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#it's thunderstorming right now lol

six-of-ravens · 11 months

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okay, a to do list while I wait for the Advil to do it's thing:

eat supper (quesadilla probably)

put the seat covers back in the car so dad can stop lecturing me about it

take coworker's tent out of the car (got myself in an awkward situation where he lent it to me and then I realized we didn't need it but by that point it was too late to say "actually no" social anxiety!) as well as the bag of to-go books and the milk crate with the washer fluid and such in it

pick up drinks

pack clothes etc

pack cooking stuff

pack propane, camping stove, sleeping stuff

WATER PLANTS

make sure portable charger is charged

look up route on google maps

take some stuff downstairs so I don't have to try and carry it all down tomorrow morning

try and finish this book (really wanted to finish it before camping but. time. not enough of it.)

#as I'm typing this it looks like theres a very small thunderstorm starting up right above my apt building lol #so thats probably why i have a crippling headache all of a sudden #i just ate sooo many nachos but yes i am gonna make a quesadilla now

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justporo · 6 months

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Brewing Storms

A storm is brewing - oh yes, a literal one too. Tav's scared to be alone during a thunderstorm. Astarion is reluctant but stays to provide some comfort - and realises it might have been one of the better things to happen to him.

Author's Note: I started this a while ago and then stuff got in the way - like Gale for example (lol) - and now I'm happy to be back to write something soft for Astarion and Tav!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: Talk of trauma, very light smut Wordcount: 2,4k

~~~

Astarion and you had fallen into a sort of weird routine with your little late night escapades. Since the party after you saved the Grove and the first night you’ve spent together you had come together time and time again.

First only every couple of days. Always meeting somewhere away from camp and then sneaking back sometime before the others woke up. Although you were surely fair they all knew already anyway. But now you were almost spending every night together. Fortunately for the two of you, being elven meant you were still getting enough rest despite the nightly adventures.

Astarion kept feeding you his cheesy lines – you ate them right up. No one had ever given you this kind of attention. And as much as you knew that it was an act: how could you resist? You had never experienced such flattery nor could anyone you’d shared intimacy with ever compare to Astarion. But that wasn’t even the main thing.

You’d had crushes before, you’d fallen in love before but you were pretty sure it had never been quite like this. Your whole chest sometimes ached when you looked at Astarion. Sometimes when you caught him in a rare moment when he let his perfected mask drop for a second you saw the bottomless sadness and worry in his eyes. And all you wished for was to erase whatever it was that caused that sadness – to keep him safe and always give him something to smile about.

You had quite positively fallen for the vampiric elf. What had been a crush at first had very quickly become an unyielding need in your heart: desperate to be near him, to hear his voice, talk to him, to laugh at his sassy comments, to lay in his arms and to hold him in turn. Out of everything you surely hadn’t wanted or planned to fall in love with everything else going on – but there you were.

You were a hopeless case – even though you were sure it would come back to bite you (and maybe even literally): be it that he lost interest in you way quicker than you would like or that he had ulterior motives and that you were merely a means to an end.

In fact, you were entirely sure that there was more to Astarion. You weren’t all fooled and blinded by your brewing emotions for the vampire. Maybe not really the first time, but as you got more used to sharing a bed with Astarion you were well aware that it seemed like he wasn’t fully there with you.

You could take only guesses at why that was exactly – and you didn’t like any of those.

At several occasions you had tried to bring it up. But he had swatted your concerns away every time, just making a sultry joke or drowning you with kisses until you had forgotten what you had wanted to say. In any case he always pushed you to get back into his arms.

Gladly, you would have offered him an open ear – your heart was already wide open.

But you were sure this wouldn’t last. You were in way over your head and you so desperately wanted to avoid breaking the spell.

And as much as you would have wished for him to open up more, to let you in a bit more and as much as you would have liked to confess the way you felt: you didn’t think you could do it without ruining whatever it was between the two of you.

At least, he seemed to be a bit more present when he was with you of late. The changes seemed subtle enough, but you were convinced that it slowly became different. Maybe it was just that the two of you had gotten used to this dance now, but you could swear his hands lingered longer now on your skin, that his kisses became deeper and more tender, that the way he looked at you became softer sometimes. And that those moments, when he seemed miles away, became fewer.

Tonight, when you had set up camp it had seemed like a storm was brewing.

You had already felt tense when you had noticed: growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate as a child with nowhere safe to go had traumatised you for life. Especially when it came to storms: too many nights you’d had to spend outside somewhere while the rain kept pouring down.

But worst had always been the thunder. Every single one like an explosion while a little child sat somewhere cowered trying to stay safe and crying from fear and loneliness. Even when you had gotten older and had always managed to secure a safe spot for sleeping and shelter the fear of thunderstorms had remained.

And thus far you’d gotten lucky that there had been no storms since this whole chaos had started. But the stroke of luck was over now it seemed.

When Astarion had thrown you certain looks after the party had gone to unwind each on their own after eating, you had very rambly and awkwardly suggested to maybe spend the night in your tent this night, because the others surely knew anyway and what if it started pouring and wasn’t it more comfortable anyway?

You just were desperate to not be somewhere outside when the thunderstorm was going to hit – and maybe even not alone.

And Astarion had looked at you suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, surely noticing that something was up. But in the end, he had simply shrugged and followed you to your tent.

So now you lay pressed against each other. Astarion on top of you, his body delightfully weighing you down, both of your shirts already off and his hands kept roaming your body as you gratefully gave in to his open-mouthed kisses. His hand had just dipped below the waistline of your trousers when you could hear the first far away rumbling.

Immediately you tensed a little but forced yourself to try and not be bothered by it. Astarion’s kisses wandered down your throat now.

A second already much louder rumble. You gasped.

And apparently Astarion had noticed that it wasn’t because of his touch – you could almost feel how he had furrowed his brows. But he kept silent and continued to kiss and caress you, leaning on one of his forearms.

When a third roar of thunder made you actually wince and recoil, he pushed up on his arm and looked at you. The other hand though stayed right where it was inside your pants.

“Afraid of a little thunder, love?”, he said and cocked an eyebrow. His tone wasn’t even overly sassy but you still couldn’t help but to feel hurt.

More thunder. This time so loud it felt like it was exactly above you. You recoiled again and felt how panic rose in you. You pushed the vampire - who actually looked hurt by that - off of you. His hand slipping from where it had caressed you.

“Maybe I am afraid of thunder. So?”, you spat back while you sat up and hugged your knees to your naked chest. As much as you wanted the comfort of his arms: panic and whatever feeling it had been that had overcome you when Astarion had looked hurt when you’d pushed him back got the better of you.

Shame mixed with the fear and you could feel your throat close up.

Astarion had knelt back on the balls of his feet watching you with a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. He definitely didn’t seem as cocky as a few moments ago though.

