#either way the compare and contrast. good flavors

[himbopunk]

i like that dragon age lets you have companions that romance each other in the bg if u dont romance them bc then when you Do romance them you can accidentally (or purposely) give them A Type.

[flawseer]

On Mudwing Culture

My last deliberation on Seawings and their eccentric insult vocabulary seemed to be well-received, so here is another one of my headcanons:

Mudwings are seriously into food.

I know, pretty revolutionary take when there is only a handful of named Mudwing characters, and two of them love eating so much that it either almost or entirely eclipses their personality.

But Clay and Ochre are not what I am talking about. This isn’t about a love of eating (though many Mudwings admittedly do have that). I’m suggesting that, out of all the tribes from Pyrrhia, Mudwings are at the forefront of food preparation and culinary innovation, to the point where a large part of their culture revolves around it.

The State of Food Preparation on the Continent

Pyrrhia as a conglomerate of different cultures largely sustains its populations through hunting and gathering. The average dragon, when the hunger pangs set in, will make a hasty trip into the nearest forest, cave, or scavenger den and round up some prey animals. In most cases, this prey will go straight from the talons to the mouth, or, if the hunter is a bit more forward-thinking, into the pantry, and then from talons to the mouth.

There are a few variations of this practice; Skywings may give the carcass a quick roast on an open flame before eating it, Sandwings may dry the meat out so the excess moisture does not upset their internal water balance, Rainwings will prefer fruit over meat. Icewings will nearly always consume their prey raw and unseasoned, as their extremely delicate palate is easily overwhelmed by intense flavors that may be released through cooking.

More complex forms of food preparation seem to exist mostly outside the scope of the general populace. The practice of “cooking” appears to be limited to the ranks of aristocracy, with dedicated cooks only found within the court of a queen or in private households of other high-born individuals. It creates a sharp divide between commoners and social elites, between the wealthy and (as Sea Queen Coral once put it so succinctly) the “eel-eating masses”. All exemplified through the differing standards of food.

And yet somehow, standing in stark contrast to everywhere else on the continent, nearly every Mudwing-- from the most low-born runts of the Diamond Spray Delta to the most decorated head advisors in the Queen’s palace --knows how to cook, and will do so regularly.

Why is that, and how did it happen?

Historical Benefits of Cooking

Most things that form the backbone of a culture usually start with some ancient practice that was useful at some point in time and then, as people kept doing it, eventually got absorbed into public awareness and became “the way things are done”.

Mudwings face a unique challenge compared to anyone else, as they are the only tribe whose combat prowess is significantly affected by their environment, specifically climate, weather, and temperature. Sure, you can take any dragon, drop them into an unfavorable climate, and they will generally perform worse than under normal circumstances. But the unique weakness of Mudwings is that they lose their breath weapon when they get too cold. Place an Icewing into a burning room and they will still be able to use their frost breath. Pluck a Sandwing from their dry environment and drop them into the humid, sweltering hell of the jungle, their natural weapons will still function. But make a Mudwing cower between two piles of snow for a while, and their internal fire will go out quickly.

As you might imagine, this is a bit of a liability when you have to defend your territory from Skywings hiding and scheming among the frozen peaks bordering your country.

So the ancient Mudwings had to figure out a solution to their conundrum, and what they came up with was this: They got a large pot and filled it with water, threw in all manner of meats, plants, and herbs, whatever they could find where they were holed up, then boiled it until it was good and filling. The hot food in their bellies helped them stay warm even at high altitudes and allowed them to stand their ground against the northwestern invaders.

Soon it became tradition for troops to share a hotpot the night before battle, and a rich variety of hearty broths and stews developed from there, as these were simple to make from scraps and could be reheated easily. The practice became so popular, the Mudwings kept doing it even during peacetime. Soon, in addition to the hunting of prey animals that was commonplace, Mudwings began to cultivate vegetable gardens to have access to a more stable supply of ingredients. Eventually, their growing understanding of agriculture allowed them to grow rice, which was especially well-suited to the abundance of wetlands found in their territory. Everyone was cooking now.

The Role of Food in Mudwing Society

If you ask several Mudwings which core values represent their tribe best, many would likely put forward some variation of “camaraderie”, “family”, or “loyalty to your sibs”. They are a very social people who form deep bonds with those whom they grew up with, and one of the most direct ways to grow close to someone is to share your meals with them every day. As such, the preparation and consumption of food is a vital part in maintaining cohesion between members of a Mudwing sibling group.

Every one of these groups will have a “Bigwings”, which is understood to be a combination of a leader and caretaker role. The Bigwings is aware of all of their sibs’ culinary preferences and needs and has all of the troop’s recipes memorized. When mealtime approaches, he or she makes the call on what kind of dish will be prepared and delegates roles and tasks to the troop. This is a daily exercise that builds the Bigwings’ authority and communication skills, and reinforces trust and familiarity between all siblings.

Next to the Bigwings is the Gatherer, which historically was a role assigned to one or more troop members who foraged for wild vegetables or hunted more prey if the previous communal hunt did not yield enough. While this is still true today, many Gatherers also maintain a garden or wet patch to source fresh vegetables or grain for meals.

And lastly there is the Communicator, which is a role usually assigned to the most social and charismatic sibling. The Communicator is vital for coordinating battle strategies with other troops, which, while very important, is not really all that relevant for this deliberation. What is relevant however, is the role they fulfill during peacetime, which is to set up joint meals between two or more sibling groups. This practice is critical for maintaining morale, as doing this regularly helps expand the troop’s palette and keep their Bigwings inspired. That way the troop’s collection of recipes stays fresh and innovative instead of turning stale and rigid.

Of course how much each troop values culinary exploits varies between individuals. Some Mudwing groups are outspokenly passionate about cooking and advancing their craft. They might view their work as an expression of art and get very upset or offended if you indicate that thinking about food is unimportant or a waste of time. Some extreme cases may even get angry at you if you waste ingredients or refuse to elevate a dish to its fullest potential by not seasoning it well or doing something else to ruin it. Other groups may be more relaxed and casual about food preparation, and a few might even not think about it much at all.

If a Mudwing invites you to dinner, it is paramount to figure out which of these groups they belong to beforehand, so you may get an understanding of how much of a threat this outing may pose to your health, especially if you are an Icewing or Seawing with a limited palate.

Is there any evidence for this in the books?

To my knowledge, there isn't much. Mostly because there isn't much about Mudwings and their culture in general. Across all the books, only one of them has a Mudwing protagonist, and the vast majority of it is spent in the Sky Kingdom, so his roots don't get a lot of exposure. Then whenever another Mudwing comes into the story, they tend to exit it very quickly after, without being able to share more.

I made this theory for myself largely in response to Mudwing culture being such a big question mark. I initially came up with it when I saw a Mudwing gardener in Escaping Peril and thought "That could be a cool direction for the tribe." The guidebook that released recently gave me some additional pointers with regards to a few of the looser points of this theory.

I'm hoping it is interesting, or at the very least entertaining in some way.

[feyd-rautha-apologist]

The Dragonstorm side stories ranking I promised is coming but. I got distracted. So

Rating the little flavor text vignettes from the Tarkir: Dragonstorm gain lands

For the uninitiated, the gain lands are getting reprinted in Tarkir: Dragonstorm, and all of them have a bit of flavor text about two of the clans interacting. The ally colored ones have a positive or at least peaceful interaction between the two clans, and the enemy colored ones have the two clans fighting each other. Generally I prefer the former, since two factions are almost always going to find a reason to stab each other, so it's more interesting to see them cooperate.

(btw I like all of these, if one of them gets a lower score that's just when compared to the other ones)

Bloodfell Caves: 6/10

This one's pretty decent. The clans recognizing something that threatens all of them and putting their differences aside makes sense and is thematic. I appreciate that this shows that the Mardu have ways to get the things they need aside from knocking someone over the head with a big stick.

Blossoming Sands: 7/10

A nice little interaction. Temur and Abzan are the clans that kinda keep to themselves more than the rest, so them having this sort of slightly suspicious live and let live attitude to each other fits.

Dismal Backwater: 10/10

Yeah so this is easily the best one. The idea of a Sultai merchant and Jeskai monk sending each other love letters is fucking adorable, Samthar x Jialing for life. I also just find the card hilarious though, like, the artwork is the most beautiful and serene shit you've seen in your life and then the cardname is fucking Dismal Backwater.

Jungle Hollow: 5/10

Pretty basic tbh. You look at the flavor text and you're like, yeah that makes sense. How these two clans treat their dead is a significant part of their characterisation, likely reason for them to be fighting.

Rugged Highlands: 8/10

I like this characterisation for the Mardu! Sure, they're aggressive and warlike, but they respect their enemies and their cultures. Fighting other clans is both fun and important, but purposely desecrating their religious sites would be a dick move.

Scoured Barrens: 7/10

This made me think almost immediately of the part in Spice8Rack's Tarkir video about how the clans in Khans of Tarkir were diminished compared to their past versions in Fate Reforged, and how the Mardu had lost their respect for the dead over the course of a thousand years. In the Khans timeline, they just dumped the dead from both sides into a mass grave immediately after a battle, but here, they seem to have regained some of that respect they had in the past. Which is pretty cool!

Swiftwater Cliffs: 3/10

Nothing really that interesting in this one. It's well-written, I enjoy it, but nothing particularly substantial about how the clans interact.

Thornwood Falls: 3/10

Same as the previous one, somber and evocative, but doesn't characterise the clans at all really.

Tranquil Cove: 8/10

I like things like this that show people appreciating the culture of another clan. Also, between this and the first Dragonstorm story article, apparently the Jeskai are just weirdly good at innkeeping in addition to all the martial arts. I know that european monks produced a ton of alcohol but was that also the case for buddhist monks? Interesting characterisation either way.

Wind-Scarred Crag: 4/10

This one doesn't have all that much to offer either, but it contrasts Mardu and Jeskai philosophies in a fairly interesting way, so I'll give it that.

[absolutebl]

Industry question for you, please: Why is it that it seems that Thai BL in particular has some really systemic issues with writing endings? Screwed-up pacing/editing, out-of-character/illogical actions, not being very satisfying... it seems like a show avoiding that fate is more of an exception than the rule, unfortunately. Do a lot of them just... not write the ending ahead of time? ���� That would make having these sort of wacked-up endings at least make some sense, but... really, it makes *no* sense to me that that would be the actual standard writing strategy-- I mean, for example, one of the best living novel authors I know of *always* has very satisfying endings, literally without fail (I have read everything he's written and been perfectly content with the ending of every one), and the reason for that is he purposefully always writes the endings of his books *first*, then works everything back up to that point. Similarly, some of the best TV shows I've seen (from any country-- and this does actually include some Thai ones, to be fair) were written either all in one go or at the *very* least with their endings obviously already very firmly in mind, regardless of if they were completely original or were adaptations of some other source material. So... why does this often seem to be such a difficulty for the writers of Thai BL? 😅 (Sorry if I sound a little salty here, but endings either make or break all fiction for me {novels, manga/manhwa, TV, movies, games, whatever}, and I've been getting burned what seems to be more and more often lately with shows being great for the vast majority of their runtime but then inexplicably totally botching the landing, seemingly out of nowhere-- so I'm a bit frustrated with that when it seems to be a really simply-solved problem {that, indeed, has already been solved by many others before}: JUST WRITE THE DAMN ENDING *FIRST* and then work up to it? 🙃😅)

Endings huh? You a romance reader by nature? (Wait, no, you said... HE. So... Sparks? Green?) Anygay, where was I?

But yeah, I get it. I've always fancied the dessert course the most, myself.

To answer your question, not sure. I'm assuming its a narrative expectation based in culture. Like Japan and their lanes, China and 6 act structure, or Korea's adoration of love triangles. And producing culture comes to film and storytelling with its own set narrative conceits, archetypes, and tropes and aren't proscriptive but are leaned on a lot. Much as they come to film with a certain style as well.

Think about the "look" of Korean BL compared to the "look" of Taiwanese BL, for example. They have an entirely different flavor to them. Korean stuff is usually all bright and airy, lots of distance shots, super clean and uncluttered, filtered and filmy and atmospheric. Taiwanese stuff is much closer, more grainy, more bold with it's color choices and contrasts, kind-up n your face and gritty, a bit messy sometimes.

It's jarring to go from one to the other.

After watching nothing but Asian dramas for so long, I always find it jarring to go back to American shit. It feels over-acted and unsubtle and kind of brash. Over all "loud" and in my face. Jarring.

So when first encountering 4 or 6 act structure most westerners feel a little unmoored, it doesn't feel comfortable until you sink into it and leave 3 & 5 behind.

I'm mean I'm so used to K-dramas with that arbitrary year or more separation in the final episode I;m now shocked when it's not there.

I guess what I'm saying is maybe it's just a thing with Thailand, not to put that much truck in endings. The way (especially) romances do in the western world. There's a very fixed idea of what an HEA should look like in the west. Thailand may not share that idea.

I've not read the source books of any of these BLs, so I don't know if this is just their narrative style or not.

I mean there are some Thai BLs with good (if not great) endings, and plenty of Korean BLs with terrible middles, and far too many Taiwanese BLs with bad beginnings.

Ya just kinda get used to it, I guess.

15 Thai BLs with Good Endings

A Tale of Thousand Stars

Bad Buddy

Lovely Writer

2gether

Be My Favorite

Dark Blue Kiss (possibly my favorite on this list)

Destiny Seeker

Make a Wish

Naughty Babe

SOTUS

[suffarustuffaru]

"i-it's not like i like you or anything but we're FRIENDS NOW. youre my friend. BUT ID STILL LEAVE YOU THE MOMENT THIS COMPANY FAILS OKAY ITS NOTHING PERSONAL" and proceeds to like clean up corpses for this guy on the down low. (Otto bdsm post)

I just find that last part so funny to compare pride if Otto with. Pride If "Otto was forced into destroying the kingdom for Subaru" vs Envy If "Otto was stopped from destroying the empire for Subaru" I'd love for those two to be able to talk.

haah i love how you quoted my own otto bdsm post... HAH (it is once again funny to me that ive opened pandoras box on this blog man........ now i get bdsm asks.... literally a dream come true and none of my mutuals will let me live it down BHAHA)

anyway!!! yeah yeah pride if otto vs envy otto are soo soo funny to compare <3 pfft i think ive seen you around in the comment section of my pride otto multichapter fic (ty once again for the nice comments and cool asks :O !!) but no yeah like pride and main otto are really funny. but the parallels too are super interesting..... you summarized them really well pfft.

like.... the way pride otto is Forced to do these things for pridebaru. like of course pride otto barely gets any screentime but theres stuff implied yknow? like he has to meet with subaru often, hes the messenger boy of sorts between subaru and russell fellow, otto also delivers the poison that kills julius, otto also dies somehow off screen before the climax of pride if.... and then main otto over here Choosing repeatedly to follow subaru and die for subaru and do all these sorts of things for subaru HAH - the contrast is really really strong!!

like of course wrath if otto is also a debt slave like pride if otto, but pride if otto's his own flavor of unique just bc hes forced to stay in proximity to subaru when he either may not want to or he feels similar to subaru (who goes "maybe in another life we couldve made good friends, but this Isnt that life")!! seeing how jaded and empty pride if otto is is super fascinating, bc you can kind of see the origins of it in main otto's tendency for cynicism and ruthlessness !!

but also on another level i feel like pride otto would be soooo confused and disgusted hearing about main otto. pride otto might be out here like "so not only are you friends with this guy but youre his boytoy too???? lmfao you loser" HAH

but yeah i think itd be fun for them to meet. pride if otto, the otto who never made friends and only learned to harden his heart and be forced to be an accomplice to horrible crimes...... main otto, the otto who made friends and is so so painfully devoted but it drives him to do drastic things some times.... crimes in the name of love versus being forced to assist in it.... like main otto learned how to make friends, learned the power of friendship with other people, but his loyalty is "poisoning" him while pride otto supplied the poison that kills julius...... ough......... and pride otto dies at the end...... all alone.... poisoned by other people, poisoned by what he had to do.....

but also i think my favorite bit of pride otto trivia is that word of god thing that pride otto took advantage of the fire and went to go kill russell fellow before he died.... specifically to avenge frufoo, his ground dragon.... like. ough. pain. absolute pain. pride ottos last act was to kill his main abuser??? to avenge his one and only friend????? im gonna bawl my eyes out HAHHA. but it seems that the power of friendship may have briefly won for a second there.... :,))) like im sure ottos most definitely killing russell fellow also bc thats Literally the guy that enslaved him but - the way its specifically noted that ottos main reason was Frufoo. im sobbing on the floor.

anyway i completely forgot where i was going with this but in conclusion pride otto is such a guy. 20 seconds of screentime??? dude stomped over my heart in 20 seconds. and if he met main otto i think he'd either go "wtf is wrong with you why would you do all of this for subaru??? him??? that CLOWN???? why???" or pride otto would wanna strangle main otto for being so lucky HAH. pride otto learns frufoo is still alive and well in main route and pride otto instantly launches himself at main otto like a feral cat -

[changelingwrites]

What You Aren't Allowed To Want: Notes & Extras

Okay, I took a nap! And now that my brain isn't just the same 26 pages scorched onto the insides of my eyelids I can actually Talk about them! Beware: This is a fuckin' long one.

Extras before I get to my Many Notes:

I cut out a Whole Thing where Kaz realizes that while his new little trick Does Work in the moment...it will backfire if there isn't another Physical Person in the aftermath. It was specifically a scene where instead of his head clearing everything hit Worse and he started sobbing and spiraling about being unwanted. It felt redundant and also...kinda cruel, so I cut it.

Originally, I planned for Inej to follow him. The fic would've started with Kaz recounting the night and all the scenes we saw in the merch mansion and he would be snapped out of his memories by the realization that Inej had been following him for Some Time. They would get into an argument and the entire time he was being rude on auto-pilot he would be panicking about how fucked his head must be if she was following him for That Long and he didn't notice.

Jesper and The Laces:

"Why is it Always Jesper?" This one is simple and short so it's going first. Without maybe spoiling anything I plan to write in the future. It's a trust thing. Kaz wants to prove that he trusts Jesper no matter how many times Jesper feels like he's fucked up, and Jesper wants to know that Kaz trusts him. Jesper is the only one who ties or unties Kaz's laces besides himself.

The whole Thing with Wylan:

"Wylan seemed really mad the second he showed up. What the fuck is up with that?" I love writing vicious Wylan is the main reason. I read those two scenes in SOC and Crooked Kingdom where he just Yells at Kaz for being a dick until he is literally forced to either walk away or someone steps between them and "Wylan Has A Temper" Was a part of his characterization forever for me. But! In a less meta-sense! I feel like after Finally getting to a place where he's safe and not in an abusive or dangerous situation he is Very sensitive to anyone trying to tell him what to do or control him. Obviously this leads to him and Kaz "Why would I tell anyone the plan, they should just do as I say" Brekker butting heads. Finally, its stated that he's stressed out already and he just came home to his partner in pre-heat trying to duck out the nearest exit without being seen. He's Gonna Throw A Pillow Or Two.

"They shared a heat together???" Mhm! And I! Might write about it! Cause this one was Rough and I kinda wanna contrast it with something that's Just Fluff

"Kaz compares himself to Wylan A Lot doesn't he?" Oh he sure does! Now there is the obviously stated "To Kaz, Wylan is a 'good omega' and he's Not" of it all. But also! Did y'all catch the way he talked about other barrel omegas? The "nameless faceless souls" bit? Wylan isn't scared of his designation the way Kaz is. Just somethin' to think about.

The Nina and Kaz Scene(s): I do not know what has Possessed me since writing CTC but I am obsessed with the dynamic between these two. I'm pretty sure I've never even read a fic where they were like the Primary Relationship but I have a whole song to daydream about their nonsense to. Truly Bewitched.

First thing is just a little fun fact. Did you notice the mirror actions between Kaz and Nina at dinner? When he walks in and says he's leaving she looks at Matthias (presumably silently asking why the fuck he didn't tell her something was wrong) and Matthias avoids her eyes. During dinner when Inej says she knows Kaz looks at Wylan (presumably to ask why the fuck he snitched to Inej) and Wylan does The Same Thing

"Char, this is the Second Time you have mentioned Nina wearing Kaz's clothes." It sure is! And I will not confirm or deny whether that is A Thing for them (it totally is)

"Is Nina using a strap or not?" I personally subscribe to the "All alphas have dicks" flavor of omegaverse writing but it was left unspecified on purpose just like Kaz's bits were left unspecified on purpose (even though I did state my preference in the tags cause I'm not a coward)

"Does Nina always top?" A fantastic question! I thank me for asking it! No, she doesn't. They actually, truly, flip a coin to decide who tops. They have to or they'll just sit on the bed naked and bickering for upwards of like an hour. Kaz isn't allowed to flip (cause he'll cheat) so he's the one that calls. Nina does always dom with Kaz though cause there's no way she's letting that canal rat tell her what to do (lovingly)

This isn't even all of my thoughts. I could genuinely discuss this fic for Hours I'm so proud of how it turned out. I do have an 8am tomorrow though so I'm gonna cut myself off here.

[ajmeltdiaries]

41. CTC, aka Chi Town Chem (IC Collective) Live Resin

I picked this up along with her rosin sister so that I could compare the two, and I'm glad I did. At the time it had been awhile since I'd stepped off the solventless path, and I'll admit I was hesitant to purchase a live resin again, after prior experiences with bargain brand bullshit from MI that really shouldn't be called "live resin". Anyway, IC's is not that. It's legit. As this entry complements my rosin entry, a lot of notes are copied over.

Family, I believe

Chem

P: Chemdog 91 (1, 2) By IC

GP: Chemdog 91 (2, 3) By Chemdog via IC

CTC (Chi Town Chem) is a relative grandchild of original Chemdog 91, cultivated and further bred by IC Collective. They call the pheno "3 Dots", and I'm not sure of the significance, although it does neatly represent the city it's branded after.

Keynotes:

https://www.iccollective.com/ctcstrain

https://www.iccollective.com/cd91

https://www.alchimiaweb.com/blogen/chemdog-story/

Form, as seen

This is like raw sugar set into molasses, with its large crystals and thick sauce. Not my favorite for handling small doses, but it globs fine. The jar was either sloppily filled or mishandled at some point, as the sauce coated all the interior surfaces, leaving sticky residue on my gloves every time. Upon dabbing, she melts clear at low temps and begins to darken north of 500°F.

Flavor, as tasted

Complex

Like the rosin, the resin tastes different at different temperatures (quintessential Chem!), described below. The facet I found most distinctly satisfying was bright green apple candy, which I also get in IC's Fox River Chem, another of their wonderful phenos. In contrast to the rosin, by way of comparing forms, the resin is notably brighter and more sedative. I'm not sure if this is because of the matrix differences or specifically the terpene profiles (or both!). It is really cool to observe.

Aroma starts off bright, sour, and gassy. There is a hint of sweet cookie/earth in the background. My initial impression was that it smells like good Chem. Now, at the end of the jar, I'm satisfied with that call!

The following tasting notes are from my Victoria D banger with diamondium cap and pearl.

At 510°F, CTC tastes Prototypical (Floral, Gas, Earth). She starts with a sweetness that transitions to gas and florals as spice begins to come forward. These continue to swirl into a long, green, almost savory finish.

At 525°, the profile is Prototypical (Dank, Gas, Chem). This is most like what I think people would regard as chemical or savory, but I can distinguish a transition much like that at 510 but more dank than sweet. This temp is great for .1g doses and is kind of like a concentrated version of the experience at 510.

At 550°, the profile is Sweet (Floral, Spice, Cookies)! I think this temp is near the last stop in flavor town before tasting burnt. The sulfurs sweeten up, turning the gas to cookies and the dank to baking spice with accents of fruit and citrus. This temp is not great for small doses! Burnt resin tastes uniquely gross.

Felt Effects

A little racier than the rosin! But like the rosin, the resin is a great expression of Chem effects. Balanced but strong head and body medicine that both boosts my mood and drops my roots. Dogbud & chemweed, man. I did find the resin to be more sedating than the rosin at higher doses, which is helpful.

Effect: Strength of Evidence (0=None, 5=Optimal) Energy/Amplify: 5 Relaxation: 4 Relief: 4 Sleep: 5 Haze: 5 Lock: 3

Final Thoughts

I'm so glad I did a flight of CTC! It gave me a gracious break from Fort Solventless without involving distillate. This was a very encouraging purchase at its price point, too. I'm glad to know I can trust in IC's resin when I'm down to beans. While the form wasn’t my favorite, the smoke was smooth without the usual LR throat tickle, the flavor showed off the strain’s brighter/fruitier tones, and the effects were clean. Not sure I would pick this over the rosin, but they compare well, and that is just my bias.

melt shot x anthonyjames

I’m old enough to be clueless with a ring light, but I’m trying!

Can we make this night last? Side bet in Idalou

[zykamiliah]

So we know SQQ uses The Wives/The Women as a stand-in to talk around his attraction to Binghe, but another thing SQQ does is use the Original Shen Qingqiu as a way to talk around his own personality, (negative) emotions, and even self-esteem, either by contrasting himself against him, or by finding similarities. It makes a lot of sense, since he's inhabiting the body of the original, the person he needs to, to a certain point, imitate to survive.

