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saintshigaraki · 3 years

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THESE ARE HARD TIMES FOR DREAMERS

title from bones by ms mr

pairing: yandere nanami kento x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

excerpt: You wish you’d studied the stars more, ingrained them so deeply into your psyche that you’d carry the night sky with you, always.

You wish they’d never been stolen from you in the first place.

a/n: nanami if ur reading this i’m free thursday night.

tags: yandere, angst, reader is once again full of rage, nanami love what have you done, overuse of the word hate

warnings: yandere tendencies, obsessive and possessive behavior, slight infantilization, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting (?), kidnapping, slight stockholm syndrome, mention of past suicide attempt

MDNI!

You can’t exactly pinpoint where it all went south. There’s not a specific date that stands out to you when you actively noticed things taking a turn for the worst. It’s like that fable. About the frog slowly being boiled alive. Except, in this case, the frog is you and the boiling water is Nanami. And in this case, this is not some story your mom used to read to you about the dangers of gradual escalation, it’s your life. If you can even call this monotonous hell you’re living a life.

You’ve got to hand it to him, you really didn’t see it coming. Nanami’s always been smart like that. Even now, after everything, or maybe even especially now, after everything, you can’t deny that.

You don’t bother moving from where you lay, sprawled out on the floor, when you hear the first click of many locks signaling that your sweet and doting lover has returned.

You used to try to rush him, or get the jump on him with the heaviest thing you could find. Once you started to get really desperate, you just screamed over his shoulder before he had time to clamp a large hand over your mouth.

None of it ever worked, of course.

It was months ago that you decided hopeless escape attempts simply weren’t worth Nanami’s wrath. He’s faster than you, stronger than you, and far bigger. And he always will be.

When your relationship with Nanami was still somewhat normal (though looking back you can’t help but notice all the things that weren’t normal, you suppose hindsight really can be quite the bitch in that regard) you never really thought too hard about how much stronger he was compared to you. In some ways, it might’ve even been comforting, instead of just horribly depressing. No one could touch you when your hand was tucked in his.

It hurts more than you’d like to admit that something you once found such solace in, is now what stands between you and any semblance of normalcy and shred of happiness.

(And fresh air. God, you miss fresh air so much it hurts, a dull never-ceasing ache deep in your chest. You miss the stars too. Sometimes, when you’re laying on the floor like you are now or in the dead of night when it’s all you can do to swallow down your screams, you try to map out constellations on the ceiling. You’re not very good at it though, and the few constellations you actually remember are starting to slip from your memory like water through fingers, no matter how desperately you try to hold onto them.

You wish you’d studied the stars more, ingrained them so deeply into your psyche that you’d carry the night sky with you, always.

You wish they’d never been stolen from you in the first place.)

It takes Nanami’s slightly disapproving hum to snap you out of your celestial spiraling.

You tilt your head back, just enough to find he’s towering over you. His mouth set in a grim line. His glasses, jacket, and tie have already been discarded, his shirt rolled up to his forearms. The sight of him like this use to make your cheeks burn. Now, it’s hard to rein in the urge to spit at his feet and hiss out every seething thought you have about him burning below the surface.

But the lecture you’d receive after a ‘tantrum’ like that wouldn’t be worth it. He always manages to twist your words, your own feelings, sometimes even your very sense of self, until you can hardly tell what’s up and what’s down. Until you can hardly distinguish your reality from his. Until all you can hear is Nanami’s voice in your ear, reminding you of everything you’ll never be. Of just how helpless you are.

(It’s like his hands are around your throat, choking and choking and choking.)

And once you’re nothing but a sobbing heap on the floor, he’ll pull you into his lap, tuck your face against the curve of his shoulder, and rub soothing circles into your back while saying something along the lines of ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll always be here take care of you’ until your sobs have quieted to the occasional hiccup.

You hate it, how he manages to make you feel so dependent on him. He’s so, so good at knowing just what string to pull so that you’ll unravel completely, just so he can put you back together again with his painstakingly gentle hands.

Nanami’s smart like that.

So, you’ve learned to bite your tongue.

“You’re insistence on laying on the dirty floor when we have a perfectly good couch and bed truly astounds me,” he says, monotone.

You don’t justify his sarcasm with a response, partly to stall what inevitably will come after this and partly to annoy him. Nanami doesn’t like it when you ignore him. It’s one of the few things you have the power to do that manages to get under his skin.

It’s these little rebellions, you’ve found, that make all the difference.

You eye the couch warily, it’s plush and huge. The perfect place for an afternoon nap. Nanami had traded out the smaller one he’d had before, for this one, a few months after you’d started dating. He’d wanted one big enough that you two could comfortably lay together as you slept and he read. You spent countless hours there, tucked into his side, with the setting sun warming your skin.

It’s also where you had told him that you wanted to end things. That he’d gotten too overbearing, too controlling. That you felt suffocated. That you still loved him dearly, but that you couldn’t do this anymore. It’s where you left him as you walked out with only a single bag in hand.

That night you went to sleep in some shady motel room and woke up back in Nanami’s bed with a padded handcuff chaining you to the frame.

These memories from before have a way of coming back to haunt you, they pass through the walls, whispering poison in your ears, caressing your skin one moment just to dig their claws in deep the next.

They mock you as you sit and rot and dream of stars you’ll never see again.

“You’re stalling.” He always manages to sound so distinctly unimpressed with you whenever you don’t follow one of his unwritten rules (and God even if you were actively trying to follow them, there are so many that keeping track of them is nothing short of an impossible feat).

You finally get to your feet, wringing your hands in a way that you know makes you look weak and pathetic. Just the way Nanami likes you so that he can swoop in and take such good care of his little darling love.

“Kento, I-”

“Save it,” he says, already walking towards the bedroom.

You could put up a fight, but all that’d do is make him angry, and then you’d have to do what he wanted anyway and deal with being tethered back to the bed for a few days while Nanami fusses over you like some sort of deranged mother hen.

You make your way over to the bedroom, already starting to strip, ready to get this over with as soon as possible.

You’re half-naked by the time you enter his room.

Even after months and months of this, the humiliation of standing nearly naked in front of him while he stays fully dressed never dulls, it’s still just as sharp and awful as the first time he made you do it.

(It’s like you’re peeling back your own skin, defenseless as he rubs salt in the wound.)

You suppose you should feel lucky that he lets you keep on your bra and underwear. Not that the undergarments he bought you really cover all that much, but in these four walls, beggars can’t exactly be choosers.

He takes off his watch, setting it carefully onto his dresser before walking over to you and starting his nightly inspection for any cuts or bruises you may have received (or given yourself) throughout the day while he was off at work. Off in the world you’ll never see again. Just the thought is enough to make you want to scream.

You used to be able to wiggle your way out of this, before the incident, as Nanami has dubbed it, but now it’d be a cold day in hell before he doesn’t painstakingly go over (almost) every inch of your skin with a careful eye and calloused hands.

His thumb always brushes terribly gently over the scar a few centimeters to the right of one of your jugular veins, where you had attempted to slit your throat after you realized that you would probably never escape this place. Never escape him.

You’d never seen Nanami as scared as when he walked in on you holding a knife to your throat. And you’d never seen him as angry as after he’d wrenched it from your hand using a type of speed that shouldn’t even be humanly possible.

He took a full month off work after that which coincidently also happened to be the worst fucking month of your life.

He cups your face in his large hand and presses a kiss to your temple. A sign that he’s deemed you just as pristine as when he left you and that he’s very pleased by it.

You want to bite his hand. You want to rip his flesh from the bone. You want to hold his heart in your hand and crush it.

(You want to go home. You want to feel the earth beneath your bare feet. You want to sit on a roof in your childhood neighborhood and watch the sun dip below the horizon and drown the world in golden light. You want to step out on an autumn day with winter just around the corner and smell the crispness in the air, feel it claw its way into your lungs.

You want to remember what it’s like to be human.)

Nanami’s lips are on yours before you can think, soft and enticing. You could push him away or just say no. He’d listen. Not even he can apparently justifying forcing you.

(We all have our limits, don’t we?)

But you don’t. You haven’t in a long while. And you hate yourself for it more than you could ever hate him.

He loses his shirt rather quickly and you manage to discard your bra before he lifts you up and tosses you on the bed. You don’t get a second to breathe before he’s over you, monstrous and awful and so terribly beautiful.

He takes a moment to caress your face, his knuckles brushing over your cheek so tenderly that it nearly makes you sick. You’re thankful when he finally says, “Open up.”

You do as he says and in the next second two of his fingers are stuffed into your waiting mouth.

“Suck.”

And you do, without hesitation, because you know what’s coming next. You know that for the next hour or so, there’ll be no denying the fact that you’re alive, that you’re not some ghost haunting these halls. It’ll prove that it’s blood that flows through your veins instead of stone, that you have not yet started to rot in your own skin.

He he pulls his fingers from your mouth without a word and leaves a trail of burning kisses down your sternum and stomach. He wastes no time pulling your underwear off and attaching his calloused thumb to your clit, rubbing tight little circles in a way that has you keening almost immediately.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time you’re wet enough for him to comfortably slip a finger in. Just one of them reaches spots you never quite manage to hit on your own, and you hate how much you love it. It has you moaning, nearly loud enough to drown out the lewd squelching by the time he adds a second finger.

“You’re so, so good for me,” he murmurs, voice rough. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You hate that the praise has you clenching his fingers in a near vice grip. You hate that he still affects you in any way after what he’s done to you. After what he’s reduced you to.

You don’t have time to stew in your self-loathing before his fingers find that spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

(And this is the reason you don’t push him away.

You’ll never step foot under the night sky again. But here, with his fingers hitting all the right spots in your cunt, you’ll make your own galaxy and pretend that it holds a candle to the real thing.)

With the pace he sets, his constant low grunts of just how lovely you are creaming around his fingers, and the way his thumb never lets up on your puffy clit, you’re coming within minutes, you spasm around his digits so hard that the stars you so love burst behind your tightly shut eyelids.

He eases his fingers out of you and licks them clean, his dark eyes half-lidded and nearly glowing in the dimly lit bedroom, burning straight through you.

You’re the one to look away first. You always are. Shame settling heavily in your gut. Shame that you enjoyed it, shame that you didn’t push him, shame that you’ll do this all over again tomorrow.

When he finally sinks into you, he does it slowly. Sometimes you wish he wouldn’t, sometimes you wish he’d make it hurt. It’d be easier to hate him instead of yourself if he did.

When Kento fucks you like this, chest to chest, there’s not a single part of you not swallowed whole by him.

You hate it.

You hate yourself more for moaning when he changes the angle and starts fucking you so hard and fast that your hands can’t help but scramble for anything to hang on to, they tear down his back, drawing blood which seems to only spur him on to go harder.

“Kento I-- I’m-,” but you can’t finish the sentence, not when you can feel your orgasm teetering on the edge, so, so close that it’s painful, you just need-

“You want to come?” He asks, his voice annoyingly steady.

It’s unfair of him to expect you to be able to answer when he has you nearly folded in half. You can hardly even think.

(But when has Kento ever really been fair?)

“Use your words, darling.” His lips are right against your ear, his tone unbearably condescending, and maybe a bit mocking.

You hate him for asking you to beg.

You hate yourself more for giving in.

“Kento, please,” you whine.

He laughs, low and mean, you feel it in your own chest and for a moment it really is as though you are nothing but an extension of him, a limb left useless without Nanami guiding you. You hate it. You hate it.

Eventually, he relents and brings his thumb back down to your clit, resuming those tight, firm circles, and that’s all you needed to finally push you over the edge.

This time, when you come, there are no stars to comfort you. Just Kento’s eyes, bright and burning.

Your cunt clamping down on his cock is all it takes for him to let out a low groan and still completely inside you, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt is awful in it’s familiarity.

His eyes finally close as he drops his forehead against yours, breathing your air and forcing you to breathe his.

He closes the gap between your lips, gently, sweetly. You can almost pretend for a moment that this is the Kento you knew years ago. Who held you so sweetly and smiled when you smiled.

You don’t realize you’re crying until he kisses your temple tenderly and wipes away your tears. He’s not worried, you cry more often than not after he fucks you. You don’t really want to think about why.

You let your mind wander as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom, where in a minute he’ll run a warm bath for you two to share, then afterwards he’ll dry you off with the utmost tenderness, then dress you himself before carrying you to the kitchen where he’ll set you on the counter as he makes dinner (you won’t be allowed to help, of course) then he’ll force every last bite down your throat if you refuse to eat (he hasn’t had to do that in a long while though), then he’ll have you curl up on his lap, head tucked into his shoulder, as he reads. After about an hour he’ll bring you back to the bathroom where he’ll brush your teeth for you because you never do it right, and then he’ll drag you into bed no later than 10:30 PM so that you can do it all over again tomorrow.

“Do you want the lavender or rose soap today?” Nanami asks you.

You ignore him in favor of trying to remember the details of your galaxy, but it’s already faded away to nothing by the time you close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: i feel like it was painfully obvious that this was my first attempt ever at smut. i’m so sorry yall. i really did try.

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

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Summer Wine

This is my gift fic for the Levihan University servers Christmas in July event! My giftee was the wonderful _myunet on twitter and instagram - I went with the summer holidays theme, and we all know I’m a sucker for childhood friends, so... I hope you enjoy :)

“This is a stupid idea.”

Levi trailed helplessly behind Hange as she shimmied along the crack of an alley between two barns, a narrow shortcut from the main yard to the back field that kept them out of view of the main house. She held a bottle of wine in one hand, cool from the fridge, condensation beading as the chill glass met the stuffy summer heat. It was getting late, the ghost of a moon and a smattering of stars decorating a purple sky overhead, while the horizon bled deep pink where the sun dipped below the skyline.

The set of the sun did little to temper the heat. The air was muggy and stagnant, heavy on his skin as Levi broke out at the end of the alleyway and trotted to catch up with Hange's longer strides. She twisted quickly to look at him, walking backwards past the lamb shed to shoot him a wicked smile, wiggling the bottle.

"It'll be fun!" She said brightly. "And it's not stupid if it's fun."

She turned before he had time to argue, dancing on her toes to keep her footing as they crossed onto the field. The grass had been clipped short and left to dry in the sun, and in the still, quiet night the crunch of it underfoot was deafening. Hange hummed absently as she picked her way over to the haystack, swinging the bottle at her side.

They were out of sight of the house, here, but Levi still felt a little uneasy. Hange's parents weren't strict, but this might just push the boundaries of their tolerance—clambering around the farm yard in the growing dark was bad enough, nevermind doing it with a belly full of wine they were both too young and too dumb to drink. But the day had been unbearably hot, and the wine was cool, and Hange's summer holiday had been filled with too much work, early mornings and busy days and not enough time to relax and enjoy a few weeks of academic freedom, and she'd watched one too many movies with underage drinking and maybe she'd felt envious, maybe she'd felt inspired. She'd texted Levi asking if he wanted to do something fun, and Levi had agreed without asking too many questions, and now here they are.

Hange was toeing her shoes off at the base of the silage stack. 'So we don't put holes in the plastic,' she'd told him, years and years ago, when they were almost too small to clamber up even one bale. She hoisted herself up with ease now, and Levi did the same, following her path up each layer of round, wrapped bales. The plastic stuck to the soles of Hange's bare feet ahead of him, tacking and squeaking as she climbed. The sun had shifted from the field hours ago, but the black wrapping was still warm beneath his palms, and the hay smell was overpowering, woody and still fresh. It will change, as the year goes on and the cut grass ferments into something sweeter, richer, more earthy, but the bales were freshly gathered, the summer still young.

Hange plopped down right in the middle of the top of the pile, sinking into the cleft between two bales. She wriggled to adjust until she was comfortable, dipped in a shallow V with her back against one bale and her legs against the other. She patted the space beside her, grinning, and Levi settled into it.

The air shifted some, this high up. The breeze was light and bare, but it felt refreshing after the oppressive stillness they'd endured all day. Hange unscrewed the lid from the bottle and took a tentative sniff. She winced.

"Smells awful," she said. And then she took a sip.

Hange's face screwed up the moment the drink hit her tongue, eyes squeezing shut and lips pursing as she struggled to swallow it. She shook her head, shuddering, and held out the bottle. "Your turn."

Levi eyed it warily. Hange nudged it against his chest. "C'mon, it's not so bad."

Levi raised a brow at her. "You look like you drank piss."

"It's fine," she said, and to prove her point she took another, bigger sip. She stifled her reaction, but Levi could see the way her throat bobbed reflexively, swallowing air, and the way her eyes watered behind her glasses. Levi rolled his eyes at her.

"Convincing," he said. Hange nudged him with the bottle again, and again, and again, until he grabbed it, if only to stop her incessant poking.

"I think this counts as peer pressure," Levi said, taking the bottle from her grip. Hange grinned widely.

"Absolutely. Drink."

Levi didn't dare smell it. He eyed the pale liquid warily for a moment, then sucked in a breath and pulled the bottle to his lips, tipping it back.

Hange was right. It wasn't bad. It was fucking disgusting. The drink was cold and flat, but it fizzed strangely on his tongue and burned as it slid down his throat, settling hot and uneasy in his gut. The taste lingered unpleasantly, tart and acidic. His expression soured uncontrollably, and beside him, Hange let out a raucous laugh.

"Tastes like drinking piss," Levi said.

"It's vile," Hange agreed. Still, she took the bottle from him, and drank another mouthful down. "God, how does mum like this?"

Levi shrugged his shoulders. The strangest thing was, now that the burn had settled, his stomach felt pleasantly warm. The bitter taste had abated into something mild, sweeter and a little fruity on his tongue. He took the bottle from Hange and drank again.

Hange settled back against the bale and rubbed her hands over her face, pushing her glasses out of the way to grind her knuckles into her eyes. She looked worn, tired. Her cheeks and nose were pink and raw from exposure to the sun, and her exhaustion had bruised her eyes, leaving the skin puffy and purple.

She sighed heavily. "This summer sucks."

Levi lowered the bottle, but said nothing. He had grown used to spending almost every waking second of the summer holidays with Hange—when they were small, too small to play without supervision, Hange had passed the summer days with Levi and his mother while her family worked the farm, and then when they were older, free to exore, they'd filled their time with play on the farm, Levi dutifully trailing Hange wherever she went.

Hange had always been a lively, extroverted kid, a stark contrast to Levi's quiet, insular nature, and at times he had found her boundless energy overwhelming. Too touchy, too loud. Too much. But Hange never minded that he rarely spoke, that he shied away from people, quiet and brooding to mask his discomfort, and with time, Levi had grown used to her. They fell into an easy routine with each new summer, finding new ways to fill their time—but this year was the first since Hange's brother had moved away, and they were one hand short on the farm. Hange had helped in the past, odd jobs here and there throughout the year, but this summer was intensive, task after task from dawn until dusk, with barely a moment to breathe. Levi had hardly seen her for the last three weeks, and likely wouldn't see much of her at all until school started up again. It was weird, too quiet and too still without her.

She let out a frustrated sound and plucked the bottle from his hand, gulping from it, this time. She looked ridiculous, puckering her lips when she lowered the bottle. "I want a day off. We haven't had time to do anything."

"We're doing something now," Levi said. Hange laughed, low in her throat, and raised the bottle as though to taste his word, before she drank again. With the moon high and full, Levi could see the colour in her face, flushed pink from the alcohol, and her eyes were growing glasses behind her lenses. He wondered if she was feeling the drink as much as he was—his head was light, a little woozy, but his limbs felt weighty and graceless, fingers fumbling to take the bottle back from Hange, wrapping clumsily over her hand as he did, and has her skin always been this soft? Her hand felt impossibly smooth beneath his fingertips, and when she laughed again, her voice rang brighter than usual, chiming in his ears. The effect was strangely dizzying.

"We are," she said, after a time. "We are doing something now. It's nice. I've missed it—I've missed you."

Levi hummed in acknowledgement. Things like this, they didn't come easy to him; words of affection fell from Hange's lips so often, without pause or debate, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, while Levi stuttered and stumbled in his own head for too long before inevitably saying nothing. He had missed Hange, had felt a little lost without her, bored and restless at home. Saying as much was hard. Levi held out the bottle for her instead, and watched as she tipped her head back to drink it.

The alcohol made him feel weightless and floaty, absent, strange—so strange, but it wasn't a bad feeling. He watched the way Hange's lips pressed plump against the mouth of the bottle, the way strands of her hair had fallen from her messy ponytail, and curled loosely against her neck. An unfamiliar heat spread in his chest, his belly, his cheeks. He looked quickly away.

The bottle was a little over half empty when Hange set it to one side, reclining back against the curve of the bale and settling her hands on her stomach, staring up at the starry sky. They had so much space, up here, plenty of room to spread out, but Hange had moved until they were so close they were touching, pressed together at shoulder and hip and knee. Levi wasn't one for so much physical contact, but the wine made him warm and pleasantly heavy, and there was something nice about the way Hange felt against his side—comfortable, almost, but that isn't quite right, because comfortable would imply he was relaxed, and Levi didn't feel relaxed at all.

Touching Hange wasn't new to him. She was the most tactile person he knew, only content with her arm linked through his, her feet in his lap, her weight leaning on his side, some point of connection between them. She had been the same for as long as Levi could recall, and he had grown used to it. Sometimes, he even liked it.

But it never made him feel quite like he did now; restless, itching to press impossibly closer, to feel impossibly more.

"We could've done so much more though," Hange said. "We could've gone to the cinema—"

"—I already told you, I'm not watching the Shrek anniversary screening with you."

Hange dutifully ignore him. "Or the beach! We could've gone swimming in the sea, maybe, and—ooh, we could have had a 99, I haven't had one in ages."

"You'd shit your pants, stupid. You're lactose intolerant."

Again, Hange waved him off flippantly. "Ice cream is worth it. And maybe we could've camped some—remember when we used to camp in the front field?"

Levi hummed. "Never got any sleep. Too much sugar. Too many bugs."

Hange chuckled at his side.

"It was fun. Although, I think we might be a little too big for the tent now. It'd be a squeeze."

Levi thought about how close they were now, plastered to each other's sides as they stared up at the stars. It might not be so bad, cosy in the canvas of Hange's battered old tent, with a blanket to share and the leftover wine instead of fizzy drinks.

He had intended on keeping that thought quiet, store it somewhere private, but the wine loosed his tongue, and before he could think to stop himself, he said, "it would be nice."

Hange let out a long, rising hum beside him. "Yeah? Maybe I'll look for the tent tomorrow. We could tell scary stories like we used to, and you can pretend you're not frightened by the cows walking around in the next field."

Levi scowled up at the sky. "Just like old times," he said flatly. Hange snickered, digging her elbow into his ribs.

"So cute," she teased. "The only time you've ever been cuddly in your whole life, I bet."

"I was cold."

"It was like, twenty degrees."

Levi dug his elbow back at her. "Fuck off."

Hange squirmed at his side, wriggling away from his prodding. She laughed, breathless, and settled only when Levi stopped poking at her, sighing out a long breath.

"Remember when we tried stargazing?"

"Mm. You just made up your own shitty constellations."

"You believed me."

"I was nine, and stupid."

"Now you're sixteen and—" she cut herself off with a high squeal when Levi jabbed her side again, this time with his fingers, digging deep into the soft tissue beneath her ribs. He relented only when Hange begged him to, panting and strained, laughing loud and full.

Levi lay back to look up at the stars again. He could remember, vividly, the way Hange had pointed up at the distant sky, one long finger tracing nonexistent patterns in the stars. She'd had a lisp, then, still adjusting to her braces, words thick and clumsy when she said, 'See those stars there? There's a tail, and ears, and a big head with huuuuge teeth. That's Catticus Rex.'

Levi hadn't seen it. He had squinted with all his might, but the stars were just stars, random, disjointed. No Catticus Rex in sight. Still, he had said, 'yeah. Cool. What else?' And Hange had showed him Ursula ('like The Little Mermaid?' 'No, like a bear'), and The Big Duck, and one she called Jeffrey, and Levi had discerned nothing, but stupidly pretended all the same.

She was doing just the same now, though her arm was much longer, less weedy, muscle rippling under skin as she extended into his field of vision, drawing a shape in the air. Her voice was deeper than it was back then, and smoother. It sunk right into his chest as she spoke.

"That one is…..Hercules. See it?"

He didn't see it. He saw nothing more than flecks in the sky, swimming strangely in his addled vision.

"No."

Hange sighed, and dropped her arm. "Yeah. Me neither. Everything's moving too much."

Levi snorted. Hange talked on, naming constellations they should be able to see, but it's all purple sky and bright specks that blurred in and out of focus as he blinked, lids terribly heavy, and the way they shimmered made him feel a little nauseous. He rolled his head to the side to look at Hange instead, and—oh, she was close. So close, he could see the stars reflected in the dark of her eyes, and the way the wine had flushed her skin pink, the smattering of freckles over her nose. The breeze blew gently, and up this close Levi could see the way each individual hair on her head lifted and ruffled with it. He could see the length of her lashes and the shadows they cast on her cheeks when she blinked, long and slow; he could see the slope of her nose, her lips, caught in a stupid, absent smile as she stared up at the night sky. When did Hange get so pretty? It must have been a gradual development, but the last Levi could recall, she was a gangly pre-teen with stick limbs and a thin, rakish frame. She was still tall and still thin, but there were subtle curves at her hips that balanced out her broad shoulders, and the puppy fat on her face had disappeared, exposing the sharp line of her jaw and high, prominent cheekbones.

The heat in his chest can't be from the alcohol. They set the wine aside a while ago, so neither could he blame it for the restless energy bubbling under his skin, or the way his fingers twitched at his side, the urge to reach out and trace Hange's profile so sudden and his reflexes so sluggish and addled that his hand was already halfway in the air between them before he could think to stop it.

Hange's head lolled sideways to look at him. At some point, Levi must have shifted the impossible distance between them, for when Hange turned, their noses bumped together. Hange's fringe tickled his brow. He tasted the wine on her breath when she sighed out. His must taste the same, blowing hot over her lips, and her lips—

Levi never thought too much about kissing. He'd never had all that much interest, even now, as a teenager, when almost everyone around him seemed so charged, so eager to try all these new things they'd learned and discovered. Kissing sounded unpleasant, wet and messy and weird, and Levi had never once thought about kissing another person as much as he thought about kissing Hange now.

It must be the wine. That's what Levi told himself. The wine making his head a little fuzzy, his thoughts sluggish, bizarre, unfiltered. Hange was his friend, his best friend, and surely most people don't think about kissing their best friend. But his head was empty save for the way Hange's mouth looked, the way her breath felt on his skin.

Hange kissed him first. At least he thought she did—one moment they weren't kissing, and the next they were, and Levi hadn't meant to move but maybe he had anyway, maybe he had closed what little space was left and brushed his lips against hers, so soft, so light, he wondered if maybe he imagined it. He closed his eyes, head spinning, and Hange pressed her forehead clumsily against his own, resting there.

The world around them spun strangely in the darkness, time a fuzzy, frame thing, warping around them as Hange bumped her mouth to Levi's again and again, each time better and longer and more solid than the last.

And then the sky was a pale, watery blue, sunlight peeking over the distant horizon, as birds chirped loudly, screeching the new day. Levi swallowed, but his mouth was disgustingly dry, tongue like cotton behind his teeth. He blinked against the mild pounding in his head and shifted to ease the ache in his back, but something heavy laid over his chest and legs, pinning him.

Hange.

She lay at his side, contorted into the cleft of the bales, with one leg thrown over Levi's thigh and her arm sprawled across his abdomen. She snored softly in his ear.

Memories of the night rushed him; the picture of Hange under the moonlight, the blush of her face and the lilt of her laughter. The soft press of her lips against his. His face burned at the thought and he looked quickly away from her.

Trying not to disturb her, Levi shuffled, reaching to pull his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. 4:59am. He groaned, back seizing from the uncomfortable sleeping position, and Hange’s breath hitched and stuttered as she woke. She groaned, too, and turned to press her face into the bale, away from the glaring daylight.

“Time is it?” she asked, voice hoarse. Levi told her, and she let out a lamenting moan, rolling onto her back and wincing, unfurling her body and stretching her spine. She looked ridiculous, wrinkles on her cheek from the plastic wrapping and red welts on the bridge of her nose where her glasses had dug into the skin. “Shit. Mum might kill me.”

“Probably. You stole her wine and passed out in a field.”

“Can we count this as camping?” Hange said, laughing a little as she scrubbed at her face. Levi shrugged. He sat up, peeling himself away from the plastic and straightening out his wrinkled clothes.

They were quiet as they climbed down from the haystack. Hange hid the half empty bottle in the long grass by the wall, and led the way quietly towards the alleyway. Hange's quiet made him feel a little uneasy. He hadn’t drunk enough to forget what happened, and he doubted Hange had either, and he had hoped—expected, really—that Hange would be the one to bring it up, needle some kind of discussion out of him. He had relied on it. He couldn't mention it, not with his clumsy, crass tongue; he'd mess it up, say something biting, insulting, something that implied he hated it and that—well, that wasn't true at all.