You looked away as another thing spiced up the mix of emotions running high: worry, that you had just broke something that couldn’t be repaired.

“I-“, Astarion started and then stopped helplessly.

The vampire was actually worried about you in this moment. Astarion was surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion and he was certainly hurt that you pushed him away. But more than anything: he didn’t know what to do now. Quite obviously you were not in the mood anymore for getting down and dirty.

It occurred to him that he did not want you to be afraid and upset. But then again, he had no idea how to make it so. And on top of that: he was pretty sure you weren’t interested in anything of the sort. Sure, you were absolutely the one person he talked the most to in the party. And yes, you were always making sure he’d gotten enough blood – but that was probably because you had need of him being his fittest for fighting. Also, you did actually seem to care about what had happened to him, wanting to learn more about him – but…

The vampire was confused and helpless. So he opted for the one option he deemed reasonable: leave.

He grabbed his shirt and started pulling it over his head while saying: “Alright, since it seems there won’t be any naughty indulgence tonight, I guess I better get back to my tent and you can try and-“

He was interrupted by you grabbing his wrist firmly.

“Please”, you pleaded, “don’t leave me alone.”

You were desperate: you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want to have ruined the delicate thing that had been forming between you.

Astarion let his shirt drop again and looked at you. Your eyes were filled with tears and full of fear. His confusion became even more: “Darling, I’m not… Maybe you should ask the druid to… help you. Maybe he has something herbal to-“ You basically yanked on the vampire’s arm.

“No please, Astarion, I just… want you to stay here with me. Just… hold me? Please?”, you pleaded with him as tears started to stream down your face.

You really didn’t want to be alone for one but also you were desperate to feel his arms around you again – to be sure he would still want to hold you, as much as wanting his comfort.

Astarion’s brows furrowed again but he dropped his shirt again and crawled over to you as you shyly opened up your arms to him to be cradled by the vampire. He slid his arms around you and softly moved you until you were laying there: him on his back with you carefully snuggled up against his chest – skin on skin.

The relief you felt was almost instant. Not only because he had agreed to stay but also feeling his body against yours immediately made some of the tension inside you ease.

Astarion reluctantly started to stroke your back as you buried your face against his chest. It all felt more than just a little awkward and you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but you just wrapped your arms around the vampire and tried to calm yourself.

Still tears kept coming and thunder was rolling in quicker now. Then the rain started as well and became a constant drumroll on your tent. The loud rumbles kept going and made you wince from time to time, but it was now considerably better than before.

Astarion grew more confident with just stroking your back. He even carefully placed a kiss on the top of your head at one point, in your all messed up hair. You both eased into this rather unfamiliar form of closeness.

After being stressed about the coming storm all evening, you felt that your body couldn’t retain the tension anymore. You weren’t entirely sure what all this meant for Astarion and you, but you forced yourself to just stay in this moment. Because this already was something you wouldn’t have thought to ever be possible. It was tender and sweet. Something you would have never imagined when this vampire had, upon first meeting him, thrown you on the ground and threatened you with a knife.

You were so desperate to hold onto this. So, you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter and cautiously tangled your legs with his. He let it happen.

And Astarion – Astarion’s mind was racing, utterly confused by the turn the night had taken. It definitely wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this outcome – to his own surprise. Quite the opposite actually.

When the thunder subsided and the rain tap-tap-tapping on the tent ceiling was what remained of the storm and he felt you quite noticeably relax into his arms even more – his chest started to ache.

He was overthrown by his own sentiment and the trust you put into him; surprised, scared even.

In his thoughts Astarion kept turning around the fact how you had specifically asked him to stay with you although you had so visibly been upset. More upset even than he had ever seen you in any battle. And that you had wanted nothing but to be held in his arms. And he – to his own surprise – had been happy to be there for you, proud even, realising that he really wanted you to be alright.

You hadn’t even talked since he had taken you in his arms. Just felt the connection, your skin warm on his. His hands hesitatingly caressing and trying to comfort you while your tears subsided and your breathing became more even.

And even though it had been you who had pleaded for comfort – Astarion could feel it too. Felt, how the warmth of your body soaked into his undead body and your breath brushed over his naked upper body – now in a steady and calm rhythm again. You were so close, he could even feel the beat of your steadying heartbeat through your conjoined chests.

And when Astarion was sure that you must’ve drifted off into your dreams – because he had held you – he kept staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

The rain had become almost non-existent after what must’ve been hours now.

The vampire’s chest still ached with something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. But he could feel that it had become something way too big to ignore. Something that would soon be unleashed – for better or for worse. And he was frightened about that.

But not in this moment. This moment he would hold onto. So he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter still, closed his eyes and full on buried his face in your hair while he was so fully aware of the feeling of your body against his.

Then he whispered so silently, even the last of the raindrops would have drowned out the words. So silently, because he was still so unsure, so scared and the words were only meant for him – and maybe sometime for you: “My love, what ever have you done to me?”

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #one shot #drabble #bg3

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504py · 1 month

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In Ink, Unsaid - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

Your knight is appointed to tutor you, and he falls asleep during your lesson. It leads to a cute interaction involving his hair.

hell yeah finally got this out!! this one's a lot longer than the first part, i pray it ain't too wordy LOL. once again art by me and hope y'all enjoy!!

Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, mutual pining, almost a Leon character study. It's a little more romantic this time.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't think you've ever seen Leon make a mistake. It unsettles you a little, how much composure and perfection he seems to uphold. You tend to watch him a lot because of it, growing a strange compulsion to always have your eyes on him.

Whenever you see him through a window while passing by, the sight of him slows you down a bit before you continue on your way. Whenever he walks past the room you're in, your eyes dart to his figure on impulse, trying to take in as much information as you can before he's out of your sight. Leon walks too fast, you find yourself thinking a lot.

Paradoxically, when you're close enough to actually see his face, you find yourself unable to look at him. You try to, but he's already staring at you, and he never looks away first, so you do. Whenever you look at him, his eyebrows raise slightly, like he thinks you want something from him when you do. The pressure from it is surprisingly crushing, so you simply cannot imagine holding eye contact with Leon for more than two seconds.

This strange fascination of yours with your new knight has materialized itself in the form of behaviors that might align themselves with a stalker's. You've drunken in all the little details about him. You recognize the sound of his footsteps, the dent in his left vambrace, since he tends to guard his body with that arm, and the moles on his knuckles. Since you can't look at his face when he's actually near you, you've taken to staring at his hands or his feet. He rarely ever shifts his weight between each leg, even if he's been standing for a long time. It makes you more conscious of how you carry yourself... Speaking of posture, he tends to tilt his head to the right slightly when he rests.

