has ever sacrificed their off days for me or tried to teach me to do something like surfing. And no one has ever tried to help me figure out what I really want to do with my life so this is just something to say thank you.”

Calum looked stunned. His lips parted in surprise but his eyes softened as he took in the look on her face. She felt her cheeks heat as he stared at her, an unreadable look in his eyes, but she stayed quiet as she waited for him to speak. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by continuing to talk, regardless of what she wanted to say, so she left the conversation up to him.

As was becoming a theme for them, Calum took the opportunity to surprise her. He stepped closer to her, his hands lifting to brush his thumbs over her cheekbones, and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. It was soft, a barely there pressure that left Evie desperate for more, and he lingered close enough for her to feel his breath fan across her lips as he pulled away.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” It was a whisper, barely audible over the crashing waves, but she heard it clearly and shrugged. She knew that, she knew he didn’t expect anything from her, but she’d wanted to give him something. And the way she saw it, it was at least a little selfish. It was a way for them to spend more time together, to enjoy one another’s company, and she wanted all the time with him she could get.

But now, now that she’d gotten a chance to feel his lips against hers, she could think of nothing but kissing him again.

The skates and the words she wanted to share were forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back into her. He smiled into the kiss, glad that she was as eager to kiss him as he was her, and stepped closer. Their bodies melded together, his hands on her hips and her fingers in his hair, as their lips moved easily. There was no awkward adjustment, no tentative shuffling and hesitant hands. It was easy, natural, and Evie melted into his embrace.

Calum was steady and sure as he kissed her. He slowly guided her back against the rock, his fingers digging into her hips as he lifted her enough to sit on the edge, and never broke the kiss as her hands tugged at his bleached locks. He’d let it grow, it was a fraction longer than it had been when she met him, and she could see the slight curl whenever she took a moment to look.

His hands were warm against her skin as they brushed her thighs, his fingers dragging along the skin marred by skating accidents and general clumsiness. She sighed against his lips, content to remain in that moment, and Calum smiled.

“We don’t have to do anything.” His voice was reassuring, steady despite the breathy quality it took on, and she nodded.

“I know.” She did. She knew that he wouldn’t take anything she wasn’t willing to give, but she wanted to give him everything. She didn’t hesitate to return her mouth to his, her lips slotting into place as if they were made to kiss his, and brought her hands to slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

“You sure?” He wanted her consent, enthusiastic and unwavering, and she gave it to him without a second thought. A simple ‘yes’ and he nodded, his own thoughts disappearing as he crowded into her again and dipped his hands beneath the hem of her dress.

She wore another sundress, another vibrant blue that he loved to see, and they were both thankful for her forethought as his fingers brushed her panties. Her mind was clouded with lust and an overwhelming feeling of happiness, a joy she’d never felt in a situation like this, and she let it drown out everything else - the worry that someone might catch them, the fear that this would embed Calum in her heart and make it that much harder for her to let him go when it came time for her to leave - as she focused on the feeling of Calum’s hands against her skin and his lips against her own.

Her own hands brushed over his stomach, her nails lightly scraping his skin, and she grinned as she felt his stomach contract under her touch. She was glad to know that she had just as much of an effect on him as he had on her. With every sharp gasp, with every shaky breath, with every low hum of pleasure, she felt her own pleasure grow greater. His hands were steady, pleasantly rough from years of surfing, and they captured her full attention as he slipped his fingers beneath the band of her panties and brushed her folds.

“Please, Calum.” Her voice was breathless, eager and just as fucked as she felt, and she barely recognized it as she waited for him to move.

She wanted him, all of him, and he didn’t have to be told twice as he shifted his jeans down just enough to free himself and rolled a condom onto his length. Calum surrounded her, overwhelming her senses in the most pleasant way, and she felt her eyes slip shut and her mouth drop open in a silent moan as he entered her.

They let themselves express everything they’d kept quiet over the three weeks they’d danced around one another in their kisses and in the brushing of hands against skin. Everything she’d wanted to tell him, every worry she’d had and every wish she’d made, seemed to be conveyed with every brush of her lips against his.

Every movement of his hips, every thrust he made, he returned the gesture and conveyed the thoughts he’d been keeping to himself. They let themselves be vulnerable, open and honest, and she felt such a heavy storm of emotions that catching her breath seemed impossible.

Her release crashed over her, a wave of feeling hitting her and leaving her seeing stars, and she dug her fingers into Calum’s shoulders as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. A sharp gasp left her lips as she came, an intake of breath followed by a moan of Calum’s name, and he followed suit with a moan of his own.

They remained locked in an embrace, his hands moving to her cheeks while hers looped around his neck, as they caught their breath. The sounds of their breath mingled with the crashing of waves and the far off sounds of their friends and others like them but Evie wouldn’t have traded her little slice of heaven for anything as Calum shifted away from her and straightened his clothes before helping her with her own. He settled onto the rock beside her, his arm around her shoulders, and smiled as she leaned into his side.

There was far too much for them to discuss, too many words that felt better left unsaid but needed to be brought out into the open, but neither of them wanted to destroy the bubble they’d built. Just as they’d done in the weeks leading up to this moment, they stayed quiet.

There would be another day, another time to decide where to go from here, so they settled for just enjoying the moment as it came and left it uncomplicated for yet another day.

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

Following the night at the beach, Calum and Evie remained in a sort of limbo. They were happy, enjoying their time together and more connected than they had been before, but both knew that they needed to have a conversation about where they were going to go from there. They knew that they needed to talk about what they wanted and what would happen, that it needed to be spoken aloud, but neither could make themselves begin the conversation.

Were they dating? Were they friends with benefits? Was there more to them than a summer fling? Would they try to keep contact when Evie left? They both wondered these things but neither dared speak these questions aloud. Things were good, happy and easy, so neither wanted to complicate their joy with talk of feelings. Feelings were messy, hard and unpredictable, and either wanted anything more than happiness.

Weeks passed with their feelings left undisclosed, shared only in kisses and touches but never in concrete words, and their lives grew more and more intertwined. Where you found one, you could likely find the other. They spent their days skating and surfing, Evie cheering Calum on as he grew more confident in street skating and him returning the favor as she grew steadier on a surfboard. Their nights were spent at Jack’s, Evie trying her hand at making judgements based on drink orders, or in Evie’s bedroom at Dahlia’s. They were official in every way that mattered, partners in every sense of the word, only they had no idea what to say should anyone ask.

Despite that, despite the lingering uncertainty and the unspoken questions, Calum felt his heart swell with happiness with every moment he spent with her.

Her walls dropped the longer they knew one another and every fear she had, every worry she’d been harboring about her future, spilled past her lips in late night conversations held on the beach. They laid together, intertwined on a blanket as they listened to the crashing waves, and Calum felt himself surrendering to her parts of his past he’d never laid bare for anyone else. He told her about goals that he let go of and dreams that were shattered. He disclosed dreams that still lingered, far off and covered in cobwebs as he never allowed himself to consider them, and fell harder for her with every encouraging word that spilled past her lips.

They pushed one another, both desperate for the other to be happy and live the life they deserved, and he didn’t know how he’d gone so long without her. She was like the sun, bright and warm, and he’d been stuck in the dark for far too long.

Calum felt his chest tighten with his overwhelming affection for her - could he call it love when it had only been two months? No, that would be absurd - as he watched her sip her drink and watch the crowd that swarmed the bar. They were in Jack’s, surrounded by people, but he only had eyes for her.

She’d grown more comfortable with her alcohol intake, had gotten used to drinking a little more than she had when she first arrived, and he once commented that he’d been right. She could drink them all under the table if she chose to do so and she seemed to be well on her way - or maybe she just didn’t realize how much she was drinking - as she downed another of his specialty drinks.

She’d convinced him to have a few drinks with her, not enough to impair his skills and not enough to draw the ire of his boss, and he felt a pleasant warmth color his cheeks as she turned her head and smiled at him.

“What’re you looking at?” Her voice was quiet in the din of the bar but he heard every word clearly. She was grinning, a smile that told him she knew exactly what he’d been looking at, and he returned it as he wiped at the counter where a customer beside her had spilled a bit of his drink.

“My girl.” It was his standard answer, safe enough for her to know he wanted her just as much as she wanted him without calling her his girlfriend, and it made her blush every time. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, a color that he loved to see on her, and she shook her head as she turned her gaze to the drink in front of her.

“When does your shift end?” She always changed the subject when he got too soft about their relationship, whatever it was, but this time he imagined it was less her desire to avoid talking about where they stood and more her alcohol-addled brain pushing her thoughts in a million different directions. “I got something I want to show you.”

“Is it as good as the last surprise you had for me?” The week before, he’d come home after a shift - one of the very few he’d spent without her in weeks - to find her lying in his bed. She wore nothing but blue lace and a smile and it was the best surprise - save for the skates she’d given him that night on the beach - he’d gotten in years.

“Mm, no.” She laughed at the exaggerated disappointment that made him shake his head and he grinned as she downed the rest of her drink. “But I do think you’ll like it. Maybe not as much but in a different way.”

“My shift ends in about an hour. You want another or are you done for the night?” He knew her answer, she had yet to get completely drunk and always stopped just shy of hammered, but he reveled in the delighted surprise on her face when he placed the correct drink, always a glass of water, in front of her. She looked at him with wide eyes, amazed that he’d gotten it right so quickly, and he always accepted the kiss on the cheek she gave him after.

For the remainder of his shift, she sat and nursed her water. He could feel her gaze on him whenever he moved, her bright eyes sparkling with the same affection he felt, and he shot her a wink or a smile whenever he had the chance to look away from whatever customer he was serving. He rarely worked a single shift but he was glad he had the chance to take one as his co-worker, a pretty brunette named Sierra that Luke had started falling for, entered the bar and grinned at him.

“Don’t look so excited to leave, Cal,” she teased as she tugged on her apron and glanced at the list of open tabs over his shoulder. It was longer than normal and she frowned. “Busy night?”