They were almost at the end of the narrow alley when Hange stopped walking. She turned to him with a tired smile, shoulder-leaning the barn and folding her arms loosely over her chest. Levi shuffled his toe into the dry, crusted dirt. It was hard to look at her.

"I had fun," Hange said, after a short pause. Levi nodded. The air between them felt full, oddly charged, and Levi realised with a start that perhaps, for once, Hange was just as lost for words as he was. He cleared his throat.

"It wasn't bad," he said. Hange rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"I suppose that's the best I'm gonna get, right?"

Levi swallowed. Hange scrutinised him for a time, eyes a little pinched as they scanned over his face. She made him feel terribly exposed, in times like this, when her gaze turned so analytical, picking apart every twitch of his brow or tick of his jaw. He stood, pinned, while she watched him, and then she nodded once, decisive, as though she had come to some conclusion.

She pushed her shoulder off the wall. Levi watched her step closer, her arms dropping to swing at her sides. Her eyes glinted behind her glasses and her face was set, determined, as she stopped with half a foot of space between them.

And then she bent forward, neck craning down to meet him. And she kissed him.

Levi stood frozen. Hange's lips felt dry and chapped, this time, and cooler with the fresh morning air, and there was a stiffness to her, an uncertainty that made her oddly unyielding. It was different to the kisses they'd shared last night; more reserved. Unsure.

She must have noticed Levi's matching posture, spine snapped straight and body held taut in surprise, for she pulled away quickly, straightening up and tilting her head a little to look at him.

"Sorry," she said. "Was that not okay?"

Maybe it shouldn't have been. The night before had been dreamlike, floaty and soft, timeless. He had melted so easily into kissing Hange then, all soft lips and warm breath and the tang of wine on his tongue. A stark contrast to this kiss.

Both made him stomach warm in the strangest way. Both made his heart rattle in his chest.

Both were good.

"It...wasn't bad," he said again. "Nice," he clarified when Hange's questioning gaze searched him once more. Her face broke into a smile, and Levi's cheeks heated.

"Yeah?"

Levi nodded. "Yeah. Your breath smells like arse though."

Hange threw her head back in a laugh that rang down the alleyway. Her eyes were bright when she looked back at him, narrowed by the swell of her cheeks as she smiled, and she leaned forward again. Levi was ready, this time, but Hange didn't kiss him—she opened her mouth wide, and blew hot air right over his nose.

Levi recoiled, and scowled over at her. Hange looked delighted with herself, cackling wickedly and skirting out of his reach when Levi made a grab for her, but the alley was narrow, and Levi was quicker, snagging the front of her shirt in his fist and yanking her back towards him and—

He had intended revenge. Pinching her, poking her, blowing right back because his own breath must smell just as bad, but it was all too easy, with the momentum, to haul her close and kiss her again.

It was incredible, how kissing Hange made him just as dizzy as the wine did.

She withdrew after a few lingering pecks, eyes bright and cheeks pleasantly flushed. "I really have to go."

Levi hummed. Hange seemed hesitant to leave, rocking from heel to toe and chewing on her lip, but then a noise sounded from the main house, the creak of hinges and the thud of a door closing, and she cursed quietly, grimacing.

"Wish me luck," she mumbled under her breath, and then, with one last quick wave, she took off towards the house. Levi watched until she rounded the corner before he skirted the front of the barn and ducked out of the yard, following the road for home.

He rubbed his fingers absently over his lips as he walked, and his cheeks pulled into a small, private smile.

The holidays so far had been boring, without Hange. Lonely. But, he thought, with the memory of Hange's kisses fresh in his mind, this summer didn't suck too badly after all.

#LevihanXmasinJuly #levihan #snk #my writing #I have never felt more stress in my life than I did this weekend trying to get this finished GHJKJHG #don't procrastinate kids!!

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hunflowers · 4 years

Text

Golden

Word Count: 15.3k

Requested? I don’t remember, but you always can here :)

Mood Board

A/N: Lord, have mercy SHE’S FINALLY HERE!!!!! My baby Golden is finally out to the public and can I just say how fucking relieved I am to post it. I love her, I hope you do too <3 little warning: there are mentions of panic attacks in here, and a heart condition (that i did my best to research on) so if you’re uncomfortable, pls don’t read.

special thanks to my soul baby @stylesloveclub for being my biggest support system with this, she’s dedicated to you <3

for anyone reading this, please reblog! it really helps us writers out. okay onward friends!!! lemme know how i did and if you like it *nose boops*

Water. The ocean. Waves. The tide.

Symbolic of life, birth. Can be used to wash away even the most troubling of sins.

O’ahu, Hawaii, home to some of the best surfing destinations in the state, in the country, in the world. Also home to one of the best surfers in the state, in the country, in the world.

Y/N didn’t coin herself that. Not that she’s complaining about it, but she doesn’t surf for the title. She surfs for the freedom. She feels the most alive when her toes dig into the sand as she runs towards the warm, salt oblivion, her novelty yellow and blue surfboard tucked under her arm.

Her whole life she had been surrounded by water. When she was a baby, she always wanted a bath. When she was a toddler, she always wanted to stay in the kiddie pool. And then she got into surfing, and well, the rest is history so-to-speak. Her parents never got themselves involved in the sport professionally but more as a recreational activity. And it was even how they met, so really there was no stopping surfing from flowing through Y/N’s blood.

Her backyard was the ocean, so growing up, it was really the only thing for her to do. It’s what all the kids were doing, and Y/N was no different. She met her best friends on the beach when they were five years old, practicing the basics of surfing, like getting up on the board and finding their balance with the Earth.

Kalani and AJ, two of the best surfers Y/N will ever meet, and two of the purest souls to ever grace her life. They’re madly in love with one another. Have been for as long as they’ve been friends -- so coming up on sixteen years. Y/N is in awe of their relationship, she really is, but being a third-wheel isn’t exactly something she signed up for. Though, she kind of expected it when growing up.

They tried countless times to set her up with someone, but time and time again their matchmaking skills have failed, and Y/N is tired of them pitying her. No, she may not be in a long term relationship, but she hardly has time for a relationship anyway. Especially with competitions coming up, she needs to keep herself focused on surfing rather than some boy who will probably end up breaking her heart.

Well, that was her intention anyway.

October 27th, the first day of the best months out of the year.

And it started just the same as every other year. Y/N woke up at the crack of dawn and threw on her lucky white bathing suit before throwing an apple down her throat. Her surfboard was perched up against the back patio railing, and she swiftly tucked it under her arm as she made her way down the shore, being greeted by the luminescent sun that was swarming the sea in a shade of tangerine and lemon.

Jogging knee deep into water, Y/N sunk her hand just below the surface, swaying it back and forth, taking a deep breath as she felt the cool texture swarm her body. Exhaling slowly, she threw herself down onto her board, paddling onward into the great unknown. The familiar sound of the crashing waves causing her to flinch for a brief moment before comforting her ears as she watches the restless ocean ahead of her, a smile washing over her face as she could basically see her future ahead of her.

Today marks qualifying day, and obviously if she marks as qualified, she moves forward to the Vans Triple Crown. She’s been training all year, her body practically a prune with how much she’s been in the water. But, a minute can’t go to waste, so up until the very last second where she has to head to the north shore, she’s gonna remain in the water and build her intuition with how the day is going to go.

Last year, Y/N had to cut her time short when she was hospitalized the night before the first competition. So, she was all more determined to win the championship that is rightfully hers. Well, in the women’s division at least. Last year was ripped from her right when it was under her nose and she refuses to have a repeat of it.

After her hospitalization, everyone was convinced she’d never return to the water. Despite the ocean being her second home, everyone figured she would turn away -- avoid the embarrassment last year brought upon her. But, it only made her stronger and more determined to prove everyone wrong. No matter how frightening it really was.

Her first wave of the day had her coasting along smoothly, starting her out easy as waves progressively got bigger with the tide. When she got out into the water, the sun had just broken past the horizon line, yet by the time she left, the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky. Her skin felt raw, yet her body was running on adrenaline as she scoffed down the lunch her mom had made her before they banded into the family van and headed to Sunset Beach on the north shore.

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, her leg bouncing subconsciously but furiously as she watched the landscape pass her by through the window. Her typically calming music wasn’t even working as she ran through multiple scenarios in her mind of what could go wrong today and how her day, her week, month, even year could be ruined.

Once outside of the van and on the beach, her parents pulled her close into a tight, warm hug, whispering words of encouragement in her ears, knowing just how important this was for her. Surfing and competitions had always been important to Y/N, but following last year’s downfall, this day was going to make or break whatever is left of her both physically and emotionally.

“Y/N!” she heard her name being called from the distance, the three of them immediately letting go of one another as they exchanged sheepish smiles.

“Y/N!” Was called out again, causing her to turn around and see Kalani running straight for the three of them, waving her arms in a drastic manner to gain her best friend’s attention. “Oh my -- I ran so fast, wow, I need to calm down,” Kalani breathed out, closing Y/N into a firm embrace.

“Save your energy for the waves, babe,” Y/N laughed, wrapping her own arms around Kalani’s frame. The two of them were never inseparable, it was kind of like they were actually glued to the hip together ever since they were children. And a lot of people were surprised they remained best friends through the years, what with both of them always competing in the same surfing competitions battling for the first place spot. And they knew this could be a strain on their relationship, but they decided ever since they were seven years old that they weren’t going to let surfing get between them. No matter what, they were always proud of each other for everything they’ve accomplished and are each other’s number one fans.

Thing is, Y/N tends to snag that first place spot a lot of the time, and Kalani always just misses her, earning her the second spot, right beneath her. But, Kalani has grown to accept that Y/N is better at the sport, and that’s nothing for her to be ashamed of. She’s managed to get a few of her own first place wins, and in her eyes, that’s good enough. She can’t live her life being jealous of her best friend because that’s not healthy, and anyway, surfing is much more Y/N’s livelihood than it is her own, so she’s fine with being second best -- despite what others may think.

Tugging her board off the top of the car, Y/N tucked it beneath her arm as she walked hand-in-hand with Kalani to wherever her family had set up camp on the beach. “Where’s AJ?” Y/N wondered, as she looked out into the water and saw no one out in it.

“The boys are starting soon, so he’s with Nav,” Kalani said, finally stopping in front of her parents and younger brother, and AJ’s older brother.

“Y/N!” They greeted, getting up from their chairs to kiss the girl on the cheek before greeting her parents. “It’s so great to see you back here,” Kalani’s mom smiled, pinching Y/N’s cheek before plopping herself back down under the sun.

They all began to catch up with one another since it’s been awhile they’ve all gotten together, all of them falling into old habits as if it hadn’t been months since they were last together. Y/N tried to engage in as much conversation as possible, but her mind tended to wander off as the guys started lining up in the water and making their way out. Her throat dried up and her palms were sweating -- and not from the heat -- as her nerves kicked in. Her memory began to cloud her vision as she stood abruptly and quickly walked away from the group, her heart picking up again.

Her breaths shortened as her mind blurred, and all she wanted was to curl up on her bed and calm her mind. She felt someone’s hand on her back, and immediately she could tell it was her father by the smell of his cologne. Once she was far enough from people, Y/N could feel tears well in her eyes as short images flashed across her eyes, cutting each inhale of breath in half -- which caused her to panic even more as she couldn’t breathe properly.

Last year ruined her, and she absolutely despises that this is considered her normal day-to-day routine now, her body shaking with fear as she feels herself collapsing from the inside, out. “Y/N, honey, can you hear me?” She thinks she hears her father say, but is undetermined with the intense white noise that’s swarming her ear drums.

“Count with me, c’mon, backwards from ten.”

But, all her mind could focus on was her body sinking lower and lower beneath the surface of water.

“Ten… Gotta count, c’mon you can do it, nine.”

“Eight,” she murmured, reaching out to grasp her dad’s shirt tight in her fist, just to make sure that he was really in front of her. She needs to be reminded that last year is her past, and that no matter how forward it is in her mind, it’s not her present anymore and she’s not drowning. “Seven.”

He took her hands and held them to his chest, “Six, keep going.”

“Fi-” she gulps, swallowing the lump in her throat, “..five.”

She makes it all the way down to zero, her body visibly relaxing and mentally as she hesitantly looks around to see no one watching the little event. “Do you want to go home?”

Y/N looks up to her father, shaking her head in response as she sniffles her nose and brushes away the one stray tear that has cascaded down her cheek. “No… I can do this.”

He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips, slowly nodding his head. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turns them back in the direction, walking with her slowly as she continues to gather herself. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Y/N. Everyone knows you’re an amazing surfer.”

“I think I just need to prove it to myself,” she stated, dragging her feet through the sand like a child so it slowed their arrival time back with the group. She can only imagine that her mom had informed everyone already of what was happening, and the last thing she wants is their sorry eyes and pathetic spouts of pity that she knows she’ll wish they just kept to themselves.

Y/N knows she’s broken. She’s not the same girl everyone knew this time last year, but she doesn’t need to be reminded of it every time she steps into a room. What happened last year was serious and she understands that people are worried; But all she wants is for everyone to forget about it. Including herself. She thinks the thing that’s causing her the most trepidation now -- rather than in the morning or all year long -- is the fact she’s now back in front of a crowd again, eyes trained on her like hawks watching prey, waiting for something awful to happen again.

The only thing missing is the popcorn as they watch this free entertainment.

When they finally came back to everyone, Y/N noticed the guys had started paddling out. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, dismissing her presence as she sat herself down back in the sand, and a breath of relief escaped her lips. The tension was there, but everyone ignored it for her sake, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.

“Go, AJ!” Kalani cheered, pumping her fist and shouting a few hoots and hollers afterward. Dom, AJ’s brother, let out a few ear screeching whistles, the kind with the fingers in the mouth, joining in on rooting for his brother.

Watching the guys out there solidified to Y/N how real this really is, and soon her veins were pumping with excitement again instead of dread as she cheered on her best friend. He was going to qualify, they all were and they knew that, but it's always fun to get excited about the possibility of moving forward and winning the titles and earning the trophies.

All the other faces that surfed alongside AJ were mostly familiar, their names ringing bells as the announcers spoke of them, but there was one that Y/N hadn’t ever heard before. It’s the same cycle of people every year, yet this guy was fresh. And the only reason she’s curious as to who he is, is because he’s good. Like, really good.

Kalani can’t exactly remember if she’s heard of him either, shrugging to Y/N’s wonderment, “I don’t know. Maybe AJ knows.” His pink surfboard and pink wet shirt stuck out as he was a sight for sore eyes, and Y/N grew a little resentment towards him as he pulled out a few advanced maneuvers, gaining everyone’s undivided attention that used to be on AJ.

“Who is that?” Y/N’s mother questioned, looking around to see that no one knew the answer.

He was a mystery yet he radiated this vibrant energy as the guys finished their rounds, walking off with grace in his step as he laughed at something Nav -- one of the three’s friends -- had said. The girls bid their goodbyes to their families as they headed over to where the guys were before their rounds. AJ immediately came running over to them, hugging Y/N and Kalani simultaneously before giving his girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. “You did great,” Kalani smiled, keeping her arms wrapped around his center.

“Alright, not in front of me,” Y/N grimaced, looking away from them. Immediately her eyes landed on the new surfer, still talking to Nav, and she was quick to turn back to AJ to ask who he is. “Hey, who’s the new guy?”

Looking over his shoulder, AJ saw who she was talking about before realization dawned on him. “Oh, that’s Harry. He’s from England. A really nice guy, I bet you’d like him,” he winked, causing Y/N to look at him with squinted eyes and pursed lips.

Kalani nudged his side, giving him a weird look. “What? I’m just saying.”

Then, speak of the Devil, Nav and this Harry guy came walking over, joining the three as they stood around waiting for the announcement that the girls could head out. Y/N wasn’t exactly paying attention to her surroundings as she continued to calm herself down for the impending near future. It wasn’t until Harry had stood in front of her, that she was knocked out of her own thoughts.

She looked up at him, making eye contact and briefly getting her breath caught in her throat. When he was far away, it was hard to make out his facial features or what he exactly looked like. But being right in front of him, she was merely astonished at his beauty, but more so his green eyes that reflected the perfect amount of sunlight. His wet, brunette hair rested against his forehead and seemed to be drying a bit curly.

His head tilted slightly, an amused smirk inching up his face as he watched her reaction. Something tells her he’s used to this kind of reaction. “M’Harry.”

His hand came between the two of them, waiting for her to grasp it in a firm grip. Y/N was hesitant at first but finally took his hand and shook it gently while greeting herself before dropping her hand back down to her side. “Y/N.”

This is insanely awkward. Especially because her friends are just watching the exchange silently, as if they weren’t allowed to speak while the two introduced themselves.

Harry has heard of Y/N. It’s hard for anyone involved in the surfing business to not have heard of her. Aside from the jarring news from last year, she’s an excellent surfer and her name is always spreading around like wildfire. She’s part of the reason Harry decided to delve more into the professional surfing world, because he’s been itching to meet her.

Y/N is attractive, anyone with eyes knows that, but Harry wanted to meet her only because of her expansive skills in the water. Standing in front of her, he can’t deny her undying beauty -- and if he weren’t such a gentleman he’d probably be trying to woo her this very instant. But, her looks aren’t what draws him to her, and he decides to not think with his dick for once.

Before he gets the chance to say something else to her, they get notified that the girls should start heading out for their rounds. Y/N and Kalani grab their boards and tuck them under their arms before bidding their goodbyes to the boys and scurrying off to join the rest of the girls.

“Whipped already?” Nav jokes, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and leading them to the sand where they’ll watch.

Y/N steps her toes into the water, basking in the cool feeling wrapping around her toes and surging up her body. She rolls her neck feeling it crack softly before rolling her shoulders back and taking in her umpteenth deep breath of the day. Her and Kalani looked at each other, nodding with smiles on their faces before they walked deeper in the shallow water until it reached the middle of their thighs before dropping their boards down and paddling out.

At the sight of a small wave heading toward her, Y/N dipped herself beneath the water just to wet her hair. It felt refreshing again to feel the salt coax her skin for the second time that day, as if it never left. When she greeted the air again, she could immediately feel the rays of the sun bouncing off of her skin, illuminating her in a heavenly glow, like the star she is. The spotlight is on her as she aims herself for the peak of the impending wave, nabbing the first ride of the girls’ round.

Back on the beach, her mom’s fingers were crossed, her dad’s breath was caught in his lungs, and Harry’s eyes were fixated on her figure as she jumped up on the belly of her board. Her legs kept her balance against the rough matter below her. Due to the steep wall of the wave, Y/N had to act quick and rational in order to keep control, and started off with an off-the-lip, which kept her parallel with the wave before she moved herself down and carved herself back into the energy zone.

Because it was a smaller wave, she could only go on for so long before she tipped herself off the board and fell down into the water. Everyone waited with bated breaths and kept their eyes on the area she sunk beneath the blue, before sighing in relief to see her head pop back up. Harry could see the joy wipe over everyone’s faces, replacing the worry that was once there as they hugged one another. He could tell Y/N has such a good support system, and it only urges him more to want to be a part of her life.

Of this life.

❊ ❊

“You guys did so good! We’re so proud,” Y/N’s mom gushed as she pulled her into a warm embrace -- a hug that holds more meaning than just being proud. Her mom was relieved. Grateful. Happy. She’s able to hold her daughter one more time, and that’s all she could ask for. “It’s going to be a good year for all you kids.”

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was elated, overjoyed, ecstatic, riding such a good high. Her comeback couldn’t have gone any better and she’s just so, so happy. Arriving at the beach she was nervous and anxious and was two seconds away from caving to her fears and running away. Now, as she walks arm-in-arm with her best friend away from the water for the night, she’s laughing a genuine laugh and her veins are currently pumping excitement rather than nerves.

AJ locked his arm over her shoulders, the three of them linked just like they always are as they head towards Y/N’s family van. But, instead of like other times, this time they have a tag-a-long trailing behind them. It’s sort of like a tradition where after every competition, all of the families join together and head to dinner at their usual restaurant. Nav couldn’t come because he had his own family matters to attend to but Harry was more than willing to accept the offer. He says he came to Hawaii alone and that he had nothing better to do, but his intense stare on Y/N when he accepted the offer says that’s not the only reason he was so quick to join.

It was also part of the tradition that they ride together in the van, 1) because it was the most spacious vehicle where they were able to ride together and 2) because Y/N’s parents are pretty fun to be around. They blasted the best music and made the best jokes, causing not one dull car ride. When they filed in, AJ and Kalani pushed themselves to the back seat, leaving Y/N and Harry to sit in the separate middle row chairs.

“Oh! Harry, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Does your family want to join us? They’re more than welcome to,” Y/N’s mom looked over her shoulder in the passenger seat.

He cleared his throat, looking up from his phone and sitting up a bit in his seat, an uncomfortable look on his face. “M’here alone, actually.”

Before anyone could ask any questions, AJ clapped Harry’s shoulder, saying, “We’re your temporary family now, man.” Despite being competitors, it seems the two of them really hit it off and AJ genuinely meant what he said about being Harry’s family. Though, everyone knows the main reason he said it was to diminish the rising tension.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry returned, fist bumping AJ. And during the little exchange, Harry caught eyes with Y/N, catching her eyes wandering around his profile and facial features, causing her to look away quickly and look out the window as if the view was something spectacular. She could hear him snicker quietly, and just when she thinks the coast is clear, she slyly looks back at him just to find out he’s already staring at her.

They really love staring at one another apparently.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N and Harry were pushed to the back of the group -- not really by choice but somehow it ended up that way -- and neither of them really made any moves to break the silence between them. Y/N because she was nervous, and Harry because he wanted her to be the first to speak. And it just so happened that when they were sat at a table, they were left with the last two remaining chairs that also happened to be right next to each other. Y/N couldn’t figure out if they were doing this on purpose or it was by coincidence, but she can tell Harry doesn’t mind.

She’s not one to be nervous around guys, but there’s something about Harry and how he is so blatantly interested in her that makes her wary of talking to him. Kalani sat across the table from her, and when they made eye contact, they had a silent conversation about how Y/N should grow the balls and actually talk to him. Of course Y/N refused, which earned her a kick to the shin in retaliation, which then caused her to let out a yelp of pain and made everyone look at her confused and worried.

“Sorry, hit my knee on the table,” she brushed it off, glaring at her best friend the moment everyone turned away and continued with their own conversations.

Being as slick as possible, Kalani directed her eyes to Harry when he wasn’t looking so Y/N could see her, before turning to AJ and talking to him about something completely irrelevant. Again, Y/N and Harry were stuck in this silence. She’s not exactly sure why she can’t just start a conversation, but he’s kind of intimidating and she’s afraid of embarrassing herself, especially in front of her family.

Pursing her lips and looking down to her lap, Y/N finally turned to give Harry her attention, noticing how he was staring into space, looking completely lost in this foreign setting. “So, uh, where exactly are you from?”

Harry was quick to turn his head to Y/N, waiting and waiting and waiting for the moment she would say something. “A small town in Cheshire. Northwest of London, if that helps.”

“That’s a pretty far trip to take alone,” she nods, licking her bottom lip before gently biting down on it. As much as she thinks of herself as an independent person, she’s also an extreme homebody and could never imagine going anywhere without anyone by her side, whether it be family or friends.

He merely shrugs in response, “M’better off alone.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side while looking at him, letting his words sizzle inside her mind as she tries to overanalyze him in the mere hours she’s known him. She turned her gaze down to her hands that were intertwined in her lap, mulling over her next words to say. She doesn’t know him, but she knows the feeling of being alone. And being alone, no matter how appealing it could sound, never works out in the end. People aren’t meant to live alone. It goes against the natural order of life, and just hearing him say he prefers being alone breaks her heart just the tiniest bit. “No one’s better off alone. Everyone needs someone eventually.”

Little does she know, is that she is his someone. Or, at least that’s what Harry’s hoping. He thinks he’s crazy for being so enthralled by someone so suddenly and so strongly, but Harry’s always been one to trust his gut. His plushie but toned gut was screaming at him that this girl is just meant to be in his life. Maybe meant to be his, but he won’t push his luck. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”

They both smiled softly at one another, a small blush creeping up Y/N’s cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. “I guess we will.”

❊ ❊

It had been a little over two weeks since qualification day. Her days hadn’t changed much in regards to her schedule; Waking up at the ass crack of dawn and heading straight into the water and staying in practically until the sun was set. But, there was one slight shift in her day, and that was the now familiar face of Harry popping in everyday, either physically or in her mind.

It was safe to say Harry was quickly adapting to the three friends, merging with them seamlessly; As if he had been part of this little group since he was a child. It’s not like any of them minded, especially AJ because he was happy to get another guy around. Their friend Nav wasn’t exactly a permanent part of their little group because he belonged to everyone and no one, but Harry stuck around them like glue and AJ was so grateful.

Y/N’s grateful because now she isn’t a third-wheel.

Harry and her aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but it definitely helps having someone else around for movie night so Y/N isn’t stuck watching her best friend’s all cuddled up together and hearing the occasional kiss they would share.

Though, Harry has made it known time and time again that he really wants to be buddy-buddy with her. And Y/N’s not exactly sure why she won’t give him what he wants, but for some reason she loses all comprehensive skills and becomes a blubbering, nervous mess around Harry whenever he brings up his interest in her. So, she’s successfully avoided all buddy-buddy conversations with him by bringing up mundane things instead. Like, why she decided to paint her nails blue, or why she absolutely despises white socks.

She thought she was doing a pretty skillful job too. But, after the first two times she avoided giving a yes or no answer to going on a date with him, Harry purposely would ask her just to hear what other obscure distractions she could come up with. He loved hearing Y/N talk, and without her knowing, he was getting to know her piece by piece, inch by inch, and he was loving it.

Though, a guy’s ego can only take so many rejections before he gives up completely. And just when he was ready to call it quits and accept that she wasn’t interested in him like he was her, the unexpected happened.

Y/N agreed to a date.

Well, kind of.

It was time for the Hawaiian Pro. The official first event of the Vans Triple Crown. It was taking place at Ali’i Beach Park in Hale’iwa, one of the most intense surfing spots filled with waves of many different faces. Of course, this is when Y/N’s nerves really started to kick in. Qualification day isn’t anywhere near as filled with people as the actual events are, and her nerves have seemed to kick it into high gear. It doesn’t help that the Hawaiian Pro is when her life changed a year ago. She could hear people whispering about her, wondering if she’s going to wipe out again or if this time she’ll stay under the water. Her mind was already frenzied enough, but nothing completes the cycle like a panic attack and the embarrassment of many on-goers witnessing said panic attack.

She almost backed out. How is she meant to be the best when her body is afraid of taking its final breath? The tide was high and the waves showed no mercy. How is she meant to challenge that? How is she meant to control the water beneath her when she can’t even control her own thoughts?

It was getting to be too much for her. This entire time leading up to the Triple Crown she’s denied her fear and her anxiety, telling herself she’ll get over it. She’s been doing good all year, so what makes now any different? But it is very different. The calm atmosphere of her backyard is no match for the rambunctious setting of the Triple Crown. And she’s a fool for thinking differently.

So, she was panicking.

Y/N couldn’t even get up from her seat in her parent’s van because she was so shaky. Her father held her close, easing her back to reality and away from her tortuous mind. Of course, he offered to drive them back home and away from the competition, telling her again that she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. But, she declined again. Because she needed to prove it to herself. She’s stronger than her mind lets on, and she needs to make sure she knows that.

When she slid off her board and sank her toes back into the warm sand after a very successful first round, landing her in the lead spot, she was finally able to breathe again.

People congratulated her on her comeback, astonished to see her doing better than ever before. Her parents embraced her with love and elation, so beyond happy to see her laughing and smiling and enjoying herself now that she’s progressing forward. Kalani of course is her number one supporter, practically jumping on her and screaming in her ear about how happy she is for her best friend.

Everyone was making their rounds hugging Y/N, and then it was Harry’s turn. They didn’t exactly embrace like the rest of them had, but he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side, squeezing her to him softly before looking down at her and saying, “Absolutely wicked, love. Gotta teach me some of y’fancy moves.”

“You sure? They’re really only meant for the pros,” she teased, biting at her bottom lip to conceal her laughter as he scoffed.

“”Ey, no one likes a narcissist,” he shoved her shoulder softly, rolling his eyes as her laughter rang through his ears. “But, whaddya say? M’gonna need a good teacher if I wanna make it to the big leagues.”

Y/N simply shrugs without really thinking much into it, “Sure.” Her mind didn’t exactly process what she had agreed to until later that night, before she dozed off into her temporary slumber. Her eyes shot open and her body sat upright as an over dramatic gasp was inhaled into her lungs. Her mind had been all over the place with the competition that she didn’t realize that she had agreed to being alone with Harry for the first time since they'd met. Immediately she texted and called Kalani, to which she got laughed at in return.

“Kalani, this isn’t a laughing matter!”

A few miles away, Harry was snuggled into his bedsheets, a bright smile stretched across his face as he reveled in the idea that he finally was going to be alone with Y/N since the first time they’d met. His heart was jumping and his stomach was fluttering as he envisioned her pretty face behind his eyelids before he drifted off into his dream with her.

“It so is! C’mon, Y/N, what have you got to lose? You have the same interests, he’s funny, he’s hot, and he clearly is into you. Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.”

Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.

That’s the thought that stuck in her mind, lingering around as she finally fell asleep, and then when she woke up, and when she was eating breakfast; And doing her chores; And hanging out with Kalani; And eating dinner; And then falling asleep again. Y/N didn’t even realize she had spent so much of her past year focusing on her career and health that she hasn’t done much of anything else.

She’s so grateful to be alive, but she’s hardly given herself the chance to live again.

Before her accident, she was always up for adventure and was always the life of any party. After her accident, she hasn’t even been to a party. She hasn’t been in a relationship in years, she hasn’t gone on a date in a long time, and she can’t even remember the last time she’s had sex or kissed a guy. She’s been so focused on her redemption, that she can’t remember the last time she was genuinely happy.

Going on this date, but also not a date -- but also clearly a date -- with Harry just may provide her with that. And she owes it to herself, to her past self, that her accident isn’t going to shape her life anymore.

Plus, she really enjoys Harry’s company. And even if she doesn’t show it so bluntly like him, she really likes him too.

The next day, Y/N and Kalani had gone out shopping, enjoying a nice girls day out. They had bought a few new varieties of swimsuits (as if they didn’t have enough) and a few other types of clothes, got some lunch, and even found time to watch a movie. And they did all of this right up until the moment Y/N decided it was time to text Harry.

She wasn’t sure how to go about this, because she’s never really asked anyone on a date before, or followed up with plans (?) about a date. Kalani kept urging her to just rip the bandaid off and to get it over with, saying something along the lines of, “You’re not getting any younger. Plus, I think he’d slip right off his board at the sight of you in that new yellow suit you got.” It was just a simple bikini, but it showcased the majority of her skin that essentially left little to the imagination.

But, the thing is, whenever Y/N gets into the water around people, she can’t help but cover her torso with a wet-shirt, insecure of the imperfections that lined her skin. It’s rare she can bear to look at her skin, so she only assumes no one else would want to either. So, she’s not so sure he’ll fall off his board at the sight of her, but the thought is nice.

Y/N pulled out her phone and hovered over his contact for a good amount of time before Kalani grew impatient and snatched the phone from her friend’s hand. They wrestled around with each other to try and gain custody of the phone, but finally in the end Y/N was able to hold her phone tight in her hands before declaring, “Okay! Okay! I’m texting, I’m going.”

Kalani peaked over Y/N’s shoulder as she watched her type the allusive message to Harry, a proud smile carving over her lips as she watched her break down a barrier she had subconsciously put up. It isn’t by any means important to be in a relationship or to have a boyfriend, but Kalani knows deep down that Y/N was wishing to have that special connection only a relationship could provide -- a connection outside of the realm of friendships.

“There,” Y/N huffed, shoving the screen of her phone in her best friend’s face.

hii, if you’re still up to learn from a true professional, I’m available tonight :)

It wasn’t even ten seconds later that she got a reply.

Shit, I’ll be your best student, babe. I know a perfect spot, I’ll be at yours in an hour.

It was kind of amusing to Y/N that he said he knows a perfect spot, as if she hadn’t been living on this island all her life and practically knows it like that back of her hand. But, that miniscule thought was pushed to the very depths of her mind as panic coursed through her as she realized what she was getting herself into. She’s going on a date, not a date, but also a date with Harry, and a small hour wasn’t enough time to gain her composure.

Fuck.

❊ ❊

It’s no surprise to Y/N when Harry shows up to her house a minute early. She’s half convinced that he had been waiting outside of her house for the past fifteen minutes until he finally stepped up on to the porch of her house, knocking rapidly on the door. It wasn’t an emergent knock that caused some sort of panic, but it was a frantic knock that screamed ‘let’s get the show on the road.’

When she opened the door, both of their breaths were robbed from their lungs. Y/N essentially looked like she always did but something about her glowed differently to Harry; maybe it was because she’s his for the night. For his eyes only. Just him and her. He was awestruck.

Harry essentially looked like he always did but something about him radiated differently to Y/N. The same little smirk was nestled in its usual spot, but this one held a different meaning. It looked the same, but maybe it was different because it was just her and him tonight. He’s hers for the night. For her eyes only. Y/N was nervous.

Y/N left her board out on her porch so she wouldn’t have to walk around back when he got here, but she was silently wishing she didn’t so she’d get just a couple more seconds to get herself together. She just kept chanting, “It’s not a date!” in her head, in hopes it would make her feel better.

It didn’t.

Harry saw her board and tucked it under his left arm as he threw his right one over her shoulders guiding her his mode of transportation. It also wasn’t a surprise to Y/N to see Harry rolling up in a light yellow Jeep; the top down and the doors off, typical of any surfer dude, no matter where they originate.

“Her name’s Betty,” he smiled, walking around the back and giving her a quick tap on her rear end before stepping up to straddle Y/N’s board safely and securely.

Sliding through the empty passenger door to take her seat, Y/N was greeted by a familiar smell, a smell she could only associate with Harry. And even if she could never admit it, she loved it a lot. It was mouth-watering and intoxicating, and simply put, it was Harry. Even with the open atmosphere of the car, it was still drenched in this specific smell, and Y/N can’t help but giggle at the image of Harry spritzing whatever cologne into the car before arriving at her house.

A few moments later, Harry slid into the driver side, placing the sunglasses that were sitting on the dash over his eyes, shoving the key into the ignition and starting them on their journey to whatever beach he had envisioned. On the ride there, over the course of a few right turns and lefts and different exits on the highway, Y/N surprisingly had no idea where they were going. Did she think maybe he was gonna murder her? A bit. But, she felt comfortable around Harry. So, she felt it in her gut that she was going to come out alive from this… event.

When they got to the beach, it was about thirty minutes from Y/N’s house, and she had no idea where they were. They had to walk a short path to meet sand and ocean, but once they made it past the clearing, Y/N was in awe of the site ahead of her. People could think that seeing the ocean every day ruins the peaceful and magical aura surrounding it. But, Y/N never gets sick of greeting it. The sun was beginning to set, and the water was glowing with a yellow-pink hue by the horizon that blended into a bright blue by the shore. The cliff sides around them guarded the little alcove, feeding into the tranquil atmosphere.

“How did you find this place?” Y/N wondered as she kicked off her sandals, and shimmied her shorts down her legs before kicking them over her sandals. The yellow bottom of her bikini was visible, and she turned her head just as Harry took a large gulp at the sight of her in front of him; Just for him. Her blue wet-shirt stayed on though.

It piqued Harry’s interest as to why she never took off her shirt. He understood for the competitions, but even when it was just a casual outing, just him and her, or them and their friends, she always kept it on. It wasn’t his place to ask, but he wished she would’ve broken this barrier down just this once. Just for him. “Tha’s a secret for me to know and you to maybe find out.”

Y/N let out a giggle - why? she didn’t know - and turned her attention back to the boy that brought her here, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she caught Harry taking off his white t-shirt, now only clad in his little pink shorts next to his little pink board. His skin looked extra dewy, and his tattoos seemed to glint under the setting sun. Before she could devour him with her eyes, she picked up her board and took it with her, running down to the water and shouting, “C’mon slow-poke, gotta get in the water before the sun sets!”

It wasn’t a surprise to Y/N that this didn’t keep on track of a teaching lesson. Harry doesn’t need to be taught, he’s amazing on his own. He pulled off his own tricks that Y/N didn’t even know the name of, and she was asking him to let her in on his little secrets. He locked his lips in return, throwing the imaginary key somewhere over his shoulder, “Y’think I’m g’na tell you? I’m far too narcissistic to let you beat me at my own game.”

“Who said I’m gonna beat you?”

“Have you met you?”

There’s a reason Y/N’s name circulates throughout people’s brains, why her name is common in any Hawaiian household, why Harry was itching to meet her. She’s good at what she does. Insanely good that it’s kind of concerning. Not everyone can come back from a life-altering experience, but Y/N took those stereotypes and crushed them beneath the tail of her infamous yellow surfboard. She reveled in the doubts and came back stronger than ever. Of course she would beat him at his own game. She’s the only one who could.

There wasn’t any telling how long they had been riding wave after wave, in the water with no one else but just each other. But, the sun almost halfway past the horizon line was a good giveaway. They were probably nearing the two hour mark, and they knew they couldn’t stay out here all night, but Jesus, how they wished they could. Y/N wasn’t expecting to be so content, thinking this would be some strange, awkward, uncomfortable time they would want to forget about the moment they left each other’s sides.

It’s the opposite.

Just for him. Just for her.

They both laid on their boards, limbs sprawled out and dangling into the water as their bodies shut down in exhaustion. Y/N can’t remember the last time she went so long without taking at least a ten minute break. Her body was most definitely not used to it as she felt her back mold into her little yellow board, accepting the relaxation. When she finally opened her eyes back up, she turned her head to the side, admiring Harry’s profile as his arms were pulled over his head, the skin of his torso being stretched, which also stretched the ink that adorned him.

Y/N got lost in the mirage that is Harry, that she didn’t even realize he had turned his head and caught her ogling. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that her eyes snapped to his, heat traveling up through her body and rushing to her cheeks. “M’eyes are up here, love.”

“Uh- right. Yeah, I know.”

“Cool. Hey d’y’wanna play twenty questions?” He asked, sitting up to straddle his board and paddling himself around so he was facing her.

Y/N squinted her eyes, “Are we children?”

“I mean, I guess not. Doesn’t stop my five year old humor though,” he smiled, kicking his foot up to splash her with an inkling of water as his childlike, petty comeback. “You ask first.”

Y/N pushed her hand through the water to spray him in an ounce of sea salt before turning her head back to the sky, contemplating her first question. “Mm… favorite color?” She already knew the answer.

“And you asked me if we’re children? C’mon, darling, know you wanna know more than tha’. Pink. What was your first impression of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, even though she couldn’t see his face. This has been one of those things that’s been nagging at the back of his mind ever since they first met. Their first encounter wasn’t awkward per-se, but the fleeting moment of introduction wasn’t exactly one worth remembering either. But, Harry was always going to remember it. And depending on Y/N’s answer, he hopes she will too.

At this, she turned her head back to Harry, hand covering her eyes as the sun glared at them over the reflective water. It was a sight to behold, seeing Harry glow in the golden hour light. “Intimidating. But, also unique,” she began, moving to sit herself up and paddle her board around so she was now facing him. “You remind me of a singular cloud in an otherwise clear sky. You’re not meant to be there, yet you’re not out of place.”

Harry sat for a moment, staring. Completely in awe. Head over heels. Never would’ve guessed those words to be the ones tumbling from her lips. It was the way she didn’t hesitate in her sentence, as if those words had been formulated a while ago and just now was she able to spew it from her wordbank. Just for him. “Fuck, that was beautiful. Your turn.”

“Do you really think you’re better off alone?”

Harry pursed his lips, looking off into the distance for a brief moment before shrugging, “I do. But, I don’t. If it comes down to going back to my family and friends from home or being alone, I’ll choose being alone.” And he wanted to sprinkle in the little bonus that he doesn’t feel alone when he’s around her, but something tells him that’ll just turn her away. “What’re you so afraid of?”

It’s a brash question Y/N wasn’t expecting to be thrown at her so suddenly. She has a mix of answers, and there’s a specific one flashing in her mind like a bright, neon yellow sign, but she’s not certain how comfortable she is with telling him yet. Though, she notices that whatever question she could throw his way, he’d answer it truthfully, not scared of opening himself up, just for her. She wants to be brave like that, and maybe she can be, but she’s not sure how.

It comes as a surprise to her when she does say, “I’m scared of going through everything that happened last year all over again. Everyone’s afraid of dying, or at least most people are, but experiencing death… there’s really no coming back from that. ”

“Experiencing it?” He looks at her wide-eyed.

“What, you haven’t heard of what happened last year?” She looks at him, eyebrows scrunched.

“Only know you had some accident. No offense, but I didn’t really bother myself with reading the fine print,” he shrugs, running his pruney fingers through his salted hair. He didn’t know if he wanted to read it, especially not with the sudden news that apparently this very alive, lively girl in front of him… died? He doesn’t think he could stomach reading about that.

Y/N hasn’t met a single person who hasn’t heard about what happened to her. Or at least the details of it. In reality she doubts anyone outside of Hawaii knows of her existence, but in her world it was the biggest news to affect the state in a while -- aside from, like, actual serious matters, her accident was up there on the news.

She evades his second question though, not wanting to cough up the traumatic details of her past; not yet at least. “Well, it’s my turn anyway. Why surfing?”

“I could just look it up, but I get it; you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he gave her a playful look, pursing his lips while giving her a pointed stare. “It’s different. England isn’t known for surfing. It’s known for rain and football. But, with every possible detail of m’life, I wanted to make sure I was different. My dad wanted me to become a professional footy player, so I said no. M’mum wanted me to go and get a degree and a real job. I didn’t want that. So, I turned to surfing,” he swung his arms around, gesturing to the vast sea and the board below him.

“Plus, it’s given me an excuse to leave home and come here. And y’know, so I could meet you.”

Y/N felt a small blush creep up her skin again, her eyes shooting down to her lap and her feet that were distorted under the water. Harry’s infatuation with the girl isn’t a secret, but anytime he purposely makes it known, it’s like a little secret that she’s unsure if she’s supposed to know or not. “Meet me?”

Harry kicked his foot up again so water would splash at her. “Uh-uh, my turn,” he laughed, shaking his head. He knew she thought she was slick at the way she bit her lip, containing her laughter. If she wants to play by the rules of the nonsensical game, then so will he. “Sunrise or sunset?”

“Sunset. Favorite song?” She wanted to reel back from the serious talk for a moment.

“Too many to choose from. Favorite movie?” He wanted to know every nitty-gritty detail about her.

She pondered for a moment, “Mamma Mia.”

“No shit! Me too!” His mouth dropped in shock, his hand flying up to his chest.

“Really?”

“No,” he shook his head, immediately blocking the massive splash he sensed coming.

Y/N rolled her eyes, huffing at him whilst crossing her arms over her torso, “Are you always so insufferable?”

“S’my middle name, babe. You hungry?” He laid himself down on his board on his belly, paddling himself to face the beach, ready to make a head start for the beach. Y/N hummed a response, following in suit and settling her stomach against the belly of the board and pushing herself to land. “Cool, let’s go get something to eat then I’ll take you home.”

Y/N’s legs felt weak, yet appreciative back on the sand. It felt like she was walking on Jell-O as she went to pick up her towel and clothes. Looking down to her shirt, she knew it was out of the question to let him see her take it off. And she could turn her back so he wouldn’t see her front -- whether or not it’s clad in a bikini top -- but even then her heart raced at the thought. She held her t-shirt in her hands and thought it over for a moment before blurting, “Could you turn around please?”

Harry looked up from checking his phone quickly, tilting his head in confusion before looking down to the shirt in her hands. The dots are connected and the bright neon pink sign in his head is telling him to listen to her, and not to question it. So, he doesn’t. Just for her. It’s still unbeknownst to Harry why she never takes her shirt off, but he knows better than to think with his dick, and accepts her wishes, turning his back to her.

Y/N lets out a small breath of relief, grateful he didn’t question her on it. She’s quick to rip off her shirt and pat dry her wet skin before hastily throwing on her dry one, giving Harry the OK to turn back around.

“Sorry, I just… I’m not comfortable with anyone seeing my, uh, my scar,” she mumbles, nervously moving her hair from one shoulder over to the other. Harry shrugs in response, picking his board up from the ground and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they began their walk back to his car.

“You don’ have to explain yourself to me, babe,” he smiled down at her, squeezing her to his side softly.

Y/N looked up at him, and she’s sure that if she could see herself right now, her eyes would be twinkling in delight, with adoration. Just for him. “Thank you.”

They didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, walking the distance to his lonesome Jeep in peace. The silence gave Y/N time to think and to mull over all of the gushy feelings she was feeling inside about the guy beside her. She had no reason not to like him, realizing it was only fear that was pushing her away. But, this night displayed a soft side to Harry that she fell head over heels for. His smooth, easy-going approach to life, mixed in with respect for her, and a hint of witty humor was enough to tell her how she truly feels about him. And she’s scared, not because she’s afraid, but because she’s not.

Y/N can find herself easily opening up to Harry quicker than she has anyone else because she trusts him. She can just tell he’s got nothing to hide, so in-turn she wants to be the same. She doesn’t want to cower away, but revel in happiness. Because she deserves it.

Harry quickly secured the boards back into their previous spots before sliding into the driver side and whisking them away from their little getaway. The wind swept through their hair and chilled their still slightly wet skin, causing goosebumps to trail up Y/N’s arm as chills raked through her body. This time around in the car they both were more laid back, not singing along to the songs playing on the radio but rather just listening and taking in the blissful atmosphere they’ve created.

There’s been one question dancing across her mind though ever since he brought up the little game of twenty questions. It was the first one to pop up in her mind when she was thinking of something juicy to ask. She didn’t want to ask it though, in fear of what his answer would be. But, now she’s not afraid. She’s curious though.

“Is this a date?” She queried, turning the volume of the radio down a bit so he could hear her and vice versa.

Harry glanced at her through his peripheral, one eyebrow cocking up on his forehead, “Is the sky blue?”

“I mean, right now it’s like orange-blue,” she retorted, looking at the newly sun-ridden sky that blended shades of orange into the usual night blue.

“Brainiac. There’s your answer. It’s however you want to look at it,” he digressed, reaching over to pat her thigh - in more of a friendly manner rather than sensual.

She appreciated his answer, absolutely adoring the fact that he wasn’t putting pressure on her about anything. It was hard to comprehend just how nice he truly is, and how someone could be so perfect. She couldn’t see a flaw in his looks or his personality or his morals, and all she could wonder was how someone like him could possibly like someone like her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Harry.”

He side glanced at her again, this time raising both of his eyebrows in puzzlement, “I’ll take tha’ as a good thing?”

“It’s good. It’s… it’s a good thing.”

❊ ❊

The two of them had discussed where they wanted to go, neither of them wanting to decide and going back and forth with one another, saying, “No, you decide,” “No you.”

Y/N was never good at decisions, especially mundane ones like where to eat. She always lets Kalani decide because she could eat anything, and it’s her friend that’s the picky one. But, Harry is the same way. Whatever is put in front of him, he could probably eat (except for pickles, he absolutely hates pickles).

They settled for pizza. And it was going to be Harry’s first time trying a slice of Hawaiian.

Y/N hates Hawaiian slices, finding the sweetness of the pineapple and the savor of the ham unsettling atop her pizza. It sends her taste buds into shock and her mind into a meltdown. But, she insisted he try it, because how could someone be in Hawaii and not try its state-named slice?

They sat at their little table in the corner of the restaurant that was alongside a window, giggling to themselves as they played a little game of eye-spy, waiting for their food. For some odd reason, Harry was really good at this game, always picking the hardest of objects to point out, always stumping a frustrated Y/N.

“You’re cheating.”

“How the fuck am I cheating?”

“Dunno, you just are.”

And in retaliation to her accusation, Harry pointed to her shirt, stating she got a little soda on it, causing her to look down to her chest and see nothing but finger as he flicked her nose. “Too easy. Sore loser.”

Y/N huffed, sticking her tongue out at him. The playful banter between them was the best part of their days lately. Before Y/N even realized her feelings for Harry, she always looked forward to what they would bicker about -- in a friendly matter of course. Now, she constitutes that to just wanting to see him because she really enjoys his company, and him.

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about anyone, and she’s sort of glad she gets to feel this way about Harry. He’s an enigma, but a good one. She’s totally transfixed by him and she never wants this euphoria to end. He radiates this bright and bubbly energy that lifts her mood whenever she’s around him, and she’s afraid of losing that. But, she chooses not to dwell on the what-if, instead completely basking in the present and his gooey aura of happiness.

When the food finally came out, they both were quick to stuff their faces, their stomachs practically turning inside-out from how hungry they were. It came to no surprise to Harry that he was absolutely in love with this Hawaiian slice, already looking forward to ordering two more.

Y/N looked at him a tad worried. He was scoffing down three slices as if there were no tomorrow, all within a matter of two minutes. She was slightly worried he was going to reach over and take her dinner, because that’s how hungry he seemed to be. But, he should know better than to get between Y/N and her food. Like the one time he tried to take some of her fries, to which she punched him in the shoulder and then took them back.

“Hey, y’gonna eat that?” He points to her not yet touched slice of pizza, earning a glare that could kill in response. “Cool, you are, just making sure. Can’t let precious food go t’waste. It’s my turn for a question right?”

Y/N thinks back for a second to determine if he’s right or not, remembering she did ask a question last. She nodded her head before biting into her little piece of heaven.

“Was it hard getting back in the water?”

She brought her napkin up to her mouth to wipe away the drop of sauce she felt on her cheek, mulling over her answer. “Kinda. I knew I had to eventually because it’s all I know, it was just a matter of when. My parents were terrified, and I mean I was too but I can’t let that dictate my future. I love surfing and nothing is going to take that away from me.”

Not even something as horrifying as death could take her away from her true love. Not until she’s truly six-feet under, riding silver waves in the silver palace.

“Do you think you’re going to stay here? In Hawaii?” Y/N wondered, taking a sip of her Coke.

“Got nowhere else to be,” he shrugged, mindlessly tapping his fingers on the table in an arrhythmic pattern. “Home is where the heart is, right? Well, think mine’s here right now.” Across from her. Just for her.

Home is where the heart is.

“Does it count if my heart isn’t mine?”

Last year, Y/N was going about her day like she always did. She was fine, in tip-top shape just like she had been for the past twenty years of her life. The bright sun was out and shining over all of the surfers and onlookers, and it seemed just like every other regular day. She was paddling out into the water, and the perfect, golden first wave was approaching her. She pushed herself up onto her feet, balancing her body, in tune with the wave, executing a nearly perfect opener. Then, she felt her chest tighten and her body suddenly felt weak. Breathing rapidly grew difficult, causing her to instantly panic. She fell off her board, plummeting into the water, trying to gasp for air but choking on the sea that swimmed down her throat.

Feeling herself sink as her chest was on fire was the last she remembered. The baby blue sky blended into black and that was it. Her life was over.

Kalani was the one who went in after her, screaming for help as her best friend was blue in the face and not moving.

Y/N suffered a heart attack. Apparently, she had a condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, that went unnoticed all her life. On this day, her heart had thickened extensively, making it difficult to pump blood to the rest of her body. The strain on her heart caused it to give out, right when she was feeling the high of riding a solid wave. She was pronounced dead for a total of forty-five seconds before EMT could revive her. Supposedly she’s lucky to be alive, because if not treated basically instantly, there’s a slim chance of survival. But, she was able to stick it out until the hospital.

Her heart was in brutal shape, so she was sent to the top of a donor waiting list. Y/N and her family are forever grateful for the team of doctors and nurses that stuck by her side, knowing she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. Or her sheer luck.

Y/N felt a little crazy for feeling so comfortable spilling all of this information so suddenly to Harry, but at the same time she didn’t. And the best part about it is that none of it seems to freak Harry out. Nothing about who she is or how she is scares him. And that’s what makes her feel so comfortable. “My scar, it’s from a heart transplant. I had a heart condition all my life apparently. Then suddenly one day, it couldn’t handle it anymore, so it gave out. A girl named Shauna’s heart is keeping me alive right now.”

Harry didn’t blink for a whole minute.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something, anything to say to the girl across from him. But, he had nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

His silence was a little concerning to Y/N, making her wish she could just be swallowed whole by the ground below her. Was it too soon to drop the HT bomb? He was bound to find out eventually, and she figured it was best to rip the bandaid off on her own time rather than someone else telling him or him looking it up on Google.

She’s kicking herself over it.

Harry cleared his throat, taking a sip of his water before licking his lips and leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N merely shrugged, “Don’t be. Shit happens. Who knows, if it never happened we may not be here now.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, his signature small smirk back on his face in its usual spot. He raised his glass, leaning it forward a bit toward her, stating, “Cheers to that, babe.” She raised her own glass and clinked it against his, a smile on her lips as she sucked up the remaining bit of her soda through her straw. She’s happy he didn’t turn and run away.

Cheers to that, babe.

By the time they both filled their guts to the point of feeling overstuffed, mindlessly chatting and spending time together, it was already past ten o’clock. The time had passed them by like it was nothing, but they weren’t necessarily complaining. The older couple next to them were though. Y/N had to pull Harry out of the restaurant before he bit the woman’s head off for how rude she was. That’s when they knew it was time to skedaddle.

Then they just drove around for another hour before Harry figured it was time to bring her home, much to his dismay. But, when her head lolled against the passenger seat headrest and her eyes would softly shut in exhaustion. He wanted desperately to reach over and tuck the loose strand of hair that fell out of her ponytail, behind her ear. He wanted to reach over and place his hand on her thigh as they drove down the highway, softly squeezing her skin before teasingly inching up towards her hidden gem.

Is it too soon to be in love?

It was like a slap in the face when Harry parked in front of her house. Reality stuck its nose into their little wonderland bubble, and unfortunately, they couldn’t push it back out.

Harry hopped out of his seat, unfastening her board from the trunk and tucking it under his arm as they walked side-by-side to her front door. He gently placed it down where he had initially found it earlier on, tucking his lips into his mouth as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I uh… I guess this is it. I had a really ni-”

“I’ve got one more question before you leave me,” he interrupted her little speech, stepping impossibly closer to her, barricading her between him and the banister on her porch. It wasn’t hard to notice the long stares at her shiny lips that glinted in the dull yellow glow of the light by the door. He purposely took extra time to rake over the features of her face before finally meeting her eyes.

Y/N swallowed nothing but air as she softly bit at her bottom lip, “Yeah?”

She already knew his question.

“Can I kiss you?”

He already knew her answer.

Y/N slyly looked at him, bringing her hands up, a bit hesitant to rest on his shoulders. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Sky’s blue.” Y/N looks up at the sky and notices it’s dark blue hue, twinkling stars layers on top, surrounding the fullest, brightest moon. It was a beautiful sky, perfect to share a first kiss under.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as his hands came up to her hips. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the climactic moment to overcome them, the air of the night chilling up her spine.

But, then she felt fiery, red hot as their lips locked together in a soft kiss. It was as soft as they felt towards one another. This giddy, slow paced, admiring kiss that had their insides melting but their hearts pounding. This kiss is exactly how Y/N images Harry. A pale yellow that’s not harsh on the eyes, that resonates happiness. Harry imagines it as a hot pink, one that takes his breath away and captures his mind.

It wasn’t long before it turned heated, Harry’s tongue sweeping into her mouth, and one of his hands travelling further south to grab hold of the flesh of her behind. Y/N let out a soft moan into his mouth as her hands tangled into his mound of curls, tugging softly on his roots.

Then the disturbing image of either one of her parents opening the front door at any moment flashed across her eyes, causing her to pull back, kissing his bottom lip softly before trailing her thumb over the swollen skin and opening her eyes to look into his gaudy, green ones.

The sounds of their breaths mingled together as tired smiles adorned their faces, little giggles leaving each of their mouths as they basked in what just happened. All Harry could think was, ‘It’s about damn time.’ All Y/N could think was, ‘Why did I ever push him away?’

“My turn,” she spoke after a few moments, standing up straighter and fixing her shirt around her body. “Pick me up tomorrow?”

A wide, shit-eating grin spread out across Harry’s face as he ran his hand through his mangled curls. “Sunrise. If y’not in this exact spot in the morning, m’knocking the door down and dragging you out by y’hair.” He hopped down off the porch, completely skipping the steps as the adrenaline of their first kiss kicked into his system.

“Sunrise,” she agreed.

He hopped back into the driver’s side of his Jeep, throwing his hand up in a goodbye wave as he sped away, already counting down the seconds until he would see his golden ray of bright and bubbly sunshine again. He’s not so sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep.

Y/N didn’t have that same problem. The moment she landed on her bed, her eyes shut faster than the speed of light, her last conscious thought being of Harry. Her smile never leaving her face.

❊ ❊

Meeting at sunrise had become part of their routine. Not always to surf, but just to be together. Sometimes they surfed at their little alcove, other times they would watch the sun from her backyard, snuggled up in blankets on the beach. Or, they would surf, get breakfast, then fall back asleep in his bed until a more decent hour of morning.

But, their day always began at sunrise. It would be the equivalent to say that it also ended at sunset, but sunset was always too soon to part ways.

This wasn’t an everyday occurrence, mostly at random. Except for Sundays. Sundays are specifically their day, as per request of Harry. How could he be in love with a girl that coined yellow as her color, that had a smile as bright as the huge burning star, that claimed golden hour was prime sun time, and not deem Sunday as their day? He didn’t put any second thought into it.

Despite their sort of fast paced first date, they’ve been taking things slow, truly getting used to the feel of one another over the course of the next couple of months. It wasn’t until a month later that Harry popped the question, officially making Y/N his forever buddy-buddy. Well, not necessarily forever, but they both know it’s basically forever.

Harry never wants to be alone again.

It wasn’t until the night after they became official that Y/N finally took her shirt off in front of him. She was going through one of her episodes, and Harry was the only one around who could help her. He managed to calm her down and bring her inside her house - that was empty because her parents had gone out for the night - and get her to the bathroom so she could take a shower.