From the very beginning, SQQ finds similarities between o!SQQ and him, and says he doesn't get why someone with reputation, good cultivation and the biggest sect backing him up would be so envious of other people's potential to the point of scheming against them. The Original Shen Qingqiu was not satisfied with the things he has and instead of idling his life away, like Shen Yuan in his previous life, he's digging his own grave.

When rummaging through the carriage interior, SQQ finds a lot of stuff that was frankly unnecessary to take on such a short trip, like "five or six different tea sets". And noting this, SQQ thinks,

No matter that in his past life he could have counted as a wealthy second-gen, he still hadn’t been this pointlessly indulgent in his pursuit of first-world affluenza, okay? (Chapter 1: Scum)

He's saying, "unlike him, i wasn't needlessly indulgent".

Another example is when he compares his own competency to that of O!SQQ. He does this a few times in the first volume.

The original Shen Qingqiu’s skill at facing down demons should have made this quest as easy as killing a chicken with a knife. Shamefully, the knife had failed to even hit the chicken. In seconds, Shen Qingqiu discovered something that made his mood even worse. (Chapter 2: Mission)

In other words, "unlike the original goods, I am so uncool right now". But the best thing about this part is that... it puts SQQ in a bad mood. I want to call attention to the fact that he feels shame for failing, for being being weak when he should be strong. Shame doesn't come out of nowhere.

Rereading this volume and noticing this few hints of his character and emotions really challenge the notion that SQQ/SY is just an easygoing person. There's a lot of mental gymnastics being performed so he doesn't have to confront his own emotions. If the unreliable narrator tells me he's easygoing, should I believe him? I am questioning everything he says until it's confirmed by his actions.

Now, going back to how he uses o!SQQ to talk about his own competency, and most important, how he feels about being competent, strong, etc.

Surrounded by the cheers of the sect’s disciples, Shen Qingqiu attained a complete victory in the first match.

At this moment, Shen Qingqiu realized why the original flavor had clung to being a poser like it was his lifeline—it was unbelievably satisfying. (Chapter 2: Mission)

Why is it so hard to say "being cool feels so so good"? Being admired, strong and capable is something he comes to enjoy, and I wonder about Shen Yuan, and what was his life like. Why does he have to use o!SQQ to open a sentence about why being "a poser" feels good. He won't say he himself is a bit of a poser, or that it feels good to be cool.

The original flavor pushed Luo Binghe onto the battlefield because he was shameless! He didn’t care about the sect’s reputation! He hated Luo Binghe to the bone, enough to want to vicariously torture him via the hands of demons!

The current Shen Qingqiu didn’t share any of those three motives! (Chapter 2: Mission)

SQQ is not shameless, in fact there's a lot of shame in him. He cares about the sect's reputation, even if he's been in PIDW for, what, a few months? And most of that time he spent it in a cave cultivating. I wonder why he latched himself to the sect so quickly? As if a part of him always wanted a place to belong to, be part of, play an important role, a place he could contribute to.

“Do you think that the burden of peak lord will be too heavy, Qingqiu?” asked Yue Qingyuan.

The original Shen Qingqiu would most likely have suspected that Yue Qingyuan was trying to undermine his authority or something of that sort. However, the current Shen Qingqiu knew that Yue Qingyuan was genuinely worried about him overworking himself and damaging his health(...) (Chapter 3: Favor Points)

He's saying: "unlike him, i don't misunderstand people", which is... clearly not the truth, but he doesn't know that. SQQ thinks he has a pretty good grasp about people's intentions and that he's good judge of character.

All that said, the quote that actually made me connect the dots about how SQQ invokes the original to talk around his own emotions is this one, when they're facing MBJ:

“Unusually inferior talent,” [Mobei-Jun] said. “Foundation and techniques inflexible. Leave.”

Shen Qingqiu said nothing.

He wasn’t some unmatched genius in the Human Realm, but his talent was still at least one in a thousand. And Cang Qiong Mountain’s foundation and techniques weren’t inflexible, they were orthodox! Mobei-Jun still described them as he would a pile of garbage. If the original Shen Qingqiu had heard this, he would have coughed up three liters of blood and run away crying to make a voodoo doll. (Chapter 4: Conference)

But wait, that first sentence kind of sounds familiar, doesn't it?

From early on, he’d known that even if he idled the rest of his life away, he’d never want for food. Perhaps due to this carefree upbringing, devoid of either competition or pressure, he came to believe that ranking in the top ten of a competition was good enough, so long as it had more than ten people. (Chapter 1: Scum)

He's saying "as long as I score among the best I don't have to be a top ranker". Like, if he's comparing himself to others, he won't feel bad because he's not at the bottom. He's average, and average is good, right? Like a "at least I passed the test, I don't need a top score" type of thinking. It feels like something he'd tell himself to feel better about his own performance.

The middle child, saying that as long as he has an average rank everything is fine? Hahaha. Yeah ok, Shen Yuan. (wtf are you hidinnnng)

But I want to draw your attention to this sentence

If the original Shen Qingqiu had heard this, he would have coughed up three liters of blood and run away crying to make a voodoo doll.

because it's so fascinating how SQQ is mentally incapable of admitting to himself that his pride has been hurt by MBJ's words. He feels insulted, and he channels that emotion by projecting his feelings on and picturing what the original would feel in that situation.

Oh, but zy, isn't this just SQQ's humorous running commentary on everything that happens to him? Maybe he's not really upset about what Mobei-Jun said about him having "unusually inferior talent".

Nope. He's really, really pissed off

Just as the sword array was about to come down like sheets of rain, Shen Qingqiu snarled within his heart.

I’ve done my best, but he still thinks I’m low-level trash, so what can I do?!

How loathsome! If I have to die, couldn’t it at least be in a better-looking way? After being stabbed with hundreds of black swords, I’m going to be a sieve! Who could bear to look?!

He SNARLED in his heart. MBJ didn't call him low-level trash, he did that himself. It pisses him off that he's going to die in such an uncool way that will leave him looking like an ugly bloody pulp.

Is this really a guy that doesn't care about his reputation or how he looks to others, that calls himself an "easygoing person"????

This is a guy that has had to repress every emotion related to his own pride and self-esteem. And this is something he was doing in his previous life. Again, what the fuck was going on with the Shen family?!

I don't think this is the way a man that is satisfied with his lot in life would think.

Shen Qingqiu was a man of few needs; he would have been satisfied just idling away to a ripe old age. In that way, it wouldn’t be that different from how his previous life had been going.

youre LIYING. I'm not going to trust anything you said about yourself EVER AGAIN. you were so satisfied to "idle your life away" you died from eating expired yogurt! you were clearly repressed and depressed and unhappy and pretending to be okay!

[mayihavethisdanse]

“What is this, the Dark Ages?”

Or, Arthurian themes and allusions in the Brotherhood of Steel mythos as seen in Fallout 4. (But that’s a lot of words.)

Yep. We're doing this. 

First, some obligatory caveats: there is no single Arthurian canon, just 1500 years of assorted fanfic based on the whims of whoever was writing at the time. For this extremely highbrow Tumblr meta, I have ignored most of it and drawn on my favorites. Also Wikipedia.

Also, I am not an expert in Arthurian literature (or Fallout lore, come to that), and I preemptively beg the pardon of anyone who is.

Finally, in no way am I claiming that all these parallels and thematic echoes are deliberate or even significant. In fact, I'd break it down into:

Clearly deliberate allusions, whether in or out of universe;

Probably coincidence, but could be someone deliberately capitalizing on a coincidental similarity;

Almost certainly coincidence, but fun to speculate about; annnnd

Blatant Monty Python references. (Because of course there are.)

I'll start with the big one.

Arthur Maxson, boy king and unifier

(source)

So across all the retellings and variations of King Arthur’s life story, there are a few consistent elements, particularly in his early life and rise to power. Some of these threads are echoed in the Fallout universe, specifically (and unsurprisingly) in the person of Arthur Maxson.

Both the legendary King Arthur and Arthur Maxson were born with a claim to power lying in their ancestry, both were fostered away from their families, and both proved themselves in combat at a young age. 

King Arthur united the warring kingdoms of Britain into a single entity, making them stronger against outsiders and receiving general admiration and acclaim. Arthur Maxson united the divided factions of the BoS after the events of Fallout 3 and is held in similarly high regard by his men.

The name Prydwen is a reference to the ship of the original King Arthur. Presumably, Arthur Maxson (or someone in the BoS who anticipated his promotion) christened the airship in a deliberate homage to the Arthurian myth.

King Arthur is associated with his legendary sword. I think it’s notable that Maxson’s legend is associated with a bladed weapon, too. ("He killed a DEATHCLAW with a COMBAT KNIFE!”)

Probably coincidence, but fun: the historical emperor Magnus Maximus, who pops up a lot in early Arthurian legend, was known in Welsh as... Macsen. (⌐■_■)

Round Table, but make it dieselpunk

(Continued under the cut.)

Moving away from obvious allusions and into some looser parallels:

Like the Round Table, the Brotherhood is an exclusive knightly order with its leader being the one able to open it up to his chosen few.

Like the Round Table, the BoS sees itself as defending human civilization against forces of chaos. (I’ll touch on their tech-hoarding tendencies when I get to the Grail stuff.) This idea of civilization in the face of chaos goes back to the BoS’s founding, even though the level of isolationism we see in most of the Fallout franchise is not exactly what founder Roger Maxson had in mind: “Notably, Maxson's ultimate intention was to establish the Brotherhood as an organization that works closely with people outside of the Brotherhood, as guardians of civilizations, not its gatekeepers.” (source) In a lot of ways, Arthur Maxson represents a return to his ancestor’s original ideals.

Renegade knights? Internal politics? Traitors within? We gotchu.

In both the medieval legends and in all chapters of the BoS we’ve seen, there’s a big focus on bloodlines (ew). Ironically, it’s probably Arthur Maxson’s unquestionable ancestry that allows him to be more progressive than either of his East Coast predecessors when it comes to boosting Brotherhood numbers by recruitment (even though you can still see a clear division between “born Brotherhood” and recruited soldiers, but that’s a topic for another day). Maxson sees himself as an Elder who "cares for the people"—however misguided and patronizing that attitude might be—and whatever else you might say about the guy, you can't say he doesn't believe he has a duty. Which brings us to…

Know Your Enemy: Danse as Gawain

Before I start this section, an acknowledgement of authorial bias:

Gawain, as portrayed in the Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, is my very favorite of King Arthur’s knights. (Other stories aren't always as flattering, but like I said at the outset: I'm sticking to the ones I like.)

That poem is my very favorite piece of medieval Arthurian literature. In this section, I'll refer to the modern English translation by Simon Armitage.

...that’s it, I have no other biases to disclose. 

What? 👀

(Art: Clive Hicks-Jenkins)

All right. So in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, you’ve got this himbo loyal knight of Arthur’s who finds himself caught up in... you know what, let me just paste in the Wikipedia summary. (The Toast, RIP, also did a pretty entertaining and more-or-less accurate recap.)

It describes how Sir Gawain, a knight of King Arthur's Round Table, accepts a challenge from a mysterious "Green Knight" who dares any knight to strike him with his axe if he will take a return blow in a year and a day. Gawain accepts and beheads him with his blow, at which the Green Knight stands up, picks up his head and reminds Gawain of the appointed time. In his struggles to keep his bargain, Gawain demonstrates chivalry and loyalty until his honour is called into question by a test involving the lord and the lady of the castle where he is a guest.

Don’t worry too much about the plot details, though; for this post, I’m more interested in the thematic parallels. The Green Knight story is full of contrasts: order vs. chaos, civilization vs. wilderness, mortal man vs. Other... but let’s start with Gawain himself. 

Some stuff to know about Gawain:

He was "as good as the purest gold, devoid of vices but virtuous and loyal". Gawain took his principles more seriously even than the rest of Arthur’s knights, not out of pride but out of humility: "I would rather drop dead than default from duty," he says. 

He’s faithful and honorable and never even tempted to betray an oath, even when offered every variety of seduction and riches, except for a single moment of weakness in a desperate desire not to be executed for random shit by powerful forces for reasons he doesn't understand.  

Even though he doesn’t really understand why he needs to die, he sticks to his oath. Gawain's one weakness is a moment of desperate, private, human desire for survival. He'll submit to the headsman’s axe if he has to, but he'd still rather live. 

Above all, Gawain is the ideal of a human man: he might be the bravest and loyal man there is, but he’s still fundamentally human.

You can probably see where I'm going with this.

A few more fun facts about Gawain that resonate with Paladin Danse’s story:

He’s got a bunch of really shitty brothers. (No comment.)

Gawain (SPOILERS!) doesn't actually end up beheaded, but he does willingly kneel for his execution and gets a cut on the throat as a reminder of his sin. And, uh, Danse can also get his throat cut! It doesn’t end as nicely but it’s, you know, a thing that can happen.

Gawain might be a really good guy, and he tries really hard to be one, but in the end he’s nothing more than that: there’s nothing supernatural about him, he has no special powers beyond his own principles and devotion. He’s just a dude doing his Best. 

Wait, why not Danselot?

Oh, that guy? Here’s the thing.

Lancelot personifies the continental ideals of courtly love that became popular in the High Middle Ages. Central to his story is the prioritization of personal relationships and romantic feelings in a way that you don’t really see in Gawain's, at least in the Green Knight tale. (Later stories hook Gawain up with an extremely delightful lady, but even that is a different flavor of romance than Lancelot's and has more to do with Gawain honoring his word and his egalitarian treatment of women (hell yeah). In the poem, Gawain is impressed by Bertilak's wife but resists her temptation; in fact, the biggest risk is not that he'll yield to her advances but that he'll be discourteous to her, i.e., violate his principles and cause dishonor to his king and his host.)

Lancelot is driven by passions over principles in a way that Gawain never really is (at least in the stories I’m talking about; later writers have committed character assassination to various degrees). Yes, you could argue that both Gawain and Lancelot betray their oaths, but Lancelot’s betrayal is never, um, blind. He knows what he’s doing and makes a deliberate choice to prioritize his love for the queen over his love for the king. It doesn’t make him a bad guy—he too is an ideal knight with one fatal flaw—but his character isn’t as comparable to Paladin Danse. 

Yeah, Gawain is (in most stories) a prince and a kinsman of Arthur’s, but he’s ultimately a native boy who doesn’t break the mold of a Knight of the Round Table. Likewise, Danse is portrayed as competent and valuable to the BoS, but not exceptional or breaking the mold of what a BoS soldier should be: he simply represents the ideal. Meanwhile, Lancelot is a foreign prince who was marked from childhood as special and fancy, and his storyline goes alllll over the place. (Much like this post.)

For example, Lancelot goes to absolutely absurd extremes to prove his devotion for no other reason than to prove it. (“I’ll do any useless humiliating thing you want. I’ll betray every oath except the one I made to you. That’s what love is!”) Gawain would never. Danse would never.

Ultimately, Gawain's tests are of his character and not of his love. And like Gawain, Danse’s devotion is to service and his principles, not to another person—even Arthur Maxson.

All that said, there are some similarities: both are beloved by Arthur, both are held up as the ideal of what a knight should be. And even if their fatal flaws are different, both make the point that no matter how good and brave and loyal they might be, no human being can be perfect. 

(Except Galahad. Who is, as a result, very boring.) 

I’ll conclude this section with a quote from someone else’s take on the Greek Knight poem:

I like Gawain. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying his best which is all any of us can do. He’s not like the other knights in the Arthurian legends who occasionally ‘accidentally’ kill women on their little adventures and then feel hard done by when they have to deal with the consequences of that. Gawain holds himself to a high standard – higher, it seems, than Arthur and his knights hold him to considering how hard they laugh when Gawain tells them how bad he feels about the whole thing.

I think Gawain is very relatable in this story. We all want to be better than we actually are.

And that, more than anything else, is Danse.

The Grail myth

What’s that? Lost relics of power? Better send some large armed men after ‘em!

The parallels to the BoS’s tech-hoarding ways are obvious enough that the games themselves lampshade them (albeit by way of Monty Python). But it also ties into the larger themes of “purity” versus “corruption” and the BoS’s self-image as a bastion between civilization and chaos. (See Maxson's line in response to the Sole Survivor’s quip about the Dark Ages: “Judging from the state of the world, it wouldn't be a stretch to say we're living in that era again.”)

But the ultimate futility of the Grail mission is also worthy of note. The BoS might want the power of prewar tech on their side, but they’re no more to be trusted with it than any other group of human beings. No matter how they try, the “corruption” of humanity can’t be overcome as long as they’re striving to harness power for their own ends. You can only achieve power by surrendering control of it.

The death of Arthur

The nature of gameplay being what it is, it's not guaranteed that the Arthur figure will be fatally betrayed, bringing Camelot down with him—but it's not unlikely, either.

Awkward.

Some final spitballing:

Outside the Brotherhood, there are some fun parallels of the Arthur myth with the rest of Fallout 4. Betrayal by one’s own son, for example.

The key difference between the BoS and the legendary Round Table: King Arthur’s knights, for all their flaws and human weaknesses, are usually presented as unambiguous Good Guys. The BoS is... a little more ambiguous...

...but damn if they don’t think they're the good guys. 

A-ad victoriam, fellas!

[mywifealhaitham]

open for business - a café themed genshin event!

breaking news: local fanfic writer mywifealhaitham or better known as elyse is close to 100 followers! with the increase in budget she has decided to open a Café here in tumblrtown!

yes that's right, I'm so close to 100 followers! I know it isn't alot especially compared to some blogs but I'm super greatful nonetheless! I really appreciate every like and reblog I get on my writings. I wanted to do something cute for you all as a token of gratitude &lt;3

you notice a brand new building in the vacant spot that once held another store. this building has been redecorated in pink and white tiles, with a matching wooden patio decorated in fairy lights and flowers. on the windows you see a messily painted banner with the words now open for all! your mesmerized by the place, the pink building is very alluring afterall - will you enter to see what's in store? (rules and prompts under the cut)

⛾  how to request !

• it's very simple, just send in a ask requesting what menu item (prompt) you'd like along with the character • feel free to send in more detailed requests on how you want the reader • I'll have these requests open until; April 14th ! so make sure to order before then

⛾ - rules !

• any type of reader • mention if you want it normal (character giving) or blended (character receiving) • only one character per request • up to 3 prompts are allowed • no heavy angst or smut • mention if it's platonic or romantic (if nothings mentioned I'm assuming it's romantic) • platonic for little kids unless stated reader is their age

⛾ - menu prompts !

୨୧ - nighttime tea in which you and character stay in bed alot longer than anticipated. both of you aren't complaining when your in eachothers arms and tangled up in cozy sheets

୨୧ - raspberry tea my personal favorite drink to go with my favorite scenario, comfort! if your ordering this drink please mention what you would like comfort for (darker topics like self-harm, eating disorders and suicide are allowed in moderation)

୨୧ - peach pineapple lemonade everyone's favorite - a good summer vacation episode! this can range from making sandcastles with the character, or maybe a quick makeout session with the character in the pool, maybe even a summer party! I'll take anything that people would normally do during summer

୨୧ - hot cocoa to contrast with the cool feeling that the peach pineapple lemonade provides you can order a hot cocoa or a winter fic! just like the summer one you can request anything normally done in winter such as playing in the snow or relaxing by the fireplace

୨୧ - pomegranate smoothie a classic date fanfic! were you and said character spend the day together either basking in eachothers company or causing chaos throughout the town, the choice is yours!

୨୧ - berry blast slushie most of the time berry flavored things have alot of flavors combined which can get overwhelming so a good relaxation day can cure it! when you order this you and character will take a well deserved day off! maybe you two can do skincare routines or maybe even bathe together

୨୧ - espresso swirl when you order this you're asking for a au! I'll do just about any au ranging from vampires to high-school. try not to make the au too specific because it makes it a bit harder for me

୨୧ - sweet n' sour lemonade lemonade start off as sour and with some sugar it can become a sweet and delicious drink! another thing that starts sour and sometimes turns out sweet is jealousy! here you can ask for either reader or character being jealous and getting some extra love after

୨୧ - vanilla and cinnamon coffee vanilla and cinnamon are some of my favorite flavors, they remind me of fall walks and encountering some cute animals along the way! imagine you and character peacefully walking when a kitty starts rubbing your leg, whatever shall you do!

୨୧ - make your own! since I'm not the most creative if you have any ideas that branch off of one of the prompts above your free to request that! you're also free to freely request any prompt that comes to mind! maybe if it's good enough I'll add it to the menu

[raeynbowboi]

How to Play as Link in DnD 5e (2.0)

With the release of both Mythic Odysseys of Theros and now the new big expansion in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, I figured now would be a good time to reexamine Link with the context of new subclasses, class features, and game mechanics that weren’t around the last time that I built him. While I won’t do this for every character I’ve built before, characters who have new options made available with these updates will get a new rebuild for 2021. If you want to compare and contrast this build to the original, I will link that build right [here].

The Spirit of the Hero

Link’s a Hylian and that’s just a fancy way of saying elf. His best racial options are either the High Elf, the Wood Elf, or the Half-Elf. Half-elf’s extra skills are tempting, but as Link is never given any parents or an ancestral family tree, we can’t really justify him as a half-elf. We’ll call him a Wood Elf for the extra +2 to his Dexterity and the +1 to his Wisdom as well as that woodsy vibe. But if you wanna go for a Half-Elf for the power build, I won’t tell anyone.

Link’s alignment is tricky. On the one hand, he is shown kneeling before the monarchy, defeating the forces of evil and darkness, and doing odd jobs to help the common people he comes across. However, he can also start forest fires, break into people’s houses, smash pots, steal people’s life savings or personal belongings, and attack the chicken population until they attack back. I’d wager he’s Neutral Good if for no other reason than his morality is highly dependent on the player.

My first choice for Link’s background would be the Folk Hero for Animal Handling and Survival. However, Link’s background is so inconsistent, it’s easier to just list out the skills he tends to have and tell you to pick a background that has those skills, or create your own: Animal Handling, Athletics, Investigation, Nature, Perception, or Survival. There’s a case to be made for other skills as well. Acrobatics works a little and his jumps did involve sick flips in Majora’s Mask, but Link doesn’t tend to balance or platform jump very often. Link can play instruments fine and danced in the Subrosian Dance Hall in Oracle of Seasons for Performance proficiency, but he’s usually playing instruments to activate effects, not to actually perform for a crowd. Link shows some Stealth skills in Breath of the Wild, but this hasn’t been a longstanding skill of his, so I didn’t lump it in with his main skill list.

Becoming a Hero

When it comes to his build, Link has made some use of spells in the past, but he’s nowhere near the spellcaster that Zelda and Ganondorf are. Link is definitely more of a martial fighter who augments himself with a wide arsenal of magical items. So when it comes to picking Link’s class, we have a few things to keep in mind.

BARD

Link is a talented young man, and he has had magical instruments in a few games over the years, as well as dancing in Subrosia, among other things. While I don’t subscribe to the idea of Link being a bard myself, I understand why people would come to this conclusion, as Link isn’t really bad at anything... except talking. And lying. And looking threatening. Or haggling. Yeah kind of hard to depict Link as a CHA caster who isn’t proficient in any CHA skill checks. 

Spirits (UA) This doesn’t fit for every Link, but especially for Breath of the Wild where Link gets help from the spirits of his fallen comrades, the flavor of calling on the dead works for Link. For a non-BotW example, maybe Link can tell stories of his past lives, and the memories he shares with each of them.

Valor This college has the downside of being built as a cheerleader, while Link really should be built for solo-combat since that’s how he approaches most fights. But Valor is better than Swords and also gives Link proficiency with martial weapons and shields, while Swords does not.

FIGHTER

While there are many martial classes, the Fighter differentiates itself by being the most down-to-earth option. It’s not beholden to rage, or smites, hunting, or sneaking. It is the simple skill of the blade, and this is a skill Link has in spades. From the earliest games, Link has been a master of the sword, the shield, and the bow.

Battle Master Link is a strategic fighter. He looks for weak spots, and he exploits them the best he can. Of all the fighter subclasses, none is more clever than the Battle Master. Its many maneuvers resembles the numerous sword techniques Link has learned especially in the later games. Even in Smash, Link showcases how clever he is by being able to combine his arrows with his bombs and shoot a bomb arrow. To my knowledge, none of the other characters can combine their abilities like this in Smash.

Cavalier The subclass is poorly named, and was better in its initial name as the Knight, as that is really what this subclass is. It is the idea of the knight in shining armor. They can also be flavored as bodyguards, a traveling sellsword, or castle guards. So Link does not have to be glued to Epona to make use of this subclass. The main reason to want this subclass is the Warding Maneuver, as giving Link the chance to either block or reduce all damage he takes is going to seriously improve how well he can tank a hit, and help keep him in a fight longer.

PALADIN

More than any other class, the Paladin actually stands for something. They fight for a value or a belief. They swear their life to a cause and are prepared to die fighting for it. Link works on a lore level as a Paladin. Especially when he’s dedicated multiple lifetimes to the same cause. Across every timeline and game over screen, Link has always returned and stood in defiance against whatever evil may come. 

Ancients This oath makes Link sworn to the forces of nature, such as the Great Fairy, and protecting the balance and harmony of the light, life, and love against death, decay, and darkness. The Ancients Paladin is all about protecting the balance in the world and valiantly opposing evil wherever it might arise. It also has a druidic or fey aspect, which kind of works for Link.