Rest and any of its synonyms are words you'd rarely use to describe anything related to Leon. The most you'd seen him do something as relaxed as resting, was that night he sat by your bed till the thunderstorm passed.

So how do you know his habits when he rests? Shockingly, he's doing it right now, in front of you, during your first tutoring session together.

His eyes were rather bloodshot and dull when he entered the library, a feigned intensity in them like he was trying to convince himself he wasn't tired. He knows you notice, but you don't ask about it, and he seems to be glad you did.

"...This arrangement is rather unorthodox, is it not?" You ask as he sits down across from you.

Leon puffs out a little breath, not enough to be a sigh, but noticeable enough. You are unsure if it is out of annoyance.

"I suppose so, my lady, but your mother was the one who appointed me to tutor you today."

You frown a little. It's not like you disliked Leon at all, but you tend to find him a little too... tense to be around. He seems so structured and confident and it makes you afraid to make mistakes around him... Besides that, he's got a really intense stare that doesn't fare well with your nervous composition.

"...Do you dislike having me as your tutor, my lady?" He queries, the faintest hint of doubt and dejection in his voice.

"I–" You try to start, but he cuts you off, "It's not meant to be taken in any personal manner, my lady, but..." He takes in a sharp inhale, realizing he interrupted you and maybe stepped over a line. Leon pauses and watches you carefully, waiting to see if your expression will contort or if you'll start to reprimand him.

...You just avert your eyes, so he continues.

"Perhaps you'd fare better with someone you were more comfortable with... my lady."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm rather alright, Sir Leon. I apologize for complaining."

"Forgive me for pushing, my lady, but you always feel rather tense around me. Is that for any particular reason? Perhaps I could help."

"I, uh..." Your gaze falls to your lap, "I'm just not sure why mother chose you. Your schedule is rather full as it is, is it not, Sir Leon?"

"Well, I can promise you I'm very well-educated, my lady." He says, but as he observes, it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves.

"...Spending more time with you is always a pleasure to me, my lady. I promise that to you too."

That wrinkle between your eyebrows soften, and your shoulders drop.

Leon does surprisingly well as a tutor. You suppose it's because of his rugged impression that you thought the opposite, but even the way he speaks is well-constructed and seems to have been planned in advance.

If your mother had never appointed Leon as your tutor today, you'd never have really noticed how calming his voice can be. Whenever he's spoken, it always sounded like a command, even if he's trying his best to be respectful. His voice usually comes off too strong, too deep in his chest, too loud sometimes, too much authority. Usually you tend to shrink in your skin a little whenever he speaks, but now, he sounds so relaxed that you feel like he could lull you to sleep at any moment.

Ah– it seems he's beat you to the chase, though.

It took you a little too long to notice, but Leon has fallen asleep in front of you, cheek resting against his right fist and his left hand still resting on the book's page.

You freeze up, not wanting to do anything that'd wake him up. You understand that a tutor falling asleep in front of a student would be highly inappropriate, but you still felt that it would be rude to wake him. Is he a light sleeper? You wonder how exhausted he must be to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable situation, and it makes your heart ache.

He's breathing lightly, you wait a bit, see if he'll wake up on his own. Maybe it's just your own excuse to watch him while you can.

His eyelashes are a lot longer than you thought, and you don't think you've ever seen him without that crease between his brows, and an almost-scowl on his lips. Leon's hair was of a color and style that confused you. Some days it felt brown, sometimes it was blond, or something in between. You've convinced yourself it depended on his mood or the weather. As for the length... the fringe always seemed to obscure his eyes slightly, so you've always wondered why he didn't just cut it. Especially when he wears his helmet, and he makes a bit of a fuss when his bangs get pinned underneath his visor.

Unconsciously, you've been reaching forward to brush away the strand of hair hanging in front of his nose, hoping to get a better look of his face.

Leon's eyes flutter open, his pupils adjusting to the light before they dilate as they settle on you. Your arm flinches back to your side.

He mumbles your name, intimately, no honorifics or titles, and your face warms.

"I– Leon– Sir Leon, hello," You breathe out shakily, "You fell asleep."

The message takes a few seconds to reach his just-woken-up brain, before his eyes widen and he immediately sits up properly.

Words come spilling out of his mouth, this is the first time you've seen him stutter. "I'm so sorry– I'm incredibly sorry, my lady, I apologize for my inappropriate behavior, I don't know why I dared to do such a thing, and why I keep making mistakes today–"

"Leon."

He bites on his tongue and his eyes are slightly wide as he stares at you.

"...It's alright, I promise."

The tips of his ears are a bright red, and that same flush seems to be creeping up from under his shirt collar to his neck. He takes in a few deep breaths, and he looks unsure. This is the second time you've seen him wear this look now. He takes in a deep breath.

"I... I apologize, my lady." He bows his head towards you. The roots of his hair were a deeper brown compared to the rest of his locks. You wonder if he's not even a real blond. Perhaps hours of staying under the sun lightened his hair.

You space out staring at him, and Leon straightens his neck. He can't recall maintaining eye contact with you for this long, and it makes his abdomen feel warm, even if he knows you're not really all there.

"My lady?"

You finally blink, and at the realization your blank-eyed gaze settled on him, your eyes widen and you immediately look elsewhere. You decide to rest your sight on his hands.

"Is there something wrong with my hair?" His fingers twitch, slightly restless.

"I... What makes you say that, Sir Leon?"

"You've been eyeing the top of my head for a while. I felt your hand near my face while I was waking up, as well, my lady."

Your heart skips a beat, and the way your blink catches for a second and the way you seem to choke on your spit isn't missed by the knight-now-tutor across from you.

"I-It's quite alright, my lady." He rushes out, his heart dropping at that look on your face. He's not even sure what's "alright", but he just wanted to offer you any bit of comfort so things don't escalate, in the fear he was too forward with confronting you.

He remembers the musings of his fellow knights about his hair, about how could he see with all that bother, how it could get in the way during combat, or how it just looked a little funny. Truth be told, his hair was the result of continuously forgetting to go get a haircut because he fixated so much on work, but now he keeps it out of spite. Leon insists he can do perfectly fine to anyone who says otherwise, but if it's you...

Leon breathes in slightly, and his hands move away from your line of vision. You follow them, and he's pushing his fringe back as much as he can. He's trying to tuck it behind his ears, and it almost makes you laugh, how gentle the gesture is, then you realize how beautiful he actually looks. Your cheeks warm, and you cannot look away.

"Is this better, my lady?" He asks, strangely demure in his demeanor.

You chuckle, and his heart soars at the noise, "You missed a spot." you comment, before your hand raises for a second, nearing his face.

"Ah– May I?"

"Of course, my lady." The devotion leaking from his voice is punctuated by the mole on his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

Your fingers are slightly shaky as they clear the few strands of hair he couldn't pin back. The pads of your fingers graze his forehead, and he takes in a sharp breath. Physical contact between you two was relegated to holding onto his hand when he assisted you, and nothing more, so he wasn't a stranger to it. So he can't really understand why such a tiny act has such an effect on him.