Initially, he was going to let her get in by herself, knowing her boundaries in regards to her body and not seeing it. But, when he saw how worn down she looked, he whispered words of reassurance in her ear, asking her permission to help get her in the shower. He wasn’t thinking with his dick, he just wanted to help the girl that didn’t know how to help herself.

Y/N looked him in the eyes, nibbling softly on her bottom lip before averting her attention to her chest for a few moments. She trusts him, and if they’re bound to work out, she needs him to be comfortable with seeing all aspects of her both mentally and physically. Which includes her scar.

So, she nods her head in agreement.

She lifted her arms and allowed him to remove her shirt, immediately feeling self-conscious. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she stepped out of her shorts and underwear, going into the shower to avoid any lingering stares. Harry was quick to follow behind her, shutting the curtain after him. That’s when Y/N turned around and completely broke down, the tears that have been building behind her eyes finally pouring out. Harry wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry her eyes out for however long she needed.

When she stopped, Harry washed her hair, washed her body, washed away her bad thoughts, then washed himself as fast as he could so he could get her into her bed for the night. She snuggled up to his side, enjoying the warmness of his body that contrasted her cool ones.

That night when her parents came home, they spotted Harry’s Jeep in front of their house. Though when the house was eerily quiet, and found the door to her bedroom slightly ajar, they peeked inside and saw the two of them fast asleep. Parents usually would get angry at the sight of their child in bed with someone of a different gender, but not Y/N’s parents.

Over the last two months, they saw their daughter break back out of her shell, slowly returning to her former self, and all because of Harry. They saw how happy she became whenever he was around, or they’d overheard happy she was when just talking about him to Kalani. How could they ever get angry at the fact that Y/N was happy?

With the blossoming of their relationship taking place at the same time as the Vans Triple Crown, word got around fast and soon enough they were the star couple leading the ranks in their respective divisions. The world -- or really the surfing world, because no one really pays attention to professional surfers, was in awe of them. They were the hype of the news, of the town, of the state. Rightfully so, because they’re awfully cute.

It came as no surprise to everyone when the two were crowned the champions. The press went wild with this one, stating there was some scam happening behind the scenes, because what were the odds that this new star couple could both win? Or, how could Harry, a newbie, shoot his way up to the top in just one year? Or, how could Y/N dominate with her physical ailments?

There wasn’t a hoax and there wasn’t any cheating. They both were just that good.

The day of the final competition, they may have worked just a little harder to land the championship title. Harry had picked Y/N up and they traveled to their secret hideaway bright and early in the morning. After being out at a party the night before, the two were in no shape to get in the water already, opting to snooze under the shade of a cliff on the beach for a little while.

They didn’t sleep for very long before they got wrapped up in one another, indulging in a morning session of intimate love. They slept for maybe an hour before Y/N was ready to get her swim on, but Harry was the biggest sack of lazy mush that morning. He didn’t want to get up for nothing. He was laying down on his surfboard, completely comfortable under the shade. Y/N tried tugging on his arms to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge, a half-sleepy and dazed smile on his lips.

At one point he tugged her back, causing her to land on his lap, legs straddling his hips as her face crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped around her back, securing him to her as he said, “See? Isn’t this so much better than physical activity?”

“C’mon tubby, we got shit to do,” Y/N giggled, but Harry just held onto her tighter and nuzzled his cheek to the top of her head.

He hummed, “S’comfortable here.”

Y/N didn’t know what else to do, so the only maneuver left was bribery. Harry’s no different than any guy in the sense that once sex is brought into the mix, his ears perk up and his dick stiffens. So, Y/N was going to use that to her advantage. “If you get up, you can fuck me all night tonight.”

Harry was quick to sit up, her still in his lap, eyes squinted in suspicion. Y/N bit her lip to refrain from laughing, but she was mentally patting herself on the back. His hands shifted down her back to grab onto the flash of her behind, pulling her center closer to his and building up a bit of friction. “How about right now and tonight?”

“I can’t be exhausted for today, H,” Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to get herself off his lap, but he kept her grounded.

“You don’t ‘ave to get in the water now. You’ve practiced, you’re prepared, you got this. The championship is practically in your hands already,” he disclosed, peppering kisses up the side of her neck, a few across her jawline, and then landing on her lips.

Even if that may be true, she doesn’t want that to stop her from putting effort and time into winning. “Harry…” she started, getting lost in the feel of his lips suckling a lovebite right in the crook of her neck, her most sweet spot. He lifted his hips up slightly, pushing against her heat, eliciting the smallest moan from her mouth.

“Bet y’soaking your suit. Can I see?”

They only have a limited amount of time before they need to get to the Northshore at Ehukai Beach Park for the competition. It was about a forty-five minute drive alone. But, Harry’s lips and fingers were way too persuasive, so Y/N nodded her head.

“Good girl.”

He lifted her up so her back was now against the belly of his pink board, her legs immediately wrapped around his broad shoulders as he placed a chaste kiss to her clothed core. She whined as he hooked his fingers into her bikini bottoms, dragging them tortuously slow down her legs. His eyes immediately attracted themselves to her glistening slit, her wetness practically inviting him in. “So fucking pretty, baby.”

Harry’s hands pushed her legs as far apart as they would go, licking a fat stripe up from her little hole to her sensitive clit. Y/N threw her head back as he focused his attention on her clit, swirling his tongue around the little bud before sucking it into his mouth. She was a whimpering mess, but that earned her a smack on the ass and a first warning from Harry.

“No one’s around. Let me hear you loud and clear,” he gave her a pointed look, keeping their eye contact as he went a little further south, pushing the tip of his tongue into her cunt. Y/N tried closing her legs around his head but Harry just pushed them open further, keeping a firm grip on her thighs that were bound to leave bruises. Bruises just for her.

Her jaw fell slack, moans tumbling past her pink lips louder and louder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, most likely leaving scratches he’ll find later when they’re stinging in the shower. Just for him.

Y/N was growing restless as he inserted his middle and ring finger inside of her, pushing and pulling them at an intense pace that caused her toes to curl in the sand by his hips. When he managed to push his index finger in alongside the other two, Y/N began to see stars at the stretch of her walls.

“So tight f’me. Imagine it was my cock instead. Would feel so good and full, but you’d be too exhausted for later, hm?” He cooed, letting her adjust to the extra digit inside of her before fucking her harder and faster than before. He kissed up her tummy that was visible from under her shirt before landing his forehead against hers.

His free hand grabbed a hold of her jaw, making her face him which caused her eyes to open up quickly, locking eye contact with one another. “S’a shame. M’so hard, like a fucking rock. But you’ll be too tired.”

Teasingly, Y/N nodded her head in agreement, earning a hard glare from her lover. At this, he stopped the movement of his fingers, slowly pulling them out of her. Y/N’s mouth opened wide, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion as Harry sucked his fingers past his lips, indulging in her sweetness that tasted like a little sliver of heaven.

“Wh-wha…?”

“Close y’mouth, Y/N. Gonna catch flies,” he smirked, reaching over for her bikini bottoms and sliding them back up her legs until they were nestled against her soaking wet, throbbing pussy. “Said it y’self. Can’t be exhausted for the finale today, gotta be quick on your feet and coasting the gnarliest waves. C’mon slow poke, gotta get some practice in.”

So, Y/N was pissed off to say the least. And because of this, she was extra determined to push herself as far as she could to come out on top today. Harry on the other hand, well he was just mad that he had an insane hard-on that his own girlfriend didn’t want to tend to. He should’ve expected his little stunt wouldn’t go over nicely, but the look on her face when he stopped was absolutely priceless.

When it was announced that Y/N and Harry had won in their divisions everyone was beyond elated at the news, cheers and hugs and kisses spread all around the group. Though when it was their turn to congratulate each other, they looked at each other, small smiles on their faces before they turned to make conversation with someone else. That didn’t stop them from reaching for one another though, slyly interlocking their hands together.

They were whisked away quickly for pictures, holding their trophies high in the air, the biggest smiles on their faces. Y/N’s parents were cheering them on, more specifically her because they were so proud she was able to take her life back. Y/N could cry at the sight of her mother being a blubbering mess, and her dad’s admiration sparkling across his eyes. Though, with the support of her family, Y/N’s mind couldn’t help but wonder about Harry’s family, and how they couldn’t support their son with what he loved.

With this, Y/N squeezed his hand harder, and despite the cameras around them, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his lips, the clicks of the cameras and the chatter of the crowd increasing. But, neither of them cared as they looked at one another, full of love.

Because that’s what this was. Love.

It didn’t matter that they had only met a little over three months ago, only dating for two months. They were in love. And that’s all that mattered.

Going out to dinner that night, they hardly left each other’s sides. They were being that obnoxious clingy couple that no one likes being around, but they didn’t care. Because they both knew they were in love. An unspoken love that didn’t have to be announced because the whole world knew, and so did they.

“Cheers to the love birds! And for the love of God, could you stop looking at each other like that,” AJ gagged, causing everyone to laugh before they clinked glasses.

When they left the restaurant, Harry and Y/N hopped into Betty, driving around for a little while before they decided to stay at his for the night. It was when the wind was blowing in her hair again, the moon shining above them and shining through her hair, his hand gently on her thigh, squeezing softly in contrast to that morning, that Harry truly felt it. This love that he has for this girl. Love that’s meant just for her. Her, and only her.

This gushy feeling was put on hold for a little while though the moment they walked through the door of his apartment. Y/N was bent over the arm of his living room couch, her one leg bent and on the armrest beside her while the other was trying its best to keep her steady on the ground. Harry’s fist was wrapped up in her hair, proving to make it more difficult for her to keep her balance. Though she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“What’s the matter, babe? You said I could fuck you all night.” Harry’s hot breath coated the shell of her ear, “Y’tired?”

She gasped at a particularly hard thrust that felt like it had hit against her cervix, trying to get the word No out in between her moans and whimpers.

“Hope not. Had me aching all day for your tiny cunt. M’gonna need a few hours to really appreciate it.” She could feel his menacing smirk against her skin as he again thrusted so far deep inside of her, her one leg gave out. If it wasn’t for Harry holding her up, she would’ve fell right over, too weak to even try and get back up.

They went twice on the couch before Harry helped her get to the shower, where they did it again. And then when they finally cleaned themselves, they got into bed, where they did it again, but this one could be classified under love-making. It was slow and sensual and sweet, just like them. Harry paid extra attention to her scar, trailing down the tissue with soft kisses as they softly climaxed together.

It was a little past midnight at this point, and they were both extremely tired. Y/N was on the brink of dozing off into dreamland before Harry interrupted her exhaustion.

“We never finished our game of twenty questions, did we?” He murmured, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/N lazily opened her eyes, shaking her head, “Don’t believe so.”

“Think it’s my turn,” he hummed. “Do you love me?”

There was silence for a brief couple of seconds, making Harry think Y/N had dozed off before answering his question. But, Y/N just needed those seconds to collect her mushed thoughts inside of her mushy brain before giving him a coherent and valid response.

“Yeah. I do.”

Harry smiled, probably the biggest he’s ever smiled, leaning down and taking hold of her face and smashing their lips together in a ceremonious kiss.

“Sick. Ditto, Sunshine.”

#it would mean so much if you tell me what you thought #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles #one direction fanfiction

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missmungoe · 3 years

Note

Can we get more pirate Makino

Of course! I’m actually writing a thing about exactly that, so here’s a glimpse from the first chapter of a three-part fic I’ve been working on, titled On the Water (alternatively: How to Become a Pirate in Your Thirties).

Follows Long Live, rated M for, well, Shanks. The full story will be up on AO3 when it’s finished, but I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!

For her birthday he gave her the horizon, but adapting to life at sea was a work in progress.

The ropes scuffed her palms, gentle hands that had always known hard work, just not this particular kind. She’d have blisters tomorrow, Makino suspected, although hoped that was all she’d have, and not a broken back and fractured skull to boot.

“Need a hand?”

His voice reached down towards her, as a big hand was offered, the broad palm roughened with harder calluses than hers. The metal of his wedding ring caught the sunlight; unlike his fingers, it didn’t bear the evidence of his way of life, but then he hadn’t been wearing it on his hand for very long.

Her own ring was dulled and scratched from wear; the curious symmetry of their lives, at least before her recent about-face in terms of careers, her apron and serving tray exchanged with canvas, rope, and questionable safety measures.

She looked at the hand held out to her, following the sinewy forearm to Shanks, perched on the ratlines above her with an effortlessness she couldn’t decide if made her want to gawk or shriek in frustration. The fact that he could even offer his hand was hard to believe, given that he only had one, but he looked utterly unhindered by the fact, his bare feet steady where he balanced on the ropes, in a way that made it seem like having two hands would have just been overkill.

For her own part, Makino was trying her best not to cling with every appendage she had.

“Are you being cheeky?” she called up, just a little shrilly, gripping the ropes when an impish gust of wind sent the ratlines swaying.

“You tell me,” came the quick reply, her disbelief parried with the flash of a roguish grin. “You’re the one with the view.”

Poised on the ropes directly beneath him, Makino demurely refused to acknowledge the cheeks in question, hugged rather snugly by the fabric of his pants where he leaned his weight against the ropes. Today’s pattern was cheerful palm tree leaves against a bright red backdrop. The fact that it might be the last thing she saw before falling to her death was a sobering thought.

“Eyes aloft, sailor,” Shanks said, a note of command that sent a shiver jumping up her spine, and that had her gaze darting from his rear to his face, and the delighted grin stretched across it. “I know I’m distracting, but try to be professional?”

Had she been a better liar, she might have attempted a glib retort. As it was, the sight of him on the ropes was distracting, a captain in his natural element, his feet bare and his signature cloak discarded; the ruggedness of a man who’d spent his life at sea, all rough stubble and sun-darkened skin swept with dark hair, his half-buttoned shirt straining over his wide shoulders in a way that really ought to be against the law, or at the very least prohibited during certain circumstances, like, say, when she was trying to keep her concentration so she didn’t fall and break every bone in her body.

The toned arm extended towards her, the right sleeve cinched around his bicep, flexing when he caught her eyes darting to it.

Her attempt at an unfazed expression faltered, and his chuckle chased her gaze when she averted it, although her blush was arguably more incriminating, but then it was hard not to be impressed, and she still wasn’t used to seeing him like this.

Curling her toes, she tested her balance. She’d rolled her breeches up past her knees, and her bare feet helped with her grip on the lines. The only thing she’d kept of the clothes she’d brought aboard with her was her loose-sleeved blouse, and even her kerchief had been exchanged for a longer scarf to better hold back her hair; red with white embroideries, he’d gifted it to her shortly after they’d set out from Fuschia, weaved into her long braid now, brushing her spine where it hung between her shoulder blades. She wore no further embellishments, although had wondered how she might look, with gold in her ears and on her fingers, or pearls from the bottom of the sea. Trappings for a different pirate, or at least a bolder one.

She missed her skirts, her silk bodices and embroidered aprons, but this was more practical, and better suited her new chores. Maybe one day she’d be a barmaid again, but for now she was a pirate, and if an enemy showed up, they wouldn’t be asking for a drink.

Shanks offered his hand again, and this time Makino took it, sea-roughened fingers wrapping around her smaller ones tightly, and her breath seized when he lifted her up, and so fast she had to stifle the startled yelp that escaped her, and heard his laughter, a softer thing now as she scrambled to hold on to her new perch on the ratlines beside him.

Her feet curled around the ropes as she tried to reclaim her balance, her breath hitching when the rigging swayed.

She watched as Shanks moved, his leg sliding behind hers as he put himself behind her. A big hand settled over one of hers, gripping it reassuringly.

“Breathe,” came the gentle order, as her back met the sturdy width of his chest, the support allowing her to relax enough to slacken her death grip on the lines, the breath she’d been holding easing out as she did. His feet caged hers, tiny in comparison, his body keeping her secure on the lines. The top of her head was barely level with his sternum; she could feel the warmth of his skin bared by his shirt where it pressed against her back. “Attagirl.”

Shifting his weight, his hips brushed against her backside, and her breath shivered with her laugh, feeling him.

“This is hardly what I’d call professional,” Makino said, even as she yielded some of her weight to him, glad of the support offered by his bigger frame.

“What are you talking about? I’m the essence of professionalism. I just have a very hands-on approach to teaching.” His grin brushed the tender spot on her neck beneath her ear as he rumbled, “This is the first time I hear you complaining about that.”

“I’m not complaining,” Makino said, the shiver in her voice betraying her reaction, but sensing an opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine, added demurely, “I like having you behind me.”

She felt his surprise in the startled grip of his fingers, and could picture his grin from the winded laugh that reached through her back.

“Say things like that and you’ll make me lose my grip.” The way he pressed against her felt retaliatory, her breath hitching at the grind of his hips, and the hardness beneath her rear. “I’m trying to show you the ropes here.” His lips skimmed the back of her neck, the fleeting kiss followed by a rumble, “Although if we move this to our cabin I can show you some different ones.”

Her heart skipped, although not so much for the suggestion as for the casual use of our that had found its way into his vocabulary lately.

Her laugh was soft, and she felt him squeeze her hand. “Such a thorough education you’re giving me.”

“Well, I want you to be prepared,” Shanks said, as a grinning kiss marked the spot above her pulse. “There are some real scoundrels on this sea.”

“Oh, I know.” Her eyes flicked up to catch his, tempered steel in the sunlight. “If I’m not careful, one might steal me away on his ship.”

His look softened, a gentler kind of heat, before he bent to kiss the crown of her head.

But even teasingly said, it touched upon something she hadn’t broached with him yet; an underlying fear that had followed her from East Blue like a shadow in the water, and that was a large part of why she wanted to learn how to sail.

She didn’t want him to regret taking her with him―that there should come a day when her inexperience would cease being endearing, if she became a burden he couldn’t afford to have on his ship.

“Hey,” Shanks said then; the shift in his tone made her blink, before she realised that her thoughts had wandered. “Everything okay?”

Makino nodded, and hoped the slight quaver in her voice helped make her lie convincing. “Just made the mistake of looking down.”

There was a beat where she wondered if he’d seen through her deceit, but then, “As much as I’m enjoying teaching you,” Shanks said, and she was surprised there was no teasing in his voice now, “you know you don’t have to learn this, right? I captain a pretty big crew. We’ve got plenty of hands on deck, and that’s not an amputee quip.”

Murmurs of agreement backed him, from the crew gathered below, all of them having come out on deck to observe. She’d ask them to mind their own business if she’d thought it would work, but recognised a lost battle. They hadn’t minded their own business since the day they’d met.

Although catching the wary looks on their faces, she wondered if the real reason they’d gathered to watch was so they could catch her if she slipped.

Ben was holding the baby, wide-eyed and sucking on his fingers where he watched them both aloft, and she had the sudden thought that he probably wouldn’t forget it if she fell to her death.

It almost made her hesitate, wondering if she really was pushing it, and that her focus was better spent on something a little less hazardous, like charting stars or assisting Marsh in the galley, and not on building a career as a sailor when she was long past the age most swabbies got their first posting. She wasn’t even a proper swabbie, but couldn’t exactly claim a higher rank when she had no skills or credentials to back it up.

But there was a part of her that wouldn’t back down, even against her own misgivings. She couldn’t choose this life, his life, and keep living the way she had. This sea wouldn’t allow it, and she’d be naive if she believed otherwise.

It was never going to be easy, and she was painfully aware that she’d chosen the worst possible time to abandon her law-abiding job to become a pirate. Granted, most fledgling pirates didn’t achieve overnight fame and a back-bending kiss on the cover of the WENP. If she’d hoped for a subtle change of careers, that ship had thoroughly sailed.

But whatever kind of pirate she turned out to be, she didn’t want to be useless. At the very least, she wanted to know her way around his ship.

“It’s not like I’m going to put you on watch duty,” Shanks said, when a lull had passed where she hadn’t spoken. “That’s why we have Fen, although between you and me, if Whiskey could sound the alarm, he’d be out of a job.”

“No offence, Boss, but that cat was shat out of satan’s arsehole,” spoke the freckled young man seated on the yard above them, with the ease of someone who spent a lot of time aloft, and who didn’t have thirty-two years of deeply burrowed roots holding him back. “But yeah, you’re probably right.”

“If our ship’s cat can do it, then I should be able to,” Makino retorted pertly, although didn’t say that she’d rather not spend a whole night in the crow’s nest by herself. Not that Shanks would ask her, and if he did, he’d have something rather different in mind than keeping watch, but even that would be moot if she couldn’t get up there by herself.

If they hadn’t had an audience, she might have told him. Instead what she said was, “I can’t be a pirate without any sailing skills, Shanks.”

“Hey, there are plenty of pirates who have no sailing skills,” Shanks countered. “Don’t underestimate how much you can get away with by riding someone’s coattails. It’s done wonders for Buggy’s career.”

“At this rate, he’ll be an Emperor soon,” Fen said.

“Who will?” Yasopp asked, appearing on the yard beside Fen, causing Makino to start, and she was glad to have Shanks behind her, as she didn’t lose her grip. She hadn’t even seen him climb up, but, “Hey, Ma-chan,” he chirped, swinging his legs over the yard as he took a seat. “How’s it hanging?”

“Oh, just swimmingly,” Makino sighed, and tried not to squirm, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on her. Unlike Shanks, she’d never loved the spotlight, particularly when doing something she wasn’t good at, and it was a little intimidating to have a whole crew of experienced pirates observing her stumbling attempts into learning their craft.

For all its delight, Yasopp’s grin was understanding, and her gratitude was silent when that sharp-eyed gaze left her to look at Fen, his arms crossed over his chest in a casual repose as he repeated his earlier question, “So who’ll be an Emperor soon?”

“Buggy,” Fen said.

Yasopp snorted, but after a beat, conceded, “You know, I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s got a way of falling upwards.” Then with a grin, “Roster’s getting pretty packed now, though, with Luffy and this one,” he said, nodding to Makino. “You’ll have to watch out for challengers now that you’ve announced yourself, Ma-chan. It’s eat or be eaten on this sea.”

“Don’t,” Makino said primly, before Shanks could open his mouth, and she couldn’t see his grin but she could imagine it well enough. Then to Yasopp, “And please don’t include me in this power-grabbing contest.”

“I hate to break it to you, my heart, but it’s a little late for that,” Shanks said.

“You did give an interview,” Yasopp pointed out.

“The photograph was also hard to misinterpret,” Fen agreed.

“I don’t mind what they call me,” Makino said, and already knew what it was, the endearment that had been given to her by the man she’d married long before she’d asked him to take her with him, but Empress was symbolic, not declarative, and the title itself wasn’t the issue. “It’s about what they expect. I’m not going to challenge anyone, I just want to be a normal pirate. No politics, just plain and simple swashbuckling. Whatever happened to parrots and peg legs?”

“Do you want a parrot?” Shanks asked.

“What I want is for my merits to speak for themselves,” she said, gently firm as she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Small and unimportant as they might be.”

His look held a thought he didn’t share, but before he could say anything, “So I’m not riding your coattails,” she told him, and was quick to add, “And don’t,”―he pinched his lips shut, although the boyish grin stayed―“make that into something lewd. It’s too easy, even for you.”

“She’s got a point, Cap,” Yasopp said. Fen made a noise of agreement.

“I feel like you’re all underestimating my creativity, but whatever,” Shanks said. “Also, ‘even for you’, wife? The level of disrespect. You’re on my ship now, and last I checked, I was still the captain.”

Doubtful murmurs from the deck below, which he answered by sticking his tongue out.

Her smile was sweetly mutinous. “Let me rephrase, then: I’m not riding your coattails, Captain.”

She knew from his grin that she was going to be paying for that later, but, “Have I told you that I find your premature midlife crisis adorable?” Shanks said instead. “Most people just change their hair. Or buy a really big boat.”

“Or marry a younger woman,” Ben supplied from around his toothpick. The baby on his arm was falling asleep, his head tucked under his chin.

Shanks turned his head to call down, “Et tu, you ass?”

Laughing agreement from the rest of their crew set off a debate of who’d had the biggest midlife crisis to date―a tie between Yasopp’s dreads and their captain’s choice of wife, who demurely elected to have no opinion on the matter―and Makino felt the momentary reprieve of their attentions, Shanks’ in particular, who for all his easygoing attitude had been watching her closely since they’d begun climbing the rigging.

It wasn’t that he minded her learning, but she wondered sometimes if he’d expected her to take the safer route, or at least one that didn’t include the risk of breaking her neck. His desire to protect her was endearing, if a little hypocritical from a man who was entirely too casual about danger. Their departure from East Blue was only the most recent example.

It had been a few weeks since her birthday, when she’d left the only home she’d ever known, chased from her safe shores by a fleet of navy warships. That last part had thankfully not needed repeating, but then the navy didn’t have the same foothold on this sea, or the presence to enforce their authority, in her husband’s territory.

Hers now, too, or at least symbolically, although even then it was a lot to accept for someone whose only claim before this had been to a little bar on the seaside. She still hadn’t fully grasped the finer points of the New World’s politics, aside from the precarious balance of powers that always felt one nudge away from toppling, and even saying that she wanted no part in it, she wondered sometimes if she would even have a choice.

Warm fingers squeezed hers. “Ready?” Shanks asked, and with a fortifying breath, Makino nodded.

She felt him shift his weight, yielding room for her as she made to climb further up the ratlines, and following close behind her until they reached the footrope beneath the course yard, where the bottom sails were stowed.

Reaching past her, she watched him swing himself up onto the yard, nimble in a way that never ceased to amaze her. She’d used to observe him working aloft, that first year they’d been docked in Fuschia, but watching him still stole her breath, his amputation no more a hindrance than the wind, and sure-footed in a way that made her wonder if he’d ever feared anything.

She wished for a bit of that confidence now, as she focused on making it look like she wasn’t clinging to the ratlines now that he was no longer behind her.

Her gaze fleeted down to the deck. She’d never been particularly afraid of heights, but then she’d made a point of keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground. The only other occasions she’d stepped out of her comfort zone had been at his direction, except this was a bit higher up than atop a table.

Shanks extended his hand to her, and this time she was prepared when he pulled her up, her weight not even a minor burden as he lifted her onto the course yard in a single, fluid movement.

His hand cupped her elbow, steadying her as she found her footing. It was the lowest yard on the mast, but the distance to the deck still felt considerable.

The sea spray was gentle against her cheeks, touched pink by the sun that had darkened her freckles, the weeks they’d been at sea. The salt wind kept trying to stubbornly coax her hair out of her scarf, a few rogue strands freed to brush her cheekbones.

Looking up at Shanks found him watching her, so tall she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, a thought behind them she wasn’t privy to, but at her questioning look he just said, “It suits you.”

Bemusement wrinkled her brow as she laughed, winded from the climb, “What, sweat and your old capris?”

The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, a fey smile that made her wonder if she’d guessed correctly, before his hand lifted to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing the arch of her cheekbone before tucking an errant lock of salt-swept hair back into her scarf, as Shanks said simply, “The sea.”

Her grin wavered, and she had no comeback to that, but he only curled his fingers under hers, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles, before gesturing to the mast. “After you.”

He let her grip his hand until she’d found a foothold, and kept one step behind her as she climbed the ratlines towards the top of the mast, until they’d reached the topgallant yard, and balancing on the footrope, he waited until she’d hoisted herself up before climbing up beside her.

The sea spooled out beneath them, the blue silk sky above the horizon the most perfect she’d ever seen. This high up, the wind sang louder between the masts, laughing where it tugged and teased the rigging, the shrouds stretched taut and the ratlines creaking as the ship swayed.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Makino eased her legs down on either side of the wooden yard. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing the world from this perspective, and couldn’t say if the thrill she felt leaned more towards fear or excitement. 60/40, probably.

She looked down.

…or maybe 70/30.

Searching for a distraction, she lifted her eyes to Shanks, his long legs draped astride the yard, like he might sit on one of the benches in the galley. “How does it feel?”

Breathing in deeply, “Like I want to throw up,” Makino said, and saw his grin where it split his face.

Her smile softened, and keeping her eyes on him, she said, “And like I never want to go back down.”

His grin held understanding, and a feeling that made her heart ache, it was so fierce, and that wasn’t the view’s doing, although it was an undeniably spectacular sight, the sea and the sky ever-bending, the world stretched as far as it would go from horizon to horizon; an otherworldliness about this ocean that was humbling, faced with her own mortality against those terrifying powers, which had nothing to do with the pirates who sailed it.

Before coming to the New World, she hadn’t known what to expect. Between Shanks’ camping stories and the navy’s propaganda, all she’d known was that it wouldn’t be anything like East Blue, which meant she couldn’t keep being the same person she’d been. Not if she wanted to be in an Emperor’s crew, even just as his wife. There was no room for the ordinary in this realm, where only the extraordinary survived.

Lowering her gaze, she braved a glance at the deck far below. Hopefully she wouldn’t fall and break her neck. Given the countless ways to die on this sea, it seemed a somewhat anticlimactic way to go.

Lifting her eyes to Shanks found him considering her, outlined by the sun behind him, his eyes hooded under his scars, a curiously vulnerable look in them now, as though he couldn’t quite make himself believe she was really there.