“Kind of. Mostly locals and a table of frat boys on the patio. I’ve got better shit to do with my night than hang out here.” He and Sierra both glanced at Evie. She sat in her seat, playing with the straw in her drink and dancing to the song that they could only vaguely make out over the noise, and he smiled as he watched her.

“Happy looks good on you, Cal.” He was always surprised when people noticed a difference in him but Sierra wasn’t the first person to comment on his change in demeanor. He was happier more often now that Evie was in his life, the past traumas and lingering darkness he had yet to share with her no longer weighing as heavily on his chest, and he briefly wondered if that happiness would fade when she left.

However, before he could lose himself in the darkness, he shot Sierra a smile that he hoped didn’t look forced and nodded when he brushed past her. “It feels good.” And it did. He had to work at it, try his best to keep the darkness from blotting it out, but it felt better than anything ever had.

“Ready to go?” After Evie said goodbye to Sierra, Calum guided her out of Jack’s and tossed his arm over her shoulders as they wandered the streets leading to the beach. His surprise was waiting for them there and he couldn’t even begin to think of what she might’ve done as they descended the stairs and he held her close to keep her from falling over.

When they reached the section of beach that they jokingly referred to as theirs, she grinned at him. “Wait right there. Close your eyes, okay?” He made a show of closing his eyes and placed his hands over them when she tapped her foot impatiently against the sand. Her giggle made him grin and he waited patiently for her to give him permission to open his eyes. “Okay. You can look!”

He opened his eyes to find her blocked from view by a surfboard, one that looked alarmingly familiar, and he felt his brows furrow in confusion as he stared at it. It looked exactly like his old one, one that had been destroyed the day his dreams died, and he had no idea where she got it or if she knew what it meant to him.

“D’you like it? I can’t take all the credit. Ash had it in his shop and said he’s been working on it for you. I helped paint it but that’s about it. They wouldn’t let me use any of the tools. He said it was important to you and that it was your first board. I told him he should give it to you but he wanted me to do it so…” She trailed off, aware of his lack of response, and poked her head out from behind the board to get a look at him.

He didn’t speak, he wasn’t sure that he could, as he took the board from her hands and ran his fingers over the refinished surface. It looked so familiar yet so different from the last time he’d seen it. The cracks were gone, the lines and scratches from where he wiped out time and time again, but the biggest difference was that it was whole again. The lat time he’d seen it, it was broken into two pieces and lying discarded on the sand as he coughed up water and listened to the wail of sirens as an ambulance took one of his friends, another surfer that had been like a brother to him and Luke, away. He was fifteen at the time, scared shitless and broken beyond repair when his brother left the hospital in a hearse, and the board served as a reminder of everything he wanted to forget.

It was a reminder of the darkness that lingered in his chest and he wanted to be grateful for such a thoughtful gift but he couldn’t bring himself to choke out the words of thanks that he knew she was hoping for. He wanted to drop the board in the sand and tell her just how badly the accident fucked with his head but he couldn’t do anything except stare at the board in his hands.

“I… I get it if you hate it. Ash said it might not be a good idea to give it to you but he wouldn’t tell me why. And Luke got this look in his eye but didn’t say anything so maybe I misread everything. I’m sorry. I brought another board, a different one, if you still want to surf. I know it’s late but there’s enough light for one trip out. We didn’t get to go this morning and it doesn’t feel like a complete day without it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice was quiet and she looked sad when he finally looked at her. “You’ve had too much to drink and neither of us are in our bathing suits. We’ll go in the morning.”

He completely ignored the board, not acknowledging the elephant on the beach at all, and she bit her lip in contemplation as she stared at him. “I’m okay. And I’m wearing my bathing suit. I have yours but if you don’t want to go in, that’s fine. Maybe you can just watch from here? I won’t go out far.”

“Don’t be stupid fucking, Evie. You’re barely able to stand on a board in daylight, sober. You’ll fucking kill yourself if you go out here drunk in the dark. Come on, I’ll take you back to Dahlia’s.” It was harsher than he’d ever been with her, he knew that, but he was rattled at seeing the board and being reminded of something he was finally starting to forget. He could see the look on her face, a look of disappointment and a flash of anger, and he knew that it was only made worse by the alcohol she’d consumed.

“I’m not being stupid and I don’t want to go home. You can go if you want but I’m going to get in the water. Leave the board, I’ll take it back to Ash and he can put it in storage or something.” She was being childish, petulant that she didn’t get her way, and Calum was reminded of the girl he’d imagined she would be before he met her.

She was the L.A. brat who pouted when she didn’t get her way but he knew that wasn’t her. She was only acting out because she felt slighted, hurt by his lack of communication and his sudden shift in mood, and he moved to apologize. His hand brushed her exposed shoulder and he frowned as she shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me.” She nudged him away and tugged off her dress, exposing the neon green bikini he was so fond of.

“Seriously, Evie, don’t be an idiot. Yell at me or give me the silent treatment but do it on land and we’ll talk about this in the morning.” He reached for her again, determined to stop her from going out into the water, but she dodged his hand and grabbed her own board.

He thought about chasing after her, he knew that he should have, but he just stood and watched as she ran into the water. He kept his eyes on her, annoyance surging through him at her sudden decision to be rebellious, and wondered if this would be their first - and possibly last - fight. It was stupid, something that should have never even come up, and he knew that they were both overreacting. He needed to tell her exactly what the board meant to him and why he reacted the way he had but she also needed to understand that he was serious and concerned for her safety.

He understood that she was getting the freedom she’d always wanted and making decisions for herself but that decision didn’t need to be a life ending one.

True to her word, she didn’t go out farther than she had the very first time she’d gone surfing, but it was still deep enough to worry him. He could see the neon of her bikini in the dark, bright against the blackness of the ocean, and he was grateful for it in a very different way as it helped him keep track of her. There were few waves and he hoped that she would give up, her tipsy brain would realize it was stupid and that she would come back to shore before she could even try to surf, but he could see the waves forming and knew that she was going to try and ride it.

He was surprised when she managed to stand on her board and ride the wave, her footing steady and her form better than he’d seen it, and felt a wave of relief wash over him as she began moving closer. But before he could relax entirely, he watched her fall into the water. It was as if time slowed as he waited for her to emerge from the water. He wanted her to pop up and grin at him, happy that she’d done such a brilliant job right up until the end, but seconds passed and she was nowhere to be seen.

He knew that she would never try to scare him, not really, and that she was a strong swimmer. However, her abilities were impaired and it was dark. There was no telling what happened to her when she fell and he didn’t stop to think as he rushed into the water. He only paused to throw his phone into the sand, should he need it, before he went searching for her.

He swam to the spot he thought he’d last seen her and dove, his arms sweeping the water as he tried his hardest to find her. His own lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and he couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking - if she was still thinking anything at all - as he swam to the surface to inhale a breath of air. He called her name, hopeful that she had surfaced, but when he was met with silence, he dove back down.

He wasn’t a big believer in miracles but when his hands hit something warm and solid, he prayed that he’d been on the receiving end of one. He gripped what he was glad to discover was her arm and tugged, pulling her up and out of the water. She was limp, not breathing, and he struggled to get her to the shore. When he finally dragged her into the sand, he hoped beyond hope that he hadn’t been too late and used the CPR they’d all learned after the fatal accident to try and keep her with him.

The time that passed between him starting CPR and her coughing up lungfuls of water was only seconds but it felt like decades as he waited for her to come back to him. When she did, he breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his head as she groaned. She was clearly disoriented, uncertain as to what happened, and he didn’t know if he wanted to shake her or kiss her. Instead of doing either, he reached for his phone and called Dahlia to let her know what happened.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, with Ashton and Dahlia questioning him and Evie groaning as she laid in his lap. She would be fine physically, he knew that, and if anyone could bounce back from nearly drowning, it would be her. However, he didn’t know how he felt.

He’d had a flashback to one of the worst days of his life, watching one of his best friends die on the beach, and he had feared the same thing was going to happen to the girl he loved. He knew it, that he was in love with her, and it scared the hell out of him. He was going to lose her in a few weeks and the future he’d been afraid of suddenly felt all too real. It was all pressing in on him, suffocating, and when Evie was safely in a room with Dahlia by her side, he did something he never thought he’d do again.

He ran.

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

Evie woke up with no real recollection of the night before. She felt the vague sense of guilt, a lingering feeling that told her she’d done something wrong, that came with drinking too much but she wasn’t sure why. The more pressing question was why it hurt to breathe and why there was a steady beeping that sounded eerily like a heart monitor.

Her fears were confirmed when she spotted the white walls of a hospital room and the telltale monitor by her bedside. She had a hospital bracelet wrapped around her wrist and bruises on her arms but that told her nothing about the night she’d had. She was alone in her room, unsure of why she was there in the first place, and unsure of what she should do next as she stared down at the bracelet on her wrist.

“Fuck, thank God you’re awake.” Dahlia stepped into the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag with what Evie hoped were clothes for her in the other, and rushed forward when she realized Evie had returned to the land of the living. “What were you thinking? E, that was so fucking stupid. Be glad Calum was there and he’s a strong swimmer. You could’ve died.”

“What happened?” Her night was returning in flashes, she remembered Calum telling her something similar, but she couldn’t piece together what landed her in the hospital. “I remember going to Jack’s but not much else.”

“You got drunk and tried to go surfing in the dark. What the fuck possessed you to do that?” Dahlia didn’t hide her disappointment as she dropped the bag that did, in fact, hold Evie’s clothes onto the bed.”Seriously, Evie, do you have a death wish?”

Evie was stunned to hear that she’d done something so reckless. She didn’t think she was that drunk, she didn’t remember drinking enough to make her do something so stupid, but apparently she had been. “No. Fuck, I don’t know. I…” She trailed off, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember exactly what had driven her into the ocean, and found her memory of the night returning in more solid fragments. “We didn’t get to surf yesterday. I wanted to make up for it. I gave him a board Ash has been fixing for him and he called me stupid. I don’t know why I went into the water when he wouldn’t but I felt like I had to. It felt really important.”