You sit back, properly look at him, and smile. He feels slightly shy under your scrutiny, but he hopes you find him good-looking at the very least. He does have the face to pull off shorter hair, but something about it felt like you were seeing him naked. He felt under-decorated without his fussy hair.

"Mm... I think you look best just as you are."

Leon breathes out a little laugh accompanied by the toothiest smile you've seen on him thus far, which really isn't much, but it comes off just as endearing. The bags under his eyes seem to disappear as his eyes turn into happy crescents. Adoration is dancing around in his pale blue irises, and in the reflection of his dilated pupils, it's only you.

"Thank you, my lady... It makes me happy to hear that."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

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juletheghoul · 1 month

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Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.

Unacceptable.

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”

He was covered in grease.

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast.

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.

He works fast - you have to give him that.

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.

Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.

I probably would have died by now.

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”

Quietly, you got back to work.

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.

“What?”

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.”

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie morales #triple frontier au #frankie x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales

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starvity · 9 months

Note

hiii can you do yujin x reader first sleepover that would be so cute!!!

— ☆ first sleepover with yujin

gn!reader x zb1 yujin

genre: fluffy fluff // warnings: teenage love awkwardness™, thunderstorms, cursing, the birds and the bees talk lol, sleeping in the same bed duh, just yujin being a cutie patootie

author’s note: just realized i got kinda carried away and didn't talk about what you guys would actually do at the sleepover other than...sleeping LMAO so lmk if you want me to write a drabble about that!! :D (★ω★)/ [requested♡]

you barely get to see yujin out of school. and even there, you don’t even have that many classes together. he did come to your house a couple times. the first time to bring the textbook you had forgotten at the library. he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, scanning the random objects displayed on your shelves while you were telling him about some drama that happened on your way home. the next time he came over was to study with you and this time, he actually felt comfortable enough to sit on your bed. after this, he would come over pretty often, most of the time to play video games or just to annoy you.

it was almost 8pm, yujin had walked back to your house with you after school to study and your mom had suggested to let him stay for dinner. what you didn’t know though is that there would be a big thunderstorm warning later in the evening and that yujin would be unable to walk back home under the pouring rain. naturally (more like awkwardly), you asked if he was okay with staying over. you said he can borrow some old clothes from your dad and you can go grab another mattress from the guest’s room.

so here you are, eyes absentmindedly looking at the ceiling as you lie on your bed while yujin is half-asleep on the mattress on the floor, just next to yours. the air has been heavy and the silence awkward as soon as your mom insisted that you two keep the door slightly opened "just in case". you had turned off the lights 15 minutes ago, with the only source of light coming from the moon piercing through your window, but both of you couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

"you’re asleep?" you finally ask, breaking the silence. "not really." yujin spoke back, almost apologising for how awkward this situation is now because of him. you tried to silently put your head closer to the edge of the bed to take a peek at the boy practically lying on your bedroom floor. however, you almost feel your heart spill out of your ribcage as your nose almost touch yujin’s, who had the same idea as you. the sudden closeness causes him to fall back, hitting the back of his head on your nightstand before crashing on his pillow and whining in pain. "you scared the shit out of me." you laugh at the incident, hand grabbing the hem of your shirt. thanks to this funny moment, the atmosphere became less awkward as you started talking about everything and anything.

after what felt like probably 2 hours, you could hear the silence of the night settling, it was probably around 1am by now. you hear yujin yawn, tossing and turning and sighing trying to lay the blanket correctly with little kicks. you giggle and finally ask "are you really going to sleep there? this mattress is so thin, your back is going to hurt tomorrow." yujin simply hums in response but then he hears you tap the empty space on the right side of your bed with your hand, "you can come here if you want."

you were resting on your side, right hand underneath your pillow and your cheeks a reddish color. you suddenly see the top of yujin’s head appear, his chin now resting on top of your blanket. "i don’t want to make it awkward though." he admits shyly, pouting. "we’ve cuddled in my bed before and if you end up feeling uncomfortable you can still switch places in the middle of the night, i’ll understand" you reassure him with a smile. the boy finally gives in, happily hopping on your bed and making himself comfortable on the much better mattress. he looks at you cutely, laying on his side while facing you. all of a sudden, he timidly spreads his arms, welcoming you in his embrace. you chuckle before planting a soft good night kiss on his cheek as your eyelids get heavy.

you two slept like a log, feeling safe in each other's warmth. you stirred awake, confused since you didn't feel yourself falling asleep yesterday and it was already early morning. yujin was still sleeping soundly, his arm carefully draped around your stomach, his breathing slightly tickling your cheek. he slowly opens his eyes, looking as confused as you were. the corners of your mouth go up seeing his half-asleep state and you nervously pucker your lips. he breathes through his nose, an almost quiet chuckle getting caught in his throat, before he lets his lips every so slightly touch yours. after mumbling a timid good morning, yujin places his face back into the crook of your neck, drifting back off to sleep.

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ratskinsuit · 1 month

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Hey! Love your writing oneshots so much💗💗. I was thinking abt Adam whos surprisingly being subby bitch for female reader, its up to you whether shes a demon or angel. Do your thing!

MDNI

A/N: Guess who’s back bitchesssssss! >:D sorry it took so long for me to come back, my mental health was real bad, but it’s slightly better now! So I have returned to feed you feral trash pandas, queer possums and fancy rats (lovingly). Updates may be slow because im still very busy but I plan to do a bunch of requests so stay tuned! (ALSO I MAY START WRITING FOR CREEPYPASTA. I’m not much into the fandom though so idk lol)

So Adam always comes off as a Dom to most people right?

Bragging about how he makes you “scream his name” every night

Acting like he’s the one domming you

Presenting himself as a high and mighty god in the bedroom

But that’s all completely wrong

Because what people don’t see is how much of a little fucking bitch he is for you

How he’s often tied up in the bedroom, hands tied above him with a pretty red ribbon

Chest adorned with intricate ties and knots

Legs forcefully spread open, presenting himself to you shamelessly

his wings strapped down behind him, ruffled and twitching

His face red, hair messy and tangled from your hands digging into his scalp

Shoulders covered in bite marks, and back decorated beautifully with scratches (*Cough* masochist *cough*)

Eyes blown out with with lust staring down at you, filled with tears as you tear away yet another orgasm from him

his throat is scratchy from begging, the only sounds he can make out now are slurred, sentences as only being fragments and whines and moans of your name as he drools all over himself

He’s honestly so fucking bratty

He loves pushing your buttons, riling you up so you can fuck his brains out later

pretty loud honestly, but luckily he has soundproof walls, because he would probubly die if anyone ever hear how whiny he could be