Crown With this vow, Link serves the Hyrulian Royal Family. This makes Link the princess’ personal knight, and an agent of lawfulness, order, and peacekeeping in the land. While 5e has backed away from typecasting Paladins as Lawful Good, this is probably the most Lawful subclass one could pick, as it places the authority of the royal family above all else.

Glory Instead of being sworn to the light or the law, the Glory Paladin is the harbinger of the goddesses. They are flavored as legendary heroes of destiny, possibly being demigods or the personal errand boys of the setting’s pantheon. This subclass is clearly focused on being a frontline warrior, and the features make Link a true force on the battlefield.

RANGER

Anyone who’s played Legend of Zelda knows that Link is very good at surviving. The games don’t tell you how to navigate the wilderness, Link just has to figure it out for himself. What’s more, Link may be willing to venture into the wilderness, but he’ll be hard-pressed to find many NPCs that far outside of settlements or cities. Yet what they fear, he thrives in. And it’s no wonder that this is the class most peole would assume for Link.

Hunter This conclave is the slayer of all things that threaten civilization. They can choose to be better at chipping away at one enemy, counter attack bigger monsters, or mow through hordes of minions with more ease by taking out multiple at a time. Especially at higher levels, this conclave excels at ripping apart Ganon’s forces with nary a golden curl out of place.

ROGUE

The rogue doesn’t need to be a wanted criminal on the lamb. They can be a clever fighter with a variety of skills and a knack for evasion. That speaks a lot more to Link’s skill set than one might assume at first glance. It’s not a perfect fit for Link, but it’s really not that inaccurate either.

Inquisitive This roguish archetype is defined by being clever in combat, looking for weak points to exploit. They’re also much more observant, making them better at discovering clues or secret passages, or telling when they’re being misled. At higher levels, their ability to look for weaknesses can even increase their sneak attack damage. This especially fits some of the older games where boss fights were focused on using items to exploit the dungeon boss’ weaknesses, rather than hacking away at their health bar. In these older titles, Link was less of a straight up warrior and more of a clever trickster pulling off strategic victories.

Scout The Scout Rogue has heavy Ranger vibes, as they get free expertise in Nature and Survival, enhanced mobility, the ability to disengage from fights more easily, and at higher levels become masters of ambushes. This fits well with Link’s sneakier sniper playstyle that can be done in Breath of the Wild, as Link can take out entire camps without ever being seen.

Thief While Link is not a standard cutpurse, Link is a treasure hunter, a dungeon delver, and the jokes about him robbing the people of Hyrule and breaking into people’s homes doesn’t exactly help. The thief also gets to use more magical items, allowing Link to use things such as enchanted instruments without being a bard.

WARLOCK

Link usually isn’t the hero of his own volition. He often starts his journey with Triforce of Courage, a source of power gifted by his patrons. It’s honestly a weak connection, but it loosely works, so I’m including it. 

Celestial While this subclass is geared toward serving something other than a god, I don’t see any reason why a Celestial Warlock couldn’t serve the Triple Goddesses of Hyrule or even Hylia/Zelda directly.

Hexblade The most obviously martial warlock option, this is a good choice if you want to incorporate Fi into your character.

Link’s Toy Chest

Hero’s Sword - Longsword (+1-3) Mirror Shield - Repulsion Shield Hero’s Bow - Oathbow Gale Boomerang - Storm Boomerang Fire Rod - Wand of Fireballs (requires spellcasting) Mastersword - Sword of Zariel, Holy Avenger Longsword* Hylian Shield - Shield of the Hidden Lord  Goddess Bow - Ephixis, Bow of Nylea Golden Gauntlets - Gauntlets of Ogre Power Zora Tunic - Cloak of the Manta Ray Pegasus Boots - Boots of Speed Hover Boots - Boots of Levitation Hook Shot - Rope of Climbing

SIDEKICKS

Sidekicks are a new edition from Tasha’s that let Link bring allies on his hero’s journey. Experts are skill monkeys who focus on Help actions, Spellcasters dip into the INT, WIS, or CHA spell lists, and Warriors are trained to fight and don’t have to talk, so they can be animals.

Epona - Defender Warrior Riding Horse Navi - Expert or Healer Spellcaster Sprite Sidon - Attacker Warrior Merfolk Sheik - Expert Noble (Elf) Wolf Link - Attacker Warrior Wolf

Theros Piety

The Piety System from Theros lets us be devout to a god and earn features from worshiping them. As far as I’m aware, this is an optional feature, and not every DM will make use of these, but if you’re able to, here’s a handy guide. These gods really stood out as the clear choices for Link to go with.

Iroas - God of Victory

Domains: War Virtues: Achieve a great victory, Overcome slim odds honorably, Defeat a foe in single combat, Perform a great feat of strength or skill Sins: Being a coward in battle, Beat an honorable foe through deceit, harm innocents Piety Bonus: +3 Learn Compelled Duel spell +10 Learn Crusader’s Mantle spell +25 For 1 minute, creatures cannot gain advantage on you +50 Increase STR or CHA by 2 to a max of 22

Keranos - God of Storms

Domains: Knowledge, Tempest Virtues: Solve a riddle or puzzle, defeat an unwise enemy, plan ahead for an upcoming challenge, build or restore a temple to Keranos Sins: Jeopardize others through foolishness, ignore a wise course of action, fail to plan for a challenge, give in to anger or self-destruction

Piety Bonus: +3 Add 1d6 lightning damage to melee attack up to INT mod turns. +10 Reroll a failed INT or WIS saving throw +25 Advantage on Initiative rolls +50 Increase INT or WIS by 2 to a max of 22

Nylea - Goddess of the Wild

Domains: Nature Virtues: Help any wild animal, stop those who hunt for sport or profit, win an archery competition, slay an aberration, fiend, or undead Sins: Kill an animal without reason, Dedicate a building to or make a sacrifice for any god (including Nylea), protect a city from a natural disaster

Piety Bonus: +3 Learn Hunter’s Mark +10 Learn Speak with Animals +25 Attacking creatures must pass DC 15 WIS save or change targets. +50 Increase DEX or WIS by 2 to a max of 22

Cunning Tactician

Battle Master Fighter (12) Inquisitive Rogue (8) Fighting Style: Dueling Maneuvers: Brace, Disarming Strike, Feinting Attack, Parry, Precision Attack, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Tools: Thieves’ Tools, Mason’s Tools

While Link is brave and strong, he is most defined by his clever mind and unorthodox solutions to boss fights. With this class split, Link has prioritized strategy and tactics over everything else. While it leaves him a little squishier, Link is still a very capable warrior. As a Battle Master, he got a free tool proficiency. Mason’s Tools allows Link to find secret passageways in stone walls, which most dungeons tend to be made of. On top of that, with his Feinting Attack, Link can give himself advantage, meaning he can use Sneak Attack even in a 1v1 fight, which fits his solo adventurer playstyle.

One-Man Army

Battle Master Fighter (12) Hunter Ranger (8) Fighting Style: Dueling, Archery Maneuvers: Brace, Disarming Strike, Feinting Attack, Parry, Precision Attack, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Hunter’s Prey: Colossus Slayer, Multiattack Defense Tools: Mason’s Tools

I used this build once in a level 10 campaign. 6 levels of Fighter, 4 levels of Ranger with a +2 Longsword, and let me tell you something. This build creamed the competition, which was the other PCs at the table, who were also built as level 10 characters. Link nearly defeated his first opponent in a single round, dealing around 70 damage between his four attacks. When I say this is Link’s “power” build, I mean it. I didn’t even sweat when an adult blue dragon showed up after the tournament ended, that’s how much faith I had in Link’s ability to fight. I honestly forgot to even use Link’s battle maneuvers, he was just dealing so much damage that it slipped my mind. You could swap Battle Master for Cavalier, but for me, the Battle Master is more accurate to Link’s favor of techniques over basic hack-and-slash.

RANGER SPELLS

1 Absorb Elements, Ensnaring Strike, Hunter’s Mark 2 Cordon of Arrows, Healing Spirit

The Hero of Hyrule

Battle Master Fighter (12) Glory Paladin (8) Fighting Style: Archery, Dueling Maneuvers: Brace, Disarming Strike, Feinting Attack, Parry, Precision Attack, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Tools: Mason’s Tools

As a Glory Paladin, Link is driven by a desire to be a legendary hero, and at least in the UA version, the Glory Paladin served the gods, as Link does. Like the two builds above, Link balances the brute might of the Glory Paladin with the tactile diversity of the Battle Master.

PALADIN SPELLS

1 Cure Wounds, Divine Favor, Guiding Bolt, Heroism, Protection from Evil and Good, Searing Smite, Thunderous Smite, Wrathful Smite 2 Branding Smite, Enhance Ability, Find Steed, Magic Weapon, Warding Bond

Oaths and Promises

Glory Paladin (12) Celestial Warlock (8) Fighting Style: Dueling Pact: Blade Invocations: Eldritch Smite, Improved Pact Weapon, Maddening Hex, Relentless Hex

The builds from here on are more for the flavor than necessarily Link’s character. As a Blade Pact Paladock, Link becomes a CHA-focused martial with some extra spell slots that turn his smiting sword strikes into a bokoblin slurry machine. This build focuses Link more as a servant of the gods than anything else. Just make sure he has the Hex spell, but you can replace Maddening Hex with Agonizing Blast if you want to use the Master Sword laser beam at full potential.

PALADIN SPELLS

1 Divine Favor, Guiding Bolt, Heroism, Protection from Evil and Good, Searing Smite, Thunderous Smite, Wrathful Smite 2 Branding Smite, Enhance Ability, Find Steed, Magic Weapon, Warding Bond 3 Blinding Smite, Crusader’s Mantle, Elemental Weapon, Haste, Protection from Energy

WARLOCK SPELLS

C Blade Ward, Booming Blade, Sword Burst 1 Armor of Agathys, Cure Wounds, Hex 2 Lesser Restoration, Misty Step, Shatter 3 Spirit Shroud, Summon Fey 4 Galder’s Speedy Courier

To Serve and Protect

Battle Master Fighter (12) Crown Paladin (8) Fighting Style: Dueling, Interception Maneuvers:  Bait and Switch, Brace, Disarming Strike, Goading Strike, Parry, Riposte, Sweeping Attack Tools: Mason’s Tools

Link is Zelda’s knight, bodyguard, and servant. So this build prioritizes features that makes Link the loyal emissary of the Princess of Hyrule. As such, this build changes Link’s role to be more of a defender to the princess than a solo hero. This build assumes that the princess or someone else who needs to be protected is joining Link on his adventure.

PALADIN SPELLS

1 Command, Cure Wounds, Divine Favor, Heroism, Compelled Duel, Searing Smite, Thunderous Smite, Wrathful Smite 2 Branding Smite, Find Steed, Warding Bond, Zone of Truth

After all is said and done, I hope I gave everyone a lot to work with. Of course my suggestions are not law, and if nothing else, I hope it gives you an idea of how you want to build him. Last time I built Link, I gave one set build for him, but I still laid out other options. Recently though, I’ve been trying to show multiple builds at the end of my build posts to offer a wider idea of what building a character can look like. Happy 2021 everyone, and let’s hope this year goes smoother.

[heyitsyn]

Manager!Seijoh Part 5

a/n: we ltr going at 5 parts and i have another part written out and im just drowning in love with these seijoh asks

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon request:

Can i ask for cute moments between manager and the boys outside of school, like how she and kyoutani probably bump into each to go feed strays etc??

yes anon!!!!!! these moments made me so soft™

IM CACKLING LIKE BLS THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS OF THE ENTIRE STAGE PLAY BC HE PLAYS OIKS SO WELL AND IWA IS JUST SO IWA AND I LIVED FOR OIKS’ ‘IWA-CHAN!’ AND IWA’S ‘RAAAAA!’ AND THIS GIF JUST SHOWS SEIJOH BEING SEIJOH AND HOW THEY WOULD REALLY ACT IF THEY WERE REAL LIKE UGH THEY DID SUCH A GOOD JOB W THE CASTING

these are the cute little moments and get ready to die of the cuteness

be warned, this isnt a straight plot or no main focus but just bits and pieces of fluff 

keeping up with seijoh episode 3467328937

as mentioned before, they dont really get to hang out a lot w you outside of practice 

youre either too busy taking care of your schoolwork, catsitting for the aizawa’s, or having you time since youve been busy w the boys all week

but there are times where you do have available time to go hang out with the boys

and they know about your schedule so they try to make memories either during practice or after practice

fortunately, kyo lives at the same street as the aizawa’s so he walks you to their house when you have a job 

but sometimes when you are just walking home, you both stop by the convenience store first and find some cat food cans and dog food cans and water 

it was a complete accident when you both found each other standing at the same aisle, holding the same things, with the same intentions, for the same animals

the alleyway where you first met is basically your second home bc thats where your babies live

since you cant exactly take in 5 dogs and 6 cats in your house, you and kyo are taking care of them in that alleyway where you feed them and build them a little shelter with blankets and stuff

this will be explained more in the next manager!seijoh part

after practice, particularly after a really productive one, the guys like to go to the ramen shop near the school to treat themselves after their hardwork

by now, the old lady who owns the shop knows their order by heart and has it ready when you all enter

yall get settled in but you go over to yahaba and snap his wooden chopsticks for him bc he never snaps them properly and ends up breaking them

meanwhile,,

you gather as much napkins as you can and place them beside kindaichi bc he makes such a mess while he eats and you have stand-by wipes for him

you make a special request to add tofu into iwa’s ramen bc the mans loves tofu so much and he still doesnt understand how the lady seems to know this despite him never telling her

your seat is usually next to mattsun bc he doesnt eat all the side dishes up like the others and you can eat some of it too

kyo sit across you and demands you eat at least 2 bowls bc you never seem to eat enough and he gets secretly concerned so he aggressively cares for you

‘kyo-san,,,, im full though’

he ‘glares’ at you

‘what you mean youre full. you didnt even finish the bowl. eat the rest and have another or youre not leaving this table’

pls what

fun fact, oikawa actually has two pairs of glasses and he gave you one in case he forgets to wear his main one and leaves it at home

so he gets to school and he just realizes he forgot his glasses and his contacts were still being shipped so he freaks out and texts you about it

but you always have the case safely tucked in your bag so you wander up to the third year floor and knock on his class door

iwa, who is in the same class as him, glares at the students who stare at you and nudges oikawa who was looking out the window

‘oi, your glasses’

his head snapped to the side and sees your smiling face and the familiar brown box being held out to him

his face scrunches and he launches up his seat and takes you in his arms

‘Y/N-CHAN IS SO RESPONSIBLE! SO NICE! OIKAWA-SENPAI REALLY APPRECIATES YOU!’

‘oikawa-san, please let me go’

you mumbled, embarrassed at his behavior in front of the whole class

once iwa has you safely on the ground, you excuse yourself and go back to class

the class still stared at the door you passed through and iwa had to bark at them to go back to their business

youre like the seijoh and younger version of goddess kiyoko

before kyo got back to the team, you usually walked home by yourself but makki actually accompanies you when he doesnt have errands to run

‘makki-san, i heard theres a sale going on for puffs’

you would mention as you walked and you would look to see his eyes light up and walk faster towards the bakery

‘cmon, y/n-chan. makki-senpai is treating you today!’

he turns into a child, a contrast to his chaotic energy in school, and he runs over to the glass where indeed, there was a sale going on for his puffs

while he was staring at what flavor he wanted, youd go to the cashier and give her your card

‘when that guy with the light brown hair with the blue and white jacket comes up to pay for his cream puffs, charge it to my card, please. whatever you do, dont take his and use mine immediately, please. ill come by later and pick it back up’

the old cashier lady felt true hope and happiness for humanity at your actions and it increased when she saw the shocked look on the boy’s face when she immediately swiped the card when he finished ordering

‘what? i havent paid-’

‘the young lady that came with you already did, young lad. shes a keeper’

he turned red

‘ahaha, no, shes our team manager’

once he finished paying and went outside, he took out his phone and dialed your number to call you

you smiled from the aisle in the convenience store down the street bc you were expecting him to call you

‘hewwo, makki-san’

he shut his eyes at how cute you sounded

‘y/n-chan, senpai wanted to treat you today!’

he whined but you bit your lip, leaving the store after purchasing a drink with the remaining cash you had

‘hmm, but i did too. you just werent too fast, senpaiiii~’

you teased and he let out a breathy laugh

‘next time i’ll be faster! mark my words!’

‘then im looking forward to it, senpai~!’

did anyone notice that he is the first one she called senpai?

to our baby yahaba

we know how he literally tried to go after yachi in that one episode so you know how flirty he is

but youve made it clear that you reject his advances and he pouts and finally accepts it so he stops it, instead actually just caring for you

ya know how he cares for the others and cheers them on?

he does the same to you

our babie notices that you are so busy taking care of the others that you forget to take care of yourself

like that time they lost to shiratorizawa, you made bentos for them all week to cheer them up

but he saw you not even eating and realizes that you were busy making the food that they like, each different to accomodate to their taste, that you had no time to make your own

he went down to your class and noticed you missing and he asks kindaichi and kunimi and they said that you said you wanted to get fresh air

since he pays attention to you, he knows you like to go to the roof to breathe

he ventures up the stairs and when he opens the door, he notices you just staring up at the sky, sitting down on the floor

‘being in an empty place like the roof doesnt compare to how lonely Pluto must feel to be outcasted in the solar system’

your comment catches him off-guard but he regains composure and makes his way to you before sitting down next to your form

‘hmm, oikawa-senpai talked to me about space one time. he mentioned the vast possibilities that stays hidden in the shadows’

you and him turn your head at the same time and share a gentle smile

‘but its up to us to find those secrets and abilities’

you finished

he nodded and went back to look at the clouds that looked like they were slowly moving but it was really the earth turning

‘i want to be a sports instructor. i want to be able to help others,,, i want to help them find those abilities and perfect them so they could fully love playing’

a chuckle escaped you and you tightened your arms around your knees, following his gaze to the blob of white that was painted on to the blue canvas

‘let other people be your universe, baba-senpai. dont let them be like Pluto. take time to find out who they are so they dont feel so lonely, okay?’

yall im tearing up right now though

as mentioned at the first part of this series, you go to the gym very early to set up for morning practice

sometimes, the four third years arrive at the same time but sometimes, only iwa comes

you noticed him put his bag down and help you with the nets before pushing the cart to finish the task for the morning

‘thank you, iwa-san!’

you thanked and he ruffled your hair

‘can you actually help me with my workout?’

you nodded and you knew his routine by now

as he got in position for a push up, you gently sat down on his back so he could start pushing up

you sat cross-legged and you counted every push up and held a timer so he could beat his previous record of 100 push ups in under 5 minutes

IWA IS LITERALLY ON ANOTHER LEVEL

once he hit 100, he collapsed on the floor and you stopped the timer at 4 minutes and 48 seconds

‘good job, iwa-san! new record!’

you cheered and he grumbled on the floor

you gently turned him over so he could lay on his back

he closed his eyes from the bright light of the gym and he raised his arms as his hands made a grabbing motion

‘hug. i want hug’

he whined and you fake gasped at this

‘iwa-san, i didnt know you could be so whiny’

‘huuggg~’

in my series, its canon that iwa is actually a whiny little babie despite that tough exterior and hes much more whinier than oikawa

you laughed before surrending, mumbling ‘yes, yes’

this wasnt the first time this happened since he asked you to do this before bc hes a touch starved babie and as a manager, you must give your team love

you climbed on him and laid your head on his chest while he mumbles happily with his arms going around you

‘just five minutes’

you offered and he said ‘mhm’

well, you both fell asleep and were woken up by scandalized and jealous yells from oikawa

to our baby libero watari

watari is actually the only player who has been to your house before

you made an off-handed comment of making bentos for the team again and he offered to come and help you make them

so here he was, standing in your kitchen, as you were cooking with him

you were chopping up vegetables and he was waiting for the eggs to boil so he was just stirring it slightly

‘wata-san, can you give me a bowl from the cabinet above you?’

he nodded and gave it to you so you could place the chopped carrots and onions in it

once the timer was done, he scooped out the eggs and placed them into an ice bowl so he could peel them later

you knew his favorite food was boiled eggs so you wanted to boil some so he could snack on them

‘can you peel one and see if theyre perfectly cooked, wata-san?’

his fingers skillfully rolled the egg on the table before peeling it effortlessly

he hummed as he chewed on the food

‘delicious?’

you asked and he turned to you, cheeks still full but he raised a thumbs up

you grinned and went back to chopping the scallions

‘actually, i didnt need any eggs for the dishes. i wanted you to snack on your favorites as i cook. its like payment for keeping me company’

his eyes shone and he hurriedly went to hug you tightly

‘i really appreciate everything youve done for us, for me. but i just want you to keep smiling okay? i know we’re a handful and we can get out of hand sometimes but you always keep us together. you must be stressed and there must be times you get angry with us and must’ve cried because of us but i hope you’ll still stay with us even through all that’

WATARI YOU MAKING ME C R Y 

lmao kindaichi’s made me laugh

so basically, we all know his famous haircut, right

but what if that was actually just a style hes had since he was young but he has naturally down hair?

the stuff he puts in it like this brand of gel is just so tough and sturdy that two washes of hair is the only thing that can get rid of it

even during practice when hes sweating the atlantic ocean, it somehow stays up

he puts gel on it and stuff after he showers to make it stick up and BOOM turnip head

but one morning, he,,,, wasnt turnip head

the boy woke up late and he didnt have time to perfect the sticking up so he went to school with his hair down and everything

you were already there since morning practice has started and kunimi told you that kindaichi texted him he would be late so you were just patiently waiting by the door for your classmate

but some guy just walked in

your eyes widened and you pulled their arm

‘um, this is for seijoh volley-’

then the words died in your mouth

‘yuu-kun,,,’

you stuttered and he placed his hands on his face to hide away

‘dont look y/n-chan!’

his shout attracted the others and then silence before the laughing and howling started

‘THESE FIRST YEARS I SWEAR!’

makki was on the floor, punching it as he laughed

kindaichi turned red and he was about to run out but you held on to him

‘i can fix it for you, yuu-kun. come with me?’

he nodded immediately and hurried away towards the back where the sun was just starting to rise

you rummaged through your gym bag and found the specific gel brand he uses 

kindaichi was SHOOK bc why the hell did you have it?

you noticed his shocked and confused look

‘i knew this would happen. we’ve facetimed before, remember? just in case this would happen, i brought backup’

his eyes glistened with tears of gratitude but you waved it away and started attempting to fix his hair

tbh you dont know why he did this hairstyle because his hair was really soft and nice and he still looked attractive either way

moving on to kunimi babie

lets face it, he probably doesnt sleep at all at night and he suffers from insomnia

and when he cant sleep, he bothers his friends

but he doesnt bother you though

which makes you sad bc you thought you made it clear that he could come to you if he was in need of something

you only found out after kindaichi accidentally blurted out during morning practice of how tired he is bc kunimi wouldnt stop talking to him at 2 in the morning

‘aki,,, you could’ve called me’

you gently said and kunimi scrunched his nose at how sad you sounded

‘you need your sleep, y/n’

‘but i want you to sleep too’

‘kindaichi’s been my contact since i was like 5 so-’

‘so you dont need me?’

your eyes watered and kunimi jumped, frantically fussing over you

‘okay, okay, y/n, okay. ill call you’

then as if they were never there, you cheered up and bounced happily

‘i’m expecting it, aki-kun!’

but at 1:43 in the morning, his finger hovered over the call button on your contact since he really didnt want to bother you

but he could already hear your whines in the morning

‘aki?’

he cursed when he heard your groggy voice

‘sorry y/n, ill hang up-’

‘no!’

you sat up, forcing to wake up

‘stay’

you mumbled and he made a sound of agreement

‘not tired?’

you asked

‘no. well, like im tired but i cant sleep, yknow?’

you laid on your bed with your cheeks puffed out, trying to think how to put him to sleep

‘we can just talk, aki’

‘about what?’

‘anything. just,,, talk to me. i want to know your favorite color, your favorite food, everything about you’

:( morning calls really hit different

last one is our mattsun babie

so like, mattsun is a TREE

im like 5′3 and hes like 6′2 so we a whole dwarf next to him

you are always dwarfed whenever you stand next to him and this little shite takes advantage of that and puts his elbow on top of your head

he likes to poke fun at you but you just pout bc you know hes all fun and games

‘hows the weather down there’

‘so mean, mattsun-san’

but his height did give him a special memory with you though

you were both left in the gym to clean up bc everyone had something to do like oiks had to go home bc takeru got sick and iwa also got sick and you just volunteered to clean up and mattsun stayed behind

you were sweeping the floor and you unconsciously started humming as you swept and started swaying a little

mattsun heard you as he pushed the carts and watched as you just swayed and twirled around and he found himself smiling at you

you noticed him stop in front of you and he bowed down, holding out a hand

‘may i take this dance, m’lady’

you laughed

‘what? whats going on?’

he softly held your hand and pulled you to him

‘you were dancing and i wanted to join you’

you nodded and looked up at him, eyes half-lidded

‘stand on my feet, chibi-chan. i can lead while you sing’

it was a random song you heard from the radio earlier but you complied while he moved with your feet on his

you giggled when he would lean down to softly kiss your forehead and shriek when he would unexpectedly dip you down

either way, at 8:34 PM, you and mattsun danced under the gym lights with no witness except you and him

ughh i really want seijoh now

you and the team share individual memories that are more special than the ones with the others bc its where you could actually be upfront with each other

its just a shame that there are 4 third years in the team that would eventually graduate and go their own separate ways after high school, leaving behind their underclassmen

they could just hope that those memories and special moments would remind them of who you were and how special you were to them since at the prime of their youth, you were their first true love

a/n: ngl i didnt expect to finish this so quick but im just in a really soft mood right now and this is to makeup for the fact that my update schedule could start becoming erratic due to my school so i hope you enjoyed this blurb!! and depending on my asks, there could only be one last part to this series unless someone requests for another specific scenario with the manager!!