“Everything feels really important when you’re hammered, you moron. Fuck, how do you feel?” Dahlia softened as she watched Evie rub at her chest, the soreness of her body hitting her as she tried to talk, and she reached out to grab the cup of water the nurse had brought by.

“I’m fine. Feel like I got hit by a truck but I’m assuming I almost drowned and that’s why.”

“The doctor said you’d be sore for a bit. But there was no lasting damage.” Ashton stepped into the room, a soft smile that she had never seen him wear on his lips, and stood behind Dahlia as he ran his hand along her shoulders. “You got lucky, Evie.”

“Yeah.” She paused, examining both Ashton and Dahlia, before she glanced around the room for any sign that Calum had been there. She worried that she’d made him angry, that she’d hurt him more than she meant to - she hadn’t meant to hurt him at all -, and when she didn’t spot any sign of him, she frowned. “Where’s Cal?”

Ashton and Dahlia exchanged a look that she didn’t like but Dahlia was the one to tell her, “He left.”

“Left? Where’d he go?” Evie knew that he was likely furious and that she’d probably scared him more than she realized but for him to not be there when she awoke was disappointing. She felt her heart sink and couldn’t stop herself from slumping against the pillows as she waited for Dahlia or Ashton to explain.

They both remained silent for a moment, neither sure what to tell her, and she almost asked again but when Dahlia looked at her, when she met her eyes and shot her a look that was full of both disappointment and pity, Evie remained silent herself.

“What happened when you gave him the board? I found it on the beach near your clothes.” Ashton was curious but Evie could tell there was something more behind his question.

“He didn’t say anything. He just got quiet and stared at it. I told him I’d give it back to you and let you store it somewhere and then he told me that I could barely surf in daylight so it was stupid to go out at night and then I went into the water. He kind of looked like he saw a ghost when he stared at it. I don’t get why he freaked out about it. It’s just a board.”

The whole thing was, to her, out of character for him. He was reserved, only sharing pieces of his past when she asked, but he talked to her. He told her what he was thinking and didn’t hesitate anymore to let her in. He had secrets, she knew that, but she’d been under the impression that he would have told her if something were really wrong. But she’d only known him for two months. How much could you really get to know someone in such a short period of time?

“That was his first board.” Ashton shifted uncomfortably, his arms folded over his chest as he looked away from both her and Dahlia, and Evie realized that Dahlia wasn’t in on the secret either. “I hadn’t known them long, a few months, maybe? We were friends but not like we are now. He and Luke had another friend, Alex, who was like a brother to them. They were out one day, trying out bigger waves and just fucking around, but it was a bad day for surfing. There was a storm and the waves were shit. They wouldn’t listen to anyone telling them to come in, though. And before someone could go out and get them, they both went down. It was bad, nothing I’d ever seen before. There were pieces of board floating back to shore and people scrambling to get out to them because we knew they’d at least be injured if they came up on their own. Cal nearly drowned and Alex did.”

“Fuck, no one ever told me that.” Dahlia was the first to speak, her surprise evident as she glanced over her shoulder at Ashton. “I mean, I never would’ve guessed. Cal still surfs and no one has ever mentioned anything about Alex.”

“It was a rough time and they just wanted to forget it. It’s why they both stuck around here. Cal started playing soccer with Alex and he was good. He was getting scouted, probably would’ve gotten a scholarship, but after Alex died, he stopped playing. He stopped doing everything, really. You remember what he was like when you first met him.”

When Evie frowned and Dahlia nodded, Dahlia turned her attention to Evie and explained, “He was reserved, quiet. Not really in on the joke or a part of the group. He was just… here. Like, now he’s funny and goofy but it’s taken time. I thought he was just warming up to me.” She turned to Ashton and asked, “When he disappeared, it wasn’t just him working a lot, was it?”

“No. He ran away after Alex died. He disappeared for two weeks and, honestly, none of us ever asked where he went. We figured he’d tell us if he wanted to and he never did. But for a while, he’d just… run. Every few months, we’d wake up and Cal was gone. Sometimes Mali, his sister, went with him. Sometimes he went on his own. But he always came back after a few days and never wanted to talk about it. He hasn’t run in a little over a year so we figured he was getting better. I shouldn’t have let you give him the board. I just figured since he’s been so happy with you, it might not be as hard on him.”

To say that Evie was stunned would have been an understatement. Calum told her that he’d played soccer and that he’d wanted to play in college but he hadn’t told her why that dream had fallen through. He told her that plans had changed and that his future was no longer as set in stone as he’d wanted it to be but, again, he hadn’t told her why. And she was more concerned with happiness, with keeping things light and easy, than with getting the full story. She wanted a carefree summer and asking what destroyed his future wasn’t exactly part of the plan so she’d kept her questions to herself and enjoyed the kisses he gave her to distract her from prying.

“It’s fitting that we found each other.”

Ashton was confused, unsure of what she meant, but the look on Dahlia’s face told Evie that she understood. Evie could see the subtle shake of her head, a cue for Ashton not to ask, and she was grateful. She didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to talk at all. Her throat felt raw and there was a feeling of unease washing over her. It was as if the entire thing was a bad dream, something she would wake up from, and she wondered where exactly Calum had run to and when he would return.

However, in the three weeks she spent in town after Calum disappeared, she never got an answer. Not that she expected one. Dahlia told her that none of the guys knew and she believed them. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t left wondering. She thought about it, late at night when she laid awake in bed. She spent the three weeks she had left in Dahlia’s guest bedroom reflecting on her relationship with Calum.

It wasn’t love, she knew that, but it was the closest she’d ever gotten. He’d felt like a missing piece, a part of her life that she hadn’t known she needed until she found him, and she wondered how she was supposed to return to her life with the knowledge that he was out there somewhere, just waiting for her to find him. But she couldn’t dwell, she wouldn’t let herself.

When the three weeks were up and she was due to return to L.A. to prepare for her final year of university, she went back to the beach for the first time since she nearly drowned. She hadn’t left Dahlia’s house much, only to take a walk around the block when she got stir crazy, and hadn’t put on her skates since she left the hospital. She didn’t really feel like it, not when she had gotten used to skating with Calum, and packed up her skates before she packed anything else.

When she packed up her room, she left a box on her bed full of things that reminded of her Calum. She wanted to take the polaroids, the few photo booth pictures they’d taken on the boardwalk, the stuffed dog he won her at a carnival, but she knew that they would only hurt to look at down the road. She didn’t regret falling for Calum, not even as she felt her heart break over when she looked at a photo of them sitting on the boardwalk as Calum attempted to lace his skates for the first time, but she wondered if she still would’ve fallen had she known what she was signing up for.

They were more alike than they were different, she realized that now, and she wondered if that was what drew her to him in the first place. They were two sides of the same coin and even if she tried to deny it, she loved him enough to hold him in her heart. He would remain there, a question of what could’ve been that she feared she would never be able to answer, and she hoped she would remain in his heart. She wished she would’ve abandoned her dream of a carefree summer and let herself delve deeper into feelings and thoughts and emotions with Calum but she didn’t regret any of it.

And any time she had a vodka pineapple, she knew that she would think of him.

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

EPILOGUE - 1 Year Later (May)

“Dolly, I really wish I could have made it but I had an exam at four. I wouldn’t have gotten in before the party was over. I’m sorry.”

Evie stood at the edge of Dahlia and Ashton’s backyard, just far enough from the noise for it to go unnoticed on the phone but close enough to see some of the partygoers as she waited, and bit her lip to hide her grin as she waved at Ashton. Unsurprisingly, he looked shocked to see her and didn’t bother to hide his own grin as Dahlia’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“No, that’s okay. School comes first. I get it.” She heard Dahlia heave a heavy sigh as she held her finger up to her lips as a signal for Ashton to keep quiet. He nodded and placed a reassuring hand on Dahlia’s shoulder as she said, “But you’ll have to come up soon. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, D. You’ll see me soon, I promise.” It was hard, standing back and waiting for the perfect moment to surprise her cousin when she hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, but Evie lingered near the sidewalk as she spoke with Dahlia.

“I better. I need a hug.” Dahlia went quiet for a second, seemingly hesitating, and Evie knew what she was going to ask before the words left her lips. “Is this about…?”

Calum.

Dahlia never said his name, she never asked how Evie felt after her summer with Calum that ended in heartbreak and no real closure, and Evie had been glad at first. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it, she hadn’t felt the need to talk about it, but when she got home to an empty apartment and an overwhelming amount of school work, everything she repressed started to bubble to the surface. So when the nightmares started, she’d talked it out with her therapist.

And she was fine.

“No, D. I really have been busy.” It wasn’t a lie. She was two weeks away from graduation and it seemed like every deadline was hitting her right at the same time. But she couldn’t miss her cousin’s engagement party, not when she had been promised the maid of honor job practically the moment Ashton proposed, so she busted her ass to finish what she could and shoved whatever books she would need into her bag to finish her paper before driving back to the city on Sunday.

The thought of seeing Calum hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Good. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I love you, E.”

“Love you, too, D.”

Evie ended the call and pocketed her phone before she took a deep breath and stared at the new home Dahlia and Ashton shared. It was beautiful, a dream home for the both of them, and she was glad. They deserved happiness, they deserved one another, and she was proud that they were getting their happy ending.

She scanned the faces she could see milling about the backyard and she spotted all of the friends she’d somewhat kept in touch with since leaving. She hadn’t meant to let her relationship with them all fall away but with her schedule and the awkwardness that came with avoiding the subject of Calum - something they all did, whether consciously or not - they had tapered off and she wondered how they would react to seeing her again. Luke was the first person she spotted, his arms wrapped around Sierra with a grin on his lips as he laughed at his own joke. Then there was Michael, standing with his arm around Crystal’s shoulders and shaking his head at whatever terrible joke had obviously left Luke’s lips. Dahlia and Ashton were there, too, looking more in love than ever and beaming with joy as they were surrounded by friends and family.

