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thewordswewrite · 10 months

Text

The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 16 - Epilogue

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | 10 years later...

Chapter Warnings | N/A

W/C | 1.7k

Taglist | @lem0ns77 @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley @bela-nov @lilylovelyxo @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten @dd122004dd @jyessaminereads @aquawhore420 @qallaghereid @bazzaza @zulpix-blog @mrsjna @americanstarlette @lou-the-confused-bisexual @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cecepop15 @pavard-leto-girl

A/N | Alright so this is actually the end BUT asks are open for oneshots for the missing 10 years between chapters 15 and 16! Thanks everyone so much for reading and following us on this journey!! -Smoe

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

In her dreams, the more and more she had as the years went on, she was at the beach–their beach–and as she sat watching the waves hit the shore, and the sun began to rise over the horizon painting the waters red with its color, for a moment her stomach would drop. Her chest began to tighten until she cupped the water in her hands, finding the illusion to only be the sun’s rays mirrored across the horizon. She would bury her feet in the sand, letting the seafoam lick at her ankles as birds called overhead. It wouldn’t be long until she felt a presence beside her, the comforting pressure of arms wrapped around her middle that bled in from reality.

This morning the feeling was just that: a feeling. She shook her head, laughing to herself about her chronic morning-person of a husband. It was hard not to think of his teasing words as she pulled her limbs back towards her body at the center of the mattress. She rubbed out a crick in her neck before pulling open the curtains and letting the sun shine into the room.

Humming a light tune, she padded a few feet down the hall to the next room over where she opened the door just a touch to peek in. Her heart leapt in seeing the empty bassinet until she remembered the abandoned space in her own bed. She couldn’t say she was used to their routine but six months of it almost daily was starting to ease her panic. Over a year ago, for the second time in her life, Finnick held her as she cried–this time tears of joy–and nine months later their little starfish was brought into the world during a storm that drowned her screams.

With her own stomach rumbling, she set off to the kitchen to prepare a bottle, something Finnick still hadn’t mastered as he’d rather let the bottle get ice cold than risk any pain to their daughter. He’d been especially careful in everything he did since their daughter was born, their household of two made a family of three; from baby-proofing the house, reading the limited parenting resources he could get his hands on and above all, keeping the both of them within reach at all time, safe in his care. As a gesture to both their future as a family and their newfound freedom, he’d discarded his trident, a sign of all that he had done, been forced to do, in the remnants of the Capitol.

Filling the kettle at the sink, she could just make out the form of her husband, cradling their baby girl out by the shore, through the window. Before returning to the stove, she opened the window to tend to her flowers, a window box secured by Finnick at the start of the season was full of blooming Primroses after Peeta sent seeds in one of his letters. Though she was never close to Katniss, she had grown to know her sister while she recovered in District 13 alongside Peeta. The girl was caring and had impeccable bedside manner, her hands steady when changing her IV, smiles came easy when she saw the bobbing blonde head of the littlest Everdeen sister. It was terrible what happened, she had been walking close behind Katniss when they tried to infiltrate the Presidential Palace, then the first round of bombs hit…the second.

She closed the window with a sigh and put the kettle on the burner. At the table there was a short stack of open mail, a rarity considering all that had happened, which Finnick had already sorted through. She smiled to herself, recognizing Peeta’s blocky script even before picking up the letter, an extra blush spreading across her cheeks at the greeting to the Odairs. It was mostly business as usual, Peeta filling them in on their simple life in 12 and in turn asking about them, especially now that they had a little one to update on. A year had passed since Katniss and Peeta visited and four since they backed Katniss’ decision to take down Coin and thus inciting their exile. It was a privilege to have anyone to share their pregnancy with, most of all given what they’d been through and lost to get there.

She was about to put the letter in the drawer with the rest when she saw the small scrawls on the bottom of the page.

‘Saw this and thought of you, then of her but Peeta didn’t approve. Good luck - Katniss’

Riffling through the pile of mail, she couldn’t figure out what the note was referring to but she didn’t often know what Katniss was referring to; better to ask Finnick later. She grabbed the warmed bottle and stuffed the letter in her pocket to bring with her before slipping out the back, the screen door creaking closed behind her.

The morning was beautiful, a cool breeze contrasting the already warming sand, with rays of sunlight just finally rinsing fully above the horizon. Her bare feet sunk into the uneven ground, as she made her way towards her husband and daughter who watched the waves together.

“Here, breakfast.” She placed the bottle in his awaiting hand, taking a seat next to him on the blanket he had laid out.

“Oh, thanks. I hadn’t eaten.” She rolled her eyes at him and his smug smile. They sat a while in a comfortable silence as their daughter ate, falling back into a slumber with a full belly when the bottle was gone.

Pulling the letter out of her pocket, she handed it to him, absentmindedly stroking her daughter's silk soft hair, “Did you see this?”

Finnick chuckled softly, “I’m sure Peeta was mortified but I thought it was funny.” She raised an eyebrow at him as he slowly pulled back the blanket their daughter was comfortably swaddled in. They both braced for her to wake but as Finnick carefully shifted to show his wife, she only clung to her prize tighter and let out a sleepy breath. Cuddled in her daughter’s arms was a small stuffed bear, the mouth a zigzag of white stitching mimicking teeth. She used to think if she ever saw a bear again it’d be too soon but looking down at the stuffie clutched in her daughter’s tiny hands she couldn’t help but smile.

“Never thought Kat would be the one with a sense of humor, huh? You two are too alike,” She huffed with a smile, shaking her head in disbelief.

He hummed in response, “You know she hates when you call her that.”

“And you hate it when Peeta calls you Finn but here we are,” She followed Finnick’s gaze as smiled down at the dozing infant, too lost to truly hear her, “Here we are.” Save for the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the beach around them seemed to disappear, their small family the only thing in the world. Her heart clenched in her chest, still seeing that nineteen year old boy who had taken a chance on her even behind the worry lines and the scars. It was a miracle that they were here at all–the odds stacked against them from the beginning–let alone together in the life that they had made.

The air was heavy for a moment, Finnick on the verge of saying something multiple times before he finally got out, “I never thought we’d get this. Especially not her,” He clutched the baby tighter to his chest, kissing her forehead before inhaling deeply, “not after we lost–”

“We lost…a lot, and I never thought I’d want what I have, but I’m happy.” Finnick stared up at her, a familiar and unsure expression that often crossed his face, even after all this time, as if to ask, ‘are you sure?’ She reached to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair back in place, landing with her head resting on his shoulder. “I love our family, you and Ondine.”

“Our little wave.”

In an attempt to break the tension, she huffed a sigh, “Doesn't feel so little when you have to push her out of your…” She trailed off mumbling to herself as she began to stand up. “Let’s go, I’m starving, and you’re cooking!” Before she managed to take a step, she was pulled back by a hand clutching the hem of her shirt.