She wondered if that look would fade, if he ever came to regret bringing her with him.

The intrusive thought slipped past her defences, before she blinked it away.

“So, my barmaid,” Shanks said, the tender note in his voice rendering it too sincere for teasing. “How are you finding the pirate’s life so far?”

She hoped her smile didn’t betray her earlier thoughts. “It’s actually been pretty uneventful,” Makino said, with a lightness that attempted to conceal the slight shiver in her voice. “I’m almost beginning to wonder if you really were exaggerating about all your dangerous escapades. I’ve seen no bears, either.”

His smile indulged her teasing, but his silence was telling.

She wondered what he was shielding her from, and if she even wanted to know. But even if she couldn’t hide from it forever, she was grateful for the uneventfulness of their voyage thus far. It wasn’t the same as Fuschia, with its gentle monotony, and where change had always been welcome. On this sea, change could easily be synonymous with war.

Her stomach twisted at the reminder, but looking out over the sea found it calm, although she did wonder what would happen the day it inevitably caught up with them. Shanks had enemies, and one in particular had featured in her nightmares since long before she’d asked to come with him.

Blinking her eyes, she dispelled the thought of Blackbeard, anchoring her focus in the present, and Shanks on the yard beside her, in his shirtsleeves and with his pants rolled up past his knees, the deceptive trappings of a simple sailor, and not the pirate lord the world knew. The wind had dragged its fingers through his hair, and his scars looked gentler under the look of contentment on his face, his staggering features eased with a smile, and the note of tension that was usually there gone from his brow.

Looking at him, it was almost easy to forget the authority he held on this sea; the kind of power he commanded, and the territories under his flag. To believe for a few seconds that she might be a simple sea captain’s wife, and nothing more.

But lifting her eyes to the top of the mast, and the jolly roger dancing on the breeze, there was no denying what he was, and what she was now, and had been since the day she’d married him. That the pirate who’d stolen her away from her quiet shores was not the same who’d first dropped anchor in her port twelve years ago; the one she knew as her husband.

She didn’t know him like that―as Emperor. She wondered idly if that was what he was shielding her from, more than anything else.

“You know,” Shanks said then, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re handling this a lot better than most do, their first time aloft. Buggy only made it halfway up―I bet him that I could climb higher, so of course he had to prove me wrong. You should have seen him. Captain had to climb up to get him down.”

“What about you?” Makino asked, smiling. She could picture it easily, for all that she’d never actually met Buggy.

His grin belonged to the eight-year-old up to no good, all boyish pride. “I made it to the top.”

“He had to get you down too, didn’t he?”

“Yup. I think I even cried a little on the way down.”

Her laugh tumbled out, the sound softening his eyes, and she saw his gaze where it drifted a bit, as though remembering.

Watching him, Makino tried to picture their son at that age, if he would be similarly brave, and foolish, and if he might have a little brother or sister egging him on. Maybe even more than one.

It wasn’t the first time the thought found her, imagining more children. She hadn’t brought it up since the birth of their son, and didn’t know how to broach the subject now, when their lives had changed so much. She hadn’t been able to make herself ask him what he felt about it, afraid of what the answer would be. It was already a risk having her on board, and a baby who wasn’t even a year old. A pregnancy wouldn’t exactly make things easier.

Would he think it would be too dangerous for her to stay? She couldn’t say he would be wrong, but just thinking about going back to her life before, and that aching loneliness, to wait, scared and alone on some island, filled her with a fear that made all her other worries pale in comparison.

She knew his old captain had accepted the risk, allowing the wife and children of one of his men to sail with them, but it had been a different time, and from what Shanks had told her, she could hold her own against the best in their crew. Makino couldn’t say the same for herself.

“It proves my point, though,” Shanks said, drawing her back from where her thoughts had gone, and her hand slipped from where it had been worrying her stomach. The admiration in his voice was genuine, but then for all his teasing, he’d never been the type to indulge her just to make her feel better. “You’re a natural. At this rate you’ll be dancing on the yards in no time.”

The impulse seized her, not an unusual feeling where he was concerned, wanting his eyes on her, and his admiration. It was what gave her the courage now, overtaking her fear, and spurred by the sight of his eyes widening, Makino put the future out of her mind, focusing instead on Shanks as she made to push to her feet.

Shifting her weight, she rose to her full height. She wasn’t looking at him now, but felt his focus, the near-physical grip of his eyes, fastened on her where she balanced on the yard. The wind tugged her blouse from where she’d tucked it into the waistline of her breeches, filling her lungs, until she felt light as air. Aside from being terrifying, there was something exhilarating about being aloft, so high up it felt like you could see to the very ends of the world.

The yard creaked beneath her bare feet, but her balance held as she walked the length of the yardarm, her arms lifted, but she didn’t waver, a balletic grace that cheerfully defied her hesitance climbing up, and reaching the end of the yard, she turned to find his mouth hanging open, and couldn’t keep her smile demure where it split her face, her secret revealed.

She wished she could commemorate the look on his face somehow, as Shanks told her, “I don’t know what I’m more proud of, your acting skills or the fact that you’ve been practicing without me noticing.”

Smiling, she didn’t mention that the last one had been a bigger challenge than learning to work aloft, but the nights he’d been busy with their son, going to sleep early, she’d sneak out to practice. Fen and Yasopp had been teaching her, and she saw Shanks single out both culprits now in the crow’s nest, wearing near-identical grins.

His eyes found hers again, a new look in them now, as though he was seeing her differently. And it was a look she knew but that never failed to catch her off guard, something that was at once tender and fierce, and that filled her with a thrill that knew no equal, even against the adrenaline rush of being aloft where she stood atop the sea, dressed in the warm spray and the salt wind and with blisters on her hands and feet that it would take some time yet to become proper callouses.

She wondered what he saw now when he looked at her, if it was a barmaid or a pirate; wasn’t sure which she felt like, but the look on his face rendered the distinction unimportant.

Glancing down, the drop still made her stomach turn in on itself, but it was a different feeling being up here now than it had been the first time. It might also have something to do with his reaction, and the grin that was so proud it looked like it couldn’t go any wider.

Her own pride made her bold, and made her forget the distance to the deck, and holding his eyes, she didn’t pay enough attention to her feet, or the loose bit of rope where it peeked out from where the sails were stowed.

It caught her foot.

She saw Shanks’ eyes widening, his grin falling as he scrambled to reach for her, but it was too late.

Terror seized her limbs, and even the formerly playful wind couldn’t cushion her fall as she plummeted through the air. For all that it had seemed so far, the drop to the deck below was quick, and she had less than a second to think as she twisted mid-air, grabbing for the rope as Fen tossed it down, and her heart lurched into her mouth as her downward descent changed course, the momentum provided by her fall allowing her to swing around the main mast.

The wind rushed by, dragging tears from her eyes and a terrified laugh from her chest as she soared through the air, towards the deck and the crew who’d gathered to watch, wearing horrified expressions and looking like they’d been prepared to catch her, but they were forced to step aside as Makino released her grip on the line.

Her landing wasn’t as smooth as she’d wanted, as releasing the rope saw her stumbling forward as her feet touched the deck, multiple pairs of hands reaching out to grab her, but she didn’t fall, catching herself against Lucky, who was the closest.

A full second of stunned silence followed where no one made a sound, before Yasopp let out a whooping cheer, but the rest looked so shocked, they didn’t immediately respond.

She saw the first wavering grin, before more rippled through the crowd, followed by their voices, their salt-hewn timbres raised in a roar under the open sky. It filled her chest, leaving her lightheaded as rough hands ruffled her hair and gripped her shoulders.

Still reeling, Makino didn’t tell them she was glad for the support, because it felt like her knees were about to give out.

Her heart was pounding against the roof of her mouth, adrenaline and childlike exhilaration pulling a winded laugh from her chest, bright and airy as she lifted her eyes to the main mast, only to find Shanks calling down towards her.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she didn’t even attempt a demure smile this time, or pretend her knees weren’t trembling as badly as her voice, even as she called up, “Were you worried, Captain?”

His breath left him in a gust she couldn’t decide whether or not was a laugh.

She watched as he lifted to his feet, her eyes widening as he reached for one of the lines, before diving off the topgallant yard, using the propulsion from his jump to swing around the mast like she had, although with far more control.

But where she’d expected him to step onto the deck, he only shifted his weight, allowing his momentum to carry him towards where she was standing, and she’d just realised what he meant to do when he swept her off her feet, the arm extended to hold the line wrapping around her tightly.

Her hands scrambled for purchase, clinging to his broad shoulders, a shrieking laugh pulling from her lips, chased by his deeper cadence as they soared through the air, once more around the mast. The wind carried them forward, and glancing down saw the drop to the water below, but it wasn’t fear that filled her this time, her nose buried in his neck with her laughter, like when he’d spin her, dancing in her bar as the fiddle played until she was dizzy and gasping for breath, only this time they danced on the squalls to the singing of the ship.

He put them down on the deck, his arm around her keeping her legs from giving out as he stepped off, holding her to him as he gently eased her down on her feet. Her whole body shook, adrenaline and laughter in equal measure as she steadied herself against his body.

His arm curled around her loosely, his palm spanning her back, but he didn’t let her go, which Makino appreciated, as she didn’t trust her legs just yet.

“That’s payback for nearly giving me a heart attack,” Shanks said, playfully chiding, although there was a slight waver in his voice that couldn’t be smoothed over with humour.

Looking up at him where he held her, her beaming smile didn’t know how to contain itself. “I wanted to surprise you.”

His look softened, somehow both achingly proud and mildly exasperated, as he told her wryly, “You succeeded.” Touching his chest, he let out a wheezing sigh. “Well, at least I know my ticker is working. Always good to know at my age.”

“I try to keep you on your toes,” Makino said, and gently glib, “That’s what a younger wife is for, or so I’ve heard.”

The chuckle that left him was winded, and pulling her close, “I love you,” he sighed. “You’ll send me to an early grave, but at least I’ll be really excited about it.”

Her grin hurt. “Any comments on my form?”

“Exquisite. Dainty and petite. Perfect, tiny breas―”

She clapped her hands over his mouth, her laughter loud and startled. “Shanks!”

“What?” he asked, his voice muffled behind her hands. “Oh, was that not what you were referring to?” His grin peeked out from behind her splayed fingers, her palms catching on his beard as he chuckled, “My bad.”

Kissing her fingers, he wrapped his own around them, his big hand dwarfing hers as he squeezed it. Makino almost thought it felt like his fingers were shaking.

His grin had eased a bit, although his voice was rough with pride as he kissed her small fist and said, “Quick reaction time, and damn impressive manoeuvres. A bit shaky on the landing, but you get extra points for theatrics.”

Beaming, she didn’t mention that she’d fallen on her ass the first eight attempts; she was just delighted she’d stuck the landing when it counted. “I still need more practice going down,” Makino said.

His whole face brightened, his grin fairly wolfish, and she recognised her mistake a second too late.

“Oh my god,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with a gusting laugh.

“I’m torn between vehemently disagreeing with that statement and graciously offering myself up for you to practice on,” Shanks said, his arm wrapping around her as she bent her head towards his chest, her laughter helpless as he lowered his voice to murmur, “You know my feelings about that particular skill of yours. Look; it’s already got a standing ovation.”

She pinched his side, and demurely ignored said standing ovation where it pressed against her stomach, her arms wrapped around his waist as she leaned into his chest, his laughter soft as he pulled her close, a trembling kiss pressed to the parting of her hair.

The others were there, their voices raised with delight, “Seriously, Makino!”

Nervous laughter. “You really had us going there for a moment!”

“Yeah, no shit. I thought my heart was about to fall through my ass!”

“Lovely image,” Shanks said, his arm sliding around her back as she leaned into his side.

Ben was holding Ace, awakened from his brief nap by the commotion. For once, his untouchable expression yielded a surprising amount of feeling, although Makino didn’t know whether to call it relief or like he desperately needed a smoke.

“You’re supposed to be the one with sense,” he told her, handing the baby over to Shanks when he reached his arms towards his father.

Shanks just grinned, and settling their son on his arm, “Just wait until this little guy begins climbing the rigging. It’s a good thing you can’t get any greyer, Ben, but then it’s my turn now, I guess.”

Ben looked at them both, then at his godson. Makino wondered if it was the first time the thought had occurred to him.

Smiling, and ignoring the thought of how she would handle an overactive toddler on a ship, “Wish you hadn’t quit smoking?” Makino asked him.

Ben looked at the baby, making excited babbling noises as Shanks pointed at a seagull grooming on the yard where they’d been sitting.

But for all his long-suffering, and the worry she still felt that they’d be too much trouble to have aboard, it wasn’t regret that made a startled grin break across his face, catching even her off guard as Ben said, and with a look that made her wonder if he knew what she was hiding, “A small sacrifice.”

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just-asks-and-beats · 3 years

Text

Land Ho!

Water. That was all Gray could see.. for soooo long. He just wanted to pass out. His body felt sluggish, it was getting harder by the minute to sit up straight, and his head was pounding. He tried to ignore it, but it really seemed like karma was beginning to catch up to him. It certainly didn’t help to be in the presence of Ship for the whole ride… they were too damn happy, too damn hug-y..? Is that even a word..? He didn’t know, didn’t care. He just wanted them to stop hopping around the ship hugging everyone and get to the volcano already. As a gentle sea breeze ruffled his cloak, he took a moment to let everything that was happening set in… Big mistake. He felt sick, guilt coming along with his realisations. Oh, how he didn’t want to have to face Barracuda.. but what other choice did he have!? What would everyone do to him if they found out who he really was…? He wished he’d died in that final fight.. he hardly even remembered what happened, just how much it hurt. Nobody had ever accepted him, and he was sure there were no chances at a happy life for him now. He’d ruined every chance he had. He let out a quiet sigh as he looked down at the water below…

Darkness. That was all Lycan- or Lichen? Was he still using the code-name? He didn’t remember… Anyway, it was dark. Way too dark. For soooo long. He hated being stuck as Gray’s body, it was getting hot being covered up in fabric the whole time! They wished Ship had a motorboat so they could just speed over to the volcano instead of this. It was hard to see, hard to breathe, and getting tiring holding Gray up. He wanted to complain about it, but alas, giving away both of their identities would mean quite a bit of trouble. He’d just have to complain to Barracuda when they got there. He began thinking of the volcano, how nice it would be to stay there again. Sure, his last visit ended in disaster, but it was the fun kind of disaster! He truly didn’t care about being corrupted, he just liked having the extra sass and slight power boost! Sure, they weren’t as much of a threat as they were when they’d first been corrupted, the treeangle shard greatly powering up the volcano, but they could still kick ass! He wondered how Bareacuda would react to seeing them both… a question entered his mind. Should he tell Barracuda that Gray is really Blixer…? Well, if Ship said he hadn’t been in a good mood lately, then the answer was probably no. He would just have to wait until Barracuda was feeling better to speak about it with him in private! …He hoped everything would go well when they arrived at the volcano…

The sea, the sky, the beautiful clouds, the shining sun, oh how Ship loved it. There was nothing better to them than setting sail, gazing out over the horizon… this “Gray” was quite the character. Gray top, blue bottom, they’d never seen another shape like him, but they certainly weren’t judging. They liked Gray, even if something about him seemed… off. They couldn’t quite place their finger on it, but they figured it best to let sleeping dogs lie, and let him live his own life without asking too many questions. Ship took out their telescope and pour it to their eye, getting a better look at everything. The telescope was a family heirloom, passed down through quite a few generations, and always kept on tip-top shape, just like their ships. As they gazed through the glass they took in a deep breath, letting out a hearty

“LAND HO!”

Gray had practically jumped right off Lycan- or Lichen? Were they still trying to convince everyone that sorry excuse for a lie was their name? He wasn’t sure. Anyway- he’d practically jumped right off their shoulders as Ship’s call rang out across the waters. He saw the volcano in the distance, quickly getting larger and larger. Finally.

Lichen sat up straight, fully alert. What was going on? He couldn’t see a thing and he felt too nervous to try and peek out.. Maybe the volcano was close! He really hoped so… luckily his guess was correct as he heard Ship began to speak about things like “droppin’ ye off ‘ere” and “dockin’ the boat”. He quickly told up, hiding his paws in the cook and holding onto Gray to keep him steady as he hopped out of the boat onto the volcano’s island.

“Alrighty, I hope everythin’ goes well for ye here, and I really hope ye can get that grumpy lad t’ be a bit more cheerful! I’m surprised he hasn’t “unleashed his wrath” on us yet! Well, maybe he just recognises ye! I wish ye the best o’ luck, I’ll be takin’ me leave now!” And with that, Ship began sailing away, leaving Gray on the island to try and help Barracuda. They waved to him as they sailed off.

“Ah, thank you ever so much for your generosity!” Lycan did his best to sound mature once again, speaking so Gray didn’t have to. He waved back where he’d heard Ship’s voice come from, hoping it was at least general the right direction, since he couldn’t see all too well. He heard Gray sigh.

“….Alright… let’s get goin’ I guess….” His voice sounded weak, and quieter than usual. Lichen felt a bit worried about the poor guy.. They peeked out of the cloak and began to walk towards the tunnel leading into the volcano. As they entered, Lycan finally looked out of the cloak completely, then kneeled down to Gray could get off of his shoulders. As Gray climbed down he really wasn’t really to hav to hold himself up completely on his own, and almost fell over, doing all he could to keep his legs from giving out entirely. He leaned against a wall of the cave, trying to be as nonchalant about everything as possible, but Lycan knew something was wrong.. Gray’s condition was getting worse.

“Uh.. you stay here! I’ll try to find Barracuda! I don’t think you’d do too well climbin around the rocks n stuff over the lava. I’m used to it though, or at least I was getting used to it when I was here for a bit… Whatever, I’ll be fine. See ya!” And with that he ran down the tunnel into the main area of the volcano.. Where was Barracuda? If he was apparently making such a fuss over here, then why wasn’t he there to greet them? Lycan scaled a rocky wall, climbing up to a ledge and jumping onto another rocky platform.

“HEY BARRACUDA!? I BET YA RECOGNISE MY ANNOYING VOOOIICE! DID YA MISS ME?” He called out, hoping for any kind of response.. Barracuda was the only one he knew that might be capable enough to help B- Gray without maybe also wanting to kill him. He needed to find him. He continued searching, leaping from place to place, his attention shifting more to the search than to his surroundings… He called out again to Barracuda, his voice echoing throughout the cavern. He hardly noticed a slight trembling of the rock beneath his feet. He walked to the ledge, ready to leap to a rocky wall and grab on when suddenly, just as he was about to jump, the rock broke beneath him. He yelped as his plunge to the lava below began. No! He didn’t want this to happen again, it hurt! He braced himself for the intense burning sensation when suddenly, he stopped! Something had grabbed him, a long tail of some sort curled around his torso, it’s grip tightening as he was slowly hoisted back up to a stable ledge. He gripped the ground below him, trembling slightly before shaking his head and trying to stand up… but he couldn’t. He noticed the tail was still tightly gripped around him… wait.. this is-!

“Just what do you think you’re doing here…?” A cold, stern voice asked. Lycan looked up to see none other than Barracuda glaring at him… suddenly he felt a lot more helpless. He stammered a bit before being cut off by one of Barracuda’s dramatic sighs. He pulled his tail closer to himself, bringing Lycan along with it. He took the time to inspect the pink splotches making their way into Lycan’s complexion.

“…I see the corruption hasn’t quite treated you well, has it? Let me guess, you’ve come to run from your problems..” His voice was calm, yet accusatory in a way. Lycan looked a bit uncomfortable, staring at the ground.

“…I.. I need your help.. we need your help. I have someone with me that.. isn’t doing too well.” He shrunk back as he noticed how infuriated Bareacuda looked.

“What do you think this volcano has become, a hospital!? Why do you think I would ever care about some stranger, and some annoying pup come to ruin my only chances as finding a sorry excuse for peace!?” Lycan gave a small whimper as Barracuda’s grip on him tightened as he got angrier, which seemed to make Barracuda let go of him altogether. He gave an almost apologetic look before curling his tail around himself and looking away.

“….Lycanthropy, I just want everyone to leave me alone. I have… much on my mind currently, and as you can tell i’m horribly irritable. So if you could just… leave. That would be ideal.” He tried to make “go away” sound a eloquent as possible.. Lycan seemed to get the message, but he had no other options.. he couldn’t leave.

“…I’m sorry for being so annoying and I promise I’ll try not to cause any trouble but please! Please let us stay, we don’t even have any way to leave and even if we go leave we have nowhere to go! Shapes started freaking out when they saw the pink growing back on me! And- and Gray is… I.. I’m worried he won’t last for much longer without any help and I don’t know what to do!” He looked at Bareacuda, desperate for any kind of look of pity. He got a flash of one, but Bareacuda quickly composed himself and returned his stern gaze.

“I have no help to give. I’m sorry. I can temporarily fix the bridge to this island so that you and this “Gray” may leave, but that. is. all.” Barracuda may be stubborn, but Lycan was too. He decided it was time for the final trick up his sleeve… the puppy eyes. He did his best to look as pitiful as possible, his big eyes shining as he did his best to convince Barracuda one final time to let them stay…. Eventually he got up, looking sadly at the way back down. He tearfully nodded as he climbed down, slowly making his way back to the tunnel where Gray was waiting. Barracuda felt… guilty. Did he really just deny a kid and someone who is potentially deathly ill from taking shelter here…? He didn’t want to think of himself as a bad person, but… this was certainly a new low. Oh how he hated this feeling, but… he couldn’t force Lycan and his friend to leave, his conscience would never recover.. He slowly slithered down, as he reached the bottom he used his magic to transform his serpentine bottom half back into normal legs. He ran into the tunnel after Lycan.

Gray has been sitting here alone for quite some time.. where was Lycan.. was he hurt…? He hoped not, he’d never forgive himself if he got this kid into even worse trouble… His head was foggy, thoughts swimming around and crashing into one another, he could hardly even stay awake. He didn’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching until Lycan was standing right in front of him, he sleepily looked up, slightly relieved to see him ok. Lycan began to speak to him… what was he saying…? Something about… Barracuda… guilt-tripping….? He had no idea what was going on… He noticed Lycan looked worried.. they knelt down in front of him and waved a hand in front of his face… what were they doing…? He just grunted and shook his head, he didn’t feel well.. Lycan backed off, but still seemed troubled as he stared at him. Then, Lycan looked over down the tunnel, he smiled a little and got up to greet someone… Gray did his best to see who it was…. it was Barracuda.. he really was here… he was staring at him, did he do something wrong…? He… wasn’t sure what expression Barracuda even had… he felt nervous, guilty… He felt so tired… Barracuda was here.. that was good…. he’d help… good… that means Gray could just… close his eyes… for a minute…

“D-DID HE JUST DIE!?” Lycan exclaimed, looking at Gray who practically just passed out. He looked over to Bareacuda for some kind of reassurance, but all he got was silence.. Barracuda was still staring at Gray, why? Was he that upset a stranger was here..? Lycan watched as Barracuda picked Gray up and walked away with him, taking the time to look back and make sure Lycan was following, which he was. Barracuda had changed his normal legs into a serpentine tail once again to scale the rocks, and had eventually lead Lycan through a small crevice, which lead into a larger cavern area, illuminated by a mixture of candles, lamps, and glowing mushrooms. Oddly enough, there was furniture here. There was a couch, a table and chairs, a laptop, and a whole bunch of boxes filled with all sorts of different things all neatly organised. There was a fire going, a pot hanging above it on a small rack, the smell coming from it made Lycan’s stomachs growl. He hadn’t eaten in a while and whatever was in there smelled great. Barracuda placed Gray down on the couch, grabbing a blanket and putting it over him, then going into the boxes and pulling out two bowls and spoons. He grabbed a ladle resting by the fire and used it to serve two bowl-fulls of a mushroom stew. He handed a bowl to Lycan, which quickly sat down at the table and began to scarf down his meal. He also took his bowl to the table and began eating in a much calmer manner. He looked up at Lycanthropy who clearly seemed to me enjoying the meal and slightly smiled to himself… maybe he could get use to these two idiots staying for a while..

#js&b #jsab #jsab blixer #just shapes and beats #jsab lycanthropy #jsab barracuda #jsab ship #jsab boat #long post #I LOVE WRITING THESE LMAO #if there are any spelling mistakes that i didn’t catch i’m sorry it’s almost 3AM and i’m so tired lmao

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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8

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Tallpaw padded behind Dawnstripe, struggling to see over the long grass and stifling a sneeze as it tickled his nose. “But I’m confused,” he said. “Why did Heatherstar suddenly change her mind?”

Dawnstripe shrugged. “I don’t think Heatherstar ever changed her mind, it hadn’t been decided to begin with. The council makes an official decision the night before the ceremony about how an apprentice will train, and with who.”

“My father sounded so sure about me being apprenticed to Woollycloud…”

“Well, parents always have hopes and preferences, but it’s never definite. I suppose Sandstone decided that on his own.”

“Do you think Heatherstar really only did it because she doesn’t like him?”

“Of course not! Heatherstar would never do that. She made you a moor runner because she thought you wanted to be. You look so miserable trying to dig, and you're such a natural runner. The deputy, medicine cat, and elders must have had an agreement as well.”

I doubt Whitetooth did… But the others...they really thought that? Tallpaw was silent for a moment.

Dawnstripe paused and looked at him “Do you want to be a tunneler? Heatherstar made the call, but if you really wanted to, she wouldn’t deny you. Cats have changed before. If you want Woollycloud to train you...”

“N-no it’s…” Tallpaw fumbled, still trying to piece his feelings together. “I guess...I’ve never actually thought that much about what I want. I thought it was just what I needed to do.”

“Think about it now. I’d love to train you, I’ve always wanted an apprentice. But it’s your path, Tallpaw. What do you want?”

Tallpaw looked up at her. “I...I don’t want to be a tunneler,” he mewed, a twinge of shame nagging at the back of his head as the words left his mouth. Yet, as soon as he said them, he knew they were true. “I don’t like it...I’m not good at digging. I’m not built like Plumclaw or Woollycloud. I never feel like I’m making progress, and I keep hurting my claws, and I hate feeling cramped in the dark, and...and…”

Dawnstripe purred and rested her muzzle briefly on his head. “Then say no more. This is your first day as an apprentice Tallpaw! Get excited! From today, you start to become a real warrior. Your father may be upset at Heatherstar, but surely not at you. I’m sure he’ll understand if it’s what you want. You are a warrior to your clan, not just to one cat. Now save your worries for later, I want to show you something.”

A real warrior… The thought warmed him from nose to tail tip. It didn’t matter what he specialized in. They were all warriors just the same, that was surely enough.

“Where are we going?” Tallpaw huffed. He hadn’t realized how tall this hill really was until he was climbing it. Dawnstripe shot a wide grin at him as they neared the top.

“The top of Outlook Hill. You can see everything from there. The wind can be heavy without the hill to block it, so brace yourself. It’s blowing hard today.”

Tallpaw leapt up beside her as she finally paused at the top. She wasn’t kidding about the wind. As soon as he’d peaked over the ridge, he was afraid he’d get knocked off his paws as the gust blasted him in the face and flapped in his ears. He ducked back down, fastening his claws tightly into the ground until it died down.

“Don’t be afraid,” Dawnstripe encouraged. “You’ll be ok, it’s nothing to be frightened of. I’m right here with you. Come see!”

Tallpaw hesitantly straightened back up, braced this time as another gust hit him straight on, he pinned his ears back flat and squinted. When he could blink open his eyes, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The other apprentices weren’t exaggerating. He really couldn’t believe the world was so big.

The sun was cresting the horizon behind him, lighting up the parting clouds in brilliant warm hues and bathing the moor in rosy light. The long swaying grass dropped below him in a steep downward slope and spread out almost further than he could see, stretching into a wide expanse of heather and gorse bushes dotting the fields, sparkling and heavy with last night's rain. Hills and mountains he’d never known about lay beyond, tinted blue in the distance, their peaks lit up in gold as the sun's rays touched them. Standing here at the highest point of the moor, he was suddenly aware of how tall this hill really was and almost felt unsteady on his paws at the thought of the wind force sending him tumbling back down. He found himself wondering if birds felt a similar way while trying to fly for the first time.

“No other cats in the forest can have a sight like this.” Dawnstripe said. “Remember wind isn’t your enemy. It is part of us, and we move with it. It guides our paws over the moor and gives us our swift step. Fierce, but also gentle, a constant presence. If you listen, you can hear her singing.”

As the frightening gust died down a bit, he pricked his ears hesitantly. His whiskers were pinned back and his ears whistled. “I only hear it whipping my ears.”

“Be still for a moment. Close your eyes, and focus on just feeling it.”

He was still as she asked, and just when he was afraid he wouldn’t understand, the gust turned into a more gentle breeze. It whistled down the hill side, ebbing and flowing in strength. A gentle ruffling past his fur, almost like a clanmate brushing along his side. As he closed his eyes, he pictured it moving down the hill, weaving past the sage brush, around the gorse and the scarce scraggly trees. It was all so far away, but letting the scents sink in as they were carried to him, the heather on the far moor sweet on his tongue, a rabbit somewhere foraging in the thistles, it was almost as if he could picture every groove and flower clearly, even the parts of the moor out of sight. All of it connected. And then, quietly at first and then growing in volume, he heard a low whistling. High pitched, and then lower. Almost a hum as it whisked through the fields.