She and Calum were the only noticeable absences.

She knew that he was back in town, or he had been, anyway. He returned not long after she left and she knew that he’d finally told Ashton, at least, where he went when he disappeared and exactly why he ran. But no one ever told her and she wasn’t going to ask them to. It wasn’t their place, it wasn’t her place, so she left it alone. Dahlia didn’t mention him and she didn’t ask. Whenever they spoke and she heard Calum’s voice in the background, she noticed that Dahlia left the room or made an excuse to end the call. She imagined they were trying to protect her but she didn’t need protecting.

She was fine.

She repeated that to herself as she weaved through the crowd in the backyard. It reminded her of the party Dahlia had thrown her almost a year before and she wondered how time had flown that fast. A part of her missed that, before she knew what the rest of the summer would hold, but she still didn’t regret it. It was, all things considered, still the best summer she’d ever had and she was grateful for it as she made eye contact with Luke and shot him a bright grin.

He realized what she was trying to do, who she was there for, and kept quiet as she approached their group. But the smile he wore was enough proof that regardless of her own disappearing act, she hadn’t been forgotten. Michael spotted Evie next and Crystal had to keep him from blurting out her name. And by the time she was behind Dahlia, everyone knew that she was there except her cousin and they all watched expectantly as she reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

She looked different, a far cry from the Evie she had been when they’d last seen her, and Dahlia had to pause to take it all in. Her hair was cut short, a blunt shoulder length style that made her cry when she first chopped it, and she wore an outfit that was mostly black rather than her typical bright colors but the smile that she wore was entirely Evie.

After a pause, Dahlia launched herself at Evie and wrapped her arms around her tight. She was glad to see her, surprised and thrilled and overwhelmed, and Evie could tell as Dahlia wiped at her cheeks. “You little shit. That was so mean, I was so sad!”

“You should’ve known better, D. There was no way I could miss this.” Evie laughed as Dahlia continued to wipe at her cheeks and shook her head before turning her attention to Ashton. “Congratulations, guys. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Evie. I’m glad you could make it.” She’d proposed the idea to Ashton weeks ago but hadn’t been completely sold on it until that morning. It was a last minute decision, an impulsive act that she normally wouldn’t have undertaken, and she could see that he was glad she’d finally settled on coming. “We all missed you.”

She heard murmurs of agreement from the group as they all piled in on her and she laughed as arms wrapped around her. She patted whoever she could reach, though she wasn’t sure who she was returning the affection to, and laughed as someone tugged at her hair.

No one addressed the obvious elephant in the room as they all grinned and caught up. No one mentioned Calum as they asked her what she’d been up to. Everyone congratulated her when she told them she was headed to Stanford in the fall and expressed their sorrow when she sheepishly admitted she hadn’t gone skating in months - she wasn’t going to tell them but she’d tried, when she got back to L.A., and found that it had lost some of its joy. But no one lingered on the sad when they all began sharing happy news of their own. Michael and Crystal were also engaged, Luke and Sierra had moved in together and had gotten a dog named Petunia - one she gleefully accepted the invitation to come meet -, and everyone was moving on with their lives.

They all seemed to content, so happy with their places in life, and she was happy for them. But she felt as if she wasn’t a real part of the conversation as she’d missed so much and excused herself to go get a drink when she’d finally had enough of being on the periphery of conversation.

There was an actual bar at their new home, near the pool, and she was almost disappointed that she didn’t see Calum behind it. But that disappointment was replaced by confusion as she sat down and a drink was placed in front of her before she could order. It was a vodka pineapple, still her drink of choice, and she stared at it with a frown on her lips.

“You don’t really look like a vodka pineapple girl anymore but I figured it was still your drink.”

Evie had imagined seeing Calum again. She imagined how she would react and what exactly would happen and in every situation, she saw herself uttering some witty quip or maybe a simple response to whatever he had to say to her - if he had anything to say at all. But she never imagined she would freeze. Hearing his voice was like a shot of ice water through her veins and she found herself unable to move as she felt him moving closer to her.

She kept her eyes on the drink in front of her, watching as drops of condensation rolled down the sides, and tensed as he leaned against the bar beside her. It was strange, feeling anything but ease around Calum, but she felt almost hollow as she waited for him to speak again. And when he did, she realized that she wasn’t as fine as she thought she was.

“I’m sorry I ran, Evie.”

“It doesn’t matter.” It did, it mattered more than she was willing to admit. “Water under the bridge now.”

Calum had always been able to read her better than anyone she’d ever met. He could see through her smiles, pinpoint the exact emotion behind her words, and this time was no different. He knew her better than she knew herself, even if he’d only known her for a few months, and she heard him breathe a deep sigh as he lifted his own drink to take a sip.

“Ash told you what he knew, right?” She didn’t respond, didn’t indicate that she’d even heard him, but that didn’t stop him. “I shouldn’t have run. But everything was overwhelming. When Alex died, running was easier than facing it. And every time I started thinking too much, running let me get it out of my head. I always went to this spot a few towns over. There’s a beach there that’s the perfect place to surf. I’d sit on the shore and watch the waves and just forget about my life for a little while. It kept me from doing something stupid.”

Evie didn’t know what he wanted her to say. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. So she sipped her drink and kept silent as Calum rolled on.

“When I met you, I was getting better at controlling my emotions. I could distract myself a little easier. Falling in love with you was a good distraction, too. It was more than just a distraction but it made things easier. And when you almost drowned, I… I don’t know. Something snapped and I couldn’t deal. I shouldn’t have left but I couldn’t stay.”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say, Calum. I’m sorry about Alex. I know that there’s a lot of trauma left and that it was hard on you. I’m sorry that I was being an idiot and that I put myself, and you, in that position. I shouldn’t have done that and I haven’t stepped foot in the water since that day. But beyond that, I don’t really know what else we have to talk about.”

There was a lot left to talk about. She caught it when he said he’d fallen in love with her, she caught it when he said that being with her made things easier. But that was a year ago and they couldn’t change the year and the miles that separated them.

“I missed you.”

She wasn’t expecting that and she lifted her head to glance at him. He looked different, just as she did. His bleach blonde locks were gone and replaced by a buzzcut. But when she met his eyes for the first time in nearly a year, her Calum was shimmering beneath the surface.

“You don’t have to tell me you missed me, too. I just… I just wanted you to know. Dahlia told me you got into Stanford. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She hesitated, unsure of whether she should tell him that no one would tell her what he was up to, but ultimately decided that she wanted to keep the conversation going. “What have you been up to?”

He looked surprised that she was willingly talking to him but his lips quirked into a barely there grin as he watched her sip her drink. “I was saving up to move to L.A. but I changed my mind. I, um, I’m saving up to buy Jack’s.”

“You want to buy Jack’s?” Evie was surprised, to say the least. The last time she’d talked to him, Calum couldn’t wait to leave so to hear that he was actively planning to stay confused her.

Calum shrugged, a small smile on his lips as he brought his hand to the back of his neck. “I’ve been there for a while now and I love it. I like bartending more than anything else I’ve tried and I’ve learned to be happy here. I’m learning to be happy in general.”

“That’s good, then. I know that you love Jack’s so it’ll be in good hands with you at the helm.”

The conversation tapered off, neither of them sure what to say, and Evie felt her stomach churn at the silence. It was awkward and she hadn’t felt like this around him since they first met. But she didn’t know what else there was to be said. She wanted to ask him if he thought of her, if he regretted leaving, if he still loved her. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Calum, however, spoke without her needing to. “Can we start over? Even if we can’t go back to what we were, can we at least be friends? We’re going to be seeing each other again. I’m Ash’s best man.”

She stared at him, unsure of what she wanted and if she even wanted to talk to him outside of the wedding, and watched as he gave her the most hopeful glance she’d seen from him. So she nodded. “I’m Evie.” She held out her hand, much as she had the day they met, and offered him a small but sincere smile.

“Calum.” He grasped her hand in his, still warm and reigniting the flurry of butterflies in the pit of her stomach that she believed was long gone, and lingered as he said, “Nice to meet you.”

The glow of the golden hour, the light that made Calum look even more beautiful than he already was, washed over them both as they stood in Dahlia and Ashton’s backyard. The world around them ceased to exist and it was like the day they met all over again. Evie didn’t know what the future held for them, or if there was a future for them at all, but that was fine.

There were still questions, still moments of hurt and anger and things she needed to work through, but the answers would come in time. And everything was fine.

_______________________________

Author’s Note: I have no idea what this is. But I hope you like it. It took two weeks and I’m very tired.

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ev-pierce-writes · 4 years ago

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The Heir Chapter 2

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9K

Notes: This chapter jumps back in time a bit from Din's perspective, giving us a glance into his crash landing on Mandalore and his first impressions of You. Mostly just a lot of feels (or the suppressing thereof).

---

"Mando."

Where was that voice coming from?

"Mando. Come on, wake up."

The hiss of hydraulics and Din's helmet lifted, forcing him to squint his eyes while trying to make out the face above him. The glare of a hot desert sun obscured its features and the pounding in Din's head made it difficult to focus.

"Help me get him on the speeder."

Arms under his legs and armpits lifted Din and placed him gently on a hard seat. He slouched forward, unable to sit up straight, the pain so great and so extensive it was hard to pinpoint exactly what was broken or bruised. The vehicle took off across the desert with a lurch, spraying sand in its wake.

A hot wind burned against Din's face, further drying his mouth and making it hard to keep his eyes open. He drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of how long they sped over the sandy terrain.

Maybe only minutes passed, maybe hours. Eventually, the speeder entered one of the large domes that had been visible from space. Inside it was much cooler and darker, a relief after the harshness of Mandalore's surface. Din continued to drift in and out, dehydrated and covered in sand, unable to comprehend if he was safe. He was too concussed to take in his surroundings or catalog his injuries. Finally, exhaustion hit him like a mudhorn to the chest, and Din fell hard and fast into a deep sleep.