“We got this too,” Finnick fished another piece of mail from his back pocket, not bothering to make eye contact as he handed it over and immediately turned his attention back to his daughter. She eyed him suspiciously before taking the cardstock, his demeanor suddenly tense. The page was covered from top to bottom in words, some she didn’t even know and when she looked up from it Finnick was already awaiting her reaction. The confusion must’ve been clear on her face, for he explained, “It basically says…we can go.”

“Go where?”

Finnick held their daughter tighter to his chest, stroking her cheek as he answered, “Our exile is over. Katniss and Peeta’s too.” He was biting his lip, his brows furrowed. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder, urging him to look at her.

“Go where?”

Finnick sighed, “Home? Back to 4.” She tipped his chin up with her index finger gazing into his worrisome eyes. With her thumb, she smoothed out the wrinkle between his eyebrows, something that never failed to make him laugh.

Her whole life sat before her, the culmination of all that she’d experienced and everything that she shouldn’t have survived. Every step of the way they had tried to tell her story, the twists and turns and all the endings, happily ever after written out for her when martyrdom didn’t cut it. But for the first time in her life, the pages ahead were blank and she was the one with the pen. She managed to have it all: her life, her family and now, her freedom. Looking around at what her and Finnick had built together, she smiled, her heart clenching and eyes watering at the realization.

“We are home.”

|Masterlist| |Previous Chapter|

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cryptidclaw · 1 year

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Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is!

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place!

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish

Fish

Bass

Bream

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone

Apricot

Barley

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc.

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #?#Im tempted to use these in the au #some characters deserve some more fun names hehe #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors #warriors names #warriors naming #warriors prefixes

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greedyhoneyz · 8 months

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Paradise Kiss

.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: benjamin pavard x reader

.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: summer fun with the girl of his dreams.

.ೃ࿔*:･cw: fluff. brief slapping.

.ೃ࿔*:･authors note: used google translate. some of the translations have me like 🥴 so please don’t drag me im trying. i seriously need to get better at describing kissing and romance in itself. didnt proofread.

Underneath the sweltering sun, primrose sand stretched out alongside the shore. It gleamed golden as the sea-blue tide glistened and twinkled along waves rolling in and out in rhythm as steady as a thumping heart.

The beach had welcomed Benjamin and (name) a day before when the sand was damp and the sea had churned to become a deep inky blue. However, as the evening sun settled beneath the horizon, welcoming night, the early morning sun brought a day of sunlight and hot spells. The beach, once desolate, invited its guests and residents along the coast to its clear waters and granular land.

The sand looked clean like sugar spread out for miles as it squished between Benjamin’s and (name’s) toes. Hand in hand, the couple trudged along the beach, a cluster of their belongings hooked underneath Benjamin’s arm.

The warm air was moist and humid; waves crashed quietly against the shore, dampening the beach surface with artefacts of sea shells– the beach house had long vanished into the distance.

It was clear outside and not a cloud lingered in the sky.

Music, loud chatter, the shrieking screams of children playing in the ocean, and the squalls of seagulls hovered above lurked in the air as (name) and Benjamin entered the swarm.

The essence of human life brightened the beach; people accustomed themselves to the toasty sand beneath their feet and the spirited ocean or rested beneath beach parasols and chairs, away from the scorching sun.

Benjamin drew his foot across the sand, scoring a line, and wrestled with the parasol perched into the sand. He decorated their claimed space with beach towels and the rest of their belongings whilst (name) watched, a portable fan held to her face.

“Voila!” Benjamin exclaimed, producing their newly decorated seats. He helped (name) to the floor, beneath the shade and settled beside her.

He studied her quietly, his eyes closely daring to her hands and the restful expression worn across her face as she forced her fan into his hand. “Tenez ça.” (Hold this.)

Rummaging through her beach bag, (name) fiddled through her belongings, pooling whatever she caught into her lap.

She turned to Benjamin with a smile and flapped her fingers, urging him closer.

He leaned in, squeezing his eyes shut as her full lips pulled together to form a pucker. He shuddered at the gentle wind that puffed out through her nostrils, bristling against the hairs on the top of his lip. He smiled meekly, his lips trembled, and slowly brought his forehead to hers.

They settled into a bubble of silence, the beach sounds muted beneath the gentle winds as (name) lathered her hands together, a mischievous smirk quirked at the corners of her mouth.

She caught Benjamin by surprise as her hand rose to blemish his cheek, smearing him with sunscreen. The force she exerted was so strong, it sent his head flying, along with splatters of white.

(name) burst into a fit of giggles, hobbling onto her knees. She hovered above Benjamin who lay awestruck on his beach towel, grinning maniacally, and crept her hands to his face. “Vous avez oublié de mettre de la crème solaire sur votre visage.” (You forgot to put sunscreen on your face.)

Dampening her hands, (name) worked her fingers along his face as Benjamin lay still beneath her, a hand on his swollen cheek.

His awestruck gaze bored into her face whilst her fingers gently motioned across his forehead and chin.

“Ah, c'est très bien.” (This is nice) Benjamin mewled quietly. He shut his eyes and blew a blissful breath between his lips.

“It’s nice for you,” (name) retorted sharply, dropping her hands. She hobbled away from Benjamin, laying back on her beach towel, and threw her sunscreen to him. “My turn.”

Slowly opening an eyelid, Benjamin turned his gaze to (name) as she settled herself beneath their beach umbrella. She laid on her stomach, crossed her arms and rested her chin on her hands, waiting.

Benjamin sat up leisurely and picked up the bottle, beginning to quietly lather his hands.

Perched on his knees, his figure casting a dark shadow over (name) as he brought his hands down to her back. Benjamin smoothed his hands across her skin, sculpting the lotion into her curves and along her thighs.

“Je suis bon pour ça, n'est-ce pas?” (I’m good at this, aren’t I?) Benjamin mused as (name) rolled onto her back. He rubbed her stomach tenderly and ran his palms up along her collarbones and neck.

“Oui, tu as des mains douces.” (Yes, you have gentle hands.) (name) hummed, shaking her head. She flashed a smile at Benjamin and blew a relief breath whilst he worked down her figure. He rubbed along her legs, applying extra care to her thighs before wiping his hands clean on his swim trunks.

Plopping flat beside (name), Benjamin closed his eyes, tucking his arms behind his head, and tuned to the heartful chatter and screams around him. Beneath the dark, shadow cast by their pergola, stillness came as the wind suddenly quelled, and a torrid wave of heat pervaded the shore.

Benjamin peeled his eyelids open, briefly glimpsing at the pergola above him and quickly stood to his feet. He fixed his swim trunks and gently called to (name) as she scrolled through her phone. “Ma douce,” (My sweet,) He cooed, his foot lightly pushing her beach bag aside. “Je vais nager, viens avec moi.” (I’m going to swim, come with me.)

“No. I want to stay here.” (name) cried playfully.