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: viii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||   chapter 5   ||  chapter 6   ||  chapter 7  ||  chapter 9  ||

masterlist

word count: ~4.7k

realities, huh. 

warnings: descriptions of blood and bodily injury, post-traumatic symptoms, panic/anxiety attacks 

----

oof. wow. here it is, part one of the BIG boy chapter. please mind the warnings on this one!! trauma and post-traumatic symptoms are a big theme in this chapter and the next. 

as an author, these have been some of the harder, more vulnerable chapters to create and i hope that the writing shows this  :’’’^) all that said, enjoy :’^) 

|||||||||||||||

Keigo was fucked up.

Or he had fucked up.

It was hard to tell the specifics of his predicament, considering how hard he’d hit his head.

 ‘Hawks’ was known for his speed, his skill, and his ability to finish fights off before they even had a chance to truly start. He prided himself on his prowess, the product of his own diligence and meticulous training. Normally, Keigo kept to these high standards without fail and with faltering. 

On the rare occasion he did get injured, it was usually simple scrapes or bruises.

Except, sometimes time, his shortcomings created much more than scratches. 

 His left arm was twisted the wrong way, wrenched from its socket. His skull ached, hair sticking to the back of his neck and cold.

Keigo blinked slowly, vision tilting and blurry against the asphalt he’d crashed onto. He’d sent his feathers to finish off what was left of the fight, knowing that he was, bodily, down for the count.

It hadn’t started as a large fight, notably. It shouldn’t have gotten so bad. The first alert he’d received just made it seem like petty burglary. Quickly after arriving on the scene, it escalated into an entire firefight spanning several blocks. 

He’d been one of the first heroes there, naturally. It wasn’t hard to disarm and pin most of the villains down, but quickly, things got out of hand. Figures forming from the afternoon’s shadows, quickly turning the simple de-escalation into an all-out brawl. 

Keigo pushed himself from the filthy ground, coughing up spittle and blood on the blacktop below. It wasn’t from an internal injury, he knew, just a bitten tongue and cheek that made the drippings of his mouth pink and cloudy. 

He sat up, forcing himself to his feet as more heroes arrived, finishing the job out of sheer numbers. Mentally, he cursed his mistakes and his stupor. The media circus and bureaucratic bullshit he was undoubtedly going to have to deal with made him audibly groan. Keigo could handle pain without question, but his least favorite parts of his job were the nuts and bolts of it all.

 Maybe it was the head trauma or the fact he’d just gotten sloppy lately, but Keigo didn’t even notice the oddly large amount of shattered glass at the scene or the shadows that loomed and weaved without rest nearby, though they never moved to the offensive. 

...

You sat on your couch, boot propped up (as usual), and a pillow hugged in your arms. 

Typically, you weren’t one to watch the news, but the moment you’d seen the alert from your phone about ‘large scale villain attack- Hawks and Miruko on the scene!, you’d rushed to turn on any channel that had coverage.

Which, creating a sense of dread in your gut, was most of them.

You watched the varying camera angles of the fight, squeezing the pillow tightly in your arms like the pressure would comfort you.

 The fear and terror was such a contrast to the absolute bliss of the first couple of weeks of you and Keigo’s relationship.

During that time, your text-based communication hardly changed, still ambiently throughout the day and including the exchange of many memes and well-placed photographs and selfies. 

The messages had changed, somewhat, truth be told. There was a sweetness to it, soft, warm, and new. The bantering never stopped, but woven within each of your words were small, tender lines that were new to you both.

Wonderfully new.

You found that Keigo was particularly affectionate over text, but it was nothing compared to him in-person.

You hadn’t really expected him to be clingy. Not based on the way he texted and talked previously and how he was generally portrayed by the public.

But god, was he.

He came over several other nights, always bearing food, drinks, and a bright smile. He wouldn’t even think of settling for the evening in the comfort of your couch (or bed) until you’d been showered in kisses and teasing touches, always seeming hungry, maybe even starved. 

He was careful, however, to never go too far or touch too much. 

When you two would finally settle on the couch, usually finding yourself strewn over each other in some way, Keigo would continue heaping on affection in any way he could, subtle or otherwise. You returned the gestures, giving your own too.

You craved the heat of his body in the same way he hungered for yours. 

You found that, as the nights would wear on, he tended to slip his rough hands under any top you might be wearing, settling his grip on your sides or back. He’d either press and massage, or just ambiently draw shapes. At first, you thought it was some sort of sexual preamble, expecting his touch to drift higher and hungrier.

 It took you a night or two of it to realize it wasn’t like that at all— 

Keigo just craved contact.

It all made sense, though your revelation surprised you a bi at first. 

One night, with his head in your lap, you had simply hummed out, “I never thought you’d be touch-starved.”

Keigo hummed as you ran your nails around the shell of his ear, “Mind elaborating on that one?”

“You’re always touching me when we’re together,” You replied simply, heart squeezing at the little twinges of anxiety you could see forming around Keigo’s eyes. “Not that it's a bad thing— I really love all of it, it’s just sweet. I didn’t think you’d be so affectionate and touchy. I would dare to say, it's cute.”

That comment turned Keigo’s cheeks bright red, though you hardly got much of a chance to tease him about it before he was on you with another wave of soft kisses and squeezes.

Maybe, you were a little touch-starved yourself.

And definitely, surely, falling into each other simply and sweetly felt like heaven. 

 ...

 But all of that syrupy goodness was gone, the flavor of it stale and rotten.

All you could focus on was your TV screen as Hawks was being pulled from an alleyway. The camera angle was poor, the quality shaky, but the picture was clear as day to you.

Keigo was walking, barely, most of his weight bared into Miruko’s side. He looked half-dead when he first emerged, limbs twisted painfully and face downcast.

He brightened up a moment later. You weren’t even sure that anyone would’ve caught the change in his expression if they didn’t know him as intimately as you did.

 Your chest tightened painfully when he gave his most dashing smile, pearly white teeth stained with blood that was rushing from a wide cut on his forehead. The juxtaposition of him being purely fucked up mixed with the shining expressions he was flashing at the media made your stomach churn with dread.

He’s hurt.

And it seems bad.

You chewed your bottom lip until it ached. 

The newscast kept playing, showing the wreckage of the scene, all of the hurt civilians— it was a few cities over, but you swore you could hear the sirens just outside of your window.

You dug around for your phone, typing out a message to Keigo, fingers shaking as you did.

 [you]: hey i saw about the attack? how are you doing?

 Texting him was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? If you could, you’d call. But based on the way he was reported to have been taken to a nearby hospital, he wouldn’t be answering his phone any time soon. 

It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could you do?

You felt uncomfortably powerless.

A very lucid, perhaps cruel part of your mind rang out amid your quiet panic:

Get used to it.

 You fell back into the cushions, unable to turn off the screen, though unable to do anything other than watch and churn. 

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Keigo didn’t have a great recollection of the day's events after sustaining his fairly significant head injury, not to mention the shattering of the bones in his right arm and a few in his left leg. Not to mention his sorely dislocated shoulder. 

Pain blotted things out memory, he knew.

Hospital trips were few and far between for Keigo, but in the unfortunate circumstance he was stuck and strung up with wires and IV tubes, he was more than well taken care of. 

He was aware, somewhat, of the Commission’s hold on the scruff of his neck, though complacent in it. His good attitude and impeccable, nearly-perfect performance earned him the best medical care they could provide. 

Some sweet girl, a student from the west, was brought in to heal his wounds. Healing quirks of any significance were rare, so it was always interesting to see how they worked and manifested.

The girl’s quirk came at the price of any energy his body had, but he was completely patched up in a number of minutes. Fatigue be damned, he was happy to be quickly and easily put back together. He made sure to put on his best camera-ready smile as the girl traced symbols on the backs of his hands, fingers shaking and shyly smiling.

She was probably starstruck, all things considered. Meanwhile, Keigo was exhausted and out of it.

All through it, all of it, the actual fight and subsequent medical nightmare, he had slipped into a far different mindset than the one he’d been occupying for the last couple of weeks. 

Consequently, he hadn’t thought of you at all. 

You didn’t even cross his mind. 

Keigo could’ve blamed it on hitting his head, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair or truthful. 

All the same, the absence would burn later. 

...

Keigo flashed a dopey smile to the door of his hospital room when he spotted a familiar puff of bright yellow hair. 

Despite his stupor, familiarity still resonated. Besides, his PA stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greyscale scrubs and antiseptic. 

“Akane! I knew you’d never be far in my time of need,” Keigo relaxed against the hospital bed he was still resigned to. He was to be discharged as soon as possible for the bevy of press reports he would had to complete. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork he’d probably have to file and sign. 

Akane kept a stern but humored expression as she shooed a nurse out of Keigo’s room. She was shorter than most, face cut with sharp angles and high ridges. They were dressed immaculately as always, a well-tailored black suit with crisp-looking dress shoes. All professionalism, trained and honed by the Commission in a similar way to Keigo, though it was implicitly recognized. 

“You’ve got a press conference in thirty with Miruko,” Akane didn’t answer his greeting, though Keigo could tell by their quick nod that it was at least acknowledged. They rolled a small suitcase next to the bed. “Extra hero costume in there. I called your normal hair and makeup, they’ll be in a few minutes after I leave. It’s been a while since you’ve been this injured in a fight, so put on a good show for everyone, won’t you?”

Akane’s sarcasm always brought a smile to his face, contrasting so starkly with their well-pressed hems and seams. 

Keigo quickly sat up, dropping his feet to the cold linoleum below, “Always a show.”

He quickly began to re-robe into his new garments, tired mind returning to its trained roots. 

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 You had been watching the newscast for hours, probably (definitely) against your best interest.

You’d have plenty of time to kick yourself for it later.

You couldn’t stop watching the repetitive footage and bland media, despite the report that ‘Hawks’ was safe, well and receiving treatment. 

Until you saw him, you couldn’t rest—- Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

The image of him bloodied felt painfully etched into the forefront of your mind. The contours and highlights of Keigo’s wounds were uncomfortably bright and hot, nestled next to swirling images of your own. Uncomfortably vivid sensations and colors of your own stitched-up wounds that once wept blood themselves.

If you steeped in it all too deeply or for too long, your breathing would quicken, memories unbridled in the way they sucked down.

Sweat dripping down your brow, you willed your breath even and slowly despite how you definitely were having trouble handling what you were experiencing. 

As the evening wore into night, you remained wired.

You convinced yourself, despite the thorns that ran deep, you would be able to rest once you saw Keigo well. 

Eventually, there was an announcement for a late press conference, a conclusion to the media frenzy.

You knew you’d stay up for it, no matter how long it took to air. You knew he was fine, it had been confirmed over and over throughout the coverage, but it wasn’t enough.

You just need to see him.

Then you’ll be fine.  

Keigo is fine.

No amount of reassurance comforted you. You were sinking too deeply in your throes, ungrounded and crackling within your own fragile mind. 

The memories of blood and gore and hot, white fear rolled over you, suffocatingly close to how you’d felt less than a month prior. 

On the cold cement floor of the tea shop, you had Keigo’s feather, the knowingness that he would be there.

Yet, now?

You were alone in your dim apartment. 

No Keigo.

No villains.

Just you and your skull. 

 You had to pull yourself back when you felt your quirk begin to activate with your adrenaline, thankful for the low stimulation of your apartment, and the pillow in your arms being exchanged for the plushie Keigo had gifted you. You forced yourself to ground, counting your breaths, and holding yourself together. 

(Maybe the trauma of your own run-in was deeper than you wanted to acknowledge.)

You pushed the thought aside as the live footage of the press conference began. It was better to compartmentalize it all, wasn’t it? Why not shove it back where it was easier to not deal with? You’d get a therapist or something.

If Keigo is okay, you’ll be okay. 

The press conference decor was coated with the diamond insignia of the Public Safety Hero Commission, along with a few sponsors and nearby police departments. Local heroes and police officers sat around microphones with plastic waterbottles, ringing around the focal points of the events:

Keigo and Miruko. 

Seeing him, perfectly in uniform and switched-on didn’t make you feel better.

If anything, it made you feel worse. 

Before everything, when he was just your regular you pined after, you saw and heard of him doing heroic duties all the time.

But, it was different when Keigo was your partner, yet living an entirely different reality from yours. In the safety of your apartment, and formerly the teashop, that line of difference was somewhat blurred, or, it at least appeared to be.

But while Keigo was shiny and dazzling, charismatic and blunt as ever on the stage of the conference, the contrast turned polar. 

As there was a jeer of laughter, Keigo grinning as Miruko clapped a hand on his back, your stomach rolled. 

Seeing him fine and good-as-new wasn’t soothing.

It was like pouring moonshine on a brush fire. 

Every moment of the conference highlighted the separation between the two of you, the feeling of fear and now loss so strongly in your mind, it started to taste like the tannin of a rotten wine . 

The concoction was made even viler as the memories of injuries didn’t fade or falter.

Your chest ached.

 The press conference droned on in front of you, but none of the content of it registered. It was all sickly background noise to your own pains

You pressed the plushie against your stomach, ignoring the phantom stabs of rancid-yellow that traced up your leg from your booted foot. 

...

“From what we can surmise, there’s activity of several different villain groups in this area that are connected. This incident is related.”

...

You were getting to yourself, you had been all evening. The problem was you couldn’t climb out— 

Not if you weren’t honest and self-aware.

Too bad you were actively spiraling away from anything even close to the latter and former. 

...

“There is much we don’t know at this time, but it is clear there must be further investigation into the roots of the attack.”

...

You recognized, even then, that Keigo was going to be in harm's way because of his job, constantly. He was always in danger.

It just felt different, having to see it play out in front of you, isolated from him in all ways except the glimmer he showed the cameras and the gore he bore prior. 

The absences burned. 

 Your gaze moved to your phone, the device still dormant. 

With a thick, sticky swallow, you resigned yourself to sitting back into the cushions of your couch, spiraling and numbing as you had been hours. 

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Following the press conference, Keigo had one priority— 

Sleep.

Despite Akane’s nagging that they ‘really needed to talk to him’, Keigo was exhausted after being healed and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest for as long as he could make himself lay still. 

Maybe, he could’ve handled a patrol (if he had had anything significant of his wings left), but he could not stand the idea of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit in his wrung-out state. 

At this admission, Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Fine, but you need to come to the office as soon as possible,” Akane seemed exasperated after such a long evening (now night), of dealing with the attack. “Seriously, or your publicist is going to kick both of our asses.”

Keigo didn’t ponder too far into the topic of whatever Akane needed him for. Far too mentally wiped-out to bother with what was undoubtedly bureaucratic bullshit. 

He rolled his eyes, sending a feather forward to trigger the automatic doors ahead, “I’ll be sure to come in— It’s not like I don’t have a backlog of paperwork to finish.”

“That too,” Akane sighed, pausing outside of the doors, just dimly lit under the lip of the entrance of the building. “Feel better, quick. And please, stay safe.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, “You know I always am. I’ll see you around tomorrow, bright and early.”

Keigo flew away so quickly, he didn't notice Akane’s pinched expression and set jaw and she waved goodbye. 

 ...

Nearly featherless and on the edge of total exhaustion, Keigo dragged himself back to his penthouse. His mind and body ached, his thoughts messy and disorganized. 

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar state, though he didn’t get to it often. 

He had ample training to not get like this. The fuzziness he was clouded by should’ve been tossed aside easily; he blamed his own overcast on the healing he received.

(And, not that he, perhaps, had more on his mind as of late) 

More on his mind meant more to forget. 

It wasn’t until he toweled off from a quick shower that he even looked at his phone. 

It wasn’t until he saw your single text that you even came to his mind.

Keigo called you nearly instantly, jaw going tight.

It made sense that he’d forget, he rationalized. 

The portion of his psyche that was trained to be a hero was the same part that struggled the most with his feelings for you. All of the affection, validation, and deep admiration (and perhaps more) was slowly but surely allowing long-dormant parts of him to awaken— 

Yet, all of the new roots and growth aside, he’d forgotten about you in the chaos of the day. 

Maybe a passing, subconscious twinge in his gut, but otherwise? Nothing. 

A bit of guilt chewed him as the line began to ring. 

 You laid across your couch, curled up with the plushie in your arms. The news reports played like white noise, your mind long having gone to gum and static. You alternated between different horrors of memory and sensation. 

The buzzing and shrill sound of your ringtone made your jump, pulling you from your stupor.

 [birdboy <3] calling...

 You immediately picked up the call.

“Keigo?” You asked, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands. 

“Hey, dove,” His voice was cool and calm. “Sorry, I just saw your message now. I figure you saw all the news, but I’m all good, no worries! How are you?”

Oh.

Was it that easy?

The gears in your skull turned far slower than you wanted them to.

He’s fine, (Y/N).

He’s so unbothered. 

Everything is fine.

You tried to comfort yourself, taking a few methodical breaths.

“Dove? Are you there?”

Get your shit together.

“Yeah, I am.” You shook your head. “I was worried, that’s all. My bad. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“The news really plays things up, huh?” Keigo laughed with a sigh, scratchy from the speaker. “Sorry about the media circus. They like the drama.”

“Uh-huh.” You replied, feeling yourself begin to spin all over again.

Drama.

Dramatics.

...

Calm down.

It wasn’t that simple.

“Hey, dove, are you alright?” Keigo spoke casually from the line. Maybe there was some concern in his tone (or you just wanted there to be). You couldn’t fully tell.

You sank back into the couch, bending your good leg into your chest, “I was just worried, is all. I freaked myself out.”

“I’m sorry about that, angel,” Keigo clicked from the phone. “I don’t get banged up too often. Besides, they always stitch me back together quickly! It’s just like this sometimes.”

“‘It’s just like this sometimes’,” You repeat mechanically, processing so slowly it was painful. Your voice sounded far off— 

You felt like you were drowning.

Why couldn’t you handle seeing him hurt?

It’s part of his job. 

Why does this all feel so bad?

 “Can you come over?” You asked, praying that he’d say yes, and maybe, maybe, you could have your fears be assuaged with some contact. Some support— 

“Sorry, dove, the healer they got for me really drained me,” Keigo yawned from the other side of the line. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay. But, tomorrow is just an office day for me, so I can come by after?”

Your heart sank in your chest, faster and harder than you could try to make yield.

“That works,” You replied, despite how rotten you felt. “Take care, okay? Get some rest.”

You hung up abruptly, not waiting for his reply, and lowering your head.

Tears drip from your eyes, soaking the plushie in your arms as you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back for hours.

 ...

 Despite Keigo’s exhaustion, he knew that the entire phone call was so off. You’d never hung up that quickly before, and you sounded a bit off.

None of it sat right. 

He shot off a kind text or two before knocking out for the night, nodding off just after sending them.

 ...

 You hardly slept. 

You felt like you were being eaten alive as the night wore on and the moon remained high.

It was all metastasized, unchecked. Breathing exercises had stopped cutting it at some point, your own thoughts and methodical actions lost in the soup of it all. 

You ‘rationalized’. 

He’s a fucking hero, he’s going to get hurt. It’s part of the job and you need to get over it.

That doesn’t matter! It’s still terrifying to see someone you care about super injured!

You knew all of that though.

None of it was new.

What was new, and harder to understand, was the storm that had buried itself like a barbed arrow between the two halves of your brain.

The rest of it.

The complex miasma of feelings that were only set off by the events and subsequent feelings you tried to rationalize. 

The mental thunder-cracks kept you tossing and turning, any sleep light and flighty. Your eyes burned and dripped through the entire night, soaking your pillowcase. 

By the time morning light began to shift in from the heavy curtains of your bedroom, you might’ve felt worse than you did the night prior.

Your mouth was dry, tongue tacky, and swollen in your mouth. You forced yourself out of bed, methodically showering despite all of the energy it took with your leg still recovering. 

You felt hazy beyond belief, fatigued, and purely awful.

Quickly, you nested for the day, still damp from your shower and sore from your lack of sleep. Tucking into the couch, you covered yourself with blankets and held the plushie to your chest, not even bothering to turn on the TV.

 Keigo, meanwhile, prepped for his office day. Since his wings were sparse, he made an extra effort for his face. Bit of concealer to brighten his dark circles and smooth out the finer lines around his brow and under his eyes.

It seemed pertinent to cover more, wipe away his anxieties as his gaze flickered to his phone on the countertop of his bathroom.

You’d never responded the night before. You hadn’t said anything— not even giving an indication that you’d seen the message.

Truthfully, now that the drum of the press and his de-facto role had died down, your lack of contact filled him with burning anxiety. 

You two had a habit of texting each other in the mornings, little sweet greetings and the occasional messy selfie that the other adored. Keigo typically woke up earlier than you, but still. 

He gave you a call.

 You robotically picked up on the second ring, hardly looking at your phone and its caller as you held it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Keigo’s voice seemed too chipper from the other side of the line. “I just wanted to call and check-in. You just sounded a bit off last night, is all. Are you doing okay?”

“Oh,” You sounded hollow, far-off, and sticky. 

There was a pause, your numbed out psyche far-too slow and miswired to say anything else.

“(Y/N)?” Keigo asked. “Are you there?”

Your name shoved you a bit closer to reality. 

 “Yeah, I am.” You blinked, your name making you twitch, “Sorry, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Awww, since last night too?” Keigo’s wings beat in the background of the call. “Is that why you wanted me to come over?”

Sort of, not really.

Your voice shook as you quickly were losing the will to keep it even, “U-um—”

How do you even explain?

Your quirk spun alive, the feeling of shrapnel and rusted nails running jagged lines down your spine.

You need to be honest.

“I j-just,” You sniffled back tears, though fruitlessly. “I just got really scared.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, holding the phone away from your mouth and praying that Keigo couldn’t hear the muffled sobs you forced to stay in your throat.

 “It’s alright, I’m okay!” He tried to assure you, tensing at the doorway to his balcony. “Everything is totally fine, there’s no reason to be scared.”

You went quiet on the other side of the receiver, all sound muffled and mixed. It made Keigo chew his lip, tightening his grip on the phone.

“I know.” Your voice broke at the same moment as Keigo’s chest tightened. You sounded so hurt. 

It pricked those seldom-used parts of his brain alive. 

It was those weird tingles and shooting bits of cortisol that screamed ‘protect them’. They screamed to life at your distress, hot and bright.

“Dove, are you alright? Are you crying?” Panic seeped into his tone as his feathers rippled from soft to razor-sharp in his instinctual rise. 

“I just got so f-fucking scared,” You choked, voice fizzling on the line. “Keigo, I’m sorry, I just— “

Your voice broke into tears, sobs echoing from the phone.

Keigo’s grip tightened, heart-pounding and feathers vibrating.

He acted before thinking too hard about it. 

“(Y/N), I’m gonna come over, okay? I’ll be there soon,” Keigo assured you, and himself, truthfully as he tore open his balcony door and launched into the sky

 You sputtering out an affirmative as wind-whipped into the receiver. 

Burying your face in your hands, you felt dread weigh you down from the inside out. 

 ||||||||||||||||||||

 ko-fi

||||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess  @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw @aproperthottie @seasalttrioforever @msgrungie @mia--merc @a-monsters-love @peach-buns-unicorns@amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidelsewhere

(send me an ask if you would like to be added!)

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of My League [Part 4]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: ~3.2k 

Summary: Why on Earth does everyone think you and Spencer are dating? That’s just ridiculous! Right?

Warning(s): the pining is strong with this one, alcohol consumption, i think there were like one or two swear words?? pretty tame

Author’s Note: OH MY GOD WE’RE BACK AGAIN!!!!! yeah it’s been WAyy too long I’m so sorry guys. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE!!! I’m almost done with the next part so the wait won’t be NEARLY as bad this time around. Ok love yall hope you like it!!!

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

The play was a lovely way to spend your evening. You could hear Spencer beside you muttering the words along with the actors. The monologues were beautiful coming from the talent on stage, but it was nothing compared to your best friend’s whispers when he thought you couldn’t hear him. You looked straight ahead to the stage, fearing that he’d stop if you indicated that you were listening, but you still felt his eyes on you as he gently uttered, “I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.”

Hearing the words you had read and swooned over countless times before coming from Spencer’s soft voice made a shiver run down your spine. 

Spencer Reid did not just give you chills, that did not just happen, you told yourself.

The chill that ran across your body contrasted nicely with heat in your face when you felt his gaze roll over your features. You didn’t always like the feeling when someone’s eyes were on you, but something about it being Spencer’s eyes felt… right. You weren’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite, actually. You found yourself being overjoyed in your seat, but you couldn’t tell yourself why.

Or at least you refused to.

When the show ended, Spencer led you out the door you entered from, and you left the library with a dopey smile on your face as you stepped into the chilly autumn night. The sun had gone down during the play and the streetlamps glowed white against the black sky. 

“You hungry?” Spencer asked.

“Starving.”

“It’s a little late for dinner, you think we’ll find a place?”

“It’s only eight o’clock, there’s gotta be somewhere.”