When he awoke, his helmet, armor, and underclothes were removed, leaving him nearly naked. Panic seized at Din's throat and he sat up quickly, surveying the situation and already planning his escape route. In this recently awoken state, Din couldn't remember where he was or what he had been doing. His thoughts flew immediately to the kid, his instinct telling him to find the child, whatever the cost. But then he noticed a neat pile at the end of the bed, beskar stacked alongside his clothes and helmet, and the terror eased.

He was on Mandalore. Din steadied his breathing and dressed. This was where he was meant to be. The kid was safe, Moff Gideon was defeated, the Darksaber was his.

The Darksaber. Din prayed to the Maker that it had survived the wreck. Or maybe not. At least that would have rid him of this devastating responsibility. But there it was, alongside his blaster and spear, hooked into its slot on his belt. The little metal ball was there as well, and Din breathed a final sigh of relief.

He was okay. For farrik's sake, he was okay and he could take a moment to reorient himself. Din looked around, taking in the small bed he had awoken upon, the gray walls of the room, the solid stone of the floor beneath his feet. He seemed to be in some type of infirmary. He reached his arms over his head and stretched out his neck, feeling the lingering pain of broken ribs and compressed vertebrae. Thank the Maker for bacta shots; he probably would have died without them. But even now, his age made it difficult to heal. He would be feeling this for a while.

Din lifted his helmet, ready to place it on his head, but he paused. He caught a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the beskar, of exhaustion, worry, and sadness staring back at him. He wasn't used to seeing his own face so much or reading his own emotions, and it felt like a stranger was glaring back, not his own eyes. He felt removed from the man in the reflection, the man with the scar across his nose, still not faded from the fateful day a droid had saved his life.

Was this the face the child had touched with his tiny hands? Could he love this face, truly?

Din shoved the helmet on before he could linger on his reflection any longer and stepped out of the small infirmary.

The dome was even larger on the inside than he had anticipated. He stood on a walkway that appeared to circle the entire structure, and more paths crisscrossed different layers of the dome, making for a giant maze. From this vantage point, Din could look down to the ground level, which was left open to the floors above. It was incredibly quiet. A few people meandered below, looking like ants from this angle, but not nearly as many as he would have expected in such a large structure. The place felt deserted.

Din began to make his way around the circle, looking for an elevator or some stairs to take him to the ground floor where most people seemed to be. The ache in his ribs had not eased and he found walking to be incredibly difficult. Din's hips and legs had taken much of the impact of the crash, making every movement a painful one. He didn't make it far before a voice stopped him.

"Woah, there Mando, you need to sit down."

The voice came from behind him, unmodulated, soft, old. Din turned to find an ancient woman hobbling toward him. White-haired and wrinkled, skin tanned and spotted from the sun, the woman was not what Din had expected from the locals of Mandalore. And yet she was unmistakably a Mandalorian, strong, back straight as a rod, with the signet of her clan sewn into the sleeve of her shirt.

How humiliating, being helped into a chair by someone who was twice his age. But Din did not complain.

"You need to eat," she said, pulling him into a side chamber and sitting him down at a table. "You're going to hurt for a while. Bacta isn't easy to come by around here and we gave you as much as we could afford. The rest of the healing you're going to have to do on your own."

A bowl of broth appeared before Din and then the old woman sat across from him, taking in his appearance and the beskar of his armor.

"It's been many years since I saw that much beskar on one warrior. What is your name, Mando?"

Din set his helmet on the table and took a sip of the broth. He wasn't sure what it was meant to be made of. It mostly tasted like water.

"I am Din Djarin. Clan Mudhorn." Here he paused, hesitating. "Child of the Watch."

Din wasn't sure how much the old woman knew. Did she recognize the Darksaber at his hip, know the history of his upbringing? If she did, she didn't let on, and Din felt it best not to explain any further. Maybe it was best to keep quiet about his claim to the throne for now.

"My name is Yollil Darron, Clan Kryze. You must be searching for answers," the old woman said. "Is that why you have come? That was quite an entrance to make, crashing through the atmosphere like that."

"There was nowhere to land. Is there no port? No shipyard?"

Yollil chuckled softly. "There is no need when no ships come and go."

"None?"

"Occasionally. Rarely. But those can't be the answers you came here for."

Yollil was right. Din finished his broth before he continued, choosing his words carefully. "There are so few people here. What happened?"

"Ah, child, that is several questions all rolled into one."

"I have time."

Yollil smiled knowingly. "I will start at the beginning then," she said. "The Children of the Watch have long been separated from the Mand'alor, but the wars started before them."

---

The Mandalorian's holomessage flickered before you. You'd watched it on repeat four times now. Listened to it again and again in an attempt to decipher some hidden meaning in his words. Even virtually, the man seemed to fill the space, leaving you breathless. Thoughts of how he'd made you feel last night, even though he was entirely in your head, rushed through your brain. But you tamped them down.

"When you see this message, I'll be gone already. I need to make contact with others scattered across the galaxy." Maybe it was your imagination, or the modulation of his voice through the helmet, but this is where his resolve would begin to waver, each time you watched, each time seeming more and more reluctant to have gone.

"You-- I didn't--." A sigh.

"There's still a lot to do. And I can't do it alone. I'm sure I'll need your help." I'm sure I'll see you again. I want to see you again. You needed to stop putting words in his mouth but with each iteration, it seemed even more like the truth.

You scolded yourself for trying to find a reason to get attached, for searching his words for some type of acknowledgment that he felt the same way. Mandalorians were restless beings, travelers with no home. It was irrational and irresponsible to expect anything more from him. You needed to rein in your temptation. And yet--

Finally, you shut the holopuck off, putting it in the drawer of your desk for safekeeping.

---

"There are twelve other domes on Mandalore," Yollil explained as she guided you slowly around in a tour of the structure. "Many are divided by clan. Tensions run high, but we abandoned the fighting long ago though. It's much easier to survive when you are unified as a larger group. Or at least the illusion of conciliation."

As Din had finished his watery broth, Yollil had explained the history of the Mand'alor, how civil war had erupted over loyalties to the Empire, over who would inherit the throne. Eventually, the group of religious zealots, the Children of the Watch, had split, leaving the planet entirely to start anew, recruiting foundlings from across the galaxy and training them in the original way of the Mand'alor. Those who remained warred one another to ruin, eventually destroying what was left of the planet and retreating to the safety of the domes.

It was becoming apparent to Din that his greatest challenge might be uniting the fractured clans.

Yollil showed you the greenhouses, the armory, the living quarters. Most were nearly empty, dormant as an abandoned pollinator hive.

"About four times a revolution we get a shipment of supplies, distributed among the clans. It's barely enough to sustain us but we have little to give in return. It's the best we can do."

"Who brings the supplies?"

"The Queendom of Nhora. Their ships land in the desert, unload and reload, and are gone." Nhora. A sign of hope in the darkness. "The crew have been asking about a certain Mandalorian. Have you heard?"

Din shook his head and Yollil continued. "They say the queen is in search of the Mandalorian who claimed the Darksaber. Perhaps you know of him."

Din stopped dead in his tracks. So much for staying discreet. The old woman gazed knowingly at the helmet before her, recognizing without needing to see the expression on his face that Din was the Mandalorian this Nhoran queen was searching for.

It could have been a trap. Or it could be an opportunity. Next time the ships came, Din would be leaving with them as well.

---

Twenty-six years. That's how long you'd been alive. Twenty-six years today, to be exact, and eight of them spent as queen.

The Warming was arriving in the northern hemisphere of Nhora, signaling the approaching farming season as well as all the celebrations that came along with it. Fertility festivals, diplomatic dinners, and of course, your birthday. Though your focus should have been on supply distribution and preparations for religious ceremonies, your thoughts lingered on the somber face that graced your dreams nearly every night.

You wanted nothing more than to ditch your own birthday party. They were always the same, too much attention trained on you, on what you wore, on who you spoke to. No one was safe from court gossip, not even you, and by tomorrow every woman on Nhora would be styling their hair the way yours was tonight.

You preferred solitude and quiet, which you would not get tonight. Djarin would like solitude and quiet too, you thought. But you suppressed the thought as quickly as it had come.

"Knock knock," Zena called. She had a tendency to enter and then ask for permission afterward. You were laying on your bed, spread out like a star, avoiding getting up to get dressed.

"If I asked you to, would you put on my clothes and pretend to be me for the night?" you asked without sitting up. It was only a half sarcastic request.

"We aren't twelve anymore, Your Majesty. We can't get away with switching places like we used to."

"We could totally do it, Zena. And then I could not deal with any of it and you can be queen for a night." You and Zena had actually managed it successfully before, trading places without anyone noticing. But she was right, that was years ago and you looked too different now.

Zena flopped onto the bed next to you. "This isn't very regal of us is it, contemplating ditching parties and laying in bed instead," she said.

You were silent for a moment, thinking back on the years before your coronation where the two of you had spent your days doing that exact thing. You'd known Zena since the Clone Wars, since before the attack, since before your mother and sister had died. And then the attack had come, and suddenly she was all you had, and it only seemed natural that she would become your most trusted advisor.

And then she was saying your name, your real name, calling you back to your body and pulling you from your reverie. She knew where you drifted in moments like this, to the thoughts of what life would have been if they were all still alive, if you weren't queen, and the world was yours to explore. "Come on, we can do it together."

The party, or parties in this case, since the festivities lasted over a week, usually culminated in a large banquet. It was customary to feed the entire city for free on your birthday, which you didn't mind. You liked that part, in fact, seeing the prosperity and joy of your people, the excitement as temperatures rose and crops were planted.

What you did mind was having to deal with all the suitors who found it perfect timing to come up to you while you were just trying to enjoy some roasted cherfer meat.

You watched as one particularly bold man approached your table in the banquet hall, trailed by what appeared to be several personal guards. You leaned over and whispered into Zena's ear.

"I don't remember inviting him to my party. I'll bet twenty credits he's a prince from Coruscant. Thirty says he'll ask for my hand in marriage."