“Porqoui?” Benjamin frowned. He shifted his weight on his left leg and propped his hands on his waist, furrowing his brows together.

(name) shrugged, setting her phone on her chest. “Il fait trop chaud pour bouger.” (It's too hot to move.)

“Donc? L’eau va vous rafraîchir.” (So? The water will cool you down.)

“Help me up then.” (name) held her arms up and nodded for Benjamin to come closer. He shuffled towards her, crouched to his knees and curled his arms beneath her armpits, hoisting her up onto her feet.

“Thanks.” (name) muffled. She placed a kiss on the corner of Benjamin’s lips and fixed her bikini bottoms.

Hand in hand, both Benjamin and (name) sauntered through the golden grains of sand towards the ocean. The small crystals of sand that cushioned their toes, lay damp beneath the white foamed waves that gently broke at the shoreline.

The ocean was like a gentle blanket of brochure-blue, its horizon edged with a golden tint as it stretched along the horizon, and mingled with the silk sky.

Dipping into the ocean, Benjamin swam thoroughly through the water with (name) tightly hooked to his chest. He submerged deeper and deeper as the ocean reflected an emerald green and gawked in awe as (name) broke free. She glided forward, kicking her feet, and speedily twirled to Benjamin. She waved at him and managed to express a cheeky grin beneath her puff cheeks before swimming off to the abyss.

Benjamin tailed after her, crawling through the abyss as (name) twirled and spun around her. She toyed with him, swimming below him, tugging at his legs before he snagged her in a smooth attempt, and luged them both to the surface. Breaking through the rollers of gem-blue waves, the two fought for grasps of air.

Benjamin exhaled heavily and whipped his hands through his drenched locks as (name) reclined herself in her surroundings. He gaped at her and wadded towards him, her swiftful movements caught her attention.

She jeered her head to him and beamed from ear to ear at the awe-struck look in his eyes.

Not a word was muttered as Benjamin held his hands to her face, and slowly leaned in. His nose bristled against hers, their foreheads lightly tapped each other as his lips moved to take claim. He kissed her tenderly, his hands cupping the sides of her face and moaned euphorically as she shifted her lips in battle with him, luring him closer.

The beach horizon was a hook of gold that twinkled behind the gentle ripples of the ocean and stood muffed beneath the song of the waves. It glistened at a distance and watched fleetingly as both Benjamin and (name) floated away from the shore, hazed by their love and compassion.

#benjamin pavard x reader #benjamin pavard imagine #benjamin pavard x black!reader #black!reader #football fanfic #football imagine #football x reader #football fanfiction

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shibaraki · 1 year

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HARBOUR ROSE ┊ COVE HOLDEN

synopsis: love casts it’s own net, and there’s only one man who can cut you free of this one.

tags: GN reader, childhood friends to lovers, ORCA employee cove, mer reader, ocean pollution (boooo) reader caught in a net, reunions, sooooo much fluff, developing relationship, happy hopeful ending

wc: 2.2K

↳ for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↰

The rain gives itself unto the sea. Each fragment becomes one with the tide that laps weakly at your body. With your tail curled, fins entangled in an old ghost net, you give into fatigue and rest upon the wet primrose sand. This net is unlike ones you’ve dealt with before. It is garish blue and tough, cutting uncomfortably into your fluke. Rope could be easily severed but this new material is stubborn, and painful.

A gust of wind dances through the marram grass. You breathe deeply, listening to the percussion of the waves, eyes trained on the secluded beach and drawn to any small movement. Something about this place calls to you in a way you cannot explain. That thought makes known a memory in the back of your mind which evades your grasp each time you seek it.

Frustrated, you poke a claw-tipped finger through the net and trace a line in the sand. You try to ignore the dull throb around your hips. Being tangled and contorted as you are has you restless, the urge to spread your fins and swim buzzing under your skin. Fighting the snare more would do no good. Struggle and you’d hurt yourself more.

Had the day been warm you might’ve found yourself in a little more trouble. At least the rain would keep the humans from the beach.

Or so you thought.

Fear seizes your body. In the distance, a bipedal figure walks along the shore. You press yourself low to the sand. The sound of your heart beats loud in your ears, now tucked flat to your head. Unperturbed by the thin rainfall the human keeps his gaze on the waves wearing only a pair of shorts and a thin white shirt, smiling softly as they crawl to kiss his ankles. He is tall and sun steeped, hair like seafoam laid flat to his forehead and cheeks. Markings decorate his arm like refracted light on the ocean floor.

Can you take me with you?

The memory is fleeting. A young child’s forlorn voice. Dusk had spread her fingers across an empty beach. A pink sky. Pink, like the hard shell wrapped around his arm.

Would you take me? the voice repeats. There are no other kids here. I don’t want to stay…

Your gills flutter, venting the air as you exhale shakily. The human is closer now. His gentle face twists with displeasure when a food wrapper rolls in on the next wave, littering the sand. You watch him huff, mouth downturned as he snatches it up. It kindles a little hope in you—

And it reminds you of a lonely human boy you met years ago when you were but a guppy yourself. His name… you liked it a lot. What was it…?

Your pod had migrated because the old nursery grounds were destroyed by fishing boats. Metal machinery and nets that stretched for miles dragged along the seabed. Sunset Bird proved to be a perfect place to wait out the mating season. You spent most of your time on the surface, playing in tide pools and sunning yourself in the grasses, kept company by little Cove Holden.

The human’s movements freeze abruptly a few feet away. In that instant your eyes meet; his own widen, expression flowering in surprise, hands fisted tightly at his sides and shaking.

You stare at one another. Time seems to have slowed to a stop. Over the pitter patter of rain you think you hear your name. Again, confident this time, as the human breaks out into a sprint. Sand kicks into the air. You flinch, inhaling sharply as the distance is immediately crossed and he is falling to his knees at your side.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” he’s mumbling frantically under his breath, hands outstretched to hover over the lines of plastic knotted around your lower half. “It’s you. It’s really you. You’re hurt—” he jolts and begins patting at his short pockets, pulling out something small. A sharp blade folds out from within the case. You shrink, a reflexive whine building in your throat.

The human holds his breath. He swallows. You see his throat bob, ribs expand and deflate, calming the tremors in his limbs. “I’m sorry,” voice lowered into gentle reassurance, he tries to show you a tremulous smile. “I—I’m going to use this knife to cut the net away. Is that okay?”

You consider the sincere warmth in his gaze and nod as it washes over you. His smile widens. Telegraphing his movements piece by piece he cuts into the net, careful not to snag the frayed scales around your fins.

“I’m so sorry. We comb the shoreline as much as we can for litter but…”

A blush steadily spreads across his cheeks as your focus drifts back to him. Blue eyes flicker back and forth, around your face and back, pointedly avoiding your bare chest. Your nerves settle at that familiarity. The Cove you remember had been small, nervous and lost, but when he smiled he brought the sun with him. This Cove is so big, so at home in his body, and just as beautiful.