“A McDonald’s maybe?”

You laughed harder than you normally would, but his smile when he made his joke pulled an airy giggle from your lungs that you had no control over.

You wandered for blocks, finding restaurants that were still busy with long waits. A cute ice cream shop caught both your eyes from across the street and you and Spencer thought the same exact thing.

Some things really didn’t change since you were kids.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Of course I am, Y/N, why are we still on this side of the street?”

You crossed the road together, way too excited for grown adults to be about having ice cream for dinner. There was a line, but it was only a few people long, so you decided to wait for this more than worth it opportunity. As you approached the store, a young family was leaving. The daughter, a young girl in a pink sweater, was so focused on her cake batter flavored cone, she didn’t realize she dropped her stuffed rabbit. Spencer nearly stepped on it, but he picked it up and called after the family. They didn’t hear him, so he went after them and tapped the father on the shoulder.

“Hi, sorry, I think she dropped this.”

“Oh my goodness, Lucy, you dropped your bunny!” The mother shrieked.

“Thank you so much, really,” said Lucy’s dad, “Say thank you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, sweetheart!” Lucy took the toy from Spencer and smiled.

About ten feet behind the scene, you were losing it. Spencer turned around after the family left and made a face while you laughed your ass off. 

“That was the cutest thing I have ever seen!” You giggled as he held the door open for you, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Spencer cracked a smile and bit his lips, gaze dropping to the floor as he blushed.

Okay, maybe that was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

“I miss when Jamie was that little. He was so cute!”

“He’s still a cute kid!” The line moves forward, you’re next up. 

“Well, yeah, of course, he is! But now he knows what words mean and that’s not as funny.”

“Children learn through imitation, so it makes sense he copied things you did and said because you're his mom, he looks up to you.”

“He looks up to you, too, you know.” The family in front of you got their ice cream and left, leaving you to order, “Can I get a sugar cone of cookies and cream?” The girl behind the counter nodded and scooped your ice cream. She then turned to a catatonic Spencer, who was staring at you, cheeks flushed and lips parted. He snapped out of it and ordered a cup of rocky road with extra marshmallow fluff on top.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked as you pulled out your credit card.

“Paying for our ice cream, what does it look like?”

“No, I’ll pay—” He reached for his pocket, but was too slow.

“Oops, too late,” you said, swiping your card and smirking. The girl behind the counter smiled and waved to you as you left. 

“Did you mean that? Jamie looks up to me?” 

You turned to look at Spencer, whose eyes were full of stars as he grinned back at you, “Yeah! Of course, he does!”

“Really?”

“Oh, don’t be so surprised, Spencer, you’re like his real-life superhero. You saved his life, genius, he wants to be just like you.”

“He wants to be a profiler?”

“Not necessarily. He thinks you’re a secret agent. Like a spy.”

Spencer chuckled, “And how do you feel about that?”

“Oh, it’s terrifying, I hate it.”

“Yep,” Spencer spooned some ice cream into his mouth, “That’s what I thought.”

“I mean, Jesus, Spence, I get retroactive heart attacks from all the shit you tell me about your cases, I don’t know if I want my kid getting into that. I’d worry even more than I already do.”

“You worry about me?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You’re my best friend, genius! Of course, I worry about you!”

You finished your ice creams on the metro and walked home in comfortable silence. As you turned the corner onto your block, you grinned up at Spencer.

“Thanks for playing tour guide today. I had fun. Haven’t gone out with friends since I moved here.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t have any friends here to go out with.”

His eyebrows jumped as he sputtered out a sentence, “Oh. W-well why don’t you come out with the team and me sometime?”

“No, they’re your friends I wouldn’t wanna intrude—”

“You wouldn't be intruding, you're my friend too.”

“Spence—”

“One of my teammates is having a dinner party tomorrow night. He’s a great cook and would love to meet you.”

You dug around your bag for your keys,  “I don’t know anyone else on the team!”

“You know JJ! And Derek, too. He’s been asking about you.” Spencer’s eyes dropped to his shoes again as your welcome mat became way more interesting than your face.

“Really?” He pursed his lips and nodded. You thought it over for a moment and decided, “Fine. Text me a time and address.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, “No, I-I’ll pick you up.”

“Woah woah woah, you’re gonna drive me around?” You laughed in disbelief, “Sorry, Doc, I know our whole dynamic has changed a bit ‘cuz we’re both grown-ups now, but I’m not sure either of us is quite ready for that.”

His smile finally flashed back across his face, “Come on, I owe you.”

“For what?”

“You bought the ice cream!” His voice was high pitched.

You matched his tone, “You took me to the Shakespeare library!”

“You took me to McDonald’s 106 times in high school! I’m sure the amount of money you spent on my food could buy the whole gift shop!”

Your jaw fell open, “You counted?”

“I can’t help it!”

You rolled your eyes, failing to fight back a grin, “Goodnight, genius.”

He bit his lips and smiled, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You jam the key in your door and push it open, closing it with your body as you sigh, leaning your head back against it.

“That good, huh?” Said a voice from the living room, causing you to jump.

“Jesus, mom, what are you still doing up?” You sigh, clutching your chest.

“Well, I put Jamie to bed, I figured I’d wait up for you so I can hear about your date!”

“Wh- mom, what are you talking about?”

“With Spencer! How was your date?”

“That wasn’t a date!”

“Really? So you guys just walked around for hours in silence doing nothing?”

“We didn’t just walk around!”

“So what’d you guys do?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh my god, mom.”

“You’re not denying anything!”

“Mom!” 

“You can tell me, it’s just us girls.”

“He took me to the Shakespeare Library! We got ice cream! That’s it! Nothing happened!”

“Shakespeare Library? Ice cream?” her eyebrows darted up so far it was almost like a cartoon character, “Toots, that’s not nothing!”

“It’s nothing. We just saw a play-”

“What play?”

“Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Your mother closed her book and tossed it next to her on the couch. “Oh! You mean your favorite! Silly me for thinking this was a romantic outing!”

“It wasn’t!”

“Who paid for the ice cream?”

“I did.”

“Did he offer?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t let him.”

Your mother sighed, “You’re telling me it wasn’t a date, but all I’m hearing is that Spencer thought it was.”

“Then why didn’t he make a move?”

“So many reasons! He’s shy! He’s a gentleman! Maybe he thought you weren’t into him.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

Is everyone a profiler now? God!

“Mom, it’s getting late, I walked the length of the city today, I’m going to bed. You can stay over if you don’t wanna drive, but I’m getting some sleep.”

“Right, you need to be rested for tomorrow night. Got a dinner party to go to!”

“Were you listening?”

“The window was open just a crack, I may have heard some of the conversation.”

“Jesus…”

“What? You’re meeting his friends already, this is big.”

You groaned, dragging your feet up the stairs to your bedroom, changing out of your clothes, and hopping in the shower before cozying up for bed. Whether or not you wanted to admit your mom was right, you knew she was. And that terrified you. 

             (Spencer’s POV)

I rang the doorbell of her house at exactly 6:30, just like I said I would. Seconds later, the door swung open and revealed her smiling face shimmering with her makeup. I took in her outfit, a cute floral dress reaching the tops of her knees. I tried to make sure my eyes didn’t linger on the neckline for too long when I noticed a thin silver chain resting on her collarbone. A small heart-shaped pendant dangled from it. 

“Wow.” Was all I could manage, “You look—”

“Totally overdressed, right? Cuz I can dress this down a bit, I just need to change the shoes and throw on a jacket. You know what? I have another dress upstairs I’ll just cha—”

“No, Y/N, you look…” Beautiful, enchanting, stunning, like the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, I thought about saying all of that, but instead, I just said, “Great.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” I tried to say it as sincerely as possible, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yep!” She reached around the door to take a denim jacket from a hook on the wall, throwing it over her shoulders, “Lemme just get my purse—” she glanced around the room and cut herself off with a groan.

“What?”

“I left my bag in my room. Here, come inside, it’s chilly out.” She rushed down the hall to hurry up the stairs to what I’d assume was her bedroom. I stepped across the threshold and into the warm home. There was a faint glow of light from the kitchen, where a child’s laugh bubbled from the room. I followed the sound and found Jamie and Mrs. L/N sitting at the table doing a puzzle.

“Oh, hi, Spencer!” She called.

“Doctor Spencer!” Jamie jumped up from his seat and ran to me, wrapping his arms around my legs. 

“Hey, little man!” I ruffled his hair and flashed a grin to Y/N’s mom. 

I heard the tapping of shoes descending the stairs behind me, “Okay, got everything, you ready?”

I quickly turned around at the sound of Y/N’s voice and saw her smiling at Jamie beside me.

“Goodnight, Jamie-baby, I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Have fun with grandma,” she cooed as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“Goodnight!”

“Bye, buddy!” 

“Bye, Doc!”

“Have fun you two, be safe!” Y/N’s mom grinned as she waved us away.

“Oh my god, mom, stop.”

“Okay! Goodnight, my loves!”

“Goodnight!”

Y/N marched out the door and followed the path down to the street, where my car was parked.

“Last chance, Doc, want me to drive instead?”

I passed her to open the passenger side door for her, “Not a chance, I promised.”

“What a gentleman! Now let’s see if we make it there in one piece first.”

The laugh I let out was half-mockery, half-nerves, as I was not the best driver. I had a Ph.D. in engineering and understood more about physics than most people, but that doesn’t mean I knew how to focus well enough to apply that knowledge. When it is literally impossible for me to forget that I have a 1 in 96 chance of dying in a car accident, my hypervigilance does more harm than good.

“So who am I meeting? Who’s on your team?”

My anxieties were somewhat quelled by the sound of her voice, allowing me to pull my thoughts away from the possibility of becoming one of the 20% of fatal car crashes that occur in intersections.

“Well, you already know JJ and Garcia. Hotch, my boss—”

“Tall, dark, handsome? Never smiles?” 

I chuckled, “That’s the guy.”

“He seems fun at parties.”

“He’s actually not that bad. Just a bit too serious sometimes.”

“Okay, and who haven’t I met?”

“The host, David Rossi, Emily, you’ll love them.”

“Is Derek coming?”

IQ of 187 and I still don’t think anyone could have explained to me why that upset me as much as it did. It’s not like Y/N was my girlfriend or anything, she was allowed to want Derek, most girls did, so there was no reason for me to be jealous. She wasn’t mine to lose.

“Yeah. He’ll be there.”

We pulled up to Rossi’s mansion a few minutes later, after riding in semi-awkward silence. She waited for me next to her side of the car, not wanting to walk up to the door by herself. I reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder as I drew closer. She gave me a tight-lipped smile before dropping her eyes to the ground between us.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m nervous, what if they don’t like me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, what’s not to love?” I didn’t even realize how much I meant those words at the time, so I doubt she understood how serious I was, but her smile softened and her shoulders relaxed slightly under my touch. I led her up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Shortly after, Garcia opened the door and beamed at the two of us.

“You’re here! Oh my goodness, so nice to see you again!” She pulled Y/N into a hug that she very quickly accepted. 

“Hi, Penelope, good to see you too.” She pulled away and grinned at me, the worry mostly drained from her eyes now. 

“Come here, boy genius, you get one too!” She wrapped her arms around my waist and my face found its place in her blonde curls. We all went inside and saw the whole team sitting around a coffee table with glasses of wine in their hands. JJ put her glass on the table and got up from her seat on the cushy leather couch to hug Y/N. 

“You’re not one of mine, are you?” Rossi sipped his drink and eyed Y/N.

“Um, this is Y/N, my uh, my friend.” I stammered.

“Ah! You’re the doctor’s little lady friend I’ve heard so much about!” Rossi put his scotch down on the table and crossed the room to kiss her on both cheeks, “Lovely to meet you, bella, I’m—”

“David Rossi. Yes, Spencer’s told me about you. Nice to meet you,” she grinned, shaking his hand.

“Ah,” he scoffed, “call me Dave.”

“What? No fair!” Emily piped up, taking a big sip of wine, “You just met her and she gets ‘Dave’ privileges? I’ve worked with you for months!”

“Emily, look me in the eyes and try to call me Dave.” She looked at him and opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but she just took another sip while JJ and Morgan laughed at her.

Hotch flashed a rare smile to Y/N, “Good to see you again.”

“Yes! Glad it’s under better circumstances, Agent Hotchner.”

“Me too. And please,” he extended a hand to her, “call me Aaron.”

This time it was Morgan who spoke up, “No way! Only Rossi calls you by your first name!”

“And me,” Emily mumbled.

“And now Y/N, too.”

“I’m honored, Aaron.”

Looking at her face now all remaining anxiety had just about vanished. I told her she had nothing to worry about, and now she was finally listening to me. Rossi called us all to the kitchen where he told us to grab a plate so he could serve us before we sat down at the table. He gave us each a plate of his famous spaghetti carbonara before taking his seat at the head of the table. The team all chatted about their lives, as we ate. Hotch showed Y/N pictures of Jack on his phone, Emily probed JJ about Will, Morgan, and Rossi poked fun at me for bringing Y/N, but I just rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them. Plates were cleaned, stories were told, and wine bottles were emptied. Mostly by Emily and Y/N.

JJ was the one to try to cut them off, “Don’t you have to drive this one home?” She gestured to me.

She put her hands up defensively, “He picked me up.”

“Reid, you hate driving!” Garcia pointed out, prompting Morgan to spare a knowing glance to Rossi.

“You do?”

“I don’t hate it, I just prefer not to.” I was a profiler, but that didn’t mean I was a good liar.

“Spence, I offered to drive you.”

I shrugged, “I didn’t mind.”

Her eyes lingered on me for another moment before taking another sip of wine and resuming her conversation with Emily. I knew they’d get along. Towards the end of the night, Rossi proposed a toast.

“To familia.”

Y/N smiled, staying quiet.

“Oh, come on now, you too, bella.” He raised his glass to her and clinked the crystal, “You’re stuck with us now, get over it.”

“I’m not complaining, Dave.” Her words were to Rossi, but she never stopped looking at me. Probably just had a bit too much to drink.

Right?

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae​ @t0xicllama​ @undeniablyyou​ @staplernpaper @theweirdobella​ @sammypotato67​ @k-k0129​ @helloniallslovelies​ @dazzlingnights @uhuhuh @booksarekindaneat @crimeshowtrash

[cakesunflower]

Know Me [C.H. One Shot]

A/N: Hellloooooooo! Here is the awaited Trust Fund Cal!AU. As always, I did not expect for this to get so long. 29,893 words to be exact. I kind of hate myself for it but, like, whatever. Grab a snack (or a whole meal idk) while you read!

P.S.: Nura’s name is pronounced Noo-rah. P.P.S.: For those of you who don’t know, “beta” is Urdu for “child.”

Happy reading babies!!

People were predictable. That was one of the first things Nura Ansari learned when she first started working at the Little Palm Island Resort and Spa when she was sixteen. Nearly six years on the job and she’d developed the skill of reading people; just one sweep of her gaze and knowing exactly the kind they would be. The resort was a luxurious one, its patrons that of high celebrity rank or families with loads of money to throw around that wouldn’t make a dent in their bank account once it was gone. She could pick apart the parents who didn’t care what their kids got up to, the younger crowd with the sponsors booking them the finest room the resort had to offer to show it off on their social media garnering millions of followers, those who legitimately wanted to enjoy a family vacation, and everyone else in between. Different people, all ultimately the same beyond the surface.

But despite the exasperation she often felt with most of her encounters, Nura had learned to become patient, as well. Had perfected a smile fake enough that it seemed real—or maybe she was only given that illusion, seeing many of the patrons were blind to everything but their good time—and had become capable of accommodating the most difficult of customers. She started off as a lifeguard before moving onto waitressing and bartending, a job she came back to every summer since she turned sixteen. Hopefully, this was her last.

“Look alive, Nura.” She straightened her back immediately at the sound of Patrick, her co-worker’s voice, exiting out of Tumblr that had been opened up on her browser. This morning she was covering Elaine’s shift at the front desk, and would be off by two and would have the day to herself until her waitressing shift from seven to midnight started. 

Sticking the orange flavored gum to her mouth, Nura drew her attention to the guests approaching them, sharp eyes taking in the group of four guys and three girls. They rolled in with the breeze that engaged the plants by the door in a dance, the scent of sea salt one Nura’s nose had become numb to over the years. The early afternoon sun was high in the summer sky, the glass walls of the lobby allowing for the bright sun rays to bathe the room, the wooden and glass furniture glimmering amidst it. If she listened closely enough, Nura would be able to hear the swishing of palm trees right outside, or the relatively distant waves of the ocean. No matter how many years of this job Nura had under her belt, those were sounds she would never grow tired of hearing. Ironic, given that she’s trying to get out. Not just the island, but Florida as a whole.

The group of seven were giddy, chattering amongst themselves as the sounds of their voices carried throughout the open lobby, taking advantage of the welcome cocktails Amber was offering them by the door. The girls were carrying their totes and guys were each wearing backpacks, and Nura caught sight of Mattie and Rob, the two bellhops, each rolling in with a cart full of luggage. Nura’s eyes shifted back to the group approaching the front desk, taking them in in all the glory of their glowing skin and shining hair and bright smiles. She couldn’t forget the designer clothes that, not for the first time, made her feel inadequate in her uniform of the resort’s signature baby blue button down tucked into a black pencil skirt that stopped above her knees. 

Nura swallowed down that unwanted thought that was good for nothing but putting herself down. Comparing her appearance to that of others was something she’d put an end to years ago; she had to, in order to work this job. So she put on her smile, gaze shifting to the guy in front of the group, whose head was ducked as he used his free hand to dig out his wallet, the glass already half empty in his other hand. “Good afternoon, welcome to Little Palm Island Resort and Spa,” she began, the rehearsed speech rolling off her tongue effortlessly despite manning the front desk not being her priority. “I’m Nura, can I—”

“Yeah, can you get us checked in quickly, please? Four Island Grand Suites, all under the name Calum Hood.”

She instantly clamped her mouth shut just as the glass clinked on top of the counter which it was rested on, the familiar vein of irritation being picked at when the dark haired man in front of her dropped his I.D., credit card, and phone with the reservation confirmation pulled up in his e-mail. Nura’s gaze dropped to the items in front of her, a silent breath inhaled through her nose before she lifted her gaze, brown eyes meeting unapologetic brown.

Patrick was standing right next to her—she wished they’d gone to him instead.

Willing for her smile to remain on her face, Nura pulled the items towards her, hating that she allowed herself to take in the man before him. Tattoos inked around his skin, shown off by the short sleeved black Guess shirt that hugged his torso tightly, tucked into a pair of jeans Nura knew only someone who was accommodated to hot weather could wear in their spot of Florida. She looked down at the picture on his license—a California license, which made sense to his comfort in clothing choice—before glancing up to back at his face.

He wasn’t even looking at her, instead showing off the sharp line of his jaw as he listened to whatever the tall blonde guy was saying to his right. Even so, Nura picked up on the spark of amusement in his dark eyes, framed by long lashes, despite the absence of a smile from his plump lips. She itched to reach for her iced tea sitting under the table to flush out the thought of how handsome he was in the softness of his face and the contradictory sharpness of his features. Inviting and unforgettable. 

Nura turned her attention to the computer, pulling up his reservation order with a few clicks of the mouse. “Sorry about him.” She looked up to see one of the other guys, black hair contrasting starkly against hazel eyes, stepping up with a dimpled grin on his face and an arm draping around the first guy—Calum’s—shoulders. With a hand coming up to pat at Calum’s chest, who in turn shot a mildly irritable look towards his friend, the guy added lightly, “Apparently he didn’t nap enough on the near five hour flight.”

She didn’t miss the way Calum’s eyebrows lowered, wondering if it was for the truth behind his friend’s words or the fact that someone else was accounting for the snappy first impression he’d made. Calum’s eyes swept over to her, and she caught the very moment he finally saw her properly. Nura’s eyes were sharp, didn’t miss a single thing, catching the relaxation of his eyebrows with a blink of his eyes and the ever so subtle part of his lips.

He saw her, and yet he didn’t apologize for cutting her off or the impolite way he’d done so.

The two of them were caught in a brief lock of gazes, and Nura fought the dry smile from quirking at her lips because she knew she wasn’t going to get an apology out of him. She doubted he even knew what he’d be apologizing for. So instead she brought back her customer service smile and rather than acknowledge the brief, awkward encounter, she read off the reservations Calum had made just a week or so ago.

Nura tried not to scoff at the duration of their vacation—lasting the entire three months of summer. Which made sense, given the total that she’d caught a glimpse of at the bottom. The suites they reserved cost a little over a grand a night, each. Toss in four of those, all for a three month long stay? It cost more than her four years’ attendance of university combined.

The hum of chatter between the group never ceased, and Nura promptly ignored the gaze she felt burning a hole in her face as she made sure everything was in order before reaching in the drawers to pull out the appropriate keycards for every suite and their respective card holders. Nura finally looked up, offering the cards to the man before her, who couldn’t be that much older than her. She smiled, professional and polite, as she said, “Here you go, sir.” His eyes, deep and dark and intense, never wavered from hers. Nura didn’t back down, either, despite feeling something unfamiliar tickle her in the pit of her stomach. “Mattie and Rob over there will show you to your suites. Enjoy your stay.”

Calum picked the cards out of her grasp, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers as he did so, finishing off the rest of his drink and Nura was surprised that she had to fight herself from observing the way his throat worked. He put the glass down and as he held out the other cards for his friends to take, all of them voicing their thanks before walking away from the reception desk, Calum lingered.

He offered a nod, a subtle gesture with ducking his chin, the corner of his lips just barely lifting up to showcase what others probably found to be a charming smirk. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Nura.” Her name was slipping past her mouth without much thought, jumping at the opportunity to give herself a name. She refused to be boiled down to what was supposed to be a term of endearment but essentially had her nails curling into her palm. If it came from a significant other, that was fine. She encouraged it. But not from strangers who called her as such for the purpose of being patronizing. Her smile remained, though steely to match the hardness of her eyes. “My name’s Nura.”

Calum eyed her for a moment. If he hadn’t expected that from her, he didn’t let it show—and he was good at it. Instead, he scoffed, hitting the card he held with a finger as he said, almost boredly, “Noted.”

He turned, then, following his friends out the doors to follow Mattie and Rob to where their bungalows were on the island. They disappeared the same way they came, a chorus of chatter amongst them, absent of the deep voice of Calum Hood as they went. When they were gone, Nura let out a huff, finally picking up the iced coffee under the table as the cubes swished in the confined space of the cup before she took a long sip.

“So?” Patrick spoke up for the first time, prompting her to look at him as she enjoyed her refreshing drink. With a tilt of his head towards the lobby doors, he asked with a wry smirk, “What kind were they?”

Nura licked her lips, looking towards the door as if they’d reappear again. But she’d seen enough. Well—she’d seen enough of one person. And from what she perceived, the least talkative guy out of a group of them, all in clothing Nura couldn’t really afford and didn’t care enough to, anyway, was the only one on her mind as she answered Patrick in the form of a too fitting lyric, “Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends.”

*****

The smoke billowed past his lips in a thick cloud, disappearing into the air as Calum watched it dissipate into the night sky. His gaze flickered back to his friends, the glow of the tiki torches’ flames dancing across their shadowed features as they looked over the menus the host had given them. Calum looked to his left, observing the ocean that lay before them beyond the restaurant deck. The tides weren’t severe, a soft lull of water tickling the shore every so often, the sound nearly muted over the chatter of his friends.

The breeze was calming against his skin, a pleasant contrast to the warm weather. Florida heat was different than Californian heat, enough to prompt him to put on a pair of linen shorts his mother had advised him to pack. He hated wearing shorts, unless they were his athletic pairs and he was on his way to the gym. But jeans felt too restricting, and the whole point of this vacation was to let go. To relax and enjoy the company of the only people he truly enjoyed being around. It wasn’t off to the greatest start, considering he was already on his fourth—fifth?—cigarette today. He was supposed to be cutting off.

As if reading his mind, Ashton huffed to his right. “Hey, come on—none of that,” he said, frowning as he reached over to pluck the cigarette out of Calum’s hand. He let him, watching blankly as his dimpled friend snubbed it out in the ashtray on the table. Leaning back in his chair, Ashton shot him a look. “You’re supposed to be quitting.”

Calum scoffed lightly, arms crossed over his chest as he, too, remained leaned back. The breeze hit his face gently, the flames of the tiki torches dancing against the night sky as Calum shot Ashton a look. “I’m not much of a quitter.” He paused, a corner of his mouth quirking up wryly, feeling Ashton’s gaze on him as he added as an afterthought, “At least, I wasn’t.”

He didn’t even have to look at Ashton to know his friend easily picked up on the resentment coloring his tone, a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of the moment that pushed him over the edge, eventually leading him to book a three month vacation. He wasn’t sure why Dawn getting married had churned at his heart so harshly; they’d broken up over two years ago—she was, by all accounts, free to live her life the way she pleased. Not that she hadn’t been when they were together, but Calum hadn’t expected her to be getting married.

Correction: he hadn’t expected her to be getting married to someone who wasn’t him.

Next to him, he heard Ashton sigh over the chatter of their friends and the other patrons sitting around them, feeling Ashton give his shoulders a squeeze. Calum merely pursed his lips, eyes on the snubbed out cigarette in the ashtray, ears only focused on the gentle crash of waves and crackle of the tiki torch fire as, from the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approach their table.