honestly so up for public sex, push him up against the wall in a far back alleyway and make him forget his own name

Closet sex? Hell yeah

but you gotta gag him otherwise all of hell and heaven would be able to hear him

He won’t ever shut the fuck up so we know he’s good with his tongue.

Aftercare is usually consisted of you tryna get towels to clean him up and him whining and bitching

A/N: Kinda shitty rn because I’m doing this in like a severe thunderstorm with a high probability of tornadoes and I hate that bs so likeeeee- yeah

#hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin headcanons #headcanons #hazbin hotel smut #Hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam smut #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin #hazbin adam #adam hazbin hotel smut

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sebscore · 11 months

Note

Hello I hope you are well. Can you write reader who has night terrors with Charles Leclerc? Thank you very much

KICK UP A STORM | CHARLES L.

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader

warnings: thunderstorm. crying.

author's note: sooo, i just realised it said 'reader’ and not 'sister!reader' lol so i hope you still like it and you're not mad that I made a little leclerc fic. I also totally misunderstood the night terrors and you probs meant nightmares, but oh well 😚

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Y/N?''

The sudden appearance of Charles made her flinch, almost dropping her glass of water in the process. ''What the fuck.'' She tried not to yell, it was late at night and she didn't want to wake up her family.

''What are you doing? It's like-'' he glanced at the time of his phone, ''super late.'' Finding his sister on the couch at 4AM was not a sight he was expecting.

She shrugged her shoulders, placing her glass back on the coffee table in front of her. ''I just can't sleep.'' Y/N answered him, staring at her bare feet.

''Why?''

The young girl shrugged her shoulders, too embarrassed to explain her reason for being awake at this hour. ''Don't know,'' she whispered, ''I'm sorry if I woke you up.'' Y/N apologised, her wavering voice a little louder now.

''Non, non,'' Charles brushed her apology off, ''my throat is dry, I just wanted some water.'' He grew concerned at her answer. The driver couldn't take a good look at her face due to the darkness of the living room, but he had a small suspicion she had been crying. ''You okay?''

''Yes, I'm fine-''

Right as she was about to lie and assure her brother she was alright, a flash of lighting lit up the large room. The crashing thunder boomed through the city of Monte-Carlo, and by default through the Leclerc household.

''Hey- it's okay!'' Charles didn't hesitate and ran to his sister's side, sitting next to her and pulling her closer to him. The tears in her eyes glistened with each struck of lightning that was produced. Y/N hid her head in his neck, staining his shirt with her wet cheeks.

''You're okay, I'm here. I got you, chérie.'' The man kept a strong hold on her, using his body as a form of shield. ''You're fine! We're inside, nothing can happen.'' He tried comforting her with his words, her obvious distress breaking his heart.

Her fear of lightning and thunderstorms had been a primary one ever since she was a young child. She and her family had never been able to pinpoint the exact moment her phobia started or what situation had been the catalyst, but it was there and it hadn't gone away with the years that had passed.

It had begun with rain tapping on her window, which quickly turned into the sky rudely interrupting her sleep and scaring her with a large strike of thunder. As the storm went on, her room felt like it was becoming smaller and smaller by the minute. Y/N moved to the larger living room on shaky limbs and tried to be as quiet as possible so she wouldn't wake anyone up.

Charles felt like an idiot as he continued comforting his baby sister, guilt filling his mind over not realising sooner why she couldn't sleep. ''Don't worry, it's okay now.'' He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. ''You know you can always wake me up, right?''

The young girl moved her head from his neck and rested it on her older brother's shoulder. ''I know, but you've been working so much. I just wanted to let you sleep.'' She sniffled, explaining herself.

''Oh, bébé~'' He cooed, touched by her consideration of his sleep schedule.

''If this happens again, just wake me up. I don't want you to be scared on your own like this. If it's you, I don't mind.'' Charles clarified, wanting her to know she could pull him from his sleep in situations like this.

Y/N nodded, a tired smile on her face. ''Okay, Cha.'' She promised him, her fingers fiddling with his hand.

An unexpected chuckle from her has Charles turning his head towards her. ''What?''

The youngest Leclerc shakes her head. ''No, it's just… you said you won't mind if I wake you up from your sleep.''

''Yeah?''

''So who would you mind waking you up?''

Her question has him laughing now as well, glad her cheeky personality had gotten back to the surface. ''Well, I think we both know the answer.''

''Yeah,'' she mumbled, ''I know.''

''Arthur.''

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fic #f1 x you #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x sister!reader #charles leclerc x oc

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dumplingsfordays · 7 months

Text

30 strales

blade x florist!gn!reader

genre - fluff

summary - after you fall down into some metal buckets in your flower shop, a certain raven-haired customer happens to be walking by and helps you clean up.

cw!: swearing, blade kinda wants to murder you but ends up changing his mind because he likes uuu <3

note - i hc that blade smells like citrus. no, you're not getting an explanation, sorry lol.

and as always, thank you for reading!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When you got your job as a florist at Petals and Pollen, you didn't expect this many people to talk to you - you were just there to make bouquets, but most of the time when someone came up to you to ask for a recommendation or advice on what flowers to give someone, your conversations would end in 'hey, are you free this week? I know a great coffee shop that you'd like' or 'there's this cute bookstore a few blocks away, wanna go there together sometime?' or just straight-up 'do you want to go on a date?'. Of course, you weren't angry or anything, but a part of you felt annoyed. Did these people come up to you only because they thought that you look nice, or did they actually want to get a bouquet and they picked up on your personality midway?

Either way, you always declined. You weren't really interested right now, and besides, you had stuff to do. Planning dates wasn't exactly part of your job description anyway.

But one cold autumn afternoon during a thunderstorm, a rather peculiar man entered the shop - his expression wasn't one of boredom or neutrality like most other patrons, it was one of rigid, almost angry determination. He stomped up to the counter with quick steps, long navy hair flowing behind him as he stopped suddenly in front of the counter.

"How do I say 'fuck you' in flower?" he growls. "Use any flowers you need. I have the money."

You blink a couple of times in surprise at the taller man, processing his request. You knew flower language, it's just that you were wondering who it could possibly be for - a nasty coworker? A disrespectful teacher or boss?

Deciding not to dwell on it, you nod and get to arranging the bouquet. From some nearby stands, you pick out some geraniums, foxglove, meadowsweet, and orange lilies, cradling the flowers in the inside nook of your elbow. You place them in a clear glass vase and tie them together with a sunset-red silk ribbon. You feel the man's eyes linger on your fingers as they knot the ribbon in a bow, and finally, you finish the bouquet and hand it to the man.

"120 strales, please," you say, pressing a few buttons on the cash register. The man quirks an eyebrow.

"No dahlias?"

"Dahlias? Why would you need dahlias?"

"Ka- I mean, I read that they meant disappointment."

You sigh. "Well, that book must've been wrong. Dahlias are a symbol of commitment, not disappointment. I think the author must've meant to write "yellow carnations", but I don't know how you would mix it up that bad. Should I add them?"

"No, that's fine." The man slides you the payment and, grabbing the bouquet, storms out the glass door to the shop.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Fuck!" he mutters under his breath as he speedwalks angrily through the crowded streets of Xianzhou, his delicate bouquet gently cradled in his arms. What the hell was Kafka thinking? He was going to bring this to the General as quote unquote "thanks", and she tricked him? Oh, he was going to kill her when he came back.