Tucking his fingers under the final line Cove slips the blade beneath and cuts you free. You feel the pressure alleviate. He gasps an awed sound as your fins fan out, almost sentient in how they stretch toward the cloud covered sky.

Turning on your hips, you sit upright and bend to rub the thin membranes between your finger and thumb. A wave rushes up and douses you in fresh sea water, soothing the ache. “You can’t help what the tide brings in,” you reassured, chewing the inside of your cheek. You glance toward him as he discards the net with a frown, “Thank you… Cove”.

Cove tenses, emotions flowing into him like a babbling brook. “Wow,” the word came out in a whisper. Then, even quieter, “You remember me.”

“Of course I do,” your voice is fragile as your throat adjusts to spoken words. It’s been a long time since you needed to use it. You smile gingerly, aware of the heat emanating from his body; longing brushes you like a thick fog. “You were my first friend, after all”.

Cove grins, misty eyes squinting. “You were mine too,” he tugs a necklace from beneath his shirt collar. Hung in the middle of his chest is a shark tooth. Serrated crown narrow and pointed, root uneven where it cusps, hale as the day you found it.

“You kept it!”

Suddenly coloured with embarrassment his hands return to his lap and he gives a nervous laugh. “I did. I could never forget you. When you didn’t come back the year after, I…” his features tighten as he restlessly fiddles the hem of his shirt. The fabric stretches thin. “I really thought I made it all up”.

Guilt crept in. You let it bleed through and soften your apology. “I’m really sorry, Cove. I wanted to come back, but—do you remember that big oil spill? A little further South?” Cove tilts his head, grimacing in recognition. You nod, “I couldn’t come this way for a while”.

You notice then that the rain has stopped; clumps of dry sand stuck to your hips and petrichor hung in the briney air. Cove is impervious to it all. “I understand,” he mumbled, giving you a meaningful look before his eyes darted back to the tides.

Tension seeped from his shoulders and you felt yourself relax in turn, instinctively leaning toward his warmth. He sucks in a breath. Any worries are put to rest by the soft intent in his eyes that belied his excitement. Emboldened, you reach up to tuck a wayward curl around the shell of his ear.

Cove quakes, jaw trembling where you linger. He makes a sound and only later do you realize it was your name. “You look so different now,” you murmur, trying to be delicate, lest you fracture the pleasant atmosphere and scare him away. “I almost didn’t recognise you”.

Your human glows ripe like an algae bloom. He leans into the cradle and touches your elbows, offering silent encouragement. “Oh. In—in a good way?” he asked, self conscious.

A grin splits your lips. Your other hand rises, cupping his face in your palms, amazed at the heat under his skin. “In a good way,” you echo an affirmative. Your gaze falls to his forearms. One a shock of blue, the pattern of the sea. The other is bare aside from a thin white scar. “And your strange pink wrapping is gone, now”.

“Ah, that’s right,” eyes softening in the late afternoon light, Cove’s lips thin into a small smile. You mourn for a moment when he releases you to trace the scar. “Yeah. I haven’t needed that for a long time. It’s all healed up”.

Overturning his arm he shows you the scar in full, winding from his inner wrist to the crook of his elbow. The tendons flex as his fingers move. You mirror his actions and follow the path with your fingertip. Bumps rise on his skin. You’d forgotten how reactive his body could be. “That’s good,” you reply, a little breathless. Brightening, then, when you remember, “This means you can swim now!”

“Yeah! I can surf, too. If you want we could paddle out further so it’s safer—for you?”

Cove taught you about surfing that first summer. Humans take boards into the ocean that can remain buoyed on the surface to ride the waves. Sometimes for sport, but mostly for fun. Visions of Cove finally alongside you in the water flood your thoughts. In your enthusiasm you push into his space and he tips back into the sand, bracing on his elbows. “Now?” you ask, practically draped over his lap.

A strangled noise gets caught in his throat. “Close,” he whispers, blinking rapidly. The red blush on his cheeks crawls down his neck to his chest, splotchy and honest. Sudden realisation appears to snap him out of his reverie. “I can’t today,” he hesitates, expression falling. Your mouth is inexplicably dry as his full lips jut into a pout. “I need to get back soon. If I don’t they’ll send someone to get me and I don’t want anyone else to see you”.

You stifle a wince when your fins flutter and fan out on display. Your body is just as honest as his. Deflecting quickly you tease, “Ah. Want me all to yourself again?”

Rather than fluster Cove’s features harden. “Yes,” he bursts, nodding firmly. You stare at him in wonder, and watch in silence as his mind races to catch up with his mouth. He clears his throat, shrinking back apologetically. Over the gentle sifting sand as a wave recedes he murmurs, “Sorry. I mean, I do want you to myself. But—”

“Cove,” his rambling stops at the fond intonation of his name. You dip forward until your nose bumps his cheek. You leave a kiss there, on the warm swell. “It’s fine. I feel the same”.

You’re close enough to feel his shaky exhale. Voice an octave higher, he squeaks, “You do?”

“I do,” you nod, reclining to give him some space and smile when he breathes a little easier. “I’ve waited to see you this long, I can wait a little longer”.

“You’re still so…” there’s that quivering smile again, blue eyes gleaming, face hemmed by unruly seafoam. Steeling himself, Cove rises to his feet and brushes the sand from his knees. “Then I promise I’ll be here tomorrow”.

“Good,” the tide crawls further, crashing against your hips. Foam fizzles along your tail. It calls you back to the currents. Cove watches you pivot onto your belly, turning to follow the next wave out. “I promise, too. I’ll be somewhere around here. Just call out to me, alright?”

“Okay,” he grasps the shark tooth necklace, rolling it between his thumb and finger, dithering on the shoreline with the net that had snared you tucked under his arm. Louder as the distance grows, he plucks up the courage to yell, “I missed you”.

You think of that second summer, when your elders told you the pod could not go back to Sunset Beach. How you had darted away to hide in the kelp forest, curled into yourself where you buried into the sand, stubbornly refusing to move. That grief had dulled significantly over the years yet a single encounter with Cove unearthed all those feelings without ceremony. Lying there, dormant and waiting.

Bobbing above the surface you cup your hands around your mouth, you shout unabashedly, “I missed you too!”

#our life x reader #cove holden x reader #cove x reader #cove x mc #our life beginnings & always #olba

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meat-fr · 1 year

Text

Brown-Spotted Mith ~ Chocolate/Sand/Tarnish Primrose Mith ~ Cream/Rose/Cottoncandy Goldenplains Poodle Mith ~ Tan/Ginger/Tan Marshland Poodle Mith ~ Blackberry/Eggplant/Midnight

#flight rising #fr aether #scrying workshop #might scry the rest of the miths later #but i really needed to scry these guys as aethers!#they're some of my favorite familiars <3

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delicatuscii-wasbella102 · 24 days

Text

Mojave Desert - Sand Dunes - Dune Evening Primrose by Dean Hueber

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mousetoe-wc · 7 months

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I Got bored one time awhile ago and made a list of every prefix plus some into organised sections so I thought I might as well share.