“I think I hear it.” Tallpaw murmured. The moor really was singing to him.

Dawnstripe brushed her tail against him. “It doesn’t always happen, but when the winds are just right, they say the matron of the moors returns to the hills. She lives on in the winds and sings to her children still, always running beside them. You are part of this place after all, the same way it will always be a part of you.”

Tallpaw could hardly believe such a view had been just above his head, towering over camp all his life and he never knew. He only barely heard Dawnstripe laugh over the whistling in his ears. “I never forgot my first sight of the moor. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“How far does it go?” Tallpaw breathed.

“The forest's edge is below those far hills. We’ll head in that direction and then make our way around. I just wanted your first view to be from the best spot, especially since the rain clouds were nice enough to part for us. You can see most of the territory from up here.”

“All of it? This is all ours?” How would he ever memorize such a large place?

“Everything between the tree lines. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

The wind blew from behind Tallpaw, as if it was tugging him forward, and a thrill ran up his spine as he was eager to let it. Fixing his eyes to the farthest point in sight he felt a leap of kit-like energy bouncing around inside him, a near irresistible urge to let that energy out and spring forward, race the wind, let it carry his paws, cross the open stretch and not stop until he reached the other side. This was nothing like looping the camp. Nothing to get in his way at all, he could fly down the hill if he wanted to, and in that instance he’d never wanted anything so badly.

A greeting meow broke him from his trance and he turned to see Briarpaw and his mentor Meadowbreeze trotting towards them. Dawnstripe waved her tail in greeting.

“Good morning, Dawnstripe!” Meadowbreeze called. “We were hoping to join you for a bit on Tallpaw’s first territory tour before hunting practice, if you don’t mind!”

“Not at all Meadowbreeze.” Dawnstripe nodded at the pale tortoiseshell. The two mollies greeted each other as Briarpaw came to touch noses with Tallpaw.

“It’s a lot to take in, isn't it?” Briarpaw purred, looking out at the endless sky. “I almost fell down the hill during me and Shrewpaw’s first day. The wind was much stronger, not to mention a lot colder.”

Tallpaw let his gaze drift back to the hills. “I feel like I could get lost just looking at it.” Now that he’d seen how big the world was, he was somehow greedy for the sight of more of it. This was only WindClan territory and it looked like so much.

After a moment's silence, Briarpaw cleared his throat and said, “so...moor runner after all, huh? Who would’ve thought?” Tallpaw’s ears set back in slight discomfort. “Y-yeah, I guess so…”

“I always thought you’d be suited for it, you know. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d be interested. But you used to be faster than both me and Shrew, even though you were younger.” He paused for a heartbeat. “How, uh...how are you feeling?”

Tallpaw knew what he was referring to, though neither of them wanted to directly acknowledge the uncomfortable spat Sandstone and Heatherstar had in the middle of it all. He tried to remember what Dawnstripe said. Now wasn’t the time to worry. “I’m fine. I’m going to be a warrior, right? That’s all that matters.”

“That’s the spirit.” Meadowbreeze broke in. “We’d all better get a move on if you want to finish by sundown! You're starting at the northern border first right?”

Dawnstripe nodded and pointed her nose to the shorter hill. “Yep, it’ll be just over that rise, up the Swift-Step hills.” She winked at Tallpaw. “You can run there if you like. I know you want to.”

Tallpaw did want to very much.

“Well then, race me there!” Dawnstripe called as she took off in a flash.

Tallpaw instantly forgot any lingering anxiety as he streaked after her without a second thought, straight down the steep drop. He reveled in the wind whistling through his whiskers, letting gravity carry him down as much as his legs. The sharp incline of the hill made him feel like he was falling with each bound when his paws weren’t touching the earth, but the feeling was more exhilarating than frightening. If anything, it felt more like flying. I’d like to see Shrewpaw try to outrun me! he thought gleefully. The smug brown apprentice would be in for it now. He didn’t even care that the dew in the grass had left him soaked.

Tallpaw was proud of himself for almost managing to match Dawnstripe’s pace to the next hilltop, even if part of him knew she was probably intentionally keeping pace with him. Not too much farther ahead, the ground sloped down again into a thin strip of woodland. Faint rumbles in the distance made Tallpaw’s fur stand on end.

“Is that thunder?” he looked up in confusion. There wasn’t a dark cloud in the sky.

“That would be the Thunderpath.” Dawnstripe said. “Let’s go a bit closer. It’s important for you to know about it.”

Tallpaw wasn’t sure he wanted to. Briarpaw brushed against his side. “It’s not scary so long as you don’t touch it,” he said.

Once they reached the towering row of trees that Tallpaw had seen from the distant hill, he realized they were much bigger up close. WindClan’s camp didn’t have anything that tall. Tallpaw craned his neck up, but he couldn’t even see the tops of the pines past the snaring branches. Through the sparse undergrowth lay a long, black path of what looked like strange flat stone. A horrible acrid stench reached his nose. A rumble of thunder echoed in his ears, coming closer and faster. Tallpaw cowered instinctively and tried to turn, but Dawnstripe held her tail in front of him.

“Don’t be afraid, we’re safe here,” she said.

A massive shining beast came hurtling across the stones, so fast Tallpaw couldn’t even make it out clearly. It streaked past them and over a rise on the path before vanishing into the distance.

Tallpaw didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he let it out.

“That would be one of the twolegs monsters. We understand little about them other than they always stay on their path, and they can kill a cat with their feet if you ever get in their way.” Dawnstripe pointed ahead with her nose. “Do you see that flat smudge on the path? That was what appears to be a small squirrel.”

This close, Tallpaw could almost smell the scent of old rotting prey, but the red of its flesh was blackened and completely flat. If Dawnstripe hadn’t told him it was a squirrel, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to tell.

“That is why you must stay well away from those creatures' paws. They just run down everything in their way. Even something as big as a deer isn’t safe, and neither are we.”

“Do they eat cats?” Tallpaw’s voice shook slightly as he spoke.

Dawnstripe shook her head. “They don’t eat anything. They aren’t like animals. The good news is they are so loud, you can always hear and feel them coming. But it’s still best to stay well away from this place, and don’t ever chase prey onto the Thunderpath.”

“But...what are they? Are they like the bad spirits the elders talk about sometimes?”

“No, not like that. Even the elders aren’t sure what they are exactly, we only know they are tied to the twolegs somehow, and nothing good ever comes out of anything that's been touched by twolegs. Sometimes you can even see them inside. There was a time seasons ago when the clans never had to deal with twolegs or their monsters at all, and this path wasn’t here, but then they came in noisy droves and after some moons, the Thunderpath and the monsters were here. That's how the elders tell it anyway.”

“If the monsters aren’t really animals, does that mean twolegs aren’t either?”

“If they had a proper name, we wouldn't dignify them with it,” Dawnstripe curled her lip in disdain. “They’re tall, awkward, and ugly things with no fur. They can’t be killed, as far as we know, and the animals they keep are often as dangerous as them. Dogs, for one. They bring destruction and danger wherever they go and they don’t behave in any way we can predict or understand. They are no friends to cats.”

“I heard cats live with them,” Briarpaw said.

“Some cats do, those are the kittypets you may have heard the warriors talk about.” Meadowbreeze explained. “I feel sorry for them really, they must have been brainwashed to stay docile and locked up the way they are. Twolegs try to capture a cat's heart so they lose all sense of their natural wild spirit.”

“Would twolegs ever come into our territory to try and make us kittypets?” Tallpaw asked nervously. Dawnstripe rested her tail on his shoulder reassuringly. “We are luckier than ThunderClan and ShadowClan that the nearest twolegs to us live on a farm further to the north, beyond that farther treeline. Twolegs have been edging closer to the other clans' territories for seasons, but StarClan has kept us safe from them so far. We never see them or their kittypets come as far as the moor, so you don’t have to worry. Besides, I heard they are very slow, and we can outrun them easily. Tallpaw didn’t need to be told twice. If he never had to meet a twoleg or their captive animal servants for as long as he lived, he would be perfectly happy with that.

“But that’s not the only thing to be wary about here,” Dawnstripe said and flicked her tail motioning for her apprentice to follow her as she padded along the woodland stretch.

The Thunderpath was high above them now, and underneath the hill was a long narrow opening that led to the other side. The ground in front of it was squishy and wet, dotted with drowned brown plantlife. Through the other side, thick dark trees tangled together. A disgusting scent reached his nose, not as strong as the monster stench, but strong nonetheless. It smelled of wet moldy dirt and soggy prey he couldn’t quite place.

“This,” continued Dawnstripe, “is our border with ShadowClan.”

ShadowClan. This was where those cats lived, tangled in those shadowy trees. It looked suffocating, almost as bad as how he pictured the tunnels themselves. In the dark undergrowth and tree branches twining together above them, he imagined the air in there was as wet and muggy as the ground at his feet.

“How can cats be content living in there?” Tallpaw asked. He remembered the elders' tale about how ShadowClan was banished to the dark swamp lands. No wonder they had been jealous of WindClan’s moor if that was where they lived. “Can they even get fresh air?”

“Not really. They must like it, I guess.” Briarpaw shrugged. “They’re a weird bunch.”

“Not a nice bunch either.” Meadowbreeze added. “Some say the heart of their territory is so dark, you can hardly tell the time of day. It must be horribly dreary.”

“This border is dangerous to wander on your own right now. We have no idea what ShadowClan is up to.” Dawnstripe warned. “They seemed to be sniffing around some moons ago, but it’s been quiet since. They’re very stealthy, so we have to keep a lookout for them.”

Tallpaw imagined the dark fox-muzzled cats he’d heard about peering at him from the far shadows. He shivered involuntarily and was grateful when Dawnstripe motioned for them to keep going.

“We shouldn’t stay here long. We’ve got a lot farther to go. But now you know ShadowClan’s scent. Remember it, and keep an eye out.”

Dawnstripe and Meadowbreeze began padding away, but Briarpaw dragged a bit behind, staring through the tunnel at the darkened tree line. Tallpaw turned back to him. “Briar? What’s wrong? we have to catch up.”

Briarpaw nodded absentmindedly and followed after Tallpaw, his fur prickling along his neck.

Tallpaw looked at him quizzically. “You didn’t see any cats did you?”

He shook his head. “Not cats no...those woods just give me the creeps. I mean, more than usual. It’s like I can see the shadows of the trees stretching out toward us like claws, and covering the moor territory. I get such a bad feeling from them.”

The sun wasn’t bright enough to cast such dark shadows from what Tallpaw could see. He hooked his long tail around Briarpaw’s and led him onward. “Any sensible cat would get a bad feeling from there. Well lucky we don’t have to live in it. Let’s just get far away from here--and quickly.”

***

Tallpaw’s march around the territory had gone through the day into dusk. They’d only paused briefly for a short break before they were out again. He’d never walked so much in a day and his head was still reeling with all he had to take in. Dawnstripe assured him he would learn it bit by bit over time.

The other apprentices greeted him and Briarpaw when they got back into camp.

“Sorry we couldn’t see your first time around the territory with you. We’re nose deep in our training right now since me and Fawn are getting ready for the newleaf race.” Fallowpaw chirped.

Tallpaw cocked his head. “The...newleaf race?”

Shrewpaw snorted. “Yeah, duh! They’ve been talking about it for moons! You spent so much time splashing around in the mud that you didn’t even hear about it?”

“It’s a tradition,” Briawpaw explained. “You know, at the start of every newleaf we celebrate the return of the warm winds by having a whole clan-wide race across the territory.”

“Like our old course around camp, except way bigger and the winner gets a feast and doesn’t have to do the bad chores for two sunrises!” Fawnpaw said. “Mostly it’s about being the fastest, though.”

Tallpaw remembered now, he had heard something about the newleaf race. But his father had told him not to be concerned about it. Just moor runner frivolities.

“It doesn’t mean as much to the tunnelers. You’re already mature for your age, I don’t expect you to get caught up in silly games to see who gets to laze around for a day.” Sandstone had told him.

Tallpaw hadn’t thought about it as being a big deal. But I’m a moor runner now...so I suppose it is something that matters to me? Frivolous stuff... It was right then the thought he’d been putting off came violently pushing its way to the front of his mind. Sandstone. A familiar feeling of unsheathed claws turning his stomach in knots came back to him. I have to go talk to him.

“Tallpaw?” Briarpaw nudged him. “You look like you’ve just stared down a monster, what’s the matter?”

Tallpaw blinked at him with a start. “Sorry. Nothing’s the matter at all. Have um…” He shuffled his paws. “Have any of you seen my father?”

All four of them looked at each other awkwardly. Their discomfort crept into him, intensifying his own all the more.

“Sandstone? Didn’t Heatherstar put him in time out?” Shrewpaw said.

Briarpaw smacked him on the leg as Tallpaw flattened his ears in irritation. Why did Shrewpaw insist on talking about Sandstone that way?

“Never mind, I’ll find him myself,” he growled, turning away.

Briarpaw hissed at his brother. “Stop being rude!”

“What? I just said what happened. It’s not my fault he’s such a--” Tallpaw didn’t want to hear the rest. He was tired of feeling like he was being pulled in three different directions. I just want the cats I care about to get along. Is that so much to ask?

Part of Tallpaw was relieved he couldn’t find his father right away. Would Sandstone be angry at him? Surely he would, he practically hated moor runners. Perhaps I should bring him food...That always puts him in a better mood. Moles were his favorite, and Tallpaw prayed there were some on the freshkill pile. To his immense relief, a hunting party had returned recently. He nosed through the pile absentmindedly and picked up the biggest mole he could find.

He looked around, still unsure of where to start looking. Where would Sandstone have gone? Perhaps to the eastern tunnel he was always talking about. He always said working calmed his nerves. But Dawnstripe hadn’t covered much about the tunneling system, and Tallpaw could only guess the general area it might be in. He was hoping his father would have already made up with Heatherstar and come back by now. Tallpaw hadn’t even noticed he was pacing anxiously in a circle until he nearly ran muzzle first into Woollycloud, causing him to stumble back and drop his mole.

“Ah--! Sorry Woollycloud, I-I didn’t see you.” Tallpaw struggled to meet the tunneler's face, afraid of what expression he’d see.

But Woollycloud mostly looked tired, and he regarded Tallpaw with more sympathy than disappointment. “It’s quite alright Tallpaw,” he said. “Are you… looking for your father?”

Tallpaw nodded quietly, unsure of what to say.

Woollycloud cleared his throat “Well, you’re in luck. He’s talking with Reedfeather now.”

“Is he in trouble?” Tallpaw mewed nervously.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over Tallpaw, its…'' He looked down. “Well, it is all certainly very unexpected. We’re in a rather tough spot at the moment. The project Sandstone and I have been planning for so long has hit a snag, and on top of that Heatherstar just got news again that ShadowClan may have been seen lurking outside their territory on the other side of the Thunderpath. Everyone is on edge, is all. Sandstone and Heatherstar have a bit of a tense relationship, and this came at a bad time. But this is really very normal. Reedfeather and I will smooth things over. Here they come now.”

Tallpaw saw Reedfeather’s brown tabby pelt pushing through the long heather that bordered the camp. Tallpaw dipped his head respectfully as the deputy walked by. Woollycloud started whispering something to him, but Tallpaw’s attention was fixed on Sandstone.

His father lay stiffly next to the sunning stones near the elders' den. His tail was wound tightly around his body, and his eyes were closed like he was trying to appear at ease, but Tallpaw could plainly see his thin fur ruffled around his neck and his whiskers twitching in the way they did when he got into a bad spat with his mother. Tallpaw knew this look very well, that his father was angry, even if he wouldn’t say it aloud. Like a dangerous undercurrent hidden beneath a deceptively gentle looking stream.

Picking up the mole he’d dropped and ignoring the heaviness weighing his paws down, Tallpaw forced himself to walk forward. It was like Dawnstripe said, Sandstone was just surprised. Maybe he wouldn’t be angry with him for not wanting to be a tunneler. There would be other cats! He tried to go over what he would say and how to make his father understand, but he didn’t even believe his own encouragement. Before he knew it, he was standing a tail length away with his tongue feeling very dry and useless in his mouth around the mole’s dusty fur.

Sandstone opened one dark amber eye to regard him. Tallpaw remembered dimly the warmth that used to light up his gaze whenever his father saw him as a kit. He’d lived for that expression. Now those same amber eyes looked fiercely cold and hard, like frost covered stone. But after a couple heartbeats, Sandstone's tail flicked to the side, leaving an open space beside him. Tallpaw let a small bit of relief flood through him. Maybe they could pretend like nothing had happened, and they could just sit and eat together like they often did before.

Tallpaw carefully placed the mole at his paws. “I brought you some prey. I uh...I thought you might be hungry.”

Sandstone eyed the mole, his nose wrinkling a bit. Tallpaw suddenly noticed the slobber that he’d left behind on the ruffled brown fur. He’d unknowingly been anxiously chewing a hole through the side of the tiny animal during his pacing, leaving it looking ravaged and soggy. He winced and scolded himself, Ugh, you useless absolute mouse-brain!

Sandstone cleared his throat and tentatively rolled the mole over. “Did you catch this?” he asked. His tone sounded casual, but there was strain behind it as his whiskers still twitched and his ears were slightly set back with displeasure.

Tallpaw was taken aback. “Well...n-no. We spent all day touring most of the territory, so…” Tallpaw was suddenly second guessing himself. Was he supposed to have been on the lookout for prey during the tour? Was that expected of apprentices? Maybe it was a test, and I didn’t even stop to look once! Did I already mess up my training on the first day?

“Hm.” Was all Sandstone said in response. Tallpaw suddenly wanted to vanish as he wound his anxiously flicking tail around his hind paw to keep it still while his father continued, “If you’d been training in the tunnels with me and Woollycloud, you’d have already caught prey by now. I caught two moles on my first day of training. Mole hunting is a tunneler specialty.”

Tallpaw didn’t reply. He just focused on his tail, curling around his back leg.

Sandstone sniffed. “That’s not your fault, Tallpaw. It’s just how moor runners train. They take things so slow and their apprentices take ages to toughen up into warriors. You got bad luck is all.”

“Yeah, that’s it…” Tallpaw mumbled. “But I can still be a good warrior as a moor runner, right?”

“You just won’t stand out as much is all, with so many moor runners.” It wasn’t the same as the encouragement he used to give. Sandstone always said his son would be the best warrior in the clan. “But it’s only for right now.” Sandstone added.

Tallpaw glanced up, clearly confused. His father stared at him like he should know what he meant as he continued, “Heatherstar wants you to start training as a moor runner, and that’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with learning other skills. But you can tell her you want to train in the tunnels with Woollycloud. She can ignore me if she wants, but it’s your training and you’ll never be any good at something you weren’t meant to be.”

Tallpaw curled his tail even tighter around him. “Do you want me to tell Heatherstar that I want to be a tunneler now?”

Sandstone blinked in surprise, then his gaze narrowed at Tallpaw’s hesitant tone. “Isn’t that what you want? You’ve been working so hard practically ever since you first left the nursery!”

Tallpaw opened his mouth, but he just couldn’t think of anything to say that would make this go well. He remembered what he’d told Dawnstripe. I don’t want to be a tunneler, I hate it. It’s stuffy and dark and exhausting, I just want to learn how to run and hunt on the moor.

But Tallpaw didn’t say any of that, instead he said: “I’m just...not good enough to be a tunneler. I’m not as strong as you and the other tunnelers, and my paws aren’t as tough, that’s why...that’s why it’s better for me to settle for being a moor runner.”

Sandstone’s posture immediately relaxed ever so slightly, his familiar rumbling purr rising in his throat that momentarily eased Tallpaw’s dread.

“Nonsense Tallpaw, tunneling is in your blood! Your mother struggled as a tunneler at first too you know, but when she worked at it, she became a fine tunneler! That’s all it takes. Why, if I knew that was what you were concerned about, I would have pushed Heatherstar harder.”

Dumb mouse-brain, you shouldn’t have said it like that, say something else!

“B-but now I've…” Tallpaw faltered, “I don’t want to offend Dawnstripe, she was so excited about getting an apprentice and it’s only been a day. I can’t just leave now, it would be an insult.”

Sandstone rolled his eyes “Oh she’s young, she’ll have another apprentice soon enough and probably forget all about it. But I suppose you’re right…”

Thank StarClan…

“Even so,” Sandstone continued, “you can’t hold off training for too long just to spare her feelings, it’s better to build your muscles up while you're young.”

He still thinks you want to be a tunneler, just say you don’t!

Why couldn’t he make the words come out? His father’s eyes were lit up again in that encouraging way he remembered so well, looking more pleased than ever. Tallpaw had to focus hard on stopping his tail from lashing with distress.

“Well I...I will train in the tunnels soon. Shrewpaw’s mentor, Hareflight, told me all apprentices learn a little bit about the tunnels, perhaps...perhaps after the newleaf race?” He said quickly.

“The newleaf race? I’d forgotten all about that silly event.”

“Yeah, er--Dawnstripe wants me to train for it. She thinks I’ll be good at it, and maybe after I’ll have more time…”

Maybe if I show him that I'm just better at being a runner, he’ll give up on the idea and I won’t have to tell him I don’t want to tunnel at all…

Sandstone seemed at least a bit satisfied with that. “After the newleaf race then, we’ll talk about it more. But just remember Tallpaw, born tunnelers usually don’t do so well in those sorts of competitions. It’s just a moor runner's way to show off since they think pure speed is all that matters. It doesn’t do much to show your skill and strength, so don’t let it get to you if you don’t win. I know that little moor-kit Shrewpaw likes to boast about racing and what-not, but it’s just vanity. He really doesn’t have anything else going for him, unlike you. So much like his father in that way.”

Tallpaw just nodded. Sandstone seemed happier, and he even began to eat the mole Tallpaw had brought. Surely this topic could be held off for a while yet. The newleaf race was at least a quarter moon away, maybe more if he was lucky. He wouldn’t worry about it now. The rest of the evening with his father was pleasant enough as Tallpaw stuffed the clawing grip at his belly further down like he would a thorn under his nest.

chapter list / previous / next

#FRU8 #chapter 8 #gonna go back and start putting the next/previous at both the top and bottom bc im not sure where is most convient

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lavendersb · 3 years

Text

Golden

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Things have been tough for your little clan of three.

You decide to take a break on an idyllic little planet and play happy family for a while.

Alternatively titled: "Touch starved metal man nearly dies when someone touches him softly"

Takes place after s2, but the crest is still intact, and Grogu hasn't gone to jedi school :)

Warnings: Literally none this is the softest thing in the world

Din had promised you a break.

For nearly a month you had been holed up in the razor crest. Din took no jobs, you stopped for nothing but fuel and even then Din wouldn’t allow you or Grogu to leave the ship. He was paranoid and desperate to ensure that the empire were off your trail before stopping for an extended period of time.

He had a good reason to act this way. You understood him well, just under a year of travelling as the Mandalorian’s companion had made you well aware of the way he operated, and the risks that came with his job. For a month or so you had been something more to him. Neither of you could quite put it into words yet, but he had opened up to you, made you aware of some of his more personal fears. How he worried near constantly that something would happen and your little clan of three would be separated.

As much as you understood Din’s reasoning, Grogu was struggling with his hyperspace confinement. A toddler with no way to burn off energy would be a nightmare in regular circumstances, but a toddler with magic powers was an entirely different set of challenges.

In the last week, Grogu had taken to throwing any item he could manage across the hull of the ship. It was harmless to begin with, just the odd crayon or stray bolt but now that Grogu had some practice, he was starting to pull at the large crates crates. When he managed to open Din’s weapon storage, that was the final straw.

You had reasoned with Din that just for a few days you needed somewhere to stop. It didn’t need to be populated, just somewhere the child could safely run free for a while. Preferably somewhere with decent weather. Eventually he had agreed, checking nearby planets for a safe place to land until he came across a very tame-looking planet called Usmoff 8. It would only take a day or so to get there.

You had been asleep when Din had landed the crest. He had gotten up in the night to navigate the landing and had left you to sleep in the bedroom you shared behind the cockpit. When you finally woke to join him, you were startled by the view from the cockpit’s windows.

It was evening, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon and casting the grassy planet outside in a brilliant golden glow. The light reflected off Din’s beskar vibrantly, the light flashing your eyes as he shifted in the pilot’s seat.

“The average day on this planet is much longer than most,” He tells you “It’s still only morning for us”

You rest a hand on his pauldron, looking out at the planet instead of into his visor. With the sun reflecting off him with such strength you could hardly look at him.

“You might want to go without the beskar today, when I look at you it’s like staring at the sun” You suggest. A year ago you would never have dreamed of saying such a thing to Din, but after the events of the last few months he was starting to embrace life outside of the armour. Every now and then he would remove his beskar and sometimes even his helmet, but only when he was sure that just you and the child could see.

“First I’m going to take a look around. Just to make sure there’s nothing we need to worry about” Din says.

“Alright,” You touch his pauldron gently, feeling how it’s already warming in the sunlight “I’ll go wake up Grogu.”

Din rests his hand to rest on yours, squeezing it where it rests on his shoulder and you use your free hand to turn his face to yours. You lean down to touch your forehead to the space above his visor, resting there for a moment before pulling back and heading down to the hull.

“Grogu” You coo softly when the door to the cot lifts, and the hyper-active child sits up in the hammock. His ears flop into place as he wakes himself up, blinking slowly and letting out a string of groggy noises.

“We’ve got a busy day today” you say as you fish him out of his blankets. The two of you get ready whilst you wait for Din to return, washing your faces together and helping Grogu into a poncho and little pair of trousers.

You’re just finishing breakfast together when Din returns.

“Looks like we’re alone. It won’t hurt to stay alert though, I’ve no idea what the ecosystem is like here” He says, setting down his rifle and taking a seat on a crate in the hull.

“Do you think the wildlife will be a problem?” you say as you pass him a small bowl of lumpy porridge.

“Hard to tell,” he shrugs “but I don’t really want to risk it. I’ve seen the most vicious of animals living on some of the most beautiful planets”.

The three of you finish breakfast and as you and Grogu clear up the plates together, Din starts to remove his beskar. He stops when he gets down to his flight suit but opts to keep the helmet. You don’t push for him to remove it, even though you know you won’t properly be able to look at his visor when your outside in the blinding sun. You want him to feel safe.

“Much better. Now you’re not so reflective, I’ll actually be able to look at you when we’re outside.”

“Do you plan on looking at me that much?” Din quips and you can hear his sly grin from under his helmet.

You scoff, and lightly shove his shoulder with yours as you pass to the ramp.

“I always want to look at you Mando.”

You hear Din chuckle quietly as you descend the ramp into the ‘evening’ sun. Grogu stirs in your arms, becoming restless at the sight of the grassy plains after going so long inside the metal belly of the ship. You don’t put him down just yet; you quickly scan the horizon first after becoming wary from Din’s words earlier.

There’s no sign of any other life forms, just grass and flowers and sunlight for as far as you can see. It really is picturesque. The golden sun illuminates the planet in a hazy glow and makes everything look warm and perfect. You set the baby down, and instantly he begins to toddle off towards a big, wilting flower.

“Thank you for letting us stop here” You say as Din comes to stand beside you.

“You don’t need to thank me. You should ask more often; I sometimes forget that the two of you need time to rest. When I travelled alone I never took breaks like this” He says, watching Grogu as he brings the head of the flower towards his little nose.

“Did you never get cabin fever?” you ask, and Din gives a little shrug.

“I grew up in the sewers of Nevarro and it was rare that I ever got let out. I think I’m immune to cabin fever.” Din says it like a joke, but his voice is laced with something akin to nostalgia. Or perhaps grief. You can’t quite tell.

Something moves out of the corner of your eye. You quickly turn to look for what it is, worried that it might be some kind of predator like Din had warned about. Instead all you are faced with is a tiny, orange-winged butterfly. The solitary thing flutters close to you, and then off past you and Din to disappear into the sunlight.

“So much for those dangerous creatures” You laugh.

You spend the rest of the day outside in the sun. Din reckons it’s safe enough that you won’t have to leave too soon, but you’re still so excited to actually have fresh air to breathe. You do everything you can outside the ship, you eat outside, sort the laundry outside , and for the benefit of the child you play outside too. Whilst you and Din work on the little mundane tasks that need doing, you both keep an eye out for Grogu, whose energy is so abundant he keeps scampering off across the fields. Each time you have to call out to him and tempt him with food or a new game to play, and each time he comes diligently scampering back, giggling the whole way.

By the end of the day his energy has run out entirely. He waddles rather than runs, and never goes further than a few feet from where you and Din have settled under a tree. Din lies on his side next to you, finally convinced that there’s nothing out to get the three of you and parts ways with his helmet. It sits glistening next to him, close enough that he can grab it if anything goes wrong.

Over in a patch of shrubbery the baby gargles and lurches forward, disturbing a cluster of peaceful butterflies from the plants they rest upon. Two dozen or so of the petal-winged creatures leap into the sky and flutter away from the little green monster that waves his tiny hands after them.