But this florist was rather... different than others he'd been to in search of a "fuck you" bouquet. They had a special sort of air about them, an air that he couldn't quite pinpoint but knew that it was addicting. Well, maybe not addicting - he just wanted to see them again, that's all.

Wait, see them again? No, he didn't do that sort of thing, he never wanted to up and start conversation with some random stranger that he saw once while buying flowers. He didn't spontaneously show up at their doorstep and ask what their name was - he only did that to his victims, and in this case, this person wasn't a victim. He barely even knew who they were (with the exception of the obvious title of "florist".)

What if they would become his victim, then? He would have a chance to talk to them without feeling guilty of doing so, and maybe murder them at the end. That's what happens to everyone anyways, how was one less person in the world going to impact him?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day, a few hours after opening time, you see him again. He's calmer than yesterday, opening the door to your shop with a small squeak and taking his time to look around at the flowers you have on display. He pauses next to a small tin pail of yellow pansies.

"Those are pansies," you note. He turns his head sharply to meet your gaze with those blood-red eyes and turns back to the flowers.

"They're pretty," he says under his breath, lifting one out of the pail and examining its petals. "What do they mean?"

You can't read his expression at all - it's just neutral, with a small hint of fascination that immediately vanishes when he puts it back.

"They mean 'I'm thinking of you'," you reply as you pull some leaves off the stem of a tulip and throw them into a paper bag. He blinks in response and continues examining the various flowers, finally coming over to your counter a couple minutes later.

"I'd like some daffodils, please." He slides over 230 strales.

"The largest bouquet costs 200, you can keep the extra 30."

He stares at the currency in silence as you pick out the freshest daffodils and bind them together with a pale yellow ribbon, adding some white lace frills into the midst. You hand him the bouquet and he looks up at the nametag pinned to your left.

"y/n," you say. "Nice to meet you too, um..."

"Blade."

"Blade, okay."

You give a small, awkward smile. He takes the rather large bouquet from your hands and leaves the extra 30 strales, which you grab and run after him with as he leaves the shop.

"Blade! Blade!" you yell as you run after him. "You forgot your-"

He's gone, blended in with the crowd, probably, but you daren't go look - you have a business to run, and you already see some potential customers approaching the establishment. You decide to wait for him - if he comes back tomorrow, you'll give him the strales back.

As you're making a rose bouquet for a middle-aged man in a grey suit and tie, Blade pops into your mind again. His eyes were... eerily captivating, like bloodied dark iron magnets that pulled your gaze toward him. Combined with the fact that he was hard to read, and that you've never seen him before in your life, made him the most mysterious person that you'd ever interacted with. But a part of you wanted to see him again, to talk to him, to find out who he really was and what he was doing in your shop in the first place. Guess you'd have to see tomorrow.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Tomorrow was a mess.

You estimated that about 200 customers came in, most leaving with flowers in hand, and to your disappointment, none of them were the dark-haired, red-eyed, "fuck you"-bouquet-ordering man who somehow forgot that he'd left 30 strales lying on your counter before yesterday. By the time you had shut your doors, the floor was completely littered with little pieces of leaves and small, multicolored petals. Guess you had to stay after to clean up.

You pulled out your best weapon, a wide mop, from the cleaning closet in the corner and got to work. Pulling it along the tiled floor, you decided that it was rather boring to mop in silence, and pulled out another one of your favorite items - a pair of headphones, which you promptly connected to your phone and resumed mopping, now with a spring in your step. This spring turned into occasional hopping, which then turned into full-on dancing as you got caught up in the music.

Blade was watching all this unfold outside your shop, standing in the darkness and staring dumbfoundedly through the glass window. He was planning on murdering you tonight - it was horrifying that you were dancing so carefreely, without even noticing his piercing gaze on your moving form.

Abandoning the mop, you grabbed onto a column and twirled around it several times in musical glee before tragedy struck and you fell into a shelf of those goddamn tin buckets. Luckily they didn't have flowers in them, but they still hurt like a bitch - you tried pulling yourself up, only to fall down again and wince in pain as the metal edges of the buckets dug into your skin. Your legs are probably going to be covered in bruises the next morning.

You hear the door open with its signature squeak and a sinking feeling of embarrassment flooded your system.

"Need help?" the navy-haired man standing in the doorway askes, stone-faced. He stared at your trapped form blankly as you gaped at him.

"It's nine, no- ten in the evening," you stammer out, "how are you here?"

"Passing by." He feels a strange pang of guilt when lying to you. "You didn't answer my question."

You swallow and look around helplessly before replying reluctantly. "Yes, please."

Blade walks into the shop and grabs you by your hands, hoisting you up with ease onto your legs for a second before catching you when your knees buckle almost instantaneously. He sighs, lifts you up, and carries you to the nearest chair, setting you down like a fragile vase.

Blade's touch was comforting, and he smells like citrus, which is a very unexpected scent for him to have in your opinion. You thought that he might've smelled like- wait, why were you even thinking about this? The way in which his lowkey kinda attractive strong arms carried you was completely irrelevant to the current situation - why was your brain hung up on this while the poor guy has to clean up after you?

Speaking of cleaning up, he was almost done. He was now putting the mop back in the closet, and after he shut the door, you took this moment of silence to ask a question.

"Can you carry me upstairs, please? Just to my bed."

He freezes. You desperately hope that it's not a bad thing - your legs are starting to actually hurt and you don't think that you can carry yourself up a flight of stairs.

Luckily for you, he walks over and scoops you into his arms once more, carrying you with relative ease to the wooden stairs, which creak a little under your combined weight. You loop your hands around his neck as you climb up, holding on for dear life. When he reaches the second floor you thank him quietly, and he returns the gesture with a nod, turning on the lights by raising his knee up to flick the switch. The hallway fills with a golden light, and when you point to the door to your room, he heads there.

You hope that your room doesn't seem too messy - there's plants everywhere (which probably isn't that much of a surprise given that you're a florist) and the occasional book is lying on every wide surface like your desk and the bookshelf. Blade strides over to the bed in one corner, moving a leather-bound book aside titled "A Complete Collection of Native Bee Species" when he lifts the blanket. He sets you down onto the mattress with that same gentleness and you lean into the pillow, eyes already drooping shut at its softness. You turn your back towards him, and he takes this as a signal to remove your apron, which he hangs on a nearby chair. You, in your near-sleepiness, hear him sigh as he turns off the lights and closes the door, leaving you to drift away in peace. The scent of citrus lingers in your mind.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day, as you're setting up shop, you find a note on the counter, written in black pen and a quick hand.

Locked front + back doors. Exited through window, keep the 30 strales.

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #fluff #blade fluff #blade x you #blade hsr #blade x y/n #blade x reader #hsr blade #blade honkai #blade star rail #star rail blade

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that-one-girls-blog-posts · 5 months

Text

you're confused about your emotions ? me too babe, here's a quick reading