"Be polite, You Majesty," Zena said, but she was already smiling and shaking your hand. "I'll give you forty credits if you scare the Dank Farrik out of him."

Zena may have been your best advisor, but she was also your worst instigator.

"Your Majesty," the young man bellowed as he kneeled before you. He was tall and barrel-chested, yet soft and pudgy looking. A shock of yellow blond hair was combed across his already balding head. Barely touching his knee to the ground before standing again, he took your hand and pressed a horrifically wet kiss to your knuckles. And yet, despite the averse sensation, your thoughts drifted toward the Mandalorian, kneeling before you as well, head bowed in respect and gloved hand smoothing yours. The comparison happened before you could stop yourself and suddenly you sized up every man in the room against him. No one compared.

Be polite. Be polite. You barely held back a gag as you discreetly wiped the back of your hand against your skirt.

"And who do I have the pleasure of meeting on this fine evening?" you asked sweetly, lacing your words with the saccharine tone that men liked. You would at least have some fun with this.

"Prince Adbel of Coruscant, at your service." You and Zena glanced at one another knowingly. Twenty credits down.

"Of Coruscant, you say? How many princes there must be on that... large, beautiful planet."

Prince Adbel's face fell, but only for a moment. You applauded his ability to pull the arrogant, smug look right back onto his face even as you bruised his ego.

"Yes, Coruscant is charming. But Nhora far surpasses her in natural beauty. I could pass many revolutions here and never tire of her rolling hills."

Nhora was as flat as a bantha's foot. But you had to give it to him, he was really putting on the charm. Prince Adbel was a slick talker.

"What brings you to Nhora?" you asked. "And on my birthday, no less."

"Straight to business," he replied with an awkward wink. "I like that. How joyful a day, and yet how lonely you look upon your throne, with no one to share it."

You pretended to not know where he was going with this line of thinking. "Lonely? I have the best advisors in the galaxy," you said, squeezing Zena's hand tightly to hold back her laugh and yours.

"No doubt, no doubt. But perhaps you are in need of a man by your side, to rule along with you?"

You stayed silent, waiting for him to say the words that would earn you thirty credits tonight.

"What I mean is, perhaps I could offer my hand to Your Royal Highness."

"In marriage?"

"In marriage."

Score.

Now you were upping the game. Those forty credits would be yours. But how to shock the poor man the best. He would need to be punished for his insolence in not researching Nhoran culture before so blatantly proposing marriage to a woman who had no need for it.

"Have you studied our customs, Prince Adbel?" you asked.

The pale man somehow paled even further. "Of course," he lied.

"Then you'll know what such an offer entails. First, you must travel to the plains and retrieve for me the egg of the nhora serpent. It is a difficult journey. Few survive. She will protect her young with her life, so you must bring warriors who are prepared to die for you, otherwise, you will fail." Prince Adbel's guards were starting to look as nervous as him. But you continued. "Then, you must chop off the fourth finger on your left hand as an offering to the Maker. Only then can our union be blessed."

That one got to him. Should you keep going? This was too fun, and Zena seemed to think so as well. "Lastly, you will need to share me with fifteen other men. Are you capable of that? It is tradition to take many husbands in Nhora, and the queen is no exception."

Prince Adbel nearly fainted. He gulped, a heroic attempt to suppress his fear, before taking a step back from you and nearly hiding behind his guards. "Perhaps... I should reconsider before taking such a serious oath."

"Or perhaps it would do you better to understand the culture of a people you so plainly desire to rule over. Nhoran queens do not marry, Prince Adbel. They never have, and they likely never will." You stood from your seat. And though the prince towered over you, he flinched from your hardened gaze. You knew you were probably taking it a bit too far, but you wanted to put the overconfident egotistical man in his place. "Men only distract. They manipulate. They conquer through fear rather than join through peace. I doubt that you are the exception."

And with that, the prince was gone, fleeing from your presence, his guards on his heels. Your words hadn't been entirely true. Plenty of honorable men made of your group of advisors and counselors, but the best of them knew where they stood.

"Best forty credits ever spent," Zena said with a laugh. "Although part of me is worried you're distracted already."

"Distracted? What on Nhora are you implying, Zena?" You knew what she was implying. You knew it was about--

"The Mandalorian has you in a twist, does he not? Any other day you would have at least considered sleeping with him." It was a teasing jab, though not entirely exaggerated.

"I simply look forward to pursuing a trade agreement with him." At least that's what you were trying to convince yourself, laying in bed night after night, thinking of him.

"You look forward to seeing him again, Your Majesty."

You narrowed your eyes at Zena, trying to appear intimidating. It never worked with her. "Hand over my credits, Royal Advisor."

Zena shook her head. You weren't convincing her, or yourself.

---

The royal crest painted across the side of the Nhoran freighter ships proudly displayed her wealth and beauty. They were less than subtle, Din thought.

He had waited several weeks for the starships to arrive, gathering information and gleaning intelligence about what he was up against. But the information varied widely and it was hard to tell what was truth and what was fiction. The elder Mandalorians described a brutal and ruthless ruler, one who controlled her people through fear and projected an image of prosperity to disguise rampant abuse of power.

Based on Yollil's stories, that sounded more like a reflection of Mand'alor history than an accurate depiction of Nhora.

Others, the younger ones, refused to even believe the queen existed. No one ever saw her, they postulated, unless it was at government functions or festivals. They figured she was just some figurehead, put in place to disguise the real government that controlled the trade routes of the mid and outer rims.

It was useless. He would have to find out for himself. And he had a plan.

According to Yollil and a few of the others who lived in the dome, the freighters were manned completely by a live crew. Not a single droid in sight. And while that meant Din could try to talk his way onto the ship, he also couldn't just resort to outright violence and take out everyone on board. He had to be diplomatic.

The plan was this. Sneak aboard during the short period the freighters spent on the ground, loading and unloading, and try not to get caught. But if he did, Din would have to talk his way out of it. He hoped to avoid too much talking.

Getting on the ship turned out to be the easy part. Staying on was hard.

The crew members of the ship he'd selected to hitch a ride on did not hesitate to open fire. He was discovered pretty quickly among the cargo and without giving him a chance to explain, Din found himself ass down in the sand, watching the ship take off. Damn it.

Sure, he could have gone in with a bit more violence, but he was trying to make friends, not enemies. Time for Plan B.

Powering up the thrusters of his jetpack, he shot off into the atmosphere, following close behind the departing freighter. He landed with a thump along the outer walkway of the ship, hitting the side a bit harder than he'd intended. Great, more bruises to add to his growing collection. Din ripped the exterior door open, knowing it would set off alarms throughout the ship. But discretion was no longer his priority.

There couldn't have been that many crew members on this ship, and yet they just kept coming. Din held back, only sending them into a nice temporary sleep with a knock to the head, rather than take them out one by one. He could have. Part of him wanted to. But he reminded himself that these were just people, doing their best, just like him.

Din worked his way toward the bridge, leaving a pile of unconscious bodies in his wake. The ship's upper deck was a jumble of hallways that looped back and forth on one another and he felt sure he made a few circles before finding what he was looking for. When he arrived, one final crew member stood, brave and terrified, before the doors to the control center.

"Open the door and I won't hurt you."

It was worth a shot. No success. The poor man aimed his blaster, the shots pinging off of Din's beskar. Alright, if that's how he wanted to do this. With calculated aim, Din fired his whipcord, wrapping it around the man's legs and hauling him off his feet.

Din grabbed the man around the neck, pointed his blaster at his head, and slammed the door-open button with his foot, ready to face whatever lay on the other side.

Several more terrified navigators and a couple of blasters trained at Din's head. As expected.

"Look, I'm not here to hurt you. Even though I could. I just want to speak to your queen." Silence hung heavy in the bridge. Even the man Din had taken hostage stilled under his grip. "Take me to her and I promise I won't harm you."

The captain of the ship stared at Din as if he'd just asked him to make Arvala-7 into a rainforest. For a moment Din almost thought those young Mandalorians had been correct, that there was no real queen. But then the captain relented.

"Well, you've taken out most of my ship already. And Her Majesty doesn't object to visitors. But you'll have to stay in the cargo hold."

Din could deal with that.

At least he thought he could. And then the trip through hyperspace turned out to be not hours but over a day. He was tired, in pain, and incredibly hungry. The best Mandalore had to offer was weak broth and yellowish vegetables. Din hadn't had a real meal in what felt like months. Though he tried to sleep through his hunger, he was awoken by the painful pangs of an angry stomach. Above him, the crew was probably having a meal, though he doubted they would want to invite up the man who'd knocked them out one by one.

Finally, after a restless sleep, the sound of footsteps and a voice entered the cargo hold to let Din know they were making the jump out of hyperspace and approaching Nhora. "Her Majesty will receive you at the palace. Though I recommend leaving your weapons behind you. She prizes peace above all else."

The ship landed with a jolt. Din hadn't had access to any windows aboard the ship, so this experience of Nhora was his first. As the loading hatch opened, he discovered with awe a cool, lush, and colorful planet. Though his helmet and armor dulled the sensations of climate and weather to his skin, the temperature here was significantly more comfortable than on Mandalore.

Din stepped from the ship, not bothering to bid the captain farewell, and wandered into Nhora's port. At first, he weaved through only ships, big and small. But eventually, it evolved slowly into a marketplace, lined with stalls filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, smoked meats, and beautifully handcrafted items.

Above, the sun was tinged with warmth, indicative of an approaching warm season. But a soft breeze drifted through the market, keeping the air cool and dry. Around him, Din listened to the chatter of people, all species and languages, bartering and negotiating prices, or just holding an easy conversation. It was incredibly calm and peaceful, with the easy air of a people who did not fear for their lives at every waking moment.

Already, Din could tell all the rumors about Nhora had been wrong.

But how to find the queen? That turned out to be an easier job than he expected. Spread across the skyline was a glittering city with one building obviously much taller than the rest. He headed in that direction, pausing only momentarily at a stall that was selling the most delicious food he'd ever smelled. But there was no time to stop and eat.