“Oh Din, look” you say, and the two of you chuckle at the image before you. The butterflies have disappeared into the blinding golden sunlight and left Grogu alone in the flowers.

“Eh-a?” Grogu exclaims in confusion, his arms still extended towards the sky and his big brown eyes squinting as he looks for the insects that have abandoned him. His small arms drop back against his side, he seems ready to waddle back over in defeat until something in the flowers catches his attention.

You watch as your adoptive son’s big ears prick up with excitement. He slowly bends down, tentatively reaching into the shrubbery and straightening back up again with something resting in his open palm. He begins to totter over to you and Din, his attention solely on what he cradles in his hands, moving so carefully, as though it is the most precious thing in the world.

“What do you have there, Ad’ika?” Din says, and you sit up to see what Grogu has brought over.

He comes to a stop between the two of you and offers up his palms for you both to see his catch. It’s a butterfly, unfortunately dead but not by Grogu’s hand. No, the little boy is far too gentle with it. Grogu looks between you and Din and makes a noise of confusion. He lifts his palms higher into the air to try and get the butterfly to take off but all it does is roll slightly in his hand. Definitely dead.

“I think he’s gone to sleep,” You say to him, not quite ready to discuss the concept of mortality with a tired green toddler “It’s almost time for your bedtime as well.”

You reach out and take the butterfly from Grogu’s gentle hold, holding it’s body between your forefinger and thumb you admire it’s pinkish wings in the warm orange sunlight. Grogu sits down heavily and lets Din pull him closer so that his back rests against his father’s chest. His big brown eyes still watching the butterfly as you move it around.

Smiling you bring it towards him, brushing the insect’s soft wings gently across the baby’s wrinkled head.

“Does it feel soft?” You ask, bringing it down to tickle his rosy cheek and then back up to his head. Grogu doesn’t answer, he’s far to busy enjoying the feeling of the butterfly’s wings on his skin, his big eyes looking up at your hand and his little mouth parted in wonder. You keep going, watching as it lulls him into a sleepy state and makes him melt into Din’s body.

“You’re a good influence on him. A year ago he would have eaten those things without mercy” Din jokes as you continue to move the butterfly wing.

“You underestimate your own impact on him” You say quietly, so as not to disturb the baby. Din huffs in disagreement.

You’ve always known that Din thought very little of his ability to raise Grogu. His insecurities about raising a child were what brought the two of you together in the beginning, but even after so much time together the Mandalorian still couldn’t see how much of a natural he was at parenting. At being loving. At being loved.

“Din,” You chastise softly, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. His head is bowed, eyes laser-focused on the grass below him.

You take the butterfly away from Grogu (he’s become so drowsy he hardly notices it’s absence) and bring it to Din’s cheek instead, brushing the silky wing across his skin. Din bristles, looking up at you with his eyebrows raised and slightly pinched. His breath audibly catches in his throat, and you keep softly brushing the butterfly wing along his stubbled cheek.

“You’re gentle too,” You say, as Din’s eyes plead with you. You know he wants to argue with you, he wants to tell you he isn’t gentle, that nobody’s ever let him be gentle, but you won’t let him. Instead you bring your free hand up to hold his other cheek, and Din practically melts into it.

His eyes close as he enjoys the pleasant touch. You know how overwhelmed he gets when his bare skin is touched. Especially when it’s his face. Especially when it’s a tender touch. A life hidden behind beskar will do that to a person, he had told you once, and most of the physical contact he received as an adult came in the form of punches. This was still so new to him.

You place the butterfly down on a nearby flower and lean in close to Din, slowly pressing your lips to his in a sleepy kiss. It’s slow, and as you pull away Din leans to follow you, searching for more.

You chuckle at the sight in front of you. Din leaning on his side with the baby sitting against his chest. Both of them stare up at you with content, their brown eyes blinking slowly in the sunlight. You and your boys are happy. That’s all that matters in the universe right now.

#my writing #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars imagines

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morbidlongings · 3 years

Note

write a fluffy sapphic oneshot with whatever characters you want

... please ?

i'm really shitty at writing fluff but ... here's a little piece about a movie star, her best friend, and a pair of mirrored, heart-shaped sunglasses <3

The girl considers herself a collection of fragmented pieces of poetry.

Her name is Kat and her smile is glamorous. Her hair is dark and pinned into retro waves, sometimes tied behind silk scarves and other times beneath fascinators and felt hats. Her lips are red, her clothes are vintage, and her lovers are many.

But right now Kat isn’t a movie star with an award-winning smile. The top of her convertible is down and her dark hair is being whipped in the wind; her red lips are split into a wide, uncharacteristic grin. Beside her, her best friend is laughing, honey-colored hair streaming like a golden banner behind her as she whoops and sings along with the radio, a girl as full of the sun as Kat was with the moon.

Elise’s lips move along with the lyrics of the song, her hair getting caught on her glossed lips as the wind off of the Pacific ocean tosses it. Her eyes are half closed with ecstasy, her mascaraed lashes fanned across her lightly freckled cheeks like feathers. Kat smiles, her hands on the wheel. Elise could always make her smile.

She is a collection of fragments of poetry, pieces that yearn to settle her head on Elise’s shoulder, to have Elise’s fingers tangle in her own, pieces that imagine Elise doing carelessly, casually intimate things. Adjust the scarf settled in Kat’s hair, clasp a necklace around her neck, smile up at Kat from their bed in the morning, her mouth a rosebud and her honey hair spun sunshine.

Elise sings a lyric, her eyes closed and her hand over her heart. Her blouse’s sleeve slips off of her shoulder - Kat, without taking her eyes off of the highway in front of them, reaches over and tugs it back up. Elise’s hand catches her own, brown eyes like coffee meeting hers. There is something in Elise’s eyes, Kat notices. Her breath might have caught in her throat.

Your glasses are ridiculous, is the only thing Elise says. Her coffee eyes glitter. Kat scoffs a laugh, extracting her hand from Elise’s and steadying the steering wheel. In the rearview mirror, Kat catches Elise’s eye.

Her sunglasses are out of place on her, an icon painted in vintage clothing and red lipstick and glamor like an Old Hollywood starlet. Kat had bought them with Elise months ago, when they had gotten drunk and went to a drugstore to go shopping for orange juice and miscellaneous groceries. A stupid thing, a silly thing, a reckless thing that only two drunk girls in their early twenties would even dream up.

Elise had picked the mirrored, heart-shaped sunglasses from a cheap display and crookedly pushed them onto Kat’s face. Kat had drunkenly laughed and bought them, then and there. Seven-dollar sunglasses on a million-dollar face. The next morning, waking up beside Elise hungover and feeling nothing like a movie star, Elise had put them on Kat’s face again, gently pushing her hair behind her ears.

Kat’s heart might have stopped.

What was it that the articles said about her? Her lips are red, her clothes are vintage, and her lovers are many. How many men had she fucked, women she kissed in bars and alleys and in the dark, people she had left heartbroken and hanging? How many lovers has she kissed and tossed aside, pinning her dark hair back and putting on another layer of lipstick, putting up wall after wall after wall? The industry was brutal, and Kat had to be even more so if she wanted to make it out alive.

They fucked her because she was beautiful and powerful and cold. They fucked her because if they did, maybe that made them beautiful and powerful too. They fucked her because maybe it gave them power over her, made them hope that they could thaw Kat Carter’s cold heart.

But Elise is singing, a living sunbeam who’s been beside Kat’s side for almost two decades. She catches Kat looking at her and offers a glittering, glorious smile - Kat smiles back, genuinely laughs, says you have hair caught in your lip gloss before turning back to the road. The Pacific Coast Highway is long and winding and beautiful. Ahead of them, the sun is setting; maybe Kat and Elise will park the car and go to the beach, chasing the sunset like they had when they were children.

Park the car, Elise says, her eyes crinkling in the corners. Kat wants to smooth the creases out with her fingertips. There’s a scenic outlook there, Elise points. Her nails are painted dark purple, slightly chipped. Always chipped. The sunset is beautiful.

Kat parks.

Elise steals Kat’s hair scarf, tying the pink and gold silk over her hair. Kat beams. Before she opens the convertible’s door, she slips a tube of lip gloss out of her purse and holds the applicator to her rosebud mouth - Kat makes to open her door, but Elise’s hand on her cheek stops her.

Wait, she says, voice teasing. Hold still.

She uses the mirrored, heart-shaped lenses of Kat’s cheap drugstore glasses to apply the gloss to her mouth. Kat’s flushing, her heart beating out of her chest. Elise’s hand is still on Kat’s cheek, her sweet coffee eyes focused as she swipes gloss onto her lips. Despite herself, Kat can’t stop watching.

Strawberry, Kat says, her voice hoarse. Your gloss is strawberry, right?

Peach, Elise replies. Her smile turns devilish. Want to try it?

Yes, Kat wants to plead. She’s never believed in any God, but she wants to sink to her knees right here in her old silver convertible off the side of the PCH and beg. Yes, she wants to pray, let me kiss the gloss off of your lips and taste it, drink in the taste of you like sweet nectar. I never believed in any God, but please.

Peaches are my favorite, is Kat’s only reply. She swings her door open and steps out, her loose dark hair in beachy waves across her shoulders. Elise’s honey hair looks almost strawberry blond in the sunset, two strands pulled in front of her face beneath the scarf. Her lips shine in the light, flecks of glitter and a sheen of gloss. Kat wants to kiss her so badly it’s a tangible ache.

Fragmented pieces of poetry, like this moment. Peaches and gold leaf; sunsets and the California coast; rose-gold, dying sunlight turning the cold gray water into a Monet painting. A beautiful girl, roses and honey and sunshine, smiling at Kat with nothing but affection in her eyes.

Maybe Monet’s paintings had been chasing this.

Kat had fallen in love countless times, on film or in secret or in front of flashing, merciless cameras. But here, she falls in love with the same girl again and again.

It’s always Elise. When would it - why would it ever be anyone else?

Her lips are red, her clothes are vintage, her lovers are many. But here and now, her lips are red, her clothes are off the sales rack at a department store, and her lovers are but dust in the wind. She is Kat Carter, movie star and heartbreaker, and she is in love with stardust.

The poet longs to be the poem, the painter to be the painting. Kat longs to be what the sunset was to Elise. She was completely mesmerized, honey hair fluttering in the wind and her eyes turned towards the water. Kat stands next to her, puts her hands on the outlook’s stone railing.

Elise’s hand gently covers her own. It’s beautiful, she says, her arm pressing against Kat’s. Kat wants nothing more than to hold Elise’s hand, press her fingers to her mouth, put her arms around Elise’s neck and thread her fingers through her hair. It makes her ache, the yearning.

She is beautiful and she is untouchable. She is light on water, a mirage shimmering on burnt asphalt roads, the flick of a paintbrush that gives a painting life; the Mona Lisa’s smile, the look in the eyes of the Girl with a Pearl Earring. She is a breath, a heartbeat, a single step away.

Elise looks over at Kat. Her brown eyes don’t turn gold in the light; Kat has never wanted them to. Her eyes don’t need the romanticism of light eyes to be beautiful. They are deep and dark and rich, slivers of dark chocolate and the depths of the Pacific at night, the exact shade of freshly-brewed coffee in the morning and glittering like the city of angels at twilight.

Kat takes the step, raises a shaking hand and places it on Elise’s cheek. She is gilded in dying sunlight, gold and gloss and peaches and silk. Her lashes are lowered, shadows streaking the rich brown of her irises. Elise’s lips part, and she places her hand at the nape of Kat’s neck, idly twisting one of her dark locks between her fingers.

Suddenly there is hardly any space between them, just Elise’s faint freckles like constellations that Kat could never see and her parted lips, covered in glittering peach gloss. A breeze stirs up Elise’s honey hair, and she briefly smiles as she extricates a few strands from her lips where the gloss caught them. Kat’s heartbeat is on the high line she once saw in New York.

The sun sinks below the horizon. In the afterglow, there are two silhouettes in a scenic outlook on the PCH, beside a silver Mercedes convertible, so close that there was only a sliver of sunset behind them. Kat almost wants to laugh; her movies could never fabricate a moment like this. She didn’t think that a camera could pick up what a moment like this meant.

Elise’s mouth curves into a smile. You’re beautiful.

When her lips touch Kat’s, it’s barely a brush. A butterfly’s touch, there and gone. And then she smiles against Kat’s red lips and kisses her, harder, her other hand buried into Kat’s dark hair. Kat’s fingers are twisted in Elise’s not-quite-strawberry-blond locks, brushing bits of hair away from her face as the wind blows harder. Elise laughs, comes up for air, kisses her again.

And Kat, Kat is flying. She has played lovers and the loved, had played at love herself for a year or ten. But nothing could ever come close to this. It is every swig or shot of liquor, every minute spent burning rubber and soaring just past the speed limit on the road, every reckless decision or movie premiere or brokenhearted ex-lover Kat has ever made, attended, or left behind.

In that moment, the girl is no longer pieces of fragmented poems. She has found her other half and been rendered, even for just a moment, whole.

#cece writes #*short #wlw #short story #original #sapphic #oneshot #writers of tumblr #spilled ink #useranjali #[ this isn't quite fluff but ... i tried lol i'm an angst/yearning writer unfortunately ]

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kiritella · 3 years

Text

Secrets Hidden in Yellow Paper [5]

Pairings: Bucky x Daughter.Reader

Words: 2.8k~

Warnings: Orphans

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

------------------------------

The sun rose above the horizon, and with its sunlight, the secrets of the night scampered like rats to hide in the shadows. They lurked in the crevasses of Irina’s mind, feeding on her thoughts until they consumed her emotions. A fire burned with no warmth in her chest. The earth sunk beneath her feet as it pulled her in. Her skin crawled for escape from her thoughts, shivering and burning for release. And in the midst of her anguish, there was silence. Words were an imposter, flashing a devilish smile to ease her way through the pleasantries of society. Her tongue was bridled and tamed, the aching of her chest pulling the reins on her lips. Leather sewed her lips closed, but the perfect smile left no questions to be asked.

A pretty smile can hide a thousand lies. From the moment Irina woke, her life became an act and the world her stage. She looked to her scripts throughout the morning to appease the curious looks, but she knew the others were doing the same. It takes one to know one, and the rest of the day, she noticed quite a few ceramic faces.

The breeze froze the back of Irina’s neck as she huddled further into her jacket, her hands burying deeper into her pockets in hopes to keep in some warmth. The cold front had come in overnight, and with it, the rain, so the walk to the Tower was dripping wet and frozen to the bone. The drizzle collected on her hair, into her jacket, and the wind made her shivering worse. Her jaw hurt from clattering her teeth so much, she was sniffling every two seconds, and her fingers were numb. To say the least, she was tired and cold and wanted the day to be over with. She didn’t want to deal with Bruce’s hovering, Natasha’s beat down in the gym, or Bucky’s kind but distant attitude that drove her insane. The only thing she was looking forward to was the warm fire Tony kept going in the living room, and other than that, the day was like the wastelands of Jotunheim.

However, going back home would be worse than the Tower. While Genevieve being home was nice, it was a painful reminder. They had no home. The things she was able to forget over the last few months came rushing back. The pain she had tucked away made itself known by carving into her chest and making room for it to settle down. The yellow envelope stuffed deep in her backpack gained weight until she could hardly carry it on her shoulders anymore. The thought of seeing Bucky again pierced her shell and shattered the mirror of her existence. Knowing he would never come around, never take her in, it broke what little was left of her heart.

Music played in the elevator as Irina rode it up to the upper levels, and as he stepped through the living room entrance, a wave of warmth hit her skin as the fireplace on the other side raged with heat. For the first time that day, she smiled happily. “Afternoon everyone!” she said as she scampered to the fire, curling into its warmth as everyone watched in amusement.

“Hey, kid!” Tony said, sipping his amber drink from a glass.

“Hey Irina,” Natasha said with a smile, “You ready for training later?”

“Honestly, no…but there ain’t no rest for the weary,” Irina chuckled, but Tony interrupted.

“Wicked. Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” he corrected, and Irina rolled her eyes.

Natasha waved her peanut butter and jelly sandwich around, “Ah, well, I’ll go easy on you today.”

“You say that every time,” Irina muttered under her breath, but added a bit louder, glancing back to the others and taking off her soaked jacket, “Thanks. And sorry I’m late…I finished your homework though, Mr. Banner, so I’ve saved myself a few minutes.”

Bruce nodded, “It’s alright…Did you walk all the way here in this weather?”

Irina shrugged, “Yeah, Ms. Fletcher can’t drive me, and we can’t afford a bus every time the weather decides to be mean so…” she trailed off.

“That’s unfortunate,” Tony said, furrowing his brows but before he could continue, Nat spoke.

“Who’s Ms. Fletcher?”

“She’s the keeper of the orphanage. The place is so small that it’s really just her and the cook, Mr. Ricci, but I like it that way, keeps things personal,” Irina answered, but the sudden silence behind her pushed discomfort over her shoulders, and when she turned around, she was met with an array of surprise. She swallowed as confusion bubbled in her head, “What?”

Natasha cleared her throat, “Uh, nothing, just—”

“Orphanage?” Sam interrupted only to get an elbow to his ribs by Natasha.

“You…you guys didn’t know?” Irina asked, and anxiety crawled up her skin again. She didn’t want to mention it before, but she had thought Pepper had told all of them. It was an internship, but it was also a guidance program, so she assumed they knew most of the nitty-gritty details of why she was the one to get accepted. Bruce shook his head, but Tony found his drink surprisingly interesting.

“Oh…” she muttered, “I just thought—Well, I thought Mrs. Stark—never mind,” she chuckled a bit awkwardly, trying to force down the knot just beginning to grow in her throat. “It’s a thing. I’m an orphan, it happens. Sometimes it’s tragedy,” she started and noticed Bucky stepping into the room with groceries hanging on his arms, “And sometimes you’re just not wanted.”

Bucky froze in his steps, a frown on his lips, “Who’s not wanted?”

Irina smiled tightly, “No one, just talking.”

“…Okay…well I—”

“I’m ready to start when you are, Mr. Banner,” she interrupted.

Bruce took the confusing hint and stood from the barstool, “Then let’s not waste time, we need to finish the project quickly anyway.”

“To the laboratory!” Irina shouted, throwing a fist in the air as she dramatically strode out of the room. She got a few smirks, the largest from Sam.

“Hey, we’re making cookies later, alright?” Bucky called out as she left the room, and she replied with a cheer. But even the excitement seemed a little…artificial to him.

“Cookies?” Sam asked, “I know we got to pick the projects we taught, but you seem to be all over the place with her.”

“He’s right. I mean, I teach the fun machine stuff,” Tony said, “Bruce teaches the semi-fun ‘might blow up’ stuff, Nat beats her up, Sam’s got aerodynamics, Clint is lame with the Trig and Calculus, Steve is what? moral support? But what do you have her do? Your chores?”

“Life skills,” Bucky said flatly, “It’s the small things she needs. While you guys teach her all the technical stuff, I’m teaching her how to live a normal life.”

“By baking cookies?”

Bucky shrugged, “Cooking is important…and delicious.”

---

Nat met Irina at the gym a little after five. It was difficult to get all the time in with everyone, and at this point, she was tired. The day was too much mental work, and Nat had her draining whatever physical strength she had left.

Irina’s head slammed into the padded flooring once again, but even still, it ached. Natasha had her in a choke hold in a matter of half a second, and the ringing of her ears began to drown out the woman’s words.

“Stop struggling. You know how to get out of this,” she said, “I taught you this.”

Irina only lasted another few moments before she tapped out, gasping for breath when the pressure on her neck was released. She laid flat on her back as Natasha stood, circling her. The woman wasn’t threatening, but dominating, and it was her strength you admired. She controlled a room by walking into it, she held that kind of reputation. She was herself without question, hesitation, or dejection. And herself just so happened to be terrifying, but also incredibly sweet, but at the moment, she just looked like a vulture circling its prey.

“You’re distracted,” Natasha pointed it out. Another one of her qualities: Blunt.

“I know, I’m sorry…I’ll do better,” Irina said, rolling to her side to stand up. She took her ready stance as Natasha took a swing, dodging to the side before taking a shot at her open ribs. It was blocked, but it also set Irina off balance, and when Nat came at her again, she couldn’t move in time. Her fist collided with Irina’s cheek and knocked her over completely, but this time, she didn’t get up. She didn’t move as her body screamed, her frustration level peaking over the wall she built to cage it. She couldn’t do this. No matter what she did, it wasn’t enough. She was never strong enough, fast enough, agile enough, perfect enough. She couldn’t do it.

She would never be enough, and they would realize that soon.

Her fist met the hard floor at the edge of the mat with an angry cry. Something broke, whether it was her spirit, the floor, or maybe her hand, she didn’t know. Natasha tried to speak but Irina heard nothing as she jumped to her feet and stormed out of the room. She barely got a glimpse of the shine on the girl’s cheeks before she was gone. Natasha was frozen on the mats, staring from where Irina left back to the floor. The concrete floor was cracked, spidering out as it craved to be seen and admired. It was violent and beautiful all the same but coming from a fragile hand that should never have been able to create it.

---

It was still cold, even colder now that the sun was beginning to set. The last little bit of the day was slowly ticking away, and it took with it the heat it so lovingly provided. Wind howled as Irina sat on the edge of the landing platform, looking far below to the streets, but it was quickly becoming difficult to see as the clouds shaded whatever sunlight was left. Her bare arms ached with the cold, and her face was numb and frozen. She cursed running out there with no jacket, but did she truly care, or was it what she was supposed to think? She was sick of all the should have’s and could have’s, and every damn thing that would have been had only this or that happened. Curse the past and damn the future, the present wouldn’t change for either. So as the cold froze over her skin, the veracity of her heart could only wonder, if she was numb anyway, what did it matter?

Irina’s lip wobbled as she took a heavy breath, closing her watering eyes that she blamed on the crisp wind. With every breath came an ounce of clarity, and she accepted what she refused to yesterday. This wasn’t about Genevieve anymore. The ache in her chest was birthed from her bones, and she felt as if they were shattering one by one. Genevieve only removed the wool from in front of her eyes.

Creaking from the metal door was lost in the wind, but Irina heard it and she braced for Natasha’s ridicule. She shouldn’t have left like she did, and regretted punching the floor with how much her hand hurt now, the bruising already evident. To her surprise, a much larger figure came to stand beside her. Bucky. He said nothing, only stood beside her and she didn’t know if she hated or loved the fact he was simply there. The unknown truth drove a wedge between her and him, so the stable ground he gave her was still uneven, and his hand stretching out for her was too far away to be reached. She drowned in the lake of her tears as he stood at the dock, ready to reach out, but she could never even break the surface so he could find her.

“Why is it that everyone leaves?” Irina asked as the sun was beginning to fade behind the golden and purple horizon. Silence met her for several moments, but Bucky stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his side.

“Sometimes people are stupid,” he said, “And they don’t realize what they are losing.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve been placed with a family?” she asked, and was again met with silence, “Twelve times, and twelve times I got sent back. They only lasted a month or so.”

“People care about you—”

“Then why!” Irina cried, her tight throat choking her words and she looked up at him. Of all the people, he was the one who was supposed to stay, and he didn’t. Of everyone, he was supposed to love her, and he didn’t. When the sky was falling and the ground was cracking beneath her, he was supposed to be there, and he wasn’t. So why would anyone else? “Why?”

Why didn’t he want her?

She trembled as she turned to hide her face in his side and he turned to hold her completely, wrapping his arms around her and she struggled against him in frustration. “I can’t answer that,” he said, but his words were thick.

“Why?” she cried, her fist pounding into his chest. Why did he leave?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding her tighter as she trembled and continued to beat against his chest, begging for answers, “I’m sorry.” His voice was heavy as he whispered in her ear, and in her pain, she couldn’t decide whether it was the wind, or if his breath was shaking. As one of them drowned beneath the ocean, the other suffocated on toxic air, and each begged for the relief of the other. Irina hid in his chest as her fists came to a stop and she fell still, letting him hug her, care for her in the smallest way. She craved it. He held her, and the sun died in the background, taking the life it provided, and the clarity it brought. Bucky refused to let go until her cries softened, and he discovered the frozen nature of her skin, the redness of her features, and he spoke.

“It’s freezing out here,” he said, beginning to let Irina out of his grasp, “Let’s get you warmed up, alright?”

Irina nodded and let him lead her back inside the Tower, trailing him closely as his large frame blocked a lot of the wind. The air in the building encompassed her like a warm blanket and she sighed quietly as she rubbed her hands over her numb arms, sniffling as she followed Bucky down the stairs. Her head hung low until he slowed his pace to walk beside her instead of in front.

“Sorry…” she muttered, cradling her fist in her other hand against her chest.

“Never apologize for being honest,” he said sternly, but his gaze was distant, and his posture was stiff. Irina sighed quietly, and silence overtook them. She had been there for months, and only today, as the wool had been removed from her eyes, did she begin to understand. The yellow envelope still sat in her backpack, and as time passed, it began to fade and rip. What she had with Bucky would be enough, but then again, she knew she would never be satisfied. She craved more, desperately sought it, and she only wondered how deep her selfish need would go before it spoke volumes of who she was. Could she reasonably ruin his understanding, his future, with her desire for the weight on her chest to be relieved? Every day the weight grew, and every moment the truth was a second from spilling off her lips, and yet she knew, she would never be able to ask so much of him. So forever she would remain in constant agony, to never be satisfied, to never be complete, and to sacrifice everything that could have been and everything that was for a man who didn’t know who she truly was.

This was the fate she resigned herself to, willingly and with her eyes wide open. She walked into her decision with the sun overhead to brighten her way, and while she couldn’t see the stars, she knew they were there. And with that in mind, she accepted her tragedy. While Bucky would never know the truth, she knew it was there, and even if he couldn’t see it, there it would forever be. With a heavy sigh, her tears gave way to the relief of a decision, but the agony of its outcome, and she followed her father out into his apartment, deathly unprepared for what she didn’t know was about to come. If you tell fate your plans, she laughs and tells you, you’re wrong.

——————————–

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Code: Light

Part of my Series based on the in game dungeons lol. Just for fun.

In fact… there was a boy who lived here… 20 years ago…

The words echoed in Lu Mingfei’s mind as he looked over the rundown landscape in front of him. He was sitting on a dirty pillow on a broken, rotted out porch, rain pouring down on his head through the holes in the overhang. Spiders skittered about and made him pull his feet in. In front of him was a table of rice, vegetables and tea. Outside the porch was a small garden with a pond, green and overgrown with algae. It was pouring down rain as it had been all day. The pond was at capacity and it would soon overflow its banks. From the gloomy surroundings, frogs creeled out a constant serenade.

He was led there by a woman, an elder in that particular village, who had first reported what turned out to be dragon activity in this small town. Lu Mingfei, Chu Zihang, and Caesar Gattuso were called to investigate. According to the report on the dossier, a young child in a red coat, carrying a red balloon could be seen standing at the edge of the village. His face was impossible to make out. Japanese towns could be full of local ghost tales, but this one occurred with disturbing regularity. EVA, the Cassell Supercomputer then detected an elemental anomaly. Plants seemed to be growing at such an incredible rate, that the rain clouds over this small area of Japan never seemed to stop. The rain would fall, the plants would soak it up and transpire the water again. It was as if the Amazon Rainforest took up residence in the far East.

After explaining about the child, the old woman took them out to that ramshackle ruin of a place. “If it’s that boy you’re seeking, why not try making him something to eat?”

Then she left.

“Guys I’m so over this ghost hunt. This is so creepy and the lower the sun gets the more I want to leave.” He said. He was wearing his usual combat suit, that skin tight but extremely durable wear that was close enough to the body to avoid catching on anything, but strong enough to withstand the cut of a knife. But was it ghost proof? Who was to say they wouldn’t get eaten by this ghost and the rice be left cold and moldy with no sign of them?

“Are you excited to be on an actual ghost hunt? It’s a shame that the ghost is a boy though.” Caesar sat smoking his cigar and looking out over the grey sheet of rain in front of him. He was dressed similarly, with his Desert Eagles at his side. Of course, he made a much more handsome figure in the muscle-hugging suit.

Lu Mingfei wanted to pull his hair out. “You’re engaged! Don’t lust after the dead you freak!”

Chu Zihang slid his sword part way out of his sheath to check his equipment. “There’s no such thing as the dead coming back to life, unless it’s a dragon. And dragons don’t really die. They just sleep until they can be reborn. What we’re looking for is not a real ghost… but something that has the properties of a dragon.”

“Ghost… dragon… whatever. Do we even know if it’s attracted to rice?”

“It’s not about the rice, Lu Mingfei, it’s the routine. If the boy had a family or cared for anyone at all, wouldn’t it miss sitting at a table with a family meal?” Caesar bit his cigar,

“And we’re supposed to be its family huh? Who are you? The mom?” Mingfei shot back.

“Well…” Caesar looked down at the food. “I cooked it.”