I chose random images from my pinterest to read into your energy so you can choose randomly aswell, whatever speaks to you♡ also Idk what's with the 2016 songs today but I kept hearing random ones throughout this reading maybe there's some resonance for you

Pile 1

The Moon🌜

first off I'm hearing that song "we don't talk anymore" by Charlie Puth. So maybe you're dealing with some kind of loss right now, maybe a breakup, a fight with a loved one, a new chapter meaning you have to leave someone behind a little... if this is the case, or similar, allow yourself to be "thrown off" a little, those kinds of situations take adjusting and remember that nothing has to be forever. where I come frome we say : "thunderstorms clear the air" meaning that after a fight there's great potential for healthy communications and solving problems once and for all, for a peaceful and harmonic environment♡ A reading about your emotional state and I pull the moon, how well fitting. The answer truly lays on the inside with this one. no one can tell you how you truly feel exept for yourself! (and maybe your therapist) I think for most of you there's a new season starting and you're realising that it can't be all returning characters. Take some time to heal your relationship with relationships and analyze what and who is truly of good value to your life. you got this!

Pile 2

four of swords🗡 and page of pentacles🪙

for you I'm hearing that song "cold water" with Justin Bieber. And you actually need to take a jump into cold water. There's something you've been manifesting and now that it's slowly getting closer you're resisting the change. Maybe by refusing to let go ? It's like little kids now around Christmas, you can actually watch this happen with slight alterations, all the time. Their parents take them to the toystore so they can see what they like, and they child ofcourse find something but their parents tell them okay now time to go home and wait and see if Santa will bring it. But the kid clings to the shelves and doesn't wanna leave behind the thing they so desperately wanted. Little does it now that their parents just need to get them out of sight so "Santa" can buy the gift and deliver it WHEN IT IS TIME. let go of obsessing, overthinking and trying to "go the right path" and just let the story unfold, take it step by step even if its a little scary and you'll find yourself where you're supposed to be, you're so close already♡

Pile 3

seven of swords🗡

It's too heavy darling you can't carry all of that. You might think you do and you think you're so strong and abundant and successful for "having" all of that but then you wouldn't be feeling like this, would you? A burden, too much responsibility, too many goals or to do's for a person who only has 24hours in a day. I know the card typically speaks about actual betrayal but in this case it feels a little paranoid, like you're desperately trying to do it all on your own because your scared of beeing betrayed or someone messing with your vision or even catching evil eye. For you I'm hearing "Lady Marmalade" yk from Moulin Rounge !? I'm not sure how that fits in here and I never watched the movie but oh well, maybe you know what to do with this information. There could be something about sisterhood and sharing a problem (could be workload or talking about problems...). You might have that lonely wolf mindset, but no matter how strong you are, out there, beeing alone can get you killed. I keep seeing pictures of spiritual communities and churches, you might wanna be looking for something like a mediation or yoga class, bible study group, a coven.... depending on your beliefsystem! you're right not everyone is your friend but also not everyone is your enemy!

ps. reading back this comes off a little weird and I feel like I need to say this. please don't join a cult lol. If you are in some kind of group and things feel off, please take care of yourself♡

hope that helped <3

#aa #free reading #selfcare #self love #tarot #emotional health #tarotblr #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #manifestation #intuitive readings #selfhelp

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reeniecon · 2 months

Text

- GENERAL LILIA -

" I'm sure you didn't want a monster like me inside your house any longer, right? "

Warning: chapter 7 light spoilers, bad grammar, not proofread, general Lilia, and war lol a little OOC of you squinted.

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- readers povs -

You can hear it's raining hard outside your cabin, the water droplets one by one crashing to your roof. the weather has been very bad lately it's either raining or thunderstorms. Because of the weather, your garden is not doing very well...

Because of the wind, your fence is falling down. 'oh great' you thought to yourself and went outside to fix it.

while you fix your fallen fence you hear a strange sound and you decide to find out what it is. your eyes widen, shocked by the scene you have encountered

It was a fae... And he was hurt quite badly, it seemed that he had fainted for some time by now.

Without any thought, you brought him inside. Oh, how lucky that he is not too far away from your house and not too heavy....

' oh god, what have I done... Bringing a stranger inside my house, and not only that... He was a fae! ' you thought to yourself and cannot help but sigh at the situation you're in right now.

'but no matter what I have to save him' You're determined to save him, so you clean his wounds and patch them.

Some time has passed since then but the unknown fae haven't woken up, you're quite worried about it...

- Lilia povs -

" Tch, those silver owls didn't know when to stop!" He hissed while running through the deep forest

" CHATCH HIM!! " Silver Owl A says to his teams followed by " That is Lilia vanrouge we have to catch him while we finally get the chance to!!! " They scream.

" Dang it stop being so loud!! " He screams back to them, Lilia can't fight all of them with his injured body not to mention 7 vs 1 is a really bad idea.

" WHERE IS HIM?? " the captain of silver owls screamed.

" AGRHHH!! REALLY WE LOST HIM AGAIN, YOU. FIND HIM NOW! " he ordered his subordinates

" Finally" Lilia mumbled to himself. 'So tired' he thought after that Lilia's vision blurred just like that.

' ugh...the ground is so soft I don't want to leave, huh- THE GROUND ARE SOFT' he processed to wake up from his long sleep, and was startled by his wound had been treated, with caution he observed his body and the surrounding area looking out the glass window he can conclude that he has been not very far away from the last chase, trying to open the windows to escape from whatever situation he was on right now

But he failed miserably in the windows wouldn't open no matter what... He can break it of course but, he cannot break windows that belong to his unknown helper...

The door opened slowly, and there they stood the human that helped him.

" Oh you've finally awakened, do you want soup I just made? I'll get some for you if u want " You told him and asked

In return, Lilia just stared at you observing you from beside the window looking at you up and down ' Oh a human' he thought to himself and smiled

" No, it's okay I'll get going now, thank you for helping me" He replied with a business smile

" Are you sure you didn't want a meal before you go? " You asked once again.

" Yeah I'm sure " He clarify

" I'm sure you didn't want a monster like me inside your house any longer" He said with a mean expression but in a melancholy tone.

"Huh? " Is the only reply that you can utter right now

" I'm sorry that I've troubled you for the past I-don't-know-how-long, but thank you for treating me, and I'm sure that I will pay you back in the future" He stated.

" Mr. Fae? " You called him.

" Yeah? Is my offer too small for you? "

" No no, you don't have to repay me I just wanted to save you that day and I didn't think of any payback from you...And I don't mind having you in my house... Don't worry !! So you can have your soup if you want to? "

His face flushed with embarrassment.

'how can I think it that way!! ' he thought to himself while lowering his head because of the embarrassment he felt...

" Ehem! Sorry for the misunderstanding...and I would like to have dinner with you.. My apologies for thinking bad about you... "

After that, you two have dinner together and you will nonstop hear Lilia apologizing to you the entire evening.

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An: I'm starting to use Grammarly LMAO I hope my grammar mistakes will be smaller this time hehe

#twst lilia #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst #twst x reader #general lilia

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everything-redacted-and-others · 2 months

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Some random redacted head canons