He didn’t look up, not until he heard them say, “Good evening, everyone. I’m Nura and I’ll be your server for tonight—can I start you off with some drinks?”

Calum head raised, gaze flickering up to the waitress who was also behind the reception desk when they checked in earlier in the day, only this time she was in the glow of the torches and the moon above and wearing a different uniform. This one was a standard white blouse tucked into black pants, a notepad in her hand and her dark hair once again in that slicked back pony tail. An easy going smile was present on her red lips, yet he didn’t miss the way the corners of her lips subtly strained when her dark eyes met his, his presence apparently not one she wanted to be in.

That was a first.

He kept his gaze on her, stubbornly so, as she jotted down the drink orders his friends were saying until, ultimately, Nura’s eyes met his. She expectantly watched him, waiting, and Calum found himself wanting her to wait it out. Testing her patience, almost. He wasn’t quite too sure why he was doing it, but Calum kind of enjoyed the way her pen was already impatiently tapping against the notepad she held. Nura’s eyes twitched into slight narrowing, and he saw the exact moment where she picked up what he was trying to do—it hadn’t taken her long.

Nura remained silent, brown eyes on brown, an intensity present in hers that told Calum she didn’t at all appreciate his childish antics despite the small, polite smile that remained on her lips. And they were childish, Calum knew. Yet he didn’t stop. He wanted to see how long she would hold out, despite the curious and confused gazes of his friends watching them. Their silence was louder than when they talked, the absence of their voices making room for the suffocating quiet Calum had been wanting to avoid.

The curl of Nura’s lips were now twinged with an unpleasantness reserved just for him. “And for you, sir?”

She’d lasted about forty-eight seconds, which in hindsight, was a long time to remain numbingly silent in an unforeseen standoff such as this one. In the expectant pout of her lips, Calum fought the urge to smirk at the annoyance that tightened her mouth as well, clearly bristling at being the one who had to submit first. One corner of his own lips curled up, not entirely a smirk, as he told her, “Whiskey on the rocks.”

She was gone with a sharp turn of her heel and fierce swish of her ponytail, and as Nura left, Luke scoffed from across the table. “Are you trying to get her to spit in your drink?”

His words earned some laughter from everyone else, and Calum merely scoffed as he lifted his left elbow to rest on the bannister of the wooden railing they were seated next to. He scratched at the back of his head leisurely, uncaring as he gave a one shouldered shrug. His gaze only briefly swept over in the direction of which Nura had left before smirking at his friend. “She’s too much of a professional to do that.”

Crystal raised her eyebrows, an amused grin tilting at her glossed lips. “Oh, and you know her so well?”

Calum smirked lazily as the scent of the flames on the tiki torches tickled his nose. It was a familiar combination, mixing in with the salty sea breeze, something he’d smelled whenever he attended a bonfire on the beach back in California. Here, though, it was fresher. More intoxicating. “No, but she never stopped smiling,” he informed, his words prompting Crystal to scoff in disbelief. “She’s the type to smile at customers and talk shit about them behind their back—but she’d never actually do anything to jeopardize her job.”

“Don’t think she’d appreciate you psychoanalyzing her, man,” Michael chortled from next to Crystal, leaned back with his arm draped on top of her chair.

Rolling his eyes with a click of his tongue, Calum waved Michael off. His tone was bored as he responded, “Doubt she’ll care, so long as she’s gettin’ paid.”

Ashton shot him a disapproving look, one that Calum promptly ignored by shifting his gaze back out to the ocean. He heard them move on from his maybe insensitive comment rather than chastising him for it beyond the look Ashton had given him. Calum wasn’t in the mood to listen, they all knew that. So he watched the ocean, the moonlight glimmering against the ripples of the water and the silhouettes of people walking upon the white sand, feeling the urge to sink his own toes into the sand before diving into the inviting water.

Everything about the resort spoke to its tranquility; the rooms didn’t even have television that would pull them into the real world. Wi-Fi availability was a given, sure, but the suites themselves didn’t come equipped with TVs or anything like that, giving guests the opportunity to relax with the help of technology. Calum was ready for it. He didn’t want to reach for his phone anymore, didn’t want to open up his laptop and somehow stumble upon something he knew would upset him. This vacation was to help him get out of his own head; a resort such as this, as well as his guitar tucked away in his suite, should be enough to help him out. Being trapped in his own head never did him any good. Why worry about his ex’s wedding when he could wonder about how many times he could go scuba diving in three months?

He listened to Luke and Sierra talk about their excitement for the impending dolphin encounter they definitely wanted to take part in, silently wondering if he should take a look at the different activities the island offered. It would serve as a distraction, wouldn’t it?

Footsteps caught his attention as Nura approached the table, a tray in her hand filled with glasses. “Here we are,” she smiled, moving around the table to put down the appropriate glass in front of each of them. The act was followed by polite thank you’s spilling from everyone’s lips, while Calum merely met her eyes as he picked up his glass and took a sip.

If Nura was perturbed by his lack of gratitude, she didn’t let it show as she tucked the tray under her arm and clicked her pen. Gaze sweeping over the table, she asked, “Are we ready to order?” Her question was met with a hum of approval and she started with Luke before moving around the table, quickly writing down everyone’s orders. When she got to Calum, however, he was mildly surprised when she raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Would you like another minute?”

Clearly she was still irritated with his earlier antic with the drink order, tilting her head at him as Calum pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, fighting the smirk from appearing. The patronizing tone wasn’t one she tried to hide, and Calum could tell his friends had picked up on it as well, trying not to laugh at his expense. Not that he was embarrassed. Mildly surprised and impressed, but never embarrassed. “No,” he answered with a lift of his chin, not one to break eye contact as he closed the menu and offered her a tight smile of his own. “I’ll have the shrimp and spaghetti skillet.”

Nura didn’t say anything, instead just wrote down his order and Calum wondered if she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes. As she collected the menus, a man standing in the doorway that led to the indoor dining area called her name. “Nura—I gotta step out for a few minutes, mind getting behind the bar?”

She looked over her shoulder, giving him a nod as she answered, “Sure thing, Ted.” Then, smiling at the rest of them, she said, “I’ll be back with your food.”

Before she left, though, Michael raised his eyebrows. “Are you a bartender, too?” With an impressed scoff, he asked, “What don’t you do around here?”

Nura let out a soft chuckle, menus in one hand and the tray in the other. “Uh,” she pretended to consider for a moment with her face scrunched and an eye squinting shut. Calum took a sip of his whiskey, focusing on the spicy taste rather than cute expression of the waitress. “Housekeeping—I hate making my own bed, never mind someone else’s.”

Her response enticed laughter from the table, smiling as she chuckled along before her eyes met Calum’s. He wasn’t as engaged as the rest of them, sipping his drink and threatening to empty his glass before his food even arrived. Nura’s smile lessened as she pressed her lips together, looking away from him and nodding at the rest of them as she repeated, “I’ll be back with your food.”

The air was lighter to breathe once she left, and while Calum didn’t quite understand the tension he created with someone on his first day here, he also didn’t quite care enough to fix it.

Fuck. He either cared too much or not at all. He needed to find a balance, fast, before he drove himself crazy.

*****

Yoga hadn’t ever been something Nura was interested in. She preferred a good cardio workout, maybe blow off some steam with a willing partner in bed, but yoga hadn’t ever been on her radar. But somehow she’d ended up in a yoga class during the fall semester of her junior year at college and decided it was something she actually enjoyed. It woke her up, made her in tune with her body and reveled in the stretch of her muscles. Which was why on the days her shift didn’t start until later, her day would still start with the sun coming up and partaking in morning prayers before leaving her room to make it to the eight-thirty yoga class the resort offered to its guests.

The sessions were held on a large deck facing the beach, the sun already warming them as the crash of waves along the shore served as a peaceful soundtrack behind the voice of the instructor. It was easy for Nura to get lost in the tranquility of the practice, allowing herself this moment’s peace before jumping into the rigorous activities her job required from her. While the rest of the class would go off to enjoy the resort, Nura would be getting ready to dive into an eight to ten hour long work day. Yoga in the morning was just one way to ensure she didn’t lose her mind, even if she was in the company of women who attended classes with dangling earrings and designer leggings and sports bras.

“Heard you had front desk duty yesterday,” Christy, the yoga instructor, hummed once class was wrapped. With a knowing smile, she asked, “How’d that go?”

Nura scoffed, shouldering the bag that had her yoga mat rolled in. “Turns out some people are just as irritable checking in as they are before they get their food,” she responded, keeping her voice appropriately low in case a guest or two heard her.

Christy’s grin widened with a chuckle, reaching up to tighten her pony tail, the action only reminding Nura of having to take out her space-buns when she got ready for her shift. “Don’t you just love humans?”

Nura’s expression fell flat, voice dry as she returned, “Not particularly.” Checking the time on her watch, she let out a breath and said, “Alright, I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you later, Chris.”

Her friend waved in return. “Happy waitressing.”

To get to her own suite, Nura had to trek past a cluster of guest state suites, but it was a walk she enjoyed. The trees stood tall all around her, leaves surviving as a canopy to shield from the sunlight. No matter where you stood on the island, the sound of the ocean could always be heard, soft and steady as the waves fell upon the shore. The salty air tickled Nura’s nose pleasantly, a scent she’d become accustomed to as it mixed in with the fresh citrus smell that clung to the island as a whole. It smelled like home.

It hadn’t always felt that way. Nura had gotten her job at the resort the summer she turned sixteen, serving as a lifeguard and occasionally a waitress. It was a two hour drive from her home in Homestead, and not a journey her mom was particularly fond of her taking, but it was the best job offer she received at the time. The money was good, as were the accommodations, but Nura was only thinking of it financially. Whatever money she didn’t use for herself, she sent to her mom to help out. Being a single mother working as a teacher, supporting two kids, Nura did her best to make it as easy for her mom as possible. 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Nura reminded herself to call her mom when it was both their lunch breaks.

The sound of something melodic pulled Nura out of her reverie, her steps slowing as the strum broke through her thoughts. She furrowed her eyebrows, eyes darting around to trace the sound before her gaze lifted a bit to land on the back porch of one of the bungalows. Nura stopped, eyebrows raising when she caught sight of one of the guests she’d checked in as well as served the other day. The kind of rude one with dark hair and admittedly handsome face—Calum, she remembered.

Her grip on the strap of her yoga bag tightened, head tilting ever so slightly as she observed him sitting on the porch. He hadn’t noticed her, and the porch wasn’t too far from where she was, and Nura noticed the ink that was wrapped around his arm coloring his chest. Calum was oblivious to her presence where she stood on the sandy pathway, head ducked as his fingers plucked at the strings of the guitar he was playing.

It sounded nice, whatever he was playing, a consistent tune that streamed through the towering trees and was carried by the island breeze. Nura couldn’t help but think how it fit him, the broody, kind of asshole musician vibe he apparently owned. She knew it was probably unfair of her to label him so negatively, since she only had two interactions with the man, but Nura had become an expert in reading people based on how they treated her and/or the way they acted in general. You would think people would be their most relaxed self on vacation, but Nura had come to understand that more often than not, these people were running away from whatever their reality was back home.

Nura let out a breath and maybe Calum heard it, or he just looked up at that exact moment, but his eyes landed on hers and she saw the quirk of his eyebrow as he recognized just who happened to be watching him. She watched the way his chin lifted, fingers ceasing their work on the string as the guitar remained resting on his thighs, and even from where she stood, Nura could see the way his eyes narrowed in observation. Could feel his gaze take in the sight of her and hated that wherever his gaze seemed to linger on her body, she felt a warmth spark without her wanting it to.

“This isn’t a free show,” he called out, deep voice carrying a rasp that traveled with his arguably annoyed voice.

Nura bit her tongue, eyebrows lowering into a frown at his words as she ignored the warmth that bloomed in her cheeks. But biting the tip of her tongue didn’t seem to be enough, and it was like Nura lost all control of her mouth as she instantly retorted, “Wouldn’t pay for one, either.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes widening as she heard her own words echo in her ears and saw the way Calum raised his eyebrows. Shit. For six years, she’d become so good at keeping her mouth shut, at always waiting for a guest to be out of sight and earshot if she ever wanted to voice the irritated, mocking thoughts that ran through her head during interactions she could do without. Never had Nura allowed for a resort guest to hear the way she occasionally badmouthed them—she couldn’t help it. Dealing with uptight, self-righteous rich people was difficult and Nura had to blow off some steam some way. 

But never in their presence. And now here she was—talking back to a guest right to their face.

She felt mortified, especially knowing if this got back to her boss, Mr. McNulty, she’d be in deep shit because the guests were basically the gods around here. Nura held her breath in her lungs, eyes wide and lips parting as her frozen brain tried to break out an apology—though, apologizing to Calum, who Nura was slowly realizing looked something akin to amused, was not how she wanted to start off her morning.

Calum scoffed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he gave a challenging tilt of his head. “Excuse me?”

Was amused the right word? He looked surprised at her response, as if no one had ever close to insulted him to his face before. Maybe they hadn’t. Nura had been around the filthy rich long enough to know they only ever were told what they wanted to hear, always kept happy because they had money and were therefore superior to them. A bunch of bullshit, in Nura’s opinion. But she needed the money they were so willing to spend, so she stayed silent and did her job. Until now, it seemed.

Though apologizing to the dark haired man tasted bitter in her mouth and she wanted to do nothing but spit out another dry remark, Nura still managed to stammer out a quick, “I, uh, I’m sorry.” She forced herself to move on, feet moving quickly as the warmth in her cheeks intensified, uncaring of some of the sand slipping into her flip flops as she went and all too aware of the intense gaze burning a hole in her back that seared through her clothes.

Nura could only hope he wouldn’t file a complaint. She knew of guests who did so for much less.

*****

“Aw, man—you gotta stop with that.”

Calum instantly exited out of the app and locked his phone, dropping the device on the space between his legs as he remained sitting on the poolside chair. But it was too little, too late given that Ashton had seen exactly what Calum had been doing on his phone, and the brown eyed man let out a defeated huff as he linked his fingers together. Feeling the need to defend himself, Calum grumbled, “It’s not like I’m hung up on her.”

Ashton pursed his lips, a shadow of a dimple appearing under the scruff he’d decided to sport while on vacation. His hazel eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but Calum knew his best friend well enough to know he wore a look of disapproval. “No, you’re just hung up on the fact that she’s getting married.”

The inside of his cheek would soon start bleeding with the way his teeth were biting into it, lips pursing at Ashton’s words as the sun beat down his back. “It’s not that, either,” Calum responded, voice quiet among the hum of the beach. Ahead of them, he could see their friends enjoying the clear blue water of the ocean, the music playing from Michael’s speaker next to them consistent. 

He could hear the confusion in Ashton’s voice as he asked, “Then what is it?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

He didn’t miss Dawn—Calum knew that for a fact. They’d dated for seven months and Calum liked her enough to stay with her that long, but deep down, he’d always known they weren’t together for the right reasons. He’d wanted a warm body at night, a hand to hold at events, and she. . . She’d wanted his money. Calum had always kept that thought in the back of his head, not wanting to think about it too much but not allowing himself to forget about it, either. He’d known it, his friends had known it, and yet Calum kept Dawn around a lot longer than he should’ve. 

Finding another girl to fall in bed with would’ve been easy. But then it would be the same thing all over again, wouldn’t it? Just another person wanting to get into his pockets. That’s how it was with almost every person Calum met, except for the friends he’d escaped to Florida with. Except he’d escaped with a hollow pit in his chest and a bitter taste in his mouth. He was lucky his friends hadn’t called him out on his less than enthusiastic attitude, even if they’d only been here for three days. The point of being here was to forget about the shit that seemed to weigh him down back home and so far, he wasn’t doing too good of a job at it.

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, dragging his upper teeth along his lower lip before letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know,” was all he could say to Ashton. And it was the truth.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the buzz of the beach around them, and Calum knew Ashton was trying to find some words of comfort, encouragement, support for him. Calum appreciated it, but he didn’t need to hear them—nor did he need them, period. Calum didn’t need pity over a problem he couldn’t even figure out. What he needed was to forget about it altogether.

Apparently Ashton seemed to have the same idea.

“Come on—let’s get a drink,” he declared, clapping Calum’s back as he stood up.

Calum followed him with his eyes as Ashton veered off to the right, before sighing and standing up as well to walk with him. Unsurprisingly, Ashton filled the silence between them, talking about a new band he’d discovered while fooling around on Spotify that he thought Calum would like. And although his mind felt heavy, Calum still remembered the name Ashton mentioned to look them up later. New music was always something Calum was looking for.

They made their way to the beach cabana bar, dodging groups of people playing tanning and kids making sandcastles as they went. The kids were few, Calum noticed. Most of the guests were either people his age, or those older wanting to enjoy a vacation without their kids, probably having left them behind with grandparents or nannies. Calum pursed his lips; that’s how it had been with him. His parents had always been busy with the distillery or some other kind of business that always took priority; loving when they were around, completely absent when they weren’t.

“Hey—Nura, right?” Ashton’s laugh cut through Calum’s thought, forcing him to blink back into reality as his gaze zeroed in on the woman behind the round bar. Oh, great. Calum took in a breath as he gripped the edge of the bar and braced himself on it, watching as the front desk girl-slash-waitress turned to face them. Her pink lips lifted into a smile directed towards Ashton, faltering ever so slightly when her dark eyes met Calum’s. Ashton folded his arms on top of the bar, dimpled and charming smile on his own face as he introduced, “I’m Ashton, and you already know Calum.”

“I do.” She didn’t sound too excited about that, and Calum found himself having to fight back a smirk as she stood in front of them, bracing her own hands on the bar. Unlike this morning when he’d seen her in leggings and a fitted tank looking like she’d just come back from an early morning workout, Nura now wore the familiar white blouse with a name tag. “What can I get for you?”

Before Calum could answer, Ashton said, “Two tequila sunrises, please.” Then, turning to Calum, Ashton continued, “You know what you need?”

Dragging his gaze away from Nura, who’d immediately pulled away to make the drinks, Calum raised an eyebrow at Ashton, voice dry as he rebuked, “Other than a three month vacation?”

His friend chuckled. “Well, that, but also a big ass, five course meal that I’m pretty sure we can set up for dinner tonight,” Ashton said, an excited grin on his face. “A private dinner type of thing right on the beach. That can be done—right, Nura?”

Nura, who had just returned in front of them to place down their drinks, raised an eyebrow at her sudden inclusion in the conversation. She looked at Ashton before shifting her gaze to Calum, surprise evident on her face before she looked back to the dimpled man. “Oh, uh, yes it can. You just give the front desk a call and they’ll set it up for you.”

“Awesome,” Ashton grinned, slapping the bar top with his free hand, the other wrapped around the glass as he pulled himself away from the bar. “Thanks, Nura.”

While Ashton was already walking back to where their friends were, Calum had been pulling out his wallet to pay for the drinks. He placed down the money, eyes drifting to the tip jar that already had a bunch of bills inside. Calum scoffed lightly before pulling out some more bills, folding them up as his gaze lifted to Nura. She was drying a glass, gaze on her own actions, seemingly making it a point to not look towards Calum as she pretended to listen to a conversation some other customers were having on the other side.

A corner of Calum’s lips curled up at her obvious disinterest, arm folding on the bar top to lean forward as he held the folded bills up between two fingers. Nura looked over, raising an eyebrow, and Calum tilted his head ever so slightly. Before he could help himself, he mused, “Unlike you, I’m capable of being nice.”

A surge of satisfaction shot through him at the way Nura’s lips parted at his words, eyes narrowing as she watched him purposefully stuff the bills in the tip jar. She wasn’t hiding the irritation that sparked through her brown eyes, his smug act of kindness one that obviously seemed to tick her off. Nura scoffed lightly, taking two steps towards him, hands braced on the bar and showing Calum the thin silver chain she wore around her neck which hid beneath her shirt. 

He could clearly see the way his words had prickled at her skin, pink lips in a tight smile as she returned, “There’s a different between being nice and being decent. You’re only just barely proving yourself to be the latter.”

Calum scoffed through his nose, his smirk still on his lips despite the shot she’d taken at him—one that did, strangely enough, both amused him and threatened to rile him up. He remained put longer than necessary, brown eyes locked onto hers, momentarily wondering if she was going to apologize for the snappy comment like she had earlier this morning. He wondered if the slight pinkness across the apples of her cheeks was because of the Florida heat or something else.

“Nura.” A voice cut in, and she finally broke her gaze and Calum looked over her shoulder to see another resort employee step behind the bar. “Time for your break; you gonna take fifteen or the full hour?”

Nura was already untying the black waist apron she wore. “Hour. I gotta pray and call my mom,” she informed the other worker, folding the apron under the bar before moving to get out. Calum pushed himself away from the bar, watching as Nura went, sipping his drink and smirking around the straw when she glanced at him over her shoulder before quickly turning and walking away.

Calum chuckled lowly, feeling a bit better than he had before. The pinkness in her cheeks had nothing to do with the heat, he was sure.

*****

“Nura, I need you waiting on the private dinner,” Mr. Gonzalez, the restaurant manager, informed her just as she gave the order for table seven to the kitchen. “Lorraine will cover your tables.”

Nura blinked, not entirely expecting to give up her section to serve just one table. “Oh, but—”

“No buts, Ms. Ansari,” Mr. Gonzalez cut in with a shake of his head. He’d always been a bit of an impatient man. “They specifically asked for you, so go. They’re ready to order drinks.”

He didn’t give her any room to argue, already turning away as Nura defeatedly pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply through her nose. She had a feeling she knew exactly whose private party that was—especially if they specifically requested for her. Tightening her pony tail, she made her way towards the doors of the restaurant that led to the outdoor seating before following the path down to the private area of the table on the beach. As she neared the table, the chatter reaching her ears along with the distant sound of the ocean, her suspicions were proven correct when she recognized Calum, Ashton, and the rest of their friends.

“Good evening, guys,” she greeted, putting on her best customer service smile once she was by them.

“Evenin’, Nura—great seeing you again.” The smug patronizing tone wasn’t lost on Nura as her gaze darted to Calum, who was grinning up at her a bit too widely. Truth be told, if any of them, other than Calum, had been the one to request her service, Nura wouldn’t have minded. From the few interactions she’d had with them, they all seemed like genuinely nice people. Nura knew how to pick them out from the ones who smiled to her face but had less kinder thoughts running through their minds. Calum’s friends didn’t seem like those type—Calum, on the other hand, was a different story.

And as much as she didn’t want to give into his contempt, had taught herself better, Nura couldn’t help but return, a bit dryly, “I’ll bet, especially since I’m told I was specifically asked for.”

Calum leaned forward, arms crossed on the table as he looked up at her from where he sat on the right side of the table, the other end from her sitting next to a pretty blonde haired woman. “You were such a wonderful waitress last time and served us so well—we didn’t wanna mix it up.”

His patronizing words sunk deeply in Nura’s bones, and though she fought to keep the effect of his statement off her face, it didn’t stop Nura from clenching her jaw and tightening her grip on the pen. She noticed the looks the others at the table were sending Calum, silent warnings, but he didn’t seem to care. Why would he? She was just the help—it never mattered to people like him that their words could have any kind of impact, big or small, on the people whose job it was to make sure they were happy.

Her skin was warm, Nura could feel it under his douchey smirk. And while hate was a strong word she never used lightly, Calum was really coming close to it. Who the hell did he think he was, so blatantly poking at her profession? This wasn’t what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, and even if it was, who the hell gave him the right to shit on it? Nura knew people like him; they either built themselves from the ground up, or never had to work a day in their life and were rich off the expense of everyone else.

One look at Calum, she knew it was the latter.

A fire simmering in the pit of her stomach, Nura ignored Calum’s words, forcing politeness into her tone as she asked the rest of the table, “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

They all seemed to slowly snap out of the looks they were sending Calum, one by one telling her of their orders as Ashton took it upon himself to order the first round of appetizers as well. Nura jotted it all down with a riled up flushed face, barely looking at any of them as she quickly said, “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

She turned around to leave, only making it a few feet away when she heard one of the girls say, “Cal, what the hell’s gotten into you?”

At least not all of them were assholes.

Nura didn’t stay long at the table after dropping off their drinks, heading back inside to check on their appetizers before bringing the dishes of a shrimp platter and fried calamari to the table. The minutes of taking their orders for their entrees had passed by in a blur, settling into reality only for the brief moment of telling the blue eyed, blonde guy the specials of the night. She didn’t bother looking at Calum as he told her his order, thought she wasn’t immune to his gaze resting heavily upon her.

A polite, “Your food will be ready shortly,” later, and Nura was gone.

She found herself in the bathroom after dropping off their orders in the kitchen, sighing as she stepped out of the stall to go wash her hands. Her frustration had settled a bit since first hearing Calum’s words, though she still couldn’t believe the audacity of the guy. Just because he had money, didn’t give him the right to basically insult her in front of her friends. And although Nura had tough skin, it didn’t mean nothing got to her. Was it so damn hard to treat another human being with respect?

As she dried her hands with the air dryer, she heard the ladies’ room door open, turning when she heard her name being called. She looked over her shoulder to see the blonde girl from Calum’s table, turning around once the dryer stopped as the woman offered her an apologetic small. “I just want to apologize for Calum,” she said, heels clicking on the linoleum floor of the bathroom. “I’m not trying to make excuses for him, but honestly, he’s normally not so rude.” She was nervously twisting a ring on her left hand, and Nura wasn’t surprised to see the rock that was on her ring finger. “He’s just going through something.”