All the ones that aren’t cannon to warriors, yet at lest are bold

Describing names

Colours: red, russet, copper, golden, amber, yellow, green, blue, violet, pink, white, gray, black, ebony, dark, pale, silver, brown, tawny, fallow

Pattern, Texture + Size: spot/ted, dapple, speckle, freckle, brindle, patch, mottle, ragged, tangle, kink, bristle, fuzzy, curl/y, wooly, soft, sleek, little, tiny, small, slight, short, tall, long, big, heavy, crooked, broken, half, stumpy, shred, torn, jagged

Actions + Character: flip, pounce, bounce, jump, hop, crouch, down, low, drift, flail, strike, running, fidget, mumble, whistle, snap, sneeze, shiver/ing, shining, flutter, fallen, lost, rush, fleet, quick, shy, sweet, brave, loud, quiet, wild, hope, wish,

Other: claw, whisker, dead, odd, one, spike, fringe, echo, song, hallow, haven

Elements

Time + Weather: day, night, dusk, dawn, morning, sky, sun/ny, moon, storm, lightning, thunder, cloud/y, mist/y, fog, snow, blizzard, ice, frost, dew, drizzle, rain, clear, wind, breeze, gale, shadow, shade, bright, light,

Earth/Water/Fire names: stone, rock, boulder, slate, flint, pebble, gravel, sand/y, dust, mud/dy, meadow, hill, rubble, river, ripple, whorl, float, rapid, shimmer, lake, swamp, marsh, wave, wet, bubbling, splash, puddle, pool, creek, fire, flame, flicker, flash, blaze, scorch, ember, spark, ash, soot, cinder, smoke

Plants

Trees: alder, aspen, birch, beech, cedar, cypress, pine, elm, willow, oak, larch, maple, bay, rowan, timber, bark, log, wood, twig, acorn, cone, seed, spire

Berry/Nut/Fruit/Herb: juniper, elder, sloe, holly, yew, mistle, bramble, hickory, hazel, chestnut, nut, apple, cherry, cranberry, olive, pear, plum, peach, chive, mint, fennel, sage, basil, mallow, parsley

Flowers: aster, poppy, primrose, rose, bluebell, marigold, tansy, pansy, briar, cherry, daisy, dandelion, daffodil, tulip, violet, lily, myrtle, thrift, yarrow, heather, lavender, blossom, bloom, flower, petal

Other: leaf, frond, fern, bracken, sorrel, hay, rye, oat, wheat, cotton, reed, pod, cinnamon, milkweed, grass, clover, weed, stem, sedge, gorse, furze, flax, nettle, thistle, ivy, moss, lichen, bush, vine, root, thorn, prickle, nectar

Animals

Mammals: mouse, rat, mole, vole, shrew, squirrel, hedgehog, bat, rabbit, hare, ferret, weasel, stoat, mink, marten, otter, hog, wolf, hound, fox, vixen, badger, deer, doe, stag, fawn, sheep, cow, pig, lion, tiger, leopard, lynx, milk

Birds: robin, jay, cardinal, thrush, sparrow, swallow, shrike, starling, rook, swift, dove, pigeon, crow, raven, duck, goose, heron, wren, finch, swan, stork, quail, gull, lark, owl, eagle, hawk, kestrel, buzzard, kite, hoot, feather, bird, egg, talon

Fish, Reptiles + Amphibians: pike, perch, pollack, trout, tench, cod, carp, bass, bream, eel, minnow, fin, snake, adder, lizard, turtle, frog, toad, newt

Bug type Names: bug, lady or ladybug, moth, spider, ant, snail, slug, beetle, bee, wasp, dragon or dragonfly, bumble, worm, maggot, cricket, fly, midge, web, honey

Skyclan + Warriorclan: Bella, Billy, Big, Harry, Harvey, Snook, Ebony, Monkey

#warrior cats #wc

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bonefall · 8 months

Note

Got some cool generated names in lifegen (clangen mod) and though they’d be fun to translate! I’ll start with the protagonist and his family. Also sorry if the formatting is off tumblr was acting weird and i had to jump through some hoops to send this.

Rainbowember | Solysskip

Direct, Solyss (Rainbow) + Kip (Ember) I like this name because he’s an insecure healer who took a long time to pass his apprenticeship, so it seems fitting.

Ghostclover | Kepbachafa

I thought this name would make sense as a name for a suspected fading kit who lived. In game she’s a mtf trans Molly, but I decided that she was actually assigned a Gib at birth since the fading kit thing. She later figured out she contained Mollyness.

Tempestecho | Kychkarraoyaawo

This one was pretty direct too, and I think it’s a good candidate for a nickname due to the length. Maybe Kychaawo?

Fintwist | Sseoshigashig

Fintwist kinda brings to mind a fish twisting it’s fin to turn around for whatever reason, so I think dance works for that. Nickname could be Sseoshig.

Curlewback | Byyrbesaofa

Went with the sand martin to keep the shorebird connection! Also, used spine-mane since I couldn’t find a word for back.

Yellowdapple | Aweenkonpen

Direct, not much to say about this one, haha.

Tawnygale | Hrrua-ubafwu

Decided to go with the tawny owl over the color since he isn’t that color, and has a weather suffix. ‘Bafwu’ seemed the closest to gale to me so I went with that.

Logblaze | Chok-kafyar

No I don’t know what this name means either? Sounds like an off-brand Lionblaze.

Fallenbird | Fewlwheer

This name struck me as an Honor title, and he spawned in with a bite scar, which makes that fit even more. I like to think his original names prefix was Wheer, so the Honor title represents how the swift fell, but got back in the air.

Riverlotus | Sbasspowo

I’m glad I managed to find the word for the waterlily, I wanted to show this name off, I love it.

Falconlaurel | Mweeliliprraponma

This was an interesting one, for sure! I wanted to go with an actual falcon species, instead of just going with Raptor/Yassga. This guys a mediator, so I went with the merlin. There wasn’t a word for laurel I could find but I thought that I could translate the vibe, since laurel brings to mind honor and triumph. I decided that, for a mediator, Prra-ness would be an associated feeling/goal, so I chose Primrose (Prraponma) as the suffix because of the winter association example. So his name, could also be translated back as Merlinprimrose, or just Merlinrose for short. Nickname could be Mweeponma?

Springbreak | Mwarussmimanaw

Honestly I just wanted show off that I got a cat named Springbreak. Anyways I went with it being Spring as in the season, and decided that I would use mimanaw (lounge) instead of anything related to breaking/shattering, to make it so that her name basically means a break in Spring. Though, Springbreak could be a good Dishonor title, Yiaokerroch. Jump-shatter, you hurt yourself by springing. Anyways nickname could be Mwanaw.