Lu Mingfei opened his mouth to say something else but Zihang suddenly tensed. His golden eyes stared into another pair of golden eyes. A boy in a red raincoat, stood at the edge of the mossy pond. He was holding a red balloon. Only those glowing eyes were visible under the red hood. It didn’t seem to have a face.

Lu Mingfei’s face went white and then grey with terror. He shook so hard his teeth chattered “G-ghost!”

A small child’s voice echoed clear despite the pounding rain. “Outsiders. I need your help. Come with me.”

The rain suddenly stopped but the sky grew darker, like a great shadow from something large coming over head. The air suddenly cooled. They were still in front of the table but the garden was replaced by sand. The sand was grooved in artistic circles, like an elegant Japanese rock garden. Looking around, they seemed to be in a ruined ancient village. The piece of land they were standing on was floating in mid air, like it had been torn from the earth. There was no sun. The way was lit by ominous paper lanterns that floated in place, painted with a red swirl pattern. In the distance an ancient Japanese castle tower rose out of the misty horizon.

Torii gates were seen floating in the grey, foggy surroundings. Most were shattered. They seemed frozen in the middle of being demolished, their broken pieces spraying at odd angles, their elegant cross bars tilted, but they never collapsed.

What was most noticeable about this place however, was the sudden sense of crushing sorrow. The feeling one got when they received some sort of horrible news. Like a loved one had just died. It hit Mingfei in the chest and took his breath away. “Guys. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to …” Mingfei eyes filled with tears. “What’s happening. I’m so scared.” He hugged his own arms and tried to stop the tears from falling. “We’ve got to get out!”

He turned to Chu Zihang who always knew what to do in times like this. But the man was frozen, his jaw tense and locked, staring at the ground in a trance, trying to control his out of control emotions. He was breathing fast and trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Apparently, sorrow drove Caesar Gattuso to action. He drew Dictator and pointed it up towards some broken stairs framed by a bright red Torii gate. Caesar suddenly roared. “This place sucks! Let’s get out of here as soon as we can. The only way out is up!”

His sudden yell seemed to break whatever emotional spell had been cast on the other two teammates. Lu Mingfei wiped his face. “What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure. Likely the owner of this place had a terrible life.” Chu Zihang said gravely. “I’ve heard of Longwei, the natural fear that dragons give off to other creatures, but I’ve never heard of a Dragon’s sorrow being projected like this.”

The stairs were floating over empty air, made of uneven, ancient grey limestone. There were dozens of stairs leading up into the ominous grey sky with broken Torii gates at intervals every twenty steps. Chu Zihang held up his hand to catch what appeared to be snow flying in the air. He sniffed at it. “Ash. Like something is burning. This must be some sort of Nibelungen. But I’ve never seen anything like it.” Chu Zihang said. “We should watch out. Where there’s a Nibelungen, there’s always…”

A sudden loud screeching interrupted him. A flock of bats the size of geese suddenly dislodged from under the stairs. A whole flock of them swept forward in a single black cloud mass. Lu Mingfei ducked his head as the claws and teeth scraped at him. “I hate this place already!”

Caesar drew his pistols and fired. The bats were flapping and tilting and whirling, but he just needed to aim for just a moment before shooting one out of the air without missing. Likewise, Chu Zihang quickly slashed once and twice, neatly severing their bodies in two without trouble.

“Bats are better than snakes!” Caesar yelled, reloading his Desert Eagles.

“At least Snakes don’t fly!” Lu Mingfei yelled.

As they climbed the stairs, they stayed back to the back, firing and slicing through the endless swarm of screaming bats. The sound of it was like a constant siren. Mingfei held his hands to his ears and allowed himself to be shielded by his two older students. He could hardly see anything between the endless assault of black bodies.

Caesar’s eyes glowed yellow. “There’s something big at the top of the stairs. That’s where they’re coming from!” He had sent out his Scythe Itachi and they returned with a huge heartbeat up ahead. “Chu Zihang, get rid of these things!”

“Get down.” Chu Zihang closed his eyes for just a moment and then an evil snarl emanated from his throat. Black waves of heat drove back the bats and then exploded outward into violent flames. The bats were instantly set alight and hundreds of burning bodies folded their wings and fell into the endless pit below. Lu Mingfei didn’t even want to think of what it meant to fall down into that grey void. Would he just continue to fall forever?

“Eugh…” Caesar pinched his nose to escape the smell of burning flesh and hair. “Good.” He said, reaching down at pulling Mingfei to his feet.

A loud roar shook the stairs and cracked them. Then the stairs started to crumble, starting from the bottom. If they didn’t hurry, they would be the ones falling. “Run! Run!” Caesar yelled.

Ahead of them was a large gap. The stairs were falling apart around them, coming to pieces, like the mortar that held them together suddenly lost all its strength. “We’ll have to jump it!”

It looked to be ten feet across over the nothingness. They’d never make a jump that far. But it was either try to jump or fall to their deaths anyway. Chu Zihang suddenly grabbed Lu Mingfei’s arm and without explanation took a leap and dragged him with him. For a moment, there was nothing but empty air under him. And then a sudden blast of heat and a loud boom! Chu Zihang used Royal Fire to blast himself over the gap, dragging the terrified Lu Mingfei the extra few feet needed. They landed and Lu Mingfei collapsed on shaky legs. “Are you out of your mind? You could have at least told me!” He gasped.

Chu Zihang looked at him with no expression. “You would have hesitated.”

Lu Mingfei froze. “I- n.- No…” Lu Mingfei looked away and then looked around. “Where’s Caesar?”

Caesar pulled himself up onto his arms. He was hanging from the ledge, having barely made the jump himself. He looked at Chu Zihang, annoyed. “Sure. Don’t mind me. I’ll just help myself up.”

His eyes suddenly widened at something behind Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei. They turned around and saw a looming snake with a thick human-like torso and bulging human arms. It glared at them with yellow eyes shining from the skull of an ancient predator it wore as a mask. It brandished a spear as long as a car with a sharp bone tip.

#Dragon Raja #Chu Zihang #Caesar Gattuso #Lu Mingfei

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hannahcoursey · 4 years

Text

A Girl’s Best Friend

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 2,109

Triggers: Dog dies :( So sorry.

Request: Hey so I don’t know if you do request but my dog is really sick and is dying and I was wondering if you can do one where dean x reader are dating and her dog is very sick and he helps her come to terms with it. Something along the lines of “I know he’s dying but I’m not ready for him to go.” Also I love your writing so much!

The afternoon was coming to a close. The sun was dancing along the treeline, sleepily falling below the horizon with every passing moment. The sky was cotton candy pink and blue, getting darker and fading out as the drive home pressed on. Sometimes between watching the turning sky and listening to Dean’s music lightly playing through the speakers, you’d lulled off to sleep, your head bobbing against the window over the bumps in the road. Before you knew it, the creaky Impala door was opening up and your eyes fluttered open slightly. Dean leaned over and pressed a kiss onto your temple. A dazed grin rose to your lips and you turned and met him in a soft kiss. He ran a hand over your head.

“Morning princess,” He laughed lightly at your half conscious grumbles, “We’re home.” He placed a kiss on your forehead and got out of the car, unloading the trunk into the garage. You rubbed at your eyes and looked down at your phone. It was only 9 at night, leaving you enough time to unpack before crashing in the bed you and Dean shared. You opened the car door and climbed out, leaning back and stretching your legs.

“Come here baby!” You yelled as you finished cracking your back, waiting for your dog to come out running. He’d get so excited when he heard the Impala pull in the garage, it bothered you how lonely he got when you were on hunts, but no one was happier to see you than him. You grabbed your bags and slung them over your shoulder. “Baby, come here!” You yelled again, peering over the open trunk. You waited. Instead of the jingle of his collar running to greet you, you heard Sam’s footsteps as he walked back towards you.

“Where is he?” He leaned out around from the doorway that led into the garage and looked at you, his eyebrows meeting in concern, “His food bowl is full still.” He said before turning and walking back in the bunker. You looked up, only to meet Dean’s eyes staring into yours. Your heart dropped to your toes. You let the bags slip out of your hand and the other one off your shoulder. You quickened your pace, Dean’s footsteps close behind.

“Baby?” You called, your eyes scanning through the bunker, waiting to see a wagging tail, but no signs of him showed. Dean’s hand fell on your shoulder.

“Hey, I’ll go check the rooms on the left wing, alright?” He said, nodding in an attempt to reassure you. You nodded back, half listening to his words over the pounding in your ears. You turned down the hallway and walked past the empty room. You could hear Sam and Dean calling his name from other parts in the bunker. You flicked on the lights in some of the rooms and peered around. Just when you were about to turn to go down the other side of the hallway, you noticed that one of the doors was open the tiniest sliver.

“Baby?” You called, a small whimper answering you. “Dean! Sam! Over here!” You yelled, pushing open the door. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight in front of you. He laid on the ground, limp. His tail hardly wagged and he couldn’t muster enough strength to look up at you. Tears filled your eyes as you rushed to him, holding his head in your hands. He whimpered but licked the inside of your palm. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You whispered, tears blurring your vision. The boys' heavy footsteps were loud, hunting boots pounding down the hallway, until their shadows filled the doorway. You turned and looked at Dean, his eyes wide and his brows crunched. “Something’s wrong.” You said, your voice hardly audible. Sam moved past Dean and knelt on the ground beside you. He laid a hand on your precious companion, his hand hardly rising and falling with the shallow breaths Baby took. After a moment, Sam looked up at you. Your eyes moved between his, waiting for him to say something. Instead, his gaze shifted down and he slowly shook his head. You let your head hang, tears dropping onto Baby’s fur. Dean’s hand found its way to your shoulder as you gave up on trying to blink away the tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N,” Sam said lightly, “I’ll take him to the vet, alright? Maybe they can do something,” He struggled to find the words, looking up at Dean before continuing, “And if not, at least they’ll make him comfortable,” He took a breath, “I think it’ll be better for him.” He finished, his voice low, his heart breaking as the words hung in the air. You wiped at your eyes and took in a few shuddering breaths. Dean rubbed small circles into your back and Sam’s hand rested on top of your own. You nodded slowly, unable to muster the words that didn’t need to be said. You leaned down and kissed his soft fur, his tail wagging a little more enthusiastically at your touch. Sam leaned down and shifted his arms underneath the large dog and lifted him effortlessly to his chest. Baby didn’t make noise as he carried him through the room and out of sight, down the bunker hallways. You sat on the ground, your back against the concrete wall. Dean sighed before slowly making his way down next to you. You pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, trying to stifle the shudders that wracked through you. Dean’s arm snaked around your shoulder and pulled you in, your head resting on his shoulder easily. The two of you sat in silence, the tears slipping down your cheeks, wetting the denim jeans that covered your knees. The depression that came with losing the best dog you’d ever had began to settle in your chest, the reality of it breaking your heart into tiny pieces you knew you’d never be able to pick back up.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” He said under his breath, his deep voice rumbling in the part of his chest where your head laid, “He lived a good life, you know? He was a good dog.” He reminded you, pulling you in a little closer. You merely nodded, not bothering to wipe the tears off your cheek before being soaked into his flannel.

“I know he is,” You said, your voice tight and your stuffy nose eviden in the grumble of your voice, “I know he’s dying, but I’m not ready for him to go.” You whispered, as if saying out loud made it even more real. He leaned his head on yours.

“I know baby,” He answered, his lips moving your hair as he spoke. The two of you sat there, the only noise was the creaking plumbing behind the walls of the bunker and the air conditioning clicking on and off as the time passed. Neither of you said anything. There was nothing to be said. There was no cure, no spell, no deal that could be made to save him from the inevitable curse of old age. It felt like hours had gone by before Dean’s phone rang, effectively pulling you out of your dazed state with a jump. He looked around and rubbed his eyes before leaning down and grabbing his phone off of the floor where he’d set it next to him. His brother’s name flashed brightly across the screen and you saw him hesitate to answer. He looked at you, his lips forming a tight smile before he answered it.

“Hey.” He said into the phone. You could hear Sam’s voice on the other end, his voice low. You knew he assumed that you were directly next to Dean’s side and most likely kept his voice quiet on purpose for your sake. “Mhm,” Dean nodded, “Mhm, okay… That’s what I thought too,” He let out a long breath and rubbed his hand along your thigh, making your heart drop in your chest. “Alright, we’ll see you soon Sammy, thanks.” He finished before putting his phone back on the ground next to him. He turned towards you. His eyes said it all. You slowly nodded and closed your eyes right as hot tears slipped out the sides of them. Dean stood up and wiped his jeans off before he leaned down and put his arms underneath your knees and across your back. Pulling you towards his chest, he carried you through the bunker halls, careful that your feet didn’t hit the walls, and brought you into the room the both of you shared. Gently, he settled you down onto the soft mattress. You wiped at your eyes and gave him a weak smile.

“Thank you D.” You said, your voice as small as you felt in the moment. Dean went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of his flannel pajama pants and one of his worn-in band shirts. You graciously accepted them, pulling off the shirt you had on and slipping Dean’s over your head. You kicked off your tight jeans and settled into the comfy flannel pants, instantly feeling a little better. He followed suit before laying down on his side of the bed, opening his arm for you to lay his chest. He turned on the television and put on one of your favorite movies to try to relax your mind. Halfway through the movie, a soft knock filled the room. Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and paused the movie. A moment later, Sam peeked his head in.

“Hey Sammy.” Dean welcomed him, his voice gruff with sleep. Sam walked in and over to your side of the bed. His eyes were rimmed with a lighter shade of pink and a part of you felt guilty for making him take care of Baby alone.

“Hey Y/N/N,” He said quietly, pushing his hair back, “How are you holding up?” He asked, reaching forward into a warm embrace.

“I’m okay, thank you Sam.” You touched his shoulder, “Honestly, it means the world to me you were there for him. I just don’t think I could’ve done it,” You rambled, but Sam’s hand covered yours.

“Y/N/N there’s nothing to explain, I get it, alright?” He gave you a weak smile, “He did good. He’s not in pain.” He finished. And for the first time all day, you found yourself with a sincere smile. You shook your head and grabbed Sam’s hand tight.

“Thank you,” You sniffled, “It meant a lot to him.” You told him before he patted your hand once more and gave Dean a small nod, before standing up.

“And,” He started, fishing around in his back pocket, “They gave me this to give to you.” He said and handed you a small package before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him as he went. You sat up a little straighter and tore open the small packaging that was undoubtedly the handiwork of Sam’s poor wrapping skills. When you pulled it all off, you saw what it was. In a small clear container, there was a paw print from Baby with his name inscribed on the plastic. Dean leaned over and inspected it, a big smile appearing on his face.

“Nothing beats that.” He said, kissing your shoulder before turning over and shutting off the light on his side of the bed. You stared at it. The paw print had small impressions where the cracks in the pad of his feet were and you felt a type of content settling in your chest.

Things would be different. The bunker would be lonelier without him and quieter without the sound of his collar roaming around, but it was going to be okay. You took a deep breath and sunk in the bed, thankful for every single moment you spent with him and swore you’d never have another love like Baby again. With the thought of him running and happy wherever he was, you drifted off to sleep with a smile, your heart a little more broken than usual.

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I hope you guys liked it :) And to the Anon that requested it, I hope you’re holding up okay - My messages are always open.

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imaginepirates · 4 years

Text

Modern! Will

A modern au with Will, who you find while sailing through the Orkney Islands. (Forgive me, I was just in Scotland.) Anyway, the two of you get to know each other during your time together, and you have a peaceful time sailing through the islands.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @shitis-getting-real

~3150 words

~~~~~~~

The last thing you’d expected to find while out sailing was a body. You feared, at first, that it was dead. He, to be specific. You’d let your boat drift close to the body before hauling up onto the deck. It quickly became clear that the man was still alive, and you debated what to do with him. You didn’t have any cell service out where you were, and you had no idea how a man came to be floating in the waters around you in the first place.

You were sailing through the uninhabited section of the Orkney Islands, enjoying the peaceful wildlife and a quiet respite from the pressures of day to day life. You liked living on your boat, sailing where you pleased and exploring the coasts of each island. Many were small, and a good chunk of them hadn’t seen the tread of a human foot on them in years.

Thus, you were put in an unfortunate situation with the finding of the body. You hadn’t seen any other boats around to point towards evidence of human life. You did notice, however, that the man seemed somewhat familiar. He was dressed in loose clothing, hardly warm enough for the weather where you were. His hair, plastered to his face from the water, was dark brown, and he wore it long, close to the shoulder.

Something about his face seemed unfathomably familiar. It took you a while to realize that he looked exactly like a character from your favorite movie. That was ridiculous, of course, but rather strange.

It was that moment that the man chose to wake up. He gave you a bit of a start, gasping for breath and rolling over to his side to cough water from his lungs.

“Are you okay?” You asked. You righted him, pulling him into a sitting position.

“I think so.”

“What happened?”

“I-I don’t know. I was with Jack, and then I wasn’t.”

With Jack? He couldn’t possibly mean… “Do you have an name?”

“William. William Turner.”

There’s no way. I’m going crazy. I’ve been out here on my own too long, and now I’m hallucinating. “Well then, William, let’s dry you off.”

You led him into your cabin and handed him a few towels. He got to work drying out his dripping hair and pulling off his soaked-through clothing. You turned around for modesty’s sake, leaving him to dry off on his own.

It was then that you realized you had nothing for him to wear. You blushed a little, realizing he’d have to wear a few towels until his clothes dried. You set them out in the sun to make sure they dried more quickly, but poor Will would be stuck in those towels for a while. And they don’t cover much.

The implications of Will’s presence began to hit you. How could he have gotten to your world? How did you get him back? How much of the storyline had he experienced? Was he still in love with Elizabeth? He clearly hadn’t gotten to the end yet, the part where he died. No, he looked younger than that, and he was still wearing stockings, which meant he couldn’t be too far into the adventure.

You returned to the cabin to find him sitting in a chair, observing the little room, barely covered except for the towel around his hips and one hanging around his neck. He blushed as you entered, and you found yourself blushing in return.

“Hungry?” You asked. It helped dispel some of the awkwardness.

“A little.”

You produced a jar of peanut butter and some jelly from an icebox. You then spread them over bread, and handed Will the sandwich.

His eyebrows shot up after the first bite. “What is this?”

“Peanut butter,” you said, amused. Though it was a fairly normal thing where you came from, you were sure Will hadn’t tasted a lick of it in his life. It hadn’t been invented yet in his time, after all.

He took another bite, chewing slowly. “I’ve never heard of it. It’s good.”

You smiled. Then thought about what you were going to do with him. You could hardly sail back to the Scottish mainland and report him to the police. What would you say? Excuse me officer, but I think I’ve found a man from a movie. It seems he needs to get back to his world. Somehow, you didn’t think that would convince anyone.

It would be best, you thought, to keep him with you. It would be a little cramped with the two of you, but it would be okay. He could help you at the helm, and he might even prove useful in the area of cooking.

Will had wandered out on deck, and you followed him, watching as he looked about. He ran a hand over the gunwale, then stared confused at the middle of the deck.

“There aren’t any sails,” he said, brows wrinkling in puzzlement.

“There’s no need for any.”

“I haven’t been on a ship that doesn’t need sails before. How does it work?”

“It has an engine and propeller.” You quickly realized Will didn’t know what an engine was. “An engine is a sort of power-source. The propeller does exactly what you think it does; it propels the boat forward.”

Will stared, baffled. “Where am I, exactly? I’ve never heard of an ‘engine’ before.”

You debated how to answer him. “Well, you’re far from home, obviously. On the other side of the world, actually, in northern Scotland.”

“Scotland? But I was just in the Caribbean!”

“Yes, well,” you weren’t sure how to put this part, “you’re also about three hundred years in the future, too.”

Will just stared. “How will I get back home? How will I get back to Elizabeth? She needs my help! What if something awful happens to her?”

Ah. He does love Elizabeth. “We’ll find a way for you to get back home.” You hadn’t the first clue how, though. “As for Elizabeth, I think she’ll be okay. She seems to do just fine on her own, actually.” You hoped that she would, given that she would end up passed out on the edge of a pile of gold surrounded by pirates.

“I hope that Norrington gets to her if I can’t.” Will looked a little sick at the thought, but you could tell he meant it in earnest. “They’re engaged, after all. It would be only fitting.”

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t think of that now. There’s nothing you can do. Besides, she’s probably made up her mind about the two of you already.”

Will nodded, if a little miserably.

He continued to stare out at the sea for a long while, watching the waves roll past. Islands dotted the horizon, and gulls flew around the ship. He rested his head in his hands, looking out over the dark waters, likely wishing himself home. How lonely it must feel, to be in a time and place other than your own.

By the time evening rolled around, his clothes were dry enough to wear. He returned to your cabin, slipped them on, and came back out. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, and you knew it was time to start thinking about bed.

Speaking of beds, you only had one. When you mentioned as much to Will, he looked a little flustered.

“I’ll sleep out here, if you like. Or in a chair.”

“Will…”

“I don’t mind. I’ve slept in worse conditions, believe me.”

“The bed can be shared,” you assured him. “As long as we stay on our sides.”

Will continued to protest, but you insisted that you share. It wasn’t fair to leave him in a chair, not to mention, you didn’t know how long he’d be with you. You couldn’t have him sleeping in a chair for days.

Undressing for bed was a bit awkward. You turned your backs to each other, and you quickly put on a baggy shirt and shorts. Will had taken off his vest, letting his loose shirt hang open at the neck. He’d also stripped off his tight-fitting breaches in favor of the looser garment underneath. You exchanged an uncomfortable glance before getting into bed, each of you careful to keep to one side. The bed was small, and you were forced close together. You could practically feel the heat coming off his back.

You tried your best not to think about it, but you couldn’t shake the knowledge that Will was right there next to you. The thought made your face flush, and you were glad that Will couldn’t see it. No doubt he was feeling the same discomfort. He lay stiff as a board, not daring to move lest he touch you, and you could tell.

Sleep was hard, but by the time morning came, you were comfortably asleep and in no mood to get up. You awoke, sluggish, to the light of the morning. You closed your eyes again, only to wake with a start. At some point during the night, you and Will had rolled close to each other, and he was pressed up against your back, an arm resting over your side.

You couldn’t tell if he was awake, and you didn’t want to wake him up by moving. You tried to relax, but it was hard to do so with Will’s arm around you. You wondered, anxiously, what his reaction would be when he awoke.

You soon decided that the weight of his arm felt nice, and you began to relax. Will’s breath tickled the back of your neck, and you could tell by the steady rhythm that he was asleep. You began to doze off again, knowing that there was no rush to wake up. It’s lovely, really.

When you woke up again, Will was awake, too. He gently lifted his arm away, turning over. Clearly, he was trying to hide the fact that he’d been pressed up against you.

“Will?” You whispered.

“Yes?” He sounded nervous.

“Do you want breakfast?” You decided it was best not to mention that you’d felt him curled up against you.

“Oh, yes, thank you. Can I help?” He had rolled over onto his side again, and you turned to face him.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can be of some help. I had to know how to make food when I worked as a blacksmith. Lord knows the owner of said smithy couldn’t cook for us.”

You hadn’t thought about that. “Sure.” It might be nice to have some help, anyway.

You rolled out of bed, moving to the small kitchen space provided on your boat. There was a small stove, a microwave, a small fridge, and some counter space. You pulled a packet of bacon from the fridge and a pan from a cupboard. You ended up making both eggs and bacon, while Will made toast. You had to teach him how to do it, of course, but he caught on quickly. Soon, you had a meal prepared.

You brushed up against each other often while in the kitchen due to the small amount of space. You were glad to see that Will was blushing just as hard as you. It made the situation a little less awkward. Still, it was nice to do domestic things with another person. Then you thought of Elizabeth, and your heart sank.

Will stared out the windows during breakfast, watching the island cliffs you were drifting by. A large spire of rock stuck up out of the waves, towering over you. You’d seen them before. The Orkney Islands had sea stacks, or tall columns of rock that jutted up from the ocean. They were once a part of the islands, but erosion had separated them into their own peaks. Gulls circled the one you were floating passed. They often made their nests in the rocks.

“I’ve never seen something like that before,” Will said. He stared out the window with a little smile. “I suppose I haven’t seen much at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve worked as a blacksmith until only recently, and I haven’t seen much in my adventures with Jack yet.” His face fell. “I wonder what’s happening back home.”

“We’ll get you back, I promise.”

He only nodded, looking sadly out the window.

“Tell me about this Jack person you keep referring to.” You knew full well who he was, of course, but it would be a good way to take Will’s mind off the sadness. You went over to the sink to do the dishes; there wasn’t room onboard for a dishwasher.

“He’s…” Will made a vague gesture with his hands, wiggling his fingers. “He’s eccentric, I think. And…” He trailed off again. When you looked back at him, you noticed him staring guiltily at you.

“And?”

“He’s a pirate.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s something Elizabeth would say. It’s not as exciting as you think it is. Jack can be a little disappointing.”

You snorted. More than a little, you thought. You couldn’t say as much to Will, of course, no matter how much you wanted to.

You turned back to washing the dishes, and sucked in a sharp breath, sticking your finger in your mouth. You’d cut yourself on something. It was the downside of washing dishes in the sink; sometimes, you couldn’t see what you were doing.

Will stood and came over to you, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth. He wiped a bubble of blood off your finger. “Here,” he took a small strand of cloth from around his wrist and began to wrap it around your fingers.

“Oh,” you said, “you don’t have to do that. I have bandaids in a drawer.” He gave you a confused look, but you led him over to the bandaids and pulled one out to show him.

Will removed the cloth from your hand, letting you wrap a bandaid around the cut. “That’s convenient,” he said. “I wish we had those where I come from.”

You smiled. The two of you walked out on deck, getting hit in the face with salty air. The deck was cold after the warmth of your cabin. You pulled a coat on and offered Will a blanket to wrap around his arms.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold,” he commented. “It’s always warm in the Caribbean. Though I guess the tropical storms can get a bit brisk.”

“Have you been through any storms at sea?”

“No. Have you?” His eyebrows shot up. Clearly, he didn’t like the thought of being caught in a storm on your little boat.

“No. I don’t sail out far enough to get caught in them.”

He nodded.

You spent the morning looking out over the horizon. You spotted countless types of birds to your port side, where an island poked out of the water. It was small, and nobody lived on it, but the wildlife in these areas were abundant.

A jet of air shot up into the sky a few miles off your starboard. A whale spout, no doubt. The islands had their fair share of whales, too, along with all the other types of wildlife. You could just make out the rolling hump of the whale’s back.

“I’ve only seen a whale once.” Will had come up next to you, his arm resting against yours. “They’re beautiful.”

“They really are. I bet you’ve seen lots of beautiful creatures. Surely you’ve seen all those tropical fish.”

“Aye, I have. I would go swimming and see them from the surface. Turtles, too.”

“We don’t have those out here. The ocean must be prettier where you live.”

“The ocean is pretty, no matter where you are. It’s all one great big sea.”

You supposed he was right. You stepped up to the helm, cruising the ship around the nearest island. Off to your port side, you pointed to the standing rocks near the cliffs, showing Will a circle of them. They’d been put there hundreds-if not thousands-of years before your time by the people who had first lived on these islands. They were hard to see from the boat, but you made due.

Will constantly helped you throughout the day, whether you were doing laundry or cooking. Despite the fact that you’d taken this trip to get away from people, you found Will’s company to be pleasant. You taught him how to steer the boat, keeping a hand on his to show him how little he needed to move the wheel to get the boat to turn.

Evening fell, and you huddled together to watch the sunset. It dipped over the horizon, sliding down into the waves, leaving behind a pink and orange sky. As the last glimmers of sunlight slipped away, a flash of green lit up the horizon. You wondered if Will knew what it meant yet, whether he knew about his father, or if he had any inkling of his fate.

He had an arm around you, and your head rested lightly on his shoulder. It was comfortable, now, having him so close. You’d spent all day like this on the cramped ship. You were constantly brushing up against each other and bumping into one another.

Will interrupted your train of thought. “It really isn’t so bad here. I want to go home, of course, but if I can’t…” He shuffled around a little. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

You blushed. You felt him move next to you, and you turned, right at the same time as he did, so you were face to face and rather close. You were sure he could feel your blush, but you could tell he was nervous too. Does he plan on kissing me? Surely he couldn’t. He was still in love with Elizabeth, right?

“I don’t mean to be untoward, but…” He drifted off, staring at you. You couldn’t pull away, finding yourself both embarrassed and a little hopeful that he would kiss you.

And he did.

The kiss was soft, and a bit unsure, but it was sweet. When you pulled away, you were both smiling like idiots. He kissed you again, and followed it up with a kiss to the forehead. Despite the evening chill, you found yourself to be quite warm.

“Will?” you said. “I like having you here, too.”

He smiled.

“Oh, and you can put an arm around me while we’re sleeping without feeling uncomfortable.”

He blushed, and the two of you shared a quiet laugh, heading back inside the cabin. You knew the days ahead of you were bound to be strange, but you found yourself looking forwards to your time with Will. It couldn’t be all that bad, after all, if he was going to keep kissing you.

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #pirate #pirates #will #will turner #William turner #will turner x reader #x reader #potc x reader #self insert #writing #request #requests #drabble #drabbles

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