Nura wanted to laugh. This woman seemed nice, and although she said she wasn’t trying to make excuses for Calum, it sure sounded like she was. Chin lifting, Nura let out a breath through her nose and surmised, “Everyone’s going through something. It doesn’t give him the excuse to patronize others.”

She nodded quickly, and Nura was jealous of how shiny her blonde hair was under the bright lights, or how her blue eyes seemed to glitter as well. “You’re absolutely right.” She offered another small smile. “I just wanted to apologize on his behalf.”

It would be better if Calum decided to take responsibility for his own words, but Nura appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. So she returned the smile with a single nod. “Thank you, uh. . .”

“Crystal,” she supplied, finally naming herself with a grin.

Nura smiled once again before taking a breath and awkwardly gesturing towards the door. “I should, uh, go check on your food.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Crystal laughed lightly, stepping aside to let Nura pass.

Nura made it halfway down the hall of the bathroom before stopping abruptly when someone turned the corner to walk in her direction, teeth instantly pressing together when she recognized Calum. He stopped as well, as soon as he saw her, chin lifting and lips parting as he let out a short yet amused chuckle. The sound irritably poked at Nura’s nerves, no matter how stupidly handsome the guy was.

Pursing her lips, she broke their gaze and continued on her way, determined to make it past him without so much as uttering a word. But Calum seemed to have a different thought in mind, because as soon as there was about three feet of distance between them, he spoke up.

“I’m surprised you didn’t fire back like you’re so fond of doing,” he hummed, effectively stopping Nura in her tracks as her dark eyes met his. Calum looked down at her, full lips adorning that damned smirk as the chain around his neck glimmered under the light. With a condescending quirk of his eyebrow, he added, “Wouldn’t want your boss finding out ’bout your lack of customer service, huh?”

Nura narrowed her eyes, tilting her head as her skin flushed once more in an angry heat. Fuck—what was up with this guy? Arms crossing over her chest, Nura threw caution out the window. She’d already shot back at Calum more than once, at this point, despite her constant professionalism for the past six years, she didn’t quite care. “What would you know about customer service?” she asked, taking the few steps towards him, undeterred by their significant height difference as she looked up at him. 

Nura then pointedly gave him a once over; the chillier weather for tonight warranted the Dr. Martens, black pants, tucked in shirt and leather jacket he wore. And pushing aside the thought of how good he looked—and ignoring the flutter in her stomach at the jewelry he also adorned and how everything looked stupidly perfect on him—Nura scoffed. “I doubt you’ve worked a day in your life. Only someone with a lack of appreciation for hard work would be so casual in basically threatening someone else’s job.”

His eyebrows lowered into a frown, the muscle in his jaw jumping as his expression transformed instantly. With a rasp in his voice, Calum returned, “I didn’t threaten your fuckin’ job.”

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, shaking her head up at him. Of course he didn’t understand the implication behind his own words. People like him had no problem saying shit if it meant they could show off their own superiority, and it pissed Nura off. “Oh, you didn’t?” she asked innocently with a tilt of her head before her eyebrows knitted together in a glare. “Then what was that about my boss finding out about my lack of customer service?” Calum pursed his lips and Nura saw the way his throat worked, saw it in his dark, conflicting eyes that he knew she was right. “Money doesn’t give you the right to look down on others. It doesn’t make you better than anyone else. Now if you’ll excuse me—” She stepped back, neck tense as she took a breath in order to calm herself down, brown eyes meeting, what she could almost say, were disgruntled brown. “—I have to go check on your food.”

She walked past him without another word, without letting him say another word, with shoulders squared and head held high and the image of his taken aback, disgruntled expression seared into her head. Even if the anger swirled in her stomach and her skin was flushed with an indignant embarrassment as she curled her fingers into her palms, nails digging into her skin so her outrage didn’t lift her. Hate was a strong word, and while Nura didn’t feel it for the tattooed man behind her, she did feel it for the way he made her feel like she was lesser than.

*****

Pulling her hair out of the tight ponytail it had been in all day was something short of a sweet relief—she’d only feel completely relaxed when her bra was off, too. But for now, Nura settled for her dark hair falling around her shoulders as she ran her fingers through it, feeling the dull ache of a sore scalp as she approached the still open bar in the resort restaurant. It was late, nearly eleven at night, and most of the resort had cleared out save for the few guests milling around. Nura was off the clock, and that’s all that mattered.

“You look like you could use a drink,” the main bartender on duty, Riley, grinned from behind the bar, already fixing up a drink for her.

Nura huffed, leaning forward on the bar as he made the bourbon on the rocks. “Some toddler almost threw up on me. I think I prefer it when the snakes leave their kids at home.”

Riley sighed dreamily as he slid the cup over to her. “Don’t we all?”

Nura chuckled, raising the cup in silent cheers before taking a sip. Patting the bar top with her free hand, she told him, “I’m gonna get some fresh air. Thanks, Riley.”

He waved her off and she left the restaurant, walking towards the pool area. It was locked off to prevent guests from sneaking inside after hours for safety reasons, of course, but there was one gate that didn’t lock properly and maintenance never got around to fix it. The thought always made Nura scoff in contemptuous amusement, given the status of the resort and the lack of upkeep for this particular gate. But she never said anything, not when she could get into the area so easily. Not to mention the several blind spots from the security cameras.

Seriously. What were they paying millions of dollars per year for? The rich never failed to amuse her.

Nura settled down on a poolside chair, watching the pristine blue water ripple in front of her, glowing with the in-pool lights. The silent hum with the ever-present ocean waves was calming as she sipped her drink, arms resting on her knees and figure crouched forward as she sat. Nura loved sitting by the pool at night when no one was around, the usual busy hum of guests splashing and chattering away something that had gotten tiring very quickly. And with the dark sky above her, glittering with stars, it was a calming way to unwind before she headed back into her room to turn in.

“Drinking on the job?”

Nura prided herself in not letting out a startled scream at the sudden voice, head whipping to her right to follow the sound, sitting up straight when she saw Calum standing over her. He wore athletic shorts and a white and red shirt, right arm wrapped around the neck of the guitar she’d seen him playing the other day. Her heart had began racing, but calmed down when she realized there was no threat—not a physical one, anyway.

She pursed her lips, adopting a bland expression as she quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Do you see the company name anywhere on me?” she retorted tiredly, referencing to her lack of name tag that was now in the pocket of her pants. How did he even get in there?

Calum pursed his lips and Nura looked out towards the pool again, feeling her muscles tense in his presence. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, ever since she waited on his table for their private dinner. After her little confrontation with him in the hallway—which, frankly, she was surprised she hadn’t heard about from her boss—Nura had put on a smile for the rest of the table and didn’t stick around longer than necessary. Saying that she regretted giving Calum an earful would be a lie; something told her he didn’t have many people talk back to him the way she did, and doing so was as much for herself as it was for him. The guy needed to be brought down a peg or two, and although Nura couldn’t be sure it did the trick, it felt damn good to say what she wanted to.

The look on his face had been pretty fucking satisfying, too.

“Can I sit?”

Nura felt her eyebrows wanting to furrow together at Calum’s words, but she kept her expression blank as she lifted the cup up to her lips and plainly said, “You’re the guest.”

She heard him sigh quietly, exasperatedly, before sitting down on the poolside chair to her right as she took a long sip. A silence settled upon them, awkward and heavy and Nura held back from snapping at him for ruining her peace and quiet. Dozens of other chairs around the pool and he had to pick the one next to her. What damn game was he playing?

Nura looked down at her cup, the drink teasing her just as an unfamiliar scent overpowered the chlorine of the pool. Fresh, kind of citrusy, tickling her nose in a pleasant way. Nura bit the inside of her lower lip when she quickly realized it was whatever cologne Calum was wearing; fuck, of course he smelled good. Of course whatever designer perfumed he owned smelled like a fucking forest god or something. It only served to annoy Nura more.

“I wanted to apologize.” Her eyebrows drew together in a frown, not looking towards Calum as his words resonated in her ears. What? “For what I said the other day. I didn’t—I don’t think I’m better than anyone just because I have money.”

There was a tense discomfort in his voice as he spoke, particularly when he acknowledged whatever financial upper hand he had. Nura knew, instantly, she’d struck a nerve when she had thrown it in his face and, truthfully, she was surprised he was even making the move to apologize. She had dealt with many people on this resort, and most of of them never even considered apologizing to the staff for things said and done. And they were meant to just deal with it with smiles on their faces. 

Hearing Calum apologize, especially when he clearly felt so out of his element because of it, was refreshing. And Nura didn’t take that lightly.

“I’m also sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I got here.” Oh, he was still going. This time, Nura did look at him, brown eyes meeting apologetic brown, showing him that she was listening. The guitar was on his lap—he was practically hugging it, like a security blanket, which was oddly endearing—and his features had settled into soft solemnity. With a breathy, sheepish chuckle, he added, “I know I didn’t make the best first, second or third impression but I swear I’m not usually such a—”

“Self-righteous dick?” Nura supplied, unable to help herself and rolling her lips into her mouth, cheeks flushing. He was trying to apologize and she was basically insulting him.

But Calum let out another chuckle, this one more accepting as he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. Then his lips curled up a bit, a ghost of his signature smirk appearing as he added, “I mean, I’m a dick but not that shitty.”

That had her laughing lightly, some of the tension between them rising into the night sky, allowing Nura to relax slightly as she offered a shrug. It was weird, feeling even a little bit at ease around Calum, but she didn’t find herself minding it too much. “Well, I can be bitch but normally not to that extent.”

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Calum allowed his smirk to widen a bit as he said, “Dare I say we bring it out in each other?”

Nura scoffed with a single shake of her head. “If that’s true then there’s no hope for civility between us.”

Calum grinned a boyish, lower lip biting smile that was a bit too handsome on his face, and Nura took a sip of her drink when she noted the sharp lines of the crinkles by his otherwise soft, smiling eyes. “’S going well so far,” he pointed out as Nura swallowed the sip, watching as he raised the little red pick he’d been twirling between his fingers. “You mind if I. . ?”

“That depends,” Nura hummed, feeling the smirk tug at the corners of her lips. “Is it a free show?”

Calum’s eyes danced with a glimmer and Nura pretended it was a trick of the moonlight as his smirk returned and he sat the guitar properly on his lap. She tried not to focus on his biceps or the ink snaking around his arm as he returned smoothly, “On the house.”

Nura suppressed a laugh, though her smile remained as Calum returned it before his attention went the instrument on his lap. She watched his fingers place themselves in what she assumed were the right places—she knew nothing about instruments—before her gaze lifted ever so slightly to his face. His head was ducked, short dark hair unable to hide the concentration that settled on his features as he took a soft, almost inaudible breath—Nura heard it in the quiet of the poolside—before he began strumming.

The melody he played was soft, tranquil tune and Nura couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. The peace she thought Calum had destroyed with his presence was instantly returned with the gentle strum of his fingers, the rings on his fingers glinting with the movement against the pool lights and the moon above. She watched him; watched the way his attention was solely on what he was playing, the movement of his fingers, and the gentle bop of his head that went along with the tune. 

It didn’t go unnoticed how lost he looked in the music he was playing, and it wasn’t lost on Nura how he was creating magic with his fingers. She knew art when she saw it, when she heard it, and although she knew he was playing a song by Coldplay, he still played it beautifully and expertly. And the more he played, the more at ease Nura found herself being, finishing off her drink and leaning back on one hand as she listened to him. Not exactly how she thought she would end the night, but truthfully. . . She couldn’t complain. As surprised as she was, she couldn’t complain.

“Nura, is that you?”

The tune that had softly filled the night immediately ceased as both Calum and Nura looked up, and she felt her jaw tighten when she caught sight of Keith Holt, the pool supervisor, approach them. He was older than her, around thirty, with surfer style shaggy light brown hair and green eyes and a goatee that made him appear a lot older than he was. She felt her grip on the cup tighten, not entirely keen on being in his presence. Truth be told, Keith kind of creeped Nura out, especially since he’d asked her out last summer and she’d said no. 

“Hi, Keith,” she returned, hoping to keep the nonchalance in her tone as he stopped in front of them.

His gaze looked from her to Calum, eyebrows raising before looking back at her. “You know you’re not supposed to be out here after hours,” he pointed out, and just the tone of his voice had her biting her tongue. Like he was chastising a child with the teasing way he spoke in. Trying to be endearing but only coming off as. . . Creepy.

“Right, right, sorry. Won’t happen again,” Nura said, her words falling quickly as she stood up. The less she could be around Keith, the better. Nura then glanced down at Calum, who had been watching along silently, and she took note of the look in his dark eyes; observant, curious. Forcing a smile, Nura said, “Come on, Calum. We should go.”

Calum met her gaze and maybe he saw the mild urgency in her eyes, the tightness of her smile, and Nura was relieved he didn’t protest it as he nodded and stood up. He gave a nod to Keith, lips flat before saying, “Sorry ’bout that, man.”

Keith watched them with sharp eyes, and just as Nura turned to go, he said, “McNulty won’t be happy if he knew you were sneaking in guests to the pool.”

Nura paused, eyes squeezing shut in exasperation and annoyance, feeling the heat of Calum’s gaze on her profile as she refrained herself from snapping at Keith. Two things he always made Nura feel: discomfort and annoyance. Opening her eyes, she planted the sweetest smile she could muster, all too aware of Calum’s gaze as she looked over her shoulder at Keith and mused, “But he won’t know, will he? Please, Keith?”

She never felt guilty for using his strange likeness of her against him. Keith returned her smile, nodding as he said, “Only because it’s you.” Gross.

“Thank you, Keith,” Nura responded before offering him a wave and making her away out of the pool area.

Her and Calum walked in silence for a few moments, and Nura dropped the plastic cup in a recycle bin they were passing by, Calum broke their quiet by scoffing. “You must dislike that guy more than me—at least with me, you’re better at faking nice,” Calum said, a lightness coloring his tone to ease the tension Nura felt in her muscles.

It had worked, surprisingly. As they walked in the general direction of the staff suites in the building behind the pool area, Nura chuckled lightly. “Just get bad vibes from him,” she chose to say. Simple, but true. She saw Calum nod from her peripheral, one hand still securely holding his guitar as he hummed once in acknowledgment. Nura licked her lips, feeling the awkwardness creep in. “Your, uh, bungalow’s that way,” she found herself adding, gesturing towards the right.

Calum followed her gesture with his eyes before nodding, brown eyes flickering down to meet hers as they walked. “I know. Thought I’d walk you back just—you know, in case.”

The sentiment wasn’t spoken but it wasn’t lost on Nura, and though Calum quickly broke their gaze when he spoke, jaw clenching as he looked straight ahead, Nura still felt her heart pathetically skip a beat. The act of walking her back, just in case Keith decided to be a creep. . . It was sweet, far more than Nura thought he was capable of. 

Fuck, he’d just played the guitar for her by the pool. She was either delirious from her long shift, or she truly couldn’t make sense of reality.

They reached the door to her suite soon enough, and as Nura pulled out her keys, the corners of her lips tilted up as she offered Calum a smile. A real, genuine one she hadn’t given him before. “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, and although the kind tone she spoke to him in felt foreign, it didn’t feel wrong. As she unlocked the door, she added with a gentle smirk, “And the free show.”

At that, Calum’s lips split into a smirk of his own, cheeks pushed up and utterly boyish as he looked down at her. She didn’t miss the way his top teeth just barely grazed his lower lip before he said, “Next one’s gonna cost ya.”

Raising an eyebrow as she opened the door, Nura shot back, “When did I say I wanted another one?”

A mock expression of hurt crossed Calum’s face, sucking in a breath through O shaped lips before he clicked his tongue. “Alright, ouch. Thought we were good now, Nura.”

She smiled, playful and mischievous as she entered her suite, flicking the light on and turning to face Calum, who stood out in the hall. He had his eyebrows raised, waiting for her response, his short laugh echoing in the hallway when all Nura did was hum back, “Maybe,” before shutting the door to end the strange night.

*****

“Fuck,” Calum breathed out, using the towel to wipe the sweat he could feel running down his back as he and Luke exited the resort gym. His triceps, chest and quads had a delicious soreness in them after the workout he and Luke decided to take part in, water bottle nearly empty from downing it. Next to him, Luke chuckled as Calum added, “That felt good.”

“Much fucking needed,” Luke agreed, using his own towel to dab at his face, letting out a sigh of relief when they stepped out of the building and out into the night. The sun had long since set, the resort fluttering with the sounds of the waves and crickets chirping, and the mildly chilly breeze felt refreshing against their warmed, worn out skin. “Hey, is that Nura?”

Calum looked at Luke, noting his narrowed blue eyes looking off ahead, and Calum followed his gaze until his own landed on the woman in question. His eyebrows raised as he saw her, taking a second to recognize the dark haired woman in something other than the resort uniform he always saw her in. Calum’s footsteps slowed without really meaning to, eyes taking in the black skirt, heels, and bandeau top she wore so damn well as her long dark hair danced lightly in the breeze. Shit.

“Hey, Nura!” Calum blinked at Luke’s sudden call, watching as Nura looked the other way before finding the two men who were approaching her—Calum more reluctantly than his best friend. “You look ready for a night out.”

Nura smiled as she took a few steps towards them as well, fingers playing with the chain of the purse that hung off her shoulder. “I am,” she confirmed and Calum distracted himself by pulling his shorts up higher on his waist and checking the time on his phone. Anything to keep himself from letting his gaze linger too long on the pretty woman in front of him. “A couple of the staff and I are going to this club a few blocks away.”

“Really?” Luke hummed, eyebrows raising and Calum had to only glance at him briefly to know what was coming next, an excited glimmer in his blue eyes. His smirk returned, a dimple popping. “Which one?”

Calum wasn’t surprised when about an hour and a half later, he ended up with his friends at the club Nura had mentioned. It wasn’t how Calum had expected the night to go after his gym session with Luke, but he hadn’t been surprised when his friends had immediately agreed to Luke’s proposal of going out, and as soon as everyone was ready, they were piling into Ubers and heading over.

Calum sat in the middle of the U-shaped couch, the table in front of him holding bottles and glasses that glimmered against the strobing blue and purple lights that flickered with the beat of music. Green laser lights flashed against Calum’s eyes every few minutes, but at this point, he’d become accustomed as he sipped from his Negroni, licking his lips as he lowered the glass and let his gaze wander.

His friends were around him, Luke and Sierra on their feet as they danced in their VIP section, singing along to the music while the rest of them remained seated on the couch. It was busy in the club, unsurprising given that it was a weekend as well as the summer, and still Calum found his gaze searching through the silhouettes of people in the dancing crowd or by the bar, trying to catch sight of the familiar face he knew to be there.

He stood eventually, feeling the mild strain in his muscles as he did so, letting out a soft grunt as he decided that he needed to stretch his legs. And if he happened to see Nura somewhere in the crowd, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Calum sipped his drink as he moved around, avoiding as many people as he could from rubbing up against him, shoulders shifting and moving along the wall as he went. His leather jacket stuck to his body, the heat of the club and the dozens of bodies around him only contributing to the warmth he felt, but Calum didn’t mind much—especially not when his eyes finally landed on who he was searching for.

He stopped where he stood, catching sight of Nura leaning by the bar and before he knew it, Calum was making his way over. He shouldered his way through, large frame giving him an advantage to move forward. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so adamant on seeing her, but his feet were moving without much thought and before he knew it, he was right by the bar, up to her left.

Nura seemed to be trying to get the bartender’s attention, and Calum licked his lips after taking a sip of his drink, arms folding on the bar. She didn’t notice him yet, an exasperated sigh escaping her when the bartender once again evaded her, and Calum smirked lightly. “We’ve got bottle service if you’re sick of waiting.”

She glanced over at him, eyebrows lifting in realization before she let out a gentle scoff. Nura stood straight, left hand on her hip and the other braced against the bar as she tilted her head up at him. “Then what’re you doing here?” she rebutted.

Calum looked down at her, doing his best to keep his gaze fixated on her glimmering dark eyes—never daring to go lower in fear of focusing too much on her red lips. She looked gorgeous, and although her eyelashes were long and her face was glittering with makeup, Calum knew she looked stunning all of the time. Hair tied back or loose around her shoulders, face full of makeup or completely bare—Calum could easily admit that Nura was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. Ironic, given how much of a dick he’d been to her.

His people skills had definitely taken a hit lately.

Calum smirked at Nura, shrugging one shoulder as he easily responded, “Rescuing you.”

She scoffed almost incredulously, an amused smile lifting her lips as she locked her gaze with his. “From what?” Nura challenged, narrowing her eyes slightly. “A life without access to the advantages of money? So kind of you, Cal.”

Though her words themselves were sharp, Nura spoke them playfully, a glimmer in her eyes that told him she was just teasing. And while Calum would’ve been insulted before, he merely rolled his eyes at her, pursing his lips before returning, “You gotta be a dick about it?”

Nura grinned, a laugh escaping her as Calum scoffed out a smile as well. She pressed her smiling lips together, glancing over her shoulders and Calum recognized just a few of the faces as some of the staff at the resort, and Nura looked back at him. He saw the hesitant turn her smile took before she gave him a shake of her head. “Thanks for the offer, Calum, but we’re, uh, fine here,” she finally said, a kindness in her tone to show her appreciation for his offer. 

Calum leaned back ever so slightly as he inhaled a small, albeit surprised breath. He hadn’t entirely expected for her to reject the offer, no matter how nicely she’d done it. Calum had become all too used to people jumping on the offer of joining a table he’d bought, too used to being used for the advantages of the size of his bank account. Most people Calum had encountered only ever associated him with what he could do for them, mostly when it came to footing the bill. And while he didn’t at all mind doing it for his closest friends—especially because they never asked him to, always either offered or ended up paying for themselves—Calum had, at one point, become numb in doing it for others. He kind of expected to just do it, because others expected it from him.

Now when he was voluntarily offering to do it for someone else—someone he didn’t really know—the logical rejection had his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and curiosity. “Are you sure?” he found himself asking.

Nura nodded, waving him off. “Yeah, we’ve already got a tab going and, uh, you know—” she paused, gaze taking him in before her brown eyes lifted to meet his. “—staff and guests shouldn’t really fraternize.”

Calum raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by her reasoning. “We’re not on resort grounds.”

She let out a short laugh, gaze averting as she gave a shake of her head before looking at him once more. With a pointed raise of her eyebrow and jut of her chin, Nura finished meaningfully, “Go back to your friends, Calum.”

He did, reluctantly and with a frown on his face, because Calum had a feeling that Nura’s guest and staff mingling reasoning was some type of bullshit—and that her real reason had something to do with her previous comment about the advantages of being in the VIP section.

Calum scoffed to himself as he took a sip of his drink and continued back to where his friends were. He was so used to people throwing themselves at him because of his money—fuck, had a whole relationship based off of it. And now, in the face of someone who actually rejected his offer because of it, Calum kind of felt at a loss. 

Though, because it was Nura, he shouldn’t be surprised. That woman wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever met. And although her comments, at first, had pricked his skin the wrong way, his mind had started to change. As he settled back down on the couch next to Kaykay, his thoughts seemed louder than the deafening music and busy hum of the club. Nura was unlike many of the people he’d encountered in his life, and that suddenly wasn’t such a bad thing.

Around forty minutes and two drinks later, Calum was leaving the bathroom, back pressing against the wall as a group of girls giggled past him as the upbeat music of the club was no longer muffled. His face scrunched as he air dried his hands, no paper towels available in the bathroom and the machine was out of service, and just as he turned the corner to enter the main part of the club, Calum came across a sight that had him slowing down, eyebrows knitting together as he watched Nura in conversation with that guy from the pool the other day. Keith, he vaguely remembered.

Except it didn’t seem to look like a conversation Nura was particularly enjoying, Keith’s figure easily looming over her shorter stature as she frowned up at him, shaking her head as she talked animatedly. The other night, Calum hadn’t been blind to the quick escape Nura had made from Keith at the pool, remembered how she had said she got “bad vibes” from the guy, and it only had an alarm bell ringing through Calum’s head when his sharp eyes caught Keith’s hand reach out to grab Nura’s, who instinctively pulled hers away.

She had said earlier she didn’t need rescuing, but Calum couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away knowing Nura wasn’t comfortable with the guy.

“Hey, Nura,” Calum smoothly stepped up to her left, catching the way she instantly looked up at him with raised eyebrows, the surprise evident in her features. She expertly wiped it off as Calum’s dark eyes met hers, an easy smile on his face as he jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “Everyone’s lookin’ for you at the table.”

Nura’s red lips parted in realization, eyes shining with relief before she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, sorry—I was just coming to you guys,” she answered. Then, looking back at Keith, who was watching them with a frown and an irritated look Calum didn’t care for much, Nura told him, “Like I said, Keith, I’m here with friends and I’m not really in the mood to leave yet.”

Calum’s jaw tightened at her words, fighting to keep the easy smile on his face though he felt his fingers curling into the palm of his hand as he realized Keith’s intentions. He stood still, feet planted in place and giving no dancing body around him the power to push into him. He wouldn’t move until Nura was going with him.

Keith looked between the two of them, failing to ease the smile he wore as he asked Nura, “Are you sure? We could—”

“I’m good, Keith,” Nura cut him off pointedly, and Calum’s lips twitched into an annoyed curl at Keith’s insistence. She was already turning away as she added, “I’ll see you later.”