Branchripple | Baryennipa

I decided to use the future tense of ripple, to make the name mean that she will make the branches ripple. She graduated early, so its to say that she will make an impact.

Fintwist is absolutely drawing me in, fantastic use of the brand new "fin-wing." I've got an image in my mind of one of them decorative dragon koi, swirling around and around.

Koi aren't common in Clan territory, and when they ARE seen they're dealt with, but it's also possible for this one species I like a lot to have a light, shining morph. I should make a special word for that color of Tench when I get there...

Also congrats on Springbreak that's AWESOME I love it. And Logblaze? Sounds like a big bonfire to me! Maybe your cats like to BBQ ThunderClan-style!

ANYWAY, MISSING WORD TIME

Curlew = Urloop I just named this one over here, after you'd already sent this ask!

Bay Laurel (Laurus nobilis) = Skoka BY the way, in my Willow Quest, I learned something heartbreaking....... bay willow doesn't grow here. I misidentified a willow. God have mercy on my soul Bayshine's name is BAY LAUREL-Shine, Skokashem. Oops. I will be repurposing the Wawa word in the Lexicon to a different type of willow.

Cherry Laurel (Prunus laurocerasus) = Reyoka Both of these are made into laurel wreaths btw, and the wood is burned because it smells nice. This one has red berries and less uses in general, but smells nicer when burned.

Gale = Harloo A very strong wind.

White Clover (Trifolium repens) = Glem This is the one you think of when you think of a classic three-leaved clover. It has short, round petals, and its flowers are typically white. This one is favored by grazing animals.

Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) = Powglem This one has pinkish flowers with longer petals, and is used for medicinal purposes. This is the one used for Cloverfoot's name.

#Clanmew

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octopath-traveler-ost · 6 months

Text

The Complete Octopath Traveler OST is now here for you to enjoy!

Check out the list below the readmore for quick access to all tracks.

Disc 1:

Octopath Traveler - Main Theme

Ophilia, the Cleric

Cyrus, the Scholar

Tressa, the Merchant

Olberic, the Warrior

Primrose, the Dancer

Alfyn, the Apothecary

Therion, the Thief

H'aanit, the Hunter

The Frostlands

The Flatlands

The Coastlands

The Highlands

The Sunlands

The Riverlands

The Cliftlands

The Woodlands

Disc 2:

Flamesgrace, Guiding Light

Melancholy

Atlasdam, Seat of Learning

Tranquil Days

A Sea Breeze Blows

How Amusing!

Cobbleston, Nestled in the Hills

Tension

A Brief Respite

Dark Caverns

Battle I

Victory Fanfare

Requiem for the Fallen

Sunshade, City of Pleasures

On a Knife's Edge

Clearbrook, by the Pristine Waters

Reminiscence

A Settlement in the Red Bluffs

Discord

My Quiet Forest Home

Determination

Beneath the Surface

Creeping Dread

Decisive Battle I

Disc 3:

Battle II

Town Veiled in White

Gazing over the Great Plains

Enveloped in Kindness

Grandport, Center of Commerce

Among Stately Peaks

Sorrow

The Trees Have Eyes

Despair

Decisive Battle II

Oasis in the Sparkling Sands

River of Life

Bonds of Friendship

Orewell, Beneath the Crags

Victors Hollow, Jewel of The Forest

Jubilation

Forbidding Corridors

An Ill Omen

Disc 4:

Battle III

They Who Govern Reason

Stolen Dreams, Lost Light

Pure Evil

For Light

For Truth

For Treasure

For Redemption

For Revenge

For Succor

For Freedom

For Master

Battle at Journeys End

The Gate of Finis

The One They Call the Witch

Moment of Truth

Daughter of The Dark God

Ending Theme

Ophilia Motif

Cyrus Motif

Tressa Motif

Olberic Motif

Primrose Motif

Alfyn Motif

Therion Motif

H'aanit Motif

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flower-seeks-the-moon · 3 months

Text

Tender

My entry for the Hey Sweetheart, 2024 challenge on @ficwip. Also posted on AO3.

Your hands, your hands,

Fall upon mine as waves upon the sands.

O, soft as moonlight on the evening rose,

That but to moonlight will its sweet unclose,

Your hands, your hands,

Fall upon mine, and my hands open as

That evening primrose opens when the hot hours pass.

— John Frederick Freedman, Hands

For all that he teases her about how well he knows her, Wisteria wonders if he has any inkling of just how much everything comes into sharper focus for her when he enters any room.

He’s not the only observant one, between the two of them.

“Darling.” His thumb rubs circles on the back of her hand, a gesture as familiar as breathing after the countless times he’s done so. “You’ve been deep in thought for a while. Care to spare your lover a moment to share what’s on your mind?”

She looks at him, drawn from her absent staring at the expanse of the park he’s taken her to.

In the splendor of autumn, deep within the golden boughs and quaint streets of his hometown, she can see how well the season suits him. Despite his initial unease at returning to Golden Grove, Baxter seems to be holding up pretty well, an unspoken weight lifting off his shoulders as he takes in the - in his own words - largely unchanged streets and the woods that surround them. His eyes are soft as ever when they glance over at her, a familiar deep brown that keeps her grounded.

Her mind wanders down odd paths and tends to float away from the present, like the pale clouds that her own eyes are reminiscent of. Her friends have always teased her that one day she might float too far out of reach for any of them - in fact, she has almost done so, the year that she silenced herself for fear of being a burden on Terry, Miranda, and Cove.

And yet, Wisteria realizes, that same wandering cloud always has a place to come home to. It’s the deep earth and ancient heartwood that her heart sings for, as a small bird coming home to roost on the tall branches of an old oak tree.

“You,” she replies, fingers entwining tighter with his. “I’m thinking about you.”

I think a worryingly large amount about you. Of your hands, of your eyes, of the way your smile feels more tangible instead of dreamlike when you look at me. I wonder why you’re so fascinated with me, when you’re much more interesting.

But Terry told me that it’s normal to think that much about people that you love.

She has noted long before how easily some of her statements can make him flush, for all that she didn’t mean to do it. Wisteria watches with no small amount of interest at the red that creeps over his cheeks. It’s a mystery to her how he seems so surprised at times when she’s always been direct about her affections.

One day, she hopes that Baxter Ward will no longer be so startled at the notion of how he’s wanted.

To his credit, he recovers in record time. With a crooked grin on his face, he tugs her closer. She scoots across the park bench, heart skipping a beat (or several) when his fingers hold her chin in place to tilt it up.

“Only good things on your mind, I hope?”

She crinkles her nose up at him but doesn’t deny it, making him chuckle under his breath. “Just thinking about how your hands sometimes tell me more than your words, you smooth operator.”

He stills against her as she blinks up at him. “Oh? And pray tell, what do they tell you?”

And you call my stare intense?