The walk was short, along a smoothly paved path that crisscrossed over several canals dug through the center of the market. This must have been their main source of transport, and Din watched from the top of a bridge as a small boat floated downstream below him. It was almost too picturesque and he found himself doubting if this was entirely real.

And yet it was. The palace was bustling with people, moving about in small groups or sitting beneath the tall stone columns. They spoke easily and freely, but with a polite hush that suggested a reverent atmosphere. The lower level appeared to function as a library, with books lining floor-to-ceiling shelves and people studying at tables. Free and open knowledge, it was a novel idea.

No guards accosted him. No one asked where he was going. A few people stared as he went by, but the guards stationed at the main doors let him through, though again letting him know to check his weapons at the guard station. He easily avoided this inconvenience, slipping around groups of people and hiding behind a column as another guard passed. Sure, he could have been civil and done as he was asked, but it didn't seem prudent to have to explain that yes, he was a Mandalorian and yes, this was the Darksaber, and no, he couldn't just check it into a locker with a four-digit code.

At last, up a sweeping staircase and the throne room came into sight. This part of the palace was quieter than the rest, having a more serious and somber mood than the lightness of the lower levels. Din stepped in the throne room and gazed up, unable to suppress the urge to gape in awe at the vaulted ceilings and colorful murals that lined the walls.

The queen, however, was not on her throne and not in the reception hall. So Din resigned to wait and stood before one of the grand windows that cast a glowing light onto the marble floors. The view was spectacular, even from behind the filter of his visor, looking out upon the maze of stalls of the market, the glistening blue canals, and the arriving and departing freighter ships. Beyond the bustle of the city Din could just barely make out flat plains under a setting sun, green and lush and reaching farther than the eye could see.

The world glowed.

Din's helmet picked up voices of discussion and he amplified the sounds, hearing the soft speech of a woman along with the footsteps of several other people. The queen was coming, and not alone.

And then he saw you. You entered the throne room and if the world was glowing before it now positively radiated like the sun. You were dressed in lavender and gold and somehow existed on two planes at once, both as natural as the lush plains of Nhora and as otherworldly as the stars that glittered above, tied to the earth but dancing through outer space. Din had never met an angel, only heard stories of their alluring beauty that trapped spacefarers in their orbit for eternity. Now, standing face to face with a pure embodiment of warmth and light, the stories didn't seem so outrageous after all.

This was a new feeling, one he'd never felt before. Oh, Maker, Din's heart was in trouble.

---

The doors of the throne room opened. Zena entered leading a little green head, wobbling atop a teetering body. "Look who interrupted my sparring practice. Nearly got his little hands chopped off."

"Grogu," you exclaimed with a broad smile spreading across your face. You found yourself intensely happy to see the wrinkly alien baby and reached down to place him on your lap. He immediately reached out to grasp at the metal ball hanging from your neck. Something had shifted since you'd met the Mandalorian, and now with the knowledge of their deep bond, your heart softened with tenderness for the child as you recalled his father.

"So, little one, what have you learned since you went away?"

The child looked up at you with a coo and then giggled, sticking his hands out to demonstrate whatever strange mind-bending trick he'd learned this month. What you didn't expect was to see one of your guards slowly go sliding from his post beside your throne toward the windows. You realized Grogu was the one moving him, though not very quickly and with a lot of effort, across the stone floor. With a grunt, the guard bumped gently into the window. It couldn't have hurt very much, but it was probably a strange sensation. He slid to the ground, not sure how to react.

"Oh, Maker, are you alright Ming?" you asked, barely containing a laugh.

Ming held up a hand. "Yes, yes, fine Your Majesty."

"Grogu, we only do those kinds of things to bad people, not people we like."

You weren't sure why you spoke to the child as if he were an adult, but somehow you felt he understand. He looked up at you again but this time with a pout, his bottom lip sticking out and quivering, ready to cry.

"Oh, alright little one, let's not have that now. Here, how about some good news. I met your father. He was here."

That did the trick. The big brown eyes blinked and the giant ears flicked in recognition. Grogu grumbled out some garbled baby talk that sounded suspiciously like 'Din.' It could have been your imagination.

"You met the Mandalorian?" Luke Skywalker entered the throne room, prepared for his departure already. "So that's why you didn't accost me for information as soon as I stepped foot in here."

"I have a good feeling about him, Skywalker. What's that thing you're always talking about, bringing balance to the force? He is balanced. I can feel it."

"So you're a force detector now?" Zena said with a barely concealed laugh.

"He found the child for a reason," Skywalker replied. "The force is not to be underestimated."

That was for sure. A pint-sized kid had just moved a full-grown man across the room with his mind. That was nothing to be played with.

"I worry though, Your Majesty, that he will attract some less than welcome individuals to your planet if he returns. Bo-Katan feels she is the rightful heir to the throne, and I doubt she'll give up on it so easily. If she thinks you're his ally, I doubt she'll be very forgiving."

"Bo-Katan?" Zena questioned. You felt Grogu sink further into your robes at the sound of the name.

"Another Mandalorian. Fiercely loyal to her planet but not so much to those who would dare challenge her or her power. She prefers martial law to pacifism and has a dubious history with the Sith and the Empire. In the end, there's only one thing she wants, the Darksaber."

---

Din's thoughts drifted back to that first meeting as he punched in the coordinates for Corellia, the last planet he had any desire to visit. He wanted to look upon your glittering city, wander through the market, feel the cool breeze creep under his armor. Or even just sit across from you again and listen to you ramble about the things you loved, namely Grogu. Din realized, before you would, that there was a soft spot in your heart for the kid.

As the ship took off from the loading dock, Din watched the Nhoran moons set, wondering if you were doing the same. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. But he couldn't. Din was a wanderer, a traveler, with no place to call home and no intention of finding one. But you--

Corellia. Right now there was just Corellia. For many years he'd avoided chasing down a bounty on that planet. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to stay that way. The polluted, cloudy, soggy planet was one Din preferred to avoid. The excessive rain made it difficult to track footprints and there was always someone who needed paying off if he was going to get any information. Bounties on Corellia took twice as long to catch, simply because it was so full of crime itself.

Except this time it wasn't a bounty Din was chasing, but a Mandalorian. So three times as long, he figured.

And he was right. The Mandalorian remained hidden, probably because he knew he was being chased. Din passed weeks in Coronet City, tracking muddied footprints here and there. Begrudgingly, he took on some extra bounties, just to make enough credits to keep his ship parked at the loading dock.

Week four came and went. Today's bounty had been particularly flighty, doing his best to remain just out of Din's reach. He caught him, eventually, but not before a muddy chase through the rainforest. Now, back on his ship, Din hardly noticed the flashing red light on his communicator, telling him he had an incoming message. It wasn't until he'd pulled off his mud-streaked armor and sat down heavily in the pilot's seat that it caught his attention.

The hologram flickered to life.

"Djarin, I hope you're well." He almost didn't recognize you without your royal robes, hair loose and drifting about your shoulders. But your voice, though distorted by thousands of lightyears of space, was unmistakably yours. With surprise, Din found himself instantly relaxed, the soothing sound raising heat to his skin. You'd barely said anything but he longed to hear more.

"I'm not sure where you are, or if this message will reach you." You paused, suddenly distracted by something happening out of view and waving your hands to quiet something down.

"Hush, please, I'm speaking," you said off to the side.

You refocused with a deep breath. "Urgent news has reached me through my trade routes. Bo-Katan has landed on Mandalore. She brings an army and is searching for you. I'm not sure how many she's gathered or how she earned their trust. But it won't be long before she traces your path here. There's no need to worry, it would be foolish to attack Nhora but I'm afraid of what might happen if you do return to Mandalore. Bo-Katan will-- for Maker's sake child I'm trying to speak."

You stopped again, bending over to address the tiny hands grabbing at the leg of your pants. A muted voice garbled some indiscernible words. "I know it's for Din. I know. Come here."

You stood again, this time with the child in your arms. Grogu. He was there, with you, in your arms. "Anyways, be careful, please. And send word if you need anything. Or just to let me know you're alive."

Din could hardly focus on your words. The kid was on Nhora, grabbing at your shirt and waving his little hands. "Say hi, Grogu. Say hi to your dad," you said.

Was that his name Din heard? Did Grogu just speak real, tangible, words? And his name, nonetheless. Din's heart swelled with pride and all the frustration he'd felt today, tracking an unfindable Mandalorian on top of simply trying to stay alive, melted away. He realized with a shock of sadness that all this time he'd been intensely lonely without his son. The ship was too quiet, too empty, but now both you and the child were here, even if only as a hologram, and filling the cockpit with a warm glow.

Din blinked back tears. It was time to get his act together. There were only so many places an old Mandalorian could hide.

Fenn Rau was not a man to be trifled with, Yollil had explained before Din had left Mandalore. If he was going to be found, Din had to think ahead of him, anticipate his moves. Rau had to be somewhere in Coronet City. If he'd left, it would have been much easier to find him.

But, as it turned out, it was easy enough to find Rau when he wanted to be found. The first cantina Din stepped in and there he was, sitting alone in a dark corner, nursing a spotchka, having predicted Din's own moves to meet him here. This was not luck, it was on purpose, and he didn't hesitate to slide into the seat across from the Mandalorian.

Neither spoke, each waiting for the other to explain themselves first. Fenn Rau was as stoic as Din despite his age. His watery blue eyes locked onto the visor of Din's helmet and did not flinch. But this was a game Din could play well, that of silence.

"Why are you looking for me?" The older Mandalorian was the first to break.

"You wanted to be found."

"I outran you for a while. But curiosity tends to be my downfall."

Din didn't respond, only unhooked the Darksaber from his belt and placed it on the table. It was an unassuming object with immense power and Rau recoiled from its presence.

"So you are the one who defeated Gideon." His words made it apparent that everyone in the galaxy knew. "I'm surprised Lieutenant Bo-Katan didn't duel you right there for it."