————

Geordi wears hearing aids and looses them frequently

Guy does this thing where every Saturday he will have a bubble bath and wear face masks and just have a whole spa day, and sometimes he convinces Honey to do it with him

David’s tickle spot is right under his rib cage and one day while him and Angel where cuddling they accidentally poked it and he giggled so now whenever they get the chance they’ll start poking under his rib cage just to get a reaction

Darlin likes to shift while laying on the windowsill and they’ll take naps there and then when they wake up they’ll cuddle sam while shifted cause there fur is all warm from the sun

Doc has a cat named skrunkly and Hush likes to follow it around

Lovely does not have a drivers license

Gavin has a dumpy

a lot of the Shaw pack as teens had a crush on darlin

Damien loves to bake and when Huxley found out he bought a bunch of ingredients and they had a fun time just baking together and talking about life and stuff

Darlin still beats themselves up for getting with Quinn till this day

Lasko spilled a cup of coffee in an Uber once and was so embarrassed, he tried to clean it up but it just made it worse

David has ridiculously long eyelashes and angel is jealous

Baabe does Asher’s makeup when they’re bored

Huxley collects cool looking rocks he finds

Hush has long black hair and sometimes Doc plays with it and puts it in braids, buns, etc.. (someone pls draw this I beg of u)

Honey is 6 foot and Guy is only 5’4 so he looks tiny compared to them

Darlin has thick thighs, Asher has nicknamed them “Sam’s earmuffs”

Lovely dances outside during thunderstorms to remember their powers

Sam likes to kiss the scars on Darlin’s body

Vincent has curly black hair

One time Angel caught David listening too Ariana Grande

Milo and Darlin used to watch horror movies as teens to see who would chicken out first

Sweetheart smokes when they’re stressed enough

Milo is really hot (fact.)

Gabe was a dilf (confirmed, I saw him)

Lasko’s first crush as a kid was Nala from the lion king

one time Coworker saw one of those TikTok’s that was like “if you need to get over him think of ___” and one of the things it said was “imagine him tripping and falling while trying to catch the bus” and they scrolled and said “eh he’d do that anyway” and Lasko was sitting right there

Freelancer sometimes sneaks into one of the boys apartments and steals their snacks

Angel isn’t short or skinny David is just huge (I will stand on this hill until the day I die)

Darlin and David are roughly around the same size and height

Vincent used to blast lil peep in his room when he was a newborn vamp (my lil emo baby🫶)

Damien doesn’t like alcohol

Both smartass and Darlin call their partners “old man” (lovingly)

Gavin listens to corpse when he cleans the house and he jams out to it

————

this has gotten too long lol

#redactedverse #redacted audio #redacted headcanons

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wyrmswears · 28 days

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Hiii!

I know the au ain’t about Jay, but does he have an animal form? How did Edd & Eddna found him or he does not exist?

I do apologize for the amount of questions not being libber related😞

Pd. I also love wolf children i imagine Libby just recreating the feral Yuki scene right?

Hellooooo!! Had to think about this for a bit; I really didn't give Jay too much mind when making this AU lol. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed getting to flesh out this AU further using your questions so thank you so much for asking! :D I made the AU for Libber and Ice but it's always fun to expand on other characters and how the changes the AU makes affects them.

This post turned out longer than I expected (oops. I love infodumping about my AUs, sorry lol) so the answers in their entirety are under the cut! Spoilers for Prime Empire and Dragons Rising (though nothing particularly about s2) are mentioned though.

The short answers are: Jay is still adopted, Libber left him at the Walkers' doorstep before dying. And yes, Jay has a wolf form like Libber does, but he can't access it until after the Merge.

The long answers:

The second question is easy - the comic on my other post initially had a third page that would've answered this but I found it difficult to get to flow well so I scrapped it. When the Walkers arrive home after coming across Libber, they find Jay on their doorstep. The idea is that she had left him at a safe place as a final act before succumbing to whatever killed her. (Much like in Wolf Children, I don't have a particular cause of death thought out.) Ed and Edna don't make the connection between the child on their doorstep and the wolf on the highway of course, because why would they?

As for whether Jay has an animal form... On one hand I find it very amusing when characters of non-human heritage turn out to be just normal humans, and Cliff Gordon is still completely human in this AU, but I also think it'd be boring to ignore his heritage completely for the sake of the bit. After mulling it over I've come up with this:

Jay grows up showing quirks that align with him being half raijū, but nothing that can't be explained by him being the elemental master of lightning or just a peculiar (and probably neurodivergent) child; these are things like a fascination of thunderstorms, abnormal resistance towards electrical shocks, hyperactivity, a tendency to chew on things...

He has no idea that his biological mother wasn't human until after the events of Prime Empire when Wu, now aware that Jay knows he's adopted as he used it to reason with Unagami, requests to speak to Jay privately. He explains that, if Jay has an animal form then he shouldn't feel like he has to hide it from the team as he is sure that they'd accept him, much like Libber's teammates accepted her. This is sweet and all, but Jay is very confused what he means about having an animal form. And thus begins the explanation of who or what exactly Libber was.

After learning that he isn't completely human, Jay isn't really upset - hell, Zane and Lloyd have both dealt with the same thing and it turned out fine - but he only talks about it with Nya. This is part of my general characterisation of Jay where I feel like he doesn't keep too many deliberate secrets, but does only mention certain things about himself on a need-to-know basis meaning that, while he doesn't care if the team knows he's adopted, only Nya, Zane, and Pixal know that he is (Zane and Pixal for being present at the end of Prime Empire). Nya 'needs to know' because she is his yang thank you very much. Nya helps him to research about raijū and they find out that they can come in a variety of forms. Jay thinks he'd look like a noble and mighty creature, maybe a lion or an eagle. Nya thinks he'd be a chihuahua.

Nonetheless, that seems to be the extent of it; Jay doesn't figure out if he has an animal form or how to use it, and all that's changed is that Nya has become a lot more aware of her yin's oddities. That is, until Dragons Rising.

I think after the Merge, Jay has no issues with accessing his animal form: much like his mother, he's a wolf-like canid. If you told him, he'd probably never believe that he had spent the first 20-or-so years of his life with no clue to his heritage and no abilities related to it when his natural state of self after getting amnesia is to flux between forms. Maybe it developed as one of the strange effects of the Merge, or maybe its a new ability as a result of his environment, much akin to Cole's rock golem. Nonetheless, it serves as a message to Nya that this isn't the same Jay she knew before the Merge. He flaunts his heritage to the team that he never told and has changed, both physically and as a person, without her there to see.

As for the P.S, I'm not entirely sure what scene you are talking about - there's quite a few where I imagine Yuki could be described as feral lol - but Libber is overall quite alike to Yuki in my mind, particularly when she is younger and less concerned with hiding her wolf side.

#maybe ill draw jays raijū form at some point too hm #ninjago #ninjago au #lego ninjago #ninjago jay #jay walker #ninjago libber #libber gordon #ninjago spoilers #? i dont know if we are still counting the fact that jay has amnesia as a spoiler or not. i feel like everyone knows by now #ok time to come up with an au tag because uhh i do that when i make more than one post for an au #inhuman thundersnow au #thundersnow will now be the duo name for ice and libber youre welcome #wyrm answers #wyrm rambles #btw idk if anyone reads my tags but art will be slower for a couple months because i have my big scary important exams upcoming #i will happily answers asks though :]

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