One of the things she appreciates about him is how long he’ll wait, for her to articulate her thoughts. Back in the summer of their youth, she’d been an impulsive teenager, but her words have become more spare as the years have passed. The confidence with which she says her ‘blunt’ statements is now reserved only for the closest of friends and family.

It’s one of the things that comes with adulthood, she supposes. Rarer smiles, rarer words; she doesn’t want to be too much, cramming herself into something more easily digestible. But Baxter doesn’t want it easy , he wants her.

She has to remind herself of that, sometimes; if she doesn’t, Baxter will make sure she doesn’t forget.

Guess we’ll have to keep reminding each other.

A few beats pass between them. Yet despite the force of his gaze, she never feels threatened. And so she speaks. “When you’re nervous, your hands do this.”

Wisteria copies the gesture with his thumb, keeping her attention solely on his face. The way his breath wavers as the pad of her thumb circles on his skin makes her swallow.

“Indeed?”

She nods, looking down at their joined hands, the way his long, tapered digits seem to dwarf hers. “It comforts you. I’m… glad.”

That she could be a comfort to him in times like this.

It’s not dissimilar to the way she clutches the straps of her messenger bags, and plays with them, whenever something makes her antsy. He’s been holding her hand almost the entire time they returned to Golden Grove. On the flight - business class, because this is Baxter she’s talking about — more and more of his subtle gestures that scream I need comfort started up.

This is a trip they’ve been planning for weeks. It took her moving back closer to her childhood home for him to admit, over dinner, how he wonders from time to time about his old friends.

And so, come a time when their schedules could both afford a small vacation, Baxter Ward takes her to see his town.

A homecoming, after all the years that he’s spent running from the people he’s left hanging. After he reunited with her earlier last year, Wisteria’s a witness to the careful — always so careful, and a little afraid, but he’s trying and I’m so proud — overtures he’s made towards her friends and family. The people in Sunset Bird, who he left confused and maybe a little saddened, after the summer he left.

I was the saddest, she thinks to herself, once the fury that turned my vision red had cleared. But you were all alone, while I had-

Baxter drags a hand through his fringe, pulling her back from memory lane. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth at the gesture. “And when you’re unsure of what to say, you do that.” She laughs under her breath at the narrowing of his eyes. “Or the way you run your fingers along the edges of your clothes, or tug at your collar.”

“You do know everything, don’t you?” His voice is far too light for the simmering heat in his stare. She knows what this entails.

It makes her heart pound, but as he told her before, more than once: Wisteria’s always been attracted to a roguish man. And she brings out that side of Baxter, easy as dancing is to him.

“I watch you, a lot.” She mutters, distraction coming in the form of his arm now encircling her waist. His hand is warm, even through the layers of her clothing, dressed as she is for the season. “Does that bother you?”

“Oh, Ria.” Laughing low in his throat, Baxter’s free hand tugs at the length of her braid. If she doesn’t watch out, she knows that he’ll undo it, fond as he is of the ink-black strands. “Surely, you know me better than that. We’re rather in the same position. I watch you a lot, too.”

It’s rather unfair, she thinks, how quick he is to rob her of her breath with just one look. When she eyes him, wordless, he pulls her onto his lap. Public park be damned, it seems. He meant to show her the place where he used to ride a bike, carefree as a child, with his younger friends and the ballet dancer who first caught his heart. She’s always been curious about Qiu Lin, and the way Baxter spoke of their love for their neighbor.

That’s always the thing with Baxter Ward, isn’t it?

He has a way of spinning the simplest of childhood memories into something out of a romance novel, even if he’s only the observer and not the participant.

This is the furthest thing from her mind now that he has her astride his long legs.

“When you’re this quiet,” he breathes, smile all wicked and face bright. “And uncertain of what to say next, you’ll avoid my eyes and pinch your brow - like so.” She does exactly that, making him laugh. As his chest rumbles, she grabs his shoulders, digging her fingers into the fine fabric of his turtleneck.

His lips crush against hers, and she sighs into his mouth. By the time they part for air, she's holding on to the front of his clothes like it's a lifeline and she, a drowning woman.

As always, he’s happy to let her be as rough as she ends up being with his clothes. The indulgent smirk on his face makes her want to act up.

Wisteria glowers at the dark material when she realizes how it covers his throat. “Right.”

Only to stop short when he speaks, voice low in her ear. “And you’ll stare at the birthmark on my neck like it holds all the answers to your questions. Hmm?” He cups the back of her head as she ducks, the fabric of his sweater a shield between her burning face and the rest of the world. She sits still against him; the rest of the world fades around them, until all that she can sense is the hammering of his pulse, the spice of his floral fragrance, and the comforting warmth he gives off.

So fucking distracting.

And she nods against him, not trusting the right words to come to her.

Baxter hums in satisfaction; she can imagine his face as he tilts his head. Pretending at his effortless nonchalance, even as his heart jackhammers much like hers.

“Thought so.”

This incorrigible man. He’s lucky he’s so damn cute.

He doesn’t let up. As his hands wander down her sides to rest on her hips, she feels his lips move against her skin.

Once she looks up, he pounces.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, well aware of how flushed the tips of her ears are. “Have I told you how much comfort you bring me, when I long to run from the things that frighten me so? You have quite the power over me, impossible little siren.” He leans in, letting his teeth catch her bottom lip, making her breath stutter. And then there’s that undeniable smirk she feels as he sighs. “It once vexed me, but I must confess: I am utterly besotted with the way you distract me.”

With how hard her fingers dig into his clothes, she’s almost worried she’d tear them up. And yet she suspects she won’t be entirely apologetic about it.

“… Good,” she exhales against him, their breaths mingling. A bracing warmth against the chill of autumn. Wisteria supposes she’ll never have to worry about being cold, when he’s a living furnace. “I guess you knew, huh.”

“You are worried for me, I am aware.” He presses a kiss, light as a butterfly, on the tip of her nose. “You’re very sweet, you know?”

She cocks her head, then demurs. “You’re sweeter.”

It doesn’t even bear much thinking, the words just tumble out. She adds, “But yeah. You were holding on to me quite a lot on the flight.” And even now, his hands never quite leave her, always resting on her back. If his arm isn’t already around her waist, or her fingers entwined with his. Baxter is a very tactile person, she’s long realized, even when they were younger. “You look like you’re feeling better now, though.”

“Hm, I wonder why.” He shares a dry look with her. “But I am doing rather well now, I must admit. This place feels smaller now.” The latter words are almost too low for her to hear. “To think that I once circled these same paths with a bicycle, with them…”

Leaning back, she takes in the view once again. It’s an alien view, for she’s never really left the seaside even when she moved out of her mother’s home and found her own place. As a few stray leaves blow across the pavement, she admires their colors. They’re all pretty shades that she’s more familiar identifying with a sunset across the horizon, shining over a boundless expanse of rippling water.

The dark-haired man below her, his eyes like molten honey, further completes the picturesque place.

“This is a nice place to play in.”