"Lieutenant?"

"We fought together in the civil wars." So that's why Yollil had sent Din to find Rau. He would know what Bo-Katan's intentions were. "The Lieutenant is a natural leader. She rallies her people like no other. But she has lost that damn saber one too many times and never once recovered it honorably. She will come for it and do whatever it takes to regain power."

"She's looking for me now."

"What will you do?"

Din did not answer.

"Don't tell me you're asking for my advice?" Rau said with an exasperated sigh. "Alright, here's what I think. Take what you will from this. Tarre Vizsla forged that saber. He was both a Jedi and a Mandalorian, and the first to unite them. Since his death over a thousand years ago, Mandalore has not known peace. And it never will until a Jedi rules again."

A Jedi and a Mandalorian. If such a combination were to exist, then there must be a foundling out there that was force sensitive. A foundling that Din would find and--

Grogu. That foundling was Grogu. Din stood abruptly.

"Thank you. May the force be with you."

"That's it? You don't want a drink?"

"I'll be on Nhora if you need me."

Din left the Mandalorian where he'd found him.

---

The Mandalorian was returning. You could barely contain your glee. The message had been short, typed out and sent over the comm system. Returning. Must discuss G. and B. ETA 3 days.

You had no idea what G. and B. meant. It didn't matter. It had been over a month since you'd last seen him. You hoped he was everything you remembered, strong, handsome, stoic, honorable--

No. No, you would not think about him like that. You would treat him with respect and cool composure, as the ally he was turning out to be and nothing more.

On the first day of waiting you managed to steady your nerves by focusing on each task at hand. Sector 3 needed the dams opened to flood their fields. Sector 8 required a delivery of vaccines to prevent an outbreak of the Cardooine Chills. By the second day, Zena was watching you pace back and forth across the throne room, wondering out loud what G. and B. meant. She'd plopped herself down in your chair since you had no desire to occupy it, legs slung over one arm and back leaned up against the other.

But when the third day arrived, you found yourself surprisingly calm. You received visitors from the throne you'd refused the day before, listening intently as your financial head proposed tax hikes and tax breaks and explained where every cent was headed.

And yet, despite the serenity of your outward appearance, every person who entered your throne room sent your heart beating faster, though every time it was someone other than the Mandalorian. Finally, the sun set through the windows, darkness fell, and he had still not arrived.

"I'm just worried. What if he got caught up by Bo-Katan or something?"

"Your Majesty, he's hurtling through hyperspace. I think he's fine." Zena was ever the calming presence at your elbow. "Just get some sleep."

You tried. You really did, tossing and turning in bed to find the most comfortable position. But nothing worked. It was late in the night when you finally gave up and left bed, padding softly in your nightclothes down the three flights of stairs to the kitchens. At least you could have a warm cup of hot chocolate.

It was empty and silent in the kitchen as you set a pot on the stove to heat the drink. You leaned against the counter, drumming your fingers, waiting, waiting, waiting--

"Any idea where a Mandalorian can get a meal around here?"

You jumped at the voice behind you. So much for calm, cool, composure. Heat rose immediately to your face as you remembered exactly what you were wearing.

"Oh Maker, Djarin, you have to stop sneaking in like that."

"Sorry, can't help it that your guards are useless."

"Hey, watch it. Or I'll kick you out again." Though you acted annoyed, Din could tell you were glad to see him, an easy smile gracing your lips. It appeared he'd caught you at your most vulnerable, looking tired and restless, whisps of your hair flying in all directions and in only your pajamas. Your slightly translucent pajamas.

He did his best not to stare. Really. But with a helmet, there was no one to notice that he could tell you weren't wearing a bra or any underwear or--

"I expected you earlier," you said, pouring a second cup of hot chocolate without asking.

"I miscalculated," Din said matter-of-factly, though his nerves jumped at the thought of you expecting him. "What is this?"

"The most delicious thing ever. Rare. Skywalker introduced me to it and I can't get enough. But only he knows where to find hot chocolate so I have to settle for waiting for his visits to get my hands on more."

Off came the helmet, and though you'd already seen the face beneath, it still left you breathless. The black eye was gone, the cut on his lip and cheek reduced to fading red lines that probably wouldn't even scar. You watched as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, eyeing the cup with suspicion, and giving it a sniff. Finally, Djarin relented and he took a sip.

"Very sweet," he said, brown eyes narrowed and plump lips twisted into a pucker. "Not used to that."

Oh, those lips. Every decent thought you'd been trying to focus on since the Mandalorian's reappearance in your palace kitchens immediately flew out the window, replaced by very indecent thoughts about his full lips.

You tried to bring your mind back to his words, realizing he probably ate mostly bland food. Hearty, maybe, but not seasoned with the exotic flavors your kingdom traded for.

"Let me get you some food. You must be hungry."

"The Queen can cook?"

"Oh no, but she can reheat pretty well."

Din sat, watching as you sliced a loaf of bread and eventually placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of him. In the dim light of the kitchen, you'd taken on a different appearance from when he'd first met you. Your features were softer, less angular and commanding, and more tender and delicate. You were young, he realized, and you wore your youth plainly when the opportunity came to relax. You moved with the ease and grace of someone pushed too soon into this position of power.

"What's G. and B?" you asked, sitting across from Din and taking a slice of bread for yourself.

"Not what, who. Grogu and Bo-Katan." Djarin began to eat, and you noticed he kept sipping at his hot chocolate, despite his previous aversion. "Is the kid still here?"

You shook your head. "They only stay for a few hours at a time. And it's hard to know when they'll be back. Skywalker takes every precaution to be untraceable. He'll find you, not the other way around. Is that why you're back? To find him?"

"Grogu is the heir."

"What do you mean? I thought you were the heir?"

Djarin explained his meeting with Fenn Rau, what the old Mandalorian had told him about the Darksaber and its creator.

"And you're worried Bo-Katan will target Grogu and use him against you?"

"Possibly."

"I don't understand. I thought Bo-Katan wanted to bring peace to Mandalore."

"She does. But under her terms. And her rule. That approach never goes over well with a people as divided as us."

You were starting to see his point. But how was a wrinkly green baby going to take over the throne? "Say you hold on to the Darksaber. Bo-Katan backs down, the kid becomes a Jedi. Then what? He'll have to defeat you in a duel to fulfill his destiny?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead.

Of course, he hadn't. Of course he'd rushed back here as fast as possible, thinking only of the child.

"I'll call a council meeting in the morning. Any actions I take they need to at least be aware of. And this time you're staying. Not just for the night."

Din raised his eyebrows at you in surprise. The authoritative tone you'd taken on was impressive, like you had a goal and a purpose and you were going to do everything it took to succeed. And he had to admit, he quite liked the thought of you forcing him to stay, despite knowing he shouldn't.

After he'd finished eating, you led the Mandalorian back up the stairs and through the silent palace to the room he'd stayed in during his previous visit. You lingered at the door, knowing you should say goodnight but having trouble doing so for some reason.

"Don't disappear on me again, Djarin," you finally settled on saying.

Din hadn't been aware of how much you cared for his safety until this moment. Maybe his late arrival had affected you more than you let on. The look on your face was not one of teasing but of genuine worry, eyebrows knitted in concern, unease written in the soft lines of your face. He wanted to smooth those lines, run a thumb across them to tell you everything he didn't have words for. What had been that emotion he'd felt that night on his ship, watching you and the child flicker holographically before him, filling the space with your warmth? He refused to call it home.

Djarin turned toward the door but paused and looked back at you. And then his gloved hand reached out and he ran a thumb softly across your forehead. It was surprising, that soft, leathery touch, but it accomplished what he'd set out to do. Your face relaxed and a smile spread across your lips, bringing the glow back to his world.

"I won't. I promise. And please, just call me Din."

---

The Mandalorian was up early, beating you and Zena to breakfast. He was already waiting for you to arrive, fully dressed in armor, making your heart skip a beat.

"Don't you want to know about everything that's happened since you were gone?" Zena asked, addressing Din with a glint in her eyes.

"I assume you're going to tell me whether or not I want to know."

"Smart man," Zena said with a wry smile. "You missed a very important birthday. You'll never guess how many suitors were ogling Her Majesty from across the dessert table. Although, I must admit the dress was lovely. I would have asked for her hand in marriage too if I was arrogant enough to think I had a chance."

"Zena," you said harshly, trying to shut her up.

"Turned them all down. Even made one of them run to his mother. No one compares to you Mando." She said that last bit with a singsongy voice as if trying to imitate you.

"Zena! Watch your mouth. I never said that." You gave her a little shove to shut her up. It wasn't very appropriate behavior for a queen but you knew she was doing it on purpose. "You're going to embarrass him."

Zena wiggled her eyebrows in your direction before turning on her heel and leaving you and Din alone, knowing her work was done.

"I'm sorry about that," you said.

"Looks like you're the one feeling embarrassed." Though you couldn't read Din's facial expression, his modulated voice was tinged with teasing humor.

Heat crept up your cheeks, flushing a bright pink that did not go unnoticed by the Mandalorian. "Shut up. I don't want to talk about it."

And then the Mandalorian laughed. He actually laughed, a full, whole-hearted laugh that started in his chest and shook through his body until he was bent double, hands on his knees, gasping for air. It was genuine; though sounding unused and in need of practice, it was not strained or tense at all. You wondered how long it had been since the Mandalorian had let loose like this.

"Oh for Maker's sake," you said, exasperated. "I've tried multiple times to crack jokes and that's what finally gets to you?"

Din had finally caught his breath and stood up straight again. "I apologize, Your Majesty. But you were blushing pretty hard."

And you looked pretty when you blushed, he thought. He didn't say that out loud, however, only pressed his fingers lightly against your back to lead you from the room to the awaiting council meeting.

It was already hard enough to focus in his presence. You had no idea how you were going to sit next to the Mandalorian for the next hour without him driving you up the wall. Calm, cool composure, you reminded yourself. Be diplomatic. Be an ally.

It was all about to go down the drain.

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