She tries to imagine it: young Baxter, cheeks fuller and small face bright as he puts foot to pedal, zipping past this bench. His friends’ laughter, high-pitched and childish. Would he laugh openly, to join in with the other children? Wisteria stifles a chuckle, and decides that he’s closer to smirking his amusement.

“What are you smiling about, I wonder?” He tugs her back against him, not that she ever left his lap. When her eyes flicker back to his face, he raises a brow.

Returning his look, she lifts her shoulder in one careless shrug. Might as well explain her thoughts to Mister Curious. “Just trying to imagine a kid — you on a bike, racing your buddies. I bet it was all black and white, and your helmet all fancy.”

Baxter snorts, briefly covering his mouth. “You’re correct in that assumption. I was no racer, however. Such exploits were more the territory of Autumn and Renee.” Hmm, she supposes not, remembering his words about how proper he was expected to be. As he looks down at her, his cheek dimples as he grins. “Much like you are no surfer, despite your proximity to the Holdens.”

“You and Cove are never going to let me forget how I fell off that surfboard, aren’t you?”

Well. It was only last summer, so it’d be pretty hard to forget. What she didn’t anticipate was how the two men would join forces to poke fun at her. Traitors.

He has the audacity to chortle. “No,” he sing-songs the answer, though he wraps his arms tightly around her waist. “I was a tad worried, however, before I remembered that you know how to swim much better than I do. Had I been there with you, perhaps I would have caught you, much the same way I came to your rescue across that log on our hike.”

“Oh no,” she intones, mock-serious. “Whatever shall I do, without you? Freshwater and saltwater, I’ve got so many choices to take a deep dive in, here.”

His answer is a full-bodied laugh. Throwing his head back, he leans against the back of the bench and jostles her on his legs. He’s quick to steady her, though his laughter doesn’t subside. A few of the most adorable snorts she's ever heard intersperse between his giggles.

Wisteria once again wonders if she’s this good at comedy, or if Baxter is just easy to please.

And then she promptly decides she doesn’t care; it’s wonderful; to hear him so unrestrained is a gift. She cups his face in her palms, leaning in enraptured, soaking up his joy. Unfiltered, his laughter is something she ought to bottle up and save for a rainy day. It's hot peppermint tea with just the right spoonful of honey, drunk before a roaring fireplace, shared with the one who holds her heart in his hands.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” she scoffs, lowering her lashes and pretending to think. “Remember that time you clung to me when the tiniest crab ran over your foot? I think you need me more than I need you.”

Baxter just bares his teeth at her, unrepentant and warm and all hers. He reaches up and engulfs her hands in his. “That’s all true, Wisteria. I implore you, do continue to be my valiant protector against the horrors which lurk in the sea.”

“Nah, you can just borrow Cove for that.”

“I doubt Derek would appreciate me taking away his boyfriend when I already have you here.”

A third voice rings out, interrupting her would-be retort.

“Looking really comfortable there, Baxter Ward.”

Neither of them is the type to jump apart, even caught like this. She simply turns enough to watch the stranger - to her, at least - sidling up the path. Her brows rise, appreciative, at the tousled deep red hair and freckled, elfin face. Now this is one pretty lady.

She arches a brow at her partner, the urge to tease returning full-force. “Say, Baxter. How did you have a crush on Autumn, when your other friend’s this pretty?”

The pretty lady blinks, owlish, at her; her cheeks turn pink even as she smiles politely. “You’re not what I expected. Wisteria, was it? I think we’ll get along pretty well.”

She feels a deep sigh against her. Baxter’s chest heaves, dramatic as ever, as he grasps the front of his shirt with his palm. “I did not come here to reunite with my friends, only for my partner to be stolen away from me.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she scoffs, even as she hears his friend snicker. So much for dignified first impressions, they're already a pair of clowns in front of his childhood friends. “I was only questioning your taste as a thirteen-year-old.”

“Ah, but you slander yourself. You were my next crush, as a fourteen-year-old.”

Goddamn it. He has a point there.

“Autumn would be interested to hear more about that, once they get here.” Renee inserts herself into the conversation, pinning her childhood bestfriend with her stare. “They’ll be here pretty soon, with their girlfriend and Tamarack.”

“That’s wonderful.” He coughs, tilting his head to meet Renee Murray’s eyes. And she can see it: the uncertainty tensing his features, in the split-second before it passes and the distant smile that hurts her comes to the fore. "I see that life has treated you quite well."

She sucks in a breath and pokes his cheek hard, making him drop the act.

It’ll take a while for him to get past his initial, instinctive reaction to pull away . Not when there’s still guilt weighing down on his shoulders for the friends he abandoned; as she hears it, he was… unavailable at a time when they needed him most.

‘I was caught up in my own self-loathing, but the way I utterly forgot about their struggles was unforgivable in my eyes.'

Baxter makes an aborted motion to hold on to her, when she scrambles off his lap. She silences his worry with a quelling look, holding her hand out to him once she’s straightened up. The fragility of his smile has never been clearer, except for these moments, and she swears to protect it in any way possible.

For all that he’s afraid of facing his friends, he’s fearless when it comes to showing his affection for her. There is no hesitation when he places his hand — and his trust — in hers, squeezing her tight before he stands.

Feeling Renee Murray’s attention on her, she turns and observes her. She sees a firmness on this woman’s face as she approaches her old childhood friend, only to turn to Wisteria. And then, it softens when their gazes meet, and her lips curve up in response. There’s no resentment in those eyes, she can tell that much.

A good sign, perhaps. These are the people who saw Baxter in his childhood, who were there for him as much as he allowed them to be, back when he was a ‘stuck-up’ boy.

Wisteria very much wants him to reclaim a piece of his boyhood, stolen from him by the years of dismissing his place within this town.

His fingers tighten around hers, once more, the pad of his thumb running across her skin. A wordless thanks.

“Renee,” her love, faltering yet so brave, begins to take the first step back towards his friends. “It’s been quite some time since I last saw you.” He takes a fortifying breath, and continues. “Thank you for accepting my email.”

A sudden wind rustles the fallen leaves at their feet, nipping at their noses and cheeks and heralding the coming of changes that are a long time coming. She takes a look upwards, lifting her free hand to capture a golden leaf out of the air. As the two friends reunite, Wisteria presses her lips to this little incarnation of fall.

Please let him be alright.

She opens her palm and lets the breeze take it away, carrying all her wishes for the years ahead. Healing, for the man beside her; more kisses shared underneath this same sky, throughout all the seasons. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Him, surrounded by all their loved ones and flourishing like a tree soaking up a gentle rain.

The worst has come to pass, and here they are now. Though all things may end at some point, there are countless little ways to begin anew.

From here, there’s nowhere to go but up.

#hey sweetheart #ficwip #our life: beginnings & always #olba #baxter ward #fanfiction #happy valentines!#luna's fics #baxter ward x mc

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