Calum’s brown eyes lifted to meet Keith’s green, unapologetic about the warning glare that crossed his features as Keith’s lips thinned. Nura’s hand then grabbed Calum’s leather clad arm and was pulling him away, releasing him once they were somewhat engulfed in the crowd and over the music, she shouted to Calum, “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” Calum responded, feeling the tension in his muscles ease now that they were away from Keith. This time, Calum grasped her arm, his touch light on her warm skin, ducking his head slightly as Nura looked up at him. “But, seriously, Nura—you and your friends should join us.”

Her lips parted, ready to object. “But—”

Rolling his eyes, Calum cut her off with a wave of his free hand. “Look, I know you don’t want to take advantage of my money after shitting on it so much, but I insist.”

He watched the way her jaw slackened in amused incredulity, staring up at him as a short bout of laughter escaped her and he grinned, knowing he’d caught her off guard. Nura grinned and Calum desperately tried to keep his gaze away from the way her tongue trailed across her lower lip, raising his eyebrows expectantly as she considered his offer with an averted gaze.

Finally, she let out a groan, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as she gave in, “Alright, fine, fine.”

Calum grinned triumphantly, unable to stop himself from draping his arm around Nura’s shoulders to guide her towards their table as she pulled out her phone to let her friends know where to go. 

At one point of the night, when Nura was two margaritas in and was sitting in one corner of the couch, she felt someone sit down to her left and glanced to see Luke settling in, head leaning back and long legs spread. She feared someone would trip on them, given that almost everyone was on their feet, drinking and dancing.

With an amused chuckle escaping her, Nura asked him, “You good?”

“I’m great,” Luke answered with a chuckle, dimples shadowing his features, splashed in the purple and blue lights of the club. Sitting up properly, he offered her a smile. “Thanks for showing us this place—it’s awesome.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Nura laughed lightly, glancing forward to see Ashton pour Elaine and Willa another drink. “Thanks for my showing my friends and I how the VIPs roll,” she added with a teasing grin, earning a laugh from Luke in return.

“Your first time?” he questioned and when Nura nodded, Luke laced his fingers together, sitting forward with his arms resting on his thighs. “Yeah, I remember mine—it was ’cause of Cal, actually. He knew I wanted to go to a Laker’s game for my eighteenth birthday and couldn’t afford to go and he knew, like, I was incapable of accepting a court side ticket, even if it was for my birthday. He ended up getting tickets for all of us just so I had a great birthday.” Luke scoffed with a smile, shaking his head as he leaned back. “He’s a good friend, no doubt about it.”

Nura listened to him intently, unable to help the way her eyebrows raised slightly at Luke’s story. Court side tickets to an NBA game weren’t cheap and although Nura knew Calum had money, the fact that he would get several tickets for all of his friends just so Luke could have a good birthday had her heart warming. She sipped her drink after a soft “wow,” escaped her, chewing on the straw as she acknowledged the small bit of guilt she felt pool in the pit of her stomach for calling Calum out about his money. She didn’t entirely regret it, given how their first few interactions had went, but Luke’s story only confirmed a thought that had been brewing in Nura’s mind: Crystal had been right, that night in the bathroom. Calum was proving himself to be not as bad as Nura had originally thought, especially when he pulled her away from Keith and had her and her friends join him and his friends.

She had always prided herself in reading people with the job she had; maybe, just this once, she was just a little bit wrong.

*****

Her room smelled like Chinese food and rain, and Nura loved every bit of it. Having woken up a couple of hours ago, she showered off last night’s booze stench and as she put on  her lounge shorts—pajamas on top for the few minutes she took to pray—

and an oversized Queen shirt, she ordered Chinese food enough to feed a family of four. It was her day off—which was one of the few reasons why she had decided to go out last night—and she fully intended on sitting in her bed with her food with Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the TV right across.

Until a knock sounded on her door.

She sighed exasperatedly, her food already spread out on a tray on the bed, and got off the bed, blinking in surprise when she opened it and there stood Calum. “What’re you doing here?” Nura asked, eyebrows raised before they knitted together. “Did you walk in the rain?”

Calum, with his hands buried in the pockets of the black rain jacket he wore, responded with a dry smile as he responded sarcastically, “Oh, good afternoon to you, too, Nura. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

She pressed her lips together briefly, expression deadpanning before she stepped to the side and let him in. It wasn’t like it was down pouring outside—which was why she didn’t feel bad about ordering takeout—but the drizzling still had Calum’s dark hair wet, as well as his jacket. “Good afternoon, Calum,” Nura stated, a sweet smile gracing her lips that had Calum scoffing as she gestured for him to take off his jacket. “What’re you doing here?”

What could possibly have made him cross half of the resort to get to her room? Especially in the rain? She raised her eyebrow at him as she hung his jacket on the row of hooks behind the door, facing him with her arms crossing over her chest.

Was she imagining the sheepish expression that softened his features, hand raising to run through the short strands of his wet, dark hair as he let out a chuckle. “I just, uh,” Calum paused, clearing his throat before settling for a small, boyish smile. “Wanted to check in on you, after last night. How’s the hangover treating you?”

Nura felt her lips part ever so slightly at his words, expression relaxing into a subtle surprise at the thoughtfulness he was displaying. All of them had gotten pretty drunk last night, a time well spent, and she remembered Calum, Michael, and Crystal walking her back to her room before they went to theirs. She also remembered throwing up last night—fortunately she’d made it to the toilet—and had brushed her teeth thoroughly before taking a shower and deciding to order her favorite hangover food.

Calum didn’t have to come to check on her, especially when it was raining, but it was an unexpected gesture she felt warming her heart as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m actually about to dig into some hangover food,” Nura laughed lightly, gesturing to the bed where the Chinese spread was laid out. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth, considering her next words carefully. Technically, Calum shouldn’t even be in her room. Nura was well aware of that. She was also well aware of how she didn’t want to kick him out. So she smiled up at him and asked, “Care to join?”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up, gaze flickering to the bed before resting on her once more, unsurely. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to, like, show up and—”

She cut him off with a roll of her eyes, turning to go back to her bed and giving him no chance but to follow. He joined her as he sat next to her at the head of the bed, back against the headboard and Nura leaned down to open the mini fridge by the wall. “Water or Coke?” she asked him as she felt the mattress shift under her while he settled.

“Water, thanks,” Calum responded, taking the bottle from her before chuckling at the spread. Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked, “Do you always order this much food?”

“When I’m hungover? Hell yeah,” Nura chuckled, quickly pressing play on the TV before picking up the container of white rice and putting some on her paper plate.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they helped themselves to the food and watched the show play on TV, and as she leaned back against her pillows, legs crossed and plate in her hand, Nura couldn’t help but think how strangely this situation had progressed. She didn’t make a habit of having resort guests in her suite—in fact, it never happened. She kept her distance, especially since many of the ones she encountered were people Nura was fine with never seeing again. It wasn’t lost on her how Calum had been one of those type of guests when he first arrived.

But something had changed that night at the pool, where they’d been able to be civil to one another for more than a few seconds after Calum had apologized for the things he had said and the way he had acted. No longer was he another guest with some kind of superiority complex the amount of money he had gave him, nor was he the asshole who tried to get under Nura’s skin on purpose. Things had shifted between them without Nura truly being able to comprehend the moment it happened, but now that it had, she couldn’t complain. Hanging out with guests on company property wasn’t allowed, and Nura wasn’t a risk taker, and yet. . . She didn’t want to kick him out of the room. Especially when he made the little noises that came with the opening theme of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

It felt easy, sitting in her room, eating Chinese and watching one of her favorite shows. Calum had taken off his shoes, legs crossed as he ate the shrimp lo-mein, a comfortable silence between them only broken by the TV and the gentle rainfall that had surprised them. Nura didn’t care that she probably looked like a bum, too comfortable in her clothes and her hair falling messily around her shoulders, even though the guy next to her looked unsurprisingly good even if he was in only a pair of athletic shorts and a shirt. She was definitely not checking out the way the muscles of his tattooed arm flexed whenever he reached for his water bottle.

Nura quickly focused on her attention on the show, watching the episode play out. And in her purposefully sought out distraction, she’d momentarily forgotten who she was sitting next to, and after swallowing a bite of her food absently murmured out, “I would totally hook up with young Scully.”

Calum’s short, incredulous laugh pulled her into reality, and Nura’s face flushed in realization as she shoved another forkful of rice and orange chicken into her mouth. She was surprised, then, when Calum hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Really? I’d go for young Hitchcock. He’s got nice hair.”

Nura blinked before looking at Calum, face scrunched up in skeptical confusion. “You’d go for him because he’s got nice hair?” she repeated dubiously, scoffing with a shake of her head despite Calum’s defensive slackened jaw. “That’s not a reason to get with someone!”

His lips parted, incoherent protesting exclaims escaping him before he gestured to the TV with a challenging furrow of his brows. “Why do you wanna get with Scully?”

“Because!” Nura started, earning an expectant raise of eyebrows from Calum as he gestured with a shake of his head for her to continue, and Nura rolled her smiling lips into her mouth as the laugh threatened to escape. She pushed herself further into her headboard before admitting, “He’s got a nice jawline. And he’s taller than Hitchcock.”

Calum’s expression fell flat, before his dark eyes narrowed almost comedically and he rebuked, “So basically my reason isn’t as superficial as yours?”

Her cheeks heated up before she waved him off, looking towards the TV once more and saying, “Shut up, watch the show,” which only earned a laugh from him.

They continued watching in silence, the food slowly lessening as they kept eating. By the time the next episode started, Nura was full and Calum was asking her, “Did you read all of these?” She glanced over, catching him looking at the five novels piled on the bedside table, picking up the top one. It was her favorite book, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Nura hummed in confirmation and as Calum opened the book and flipped through the pages, let out a soft, incredulous breath. “Shit—not a page left unmarked, huh?”

She laughed after taking a sip of her Coke. “That’s my favorite book—have you read it?” When Calum gave a shake of his head, eyes still taking in her writing in the margins and the highlights, Nura continued, “You should. It’s beautiful. And the marks are just how I read.” She chuckled lightly. “The dream’s to work in the editing field of a publishing firm. Reading new stories all day from all kinds of people is, like, the perfect way to spend my time.”

Calum looked at her upon hearing her words, eyebrows raising in surprise and what Nura thought was a hint of admiring as his lips curled into a smile. He nodded, smile soft and warm that sent a flutter ripple through Nura’s stomach. “That’s pretty cool, Nura,” he said. 

“Thanks,” she returned, unable to keep the smile off her face. Whether it was because of Calum or the topic at hand, she couldn’t be sure. For her own sanity, she chalked it up to the latter. “I worked as an editorial intern the past two years during the school year, so that really helped with my resume. I’m hoping to hear back from a couple of places I applied to soon. With any luck, this’ll be my last summer working here.”

“I’m sure you’ll get loads of acceptances,” Calum nodded, voice holding a kind of sincerity she hadn’t heard before as he put the book back down.

Nura twisted her lips to the side briefly before offering, “Do you wanna borrow the book? I mean, if you’ve got free time to read since you’re, like, here for a while.”

Calum glanced at the copy before raising an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, a bit too quickly, before smiling. “Yeah, totally. Just don’t drop it in the ocean.”

He scoffed out a laugh, grin showing off those crinkles by his eyes Nura found too adorable. “Yeah, thanks,” he agreed before pushing up from the bed, raising an eyebrow at her. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Nura hummed, gesturing to the door off on the left that Calum soon disappeared behind. She leaned back against the headboard once more with a happy sigh, no longer trying to make sense of this situation as she watched the show play in front of her. Though, that only lasted for a few moments as knocking on the front door interrupted her. She paused the TV before heading over, jaw instantly tightening as she mentally chastised herself for opening the door.

“How can I help you, Keith?” Nura asked, hoping she kept the heavy disdain out of her voice as much as possible. She hadn’t forgotten last night when he had tried to get her to leave the club with him, only ceasing his insistence when Calum had swept in to pull her away. That rescue, she was appreciative of.

“Hi, Nura,” he returned with that smile of his that never settled well with her. His hands were clasped behind his back as he looked down at her. Unlike Calum, he looked like a wet dog because of the rain. “Something about last night has been bothering me.” She quirked an eyebrow; was he going to apologize for being so pushy? “That guy you were talking to last night—isn’t he a guest here?”

Nura stared up at him, bewildered and taken aback at his question. That’s what was bothering him? Her grip on the door handle tightened, shoulders squaring and chin lifting as she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Yes,” she answered, albeit slightly hesitantly. Her stomach twisted, not liking where this was going. 

Keith hummed with his lips pressed together, eyebrows raising, and expression reading one of I hate to do this to you, but. . . “You know employees aren’t allowed to mingle with guests like that, Nura.”

Was he fucking serious? Nura didn’t think it was possible for him to get more annoying, and yet he was proving her wrong. She fought from letting her aggravation show on her features, keeping them as neutral as possible as she calmly responded, “Yeah, but we weren’t on company property, Keith.” She saw the corner of his lips twitch in annoyance. She knew she was right, and his desire to seek her out and try to make some power move over her only fueled her dislike of him. “And it’s not like I was the only one there. Have you talked to the other employees I was with? Or am I the only one on your agenda?”

Keith scoffed through his nose, looking down at her with a miffed curl of his lips. “I was getting to them,” he said, voice slightly strained, and Nura wanted to laugh. Bullshit. He was only ever going to try and hold it over her head. “If you’re seen entertaining the guests in more than a professional capacity, I’m afraid I’ll have to report you to McNulty.”

Nura’s jaw slackened at his words, staring up at him in disbelief with an angry knot tightening in her stomach. Her grip on the door handle tightened, the metal digging into her palm as she pressed her teeth together and exhaled through her nose. He was threatening her. The son of a bitch was actually threatening her because she was, what, becoming friends with some of the guests? As opposed to normally wanting to be as far away from them as possible and cursing them out behind their back?

She was too speechless to say anything in return, to tell him to shut the fuck up or mind his own damn business, and Keith merely smiled at her and said, “Have a good one, Nura.”

She stared at the space where he stood for a brief moment until her thoughts kicked in and Nura slammed the door shut with an aggravated grunt. “What the fuck,” she muttered through strained teeth, fingers running through her hair as she stepped away from the door.

“Shit—was that because of me?”

Nura’s breath caught in her throat, momentarily forgetting of the man that had been in her bathroom until she caught sight of Calum, leaning against the wall on his left shoulder and a frown on his face. Nura licked her lips, hands clasped behind her back as she leaned against the wall opposite of him. She saw the downturn of his lips, looking bothered by the conversation he had just overheard.

“No,” Nura answered with a sigh, giving a shake of her head. She saw the guilt that caused him to chew his lower lip and she found herself wanting to get rid of it. “That was just Keith. . . Being a piece of shit.”

“Are you sure?” Calum asked, frown deepening. He crossed his arms and Nura’s gaze flickered briefly at the way his biceps became more apparent, the tattoos only making her throat dry. “He sounded pretty—”

“Petty? Bitter?” Nura supplied with a scoff. She rolled her eyes, looking off towards the window. The awning above her window prevented the rain from getting into the room, working with the screen on the window itself. The sound of rain only served to calm her now irritated nerves. “I’m not gonna stop being friends with you just because he’s unjustifiably jealous.”

Calum raised his eyebrows at her and Nura saw the ghost of a smirk curl at his lips. With a subtle tilt of his head, he asked teasingly, “We’re friends now?”

Nura felt her cheeks heat up, smile turning shy and embarrassed as she pressed her palms against the wall behind her. Friends may be pushing it, but Nura believed that they were getting there. She definitely didn’t find him as rude and terrible as she had before, the change more or less slapping her in the face. But whatever they were now, it was far from annoying guest and disgruntled employee. His gaze felt heavy, playful, and Nura melted under it. Feigning confidence with a life of her chin, she shot back, “I took full advantage of your bottle service last night; yes, we’re friends.”

Calum laughed at that, grin wide and real and showing off those crinkles and annoyingly perfect white teeth. His laugh held a rasp that sent a shiver down her spine as he ducked his head, nodding along in agreement. When his head lifted, brown eyes meeting her own, Nura felt a calmness in her chest, a flutter in her stomach especially when he confirmed, “Right. We’re friends.”

*****

Nura had seen a ghost. Or, at least, that’s what she looked like.

Calum watched her from where he sat at the table with Kaykay and Ashton, eyebrows knitting together behind his sunglasses as he watched her listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone call she’d taken. He saw it in the way her lips parted, shoulders rising and falling with the quick breaths she’d began taking and how she had reached behind her to grip the guard railing around the outdoor section of the restaurant. Her ponytail danced in the wind but it didn’t do anything to hide the alarmed expression painted across her face.

It wasn’t his business, he knew it wasn’t, but the way she pocketed her phone and ran a hand down her chin, looking around with a panicked gaze before her quick feet took her to the inside the restaurant had a worried knot forming in Calum’s stomach. Before he knew it, he was pushing back his chair and was on his feet, barely hearing Ashton’s, “Where’re you going?”

Calum only granted him and Kaykay with an absent, “Be right back,” already halfway into the restaurant.

He folded his sunglasses on the neckline of his shirt and looked around, not even acknowledging the other guests on different tables as his eyes searched for Nura. He found her talking to the guy he recognized as the manager, who put a hand on her shoulder and nodded at her, a look of reassurance on her face. Nura was quick to nod, hands reaching behind her to untie the knot of her apron as she handed it to him and began making her way towards the exit.

Calum moved quickly, following her as his eyebrows drew together, his longer legs allowing him to get in front of her with a hasty, “Nura, hey—are you okay?”

Nura stopped short, her gaze lifting to meet his, and up close Calum saw the panic and mild fear swirling in her dark irises that only had his worried frown deepening. Her eyebrows drew together, the distress clear in her features as she let out a sharp breath. “Yeah, I just—” Her throat worked, licking her lips as she glanced away briefly. “My mom’s sick—she has, uh, a bad case of the stomach flu and I’m just really worried, y’know? It’s just her and my brother back home and I, uh, I need to go see her.”

Calum pressed his lips together, feeling a weight settle on his chest as he took in her hoarse voice, thick with concern. She looked out of it, which Calum understood as he asked, “You’re gonna drive back?”

“No, I’m gonna fucking take a magic carpet, Calum.” He clamped his mouth shut, her words as sharp as her voice and, again, he understood. He kept his gaze on her, eyes soft and features worried, and Nura squeezed her eyes shut as she brought her hands up and covered her face, a soft groan muffled in her palms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—shit.” She dropped her hands, sad eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m driving, why?”

Despite her snapping at him, Calum hadn’t really carefully considered the next few words that tumbled out of his mouth, rushing them out in an uncharacteristic ramble, “Let me drive you—I mean, it’s none of my business but I just—I don’t want you on the road by yourself when you’re so worried about your mom, y’know? I can take you. Let me help.”

It sounded so stupid once the words were out of his mouth, and although Calum’s intentions were purely just for the purpose of wanting to be there for Nura, he understood how they could be misinterpreted. But, shit, seeing her so worried, so frazzled, had his heart leaping out of his chest and he wanted to be able to do something. This had nothing to do with him, but he wanted to help, wanted to be there for her.

Nura gaped up at him, completely taken aback by his offer, eyes holding nothing but disbelief. Half of him expected her to tell him to fuck off, so he was pleasantly surprised when all she did was stammer out a bewildered, “I—no, Calum. You don’t have to. Y-You’re on vacation. Why would you even—”

“Because, uh, you gave me a really good book to read.” He said it with a soft smile, a real smile, and at this point he was willing to give her any reason or excuse in the book if it meant she would accept his help. He still had so much time left on his vacation, what was a little time away from the resort if it meant making sure Nura and her family were okay?

They’d become friends over the past two weeks, and Calum had a bit of a habit of going above and beyond for his friends.

Nura scoffed slightly, lips just barely curling up in a smile she couldn’t afford right now. He didn’t want her to smile if she couldn’t. Not when her mom was sick. “It’d be a three day thing, Calum. I’ll be running around doing errands for my mom and—”

“And I’ll help you with them,” Calum cut in, his words earning a skeptical eyebrow raise from Nura. His shoulders dropped, thinning his lips at her as he told her dryly, “I can help you.”

“You’ll help me or pay someone to help?” Nura retorted and Calum was glad even in a tense, worrisome moment such as this, she still found it in herself to joke around. Even if it was at his expense. At this point, her poking fun at him for his financial status was something he truly found amusing. It was way better than her taking advantage of it.

“I’ll help you,” he said with a roll of his eyes. When Nura rolled her lips into her mouth, seemingly considering his words, Calum dropped his chin and raised his eyebrows at her, silently encouraging her to say yes. “Let me come with you.”

Her dark eyes met his, looking as if she was searching for something in his gaze. Whatever she found, she must have liked because she finally dropped her shoulders and sighed with a nod. “Okay.”

The two and a half hour drive to Homestead was filled with Nura’s playlist playing in the car, a variety of songs Calum approved of as he lowly sang along to them. Nura didn’t talk much in the car, opting to stare out the window and chew on her unpainted nails, only speaking up when she told him a faster, easier route than what the GPS dictated. Calum didn’t mind her silence, though he hoped she wasn’t letting the worry consume her, knowing there was no real way he could stop it from happening.

His friends had been surprised in his new plan, but none of them tried to talk him out of it. Not like Calum expected them to; they’d all come to really like Nura and thought it was sweet of Calum to help her out in whatever way he could. Nura had just looked too overwhelmed, too scared for Calum to let her go on her own. 

When they finally pulled into the driveway of a one story house in a cul-de-sac, Nura broke the silence as she turned off the music in the car. As they unbuckled their seatbelts, Calum felt her gaze on him before she commented, “You’ve got a nice voice.” He looked at her and she smiled. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“It’s just—” Calum stammered and he felt something heat up his cheeks. Since when did he fall over his words? “Just in the car and the shower.”

Nura’s smile was sweet, words sweeter, “You’re really good.”

She got out of the car then, and Calum let out a slow exhale as he followed her actions, glancing up at the bright blue sky and wondering when his heart learned to skip a beat or two. They grabbed their duffels out of the car and Calum followed her up to the front door after handing her the keys, which she then used to unlock the door and step inside. 

Just as the door opened, Calum heard a woman’s voice from inside call out, “Nura, is that you?”

“Yeah, Mama,” Nura called back and as Calum shut the door, she toed off her shoes by the corner and he followed her lead, placing his Docs properly with the other sandals and sneakers already there. He then looked over to the living room to the immediate right, caught sight of a woman who had apparently been lying down on the couch sit up as Nura dropped her bag on the floor and walked over, “Asalamalaikum.”

Nura’s mother stood up, dressed in a printed tunic and leggings as she smiled and returned, “Walaikumasalam,” before putting her arms out so Nura could walk into her mother’s hug. He saw Mrs. Ansari close her eyes as she hugged Nura, a smile on her tired face as she said something in a foreign language.

“I’m good,” Nura answered her before pulling away, which was when Mrs. Ansari’s eyes landed on Calum, who was lingering in the entrance a bit too awkwardly. He felt out of place, the strap of his duffel feeling heavy on his shoulder as he offered a small smile. At her mother’s questioning look, Nura said, “Oh, Mama, this is Calum. He drove me here.”

Mrs. Ansari blinked in confusion as she looked at Nura. “Why didn’t you drive yourself?”

Nura scoffed. “Because I was basically in a catatonic state after finding out you were sick. Calum offered to come with me.”

Mrs. Ansari shot her daughter a flat look at the first part of her statement, but then her lips lifted into a kind smile as she looked at Calum. “It’s nice to meet you Calum. Thank you for accompanying Nura.”

He felt some of the awkward tension in his muscles ease as he returned her smile, chuckling lightly. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Ansari. And, really, it was no problem.” His eyes met Nura’s as he added. “It was the right thing to do.”

Mrs. Ansari’s smile widened before stepping back and gesturing to the couch. “Please, come sit,” she said to him before settling on the smaller couch by the window. 

Calum walked further into the living room, taking note of the pictures on the wall. Many of them of Nura, especially when she was younger, with a boy who he figured was her brother and lots of family photos of them with their parents. But Nura hadn’t mentioned her father, and if he was still in the pictures put up on the wall, Calum could only correctly imagine where he was.

“So, Mama,” Nura said, settling on the three seater couch that Calum sat on the other end of, putting his bag down as Nura focused on her mother. “Kya hua? Bilal said you’ve been sick for a few days? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, beta,” Mrs. Ansari said with a click of her tongue, as if she hadn’t wanted Nura’s brother telling her. “The doctor prescribed me antibiotics and I’m getting a lot of rest. I’m not contagious anymore, which is good, Alhamdulillah, but I’ve just been feeling a lot of weakness.”

Calum noted the worry on Nura’s features, in the furrow of her eyebrows as she looked at her mom. “Is it getting any better with the medicine?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ansari nodded, shifting so she had brought her legs up on the couch, back resting against the arm rest as she faced Nura and Calum. “Really, baby, I should be fine in a few days. You didn’t have to come.”

“I was worried,” Nura told her. “I’m staying for the weekend, okay?” When Mrs. Ansari opened her mouth to protest, Nura shook her head. “No, Mama. I already told them I’d be here and I have lots of personal days so it’s fine. Deal with it.”

Calum felt his lips curl up slightly in amusement as Mrs. Ansari let out a sigh with a roll of her eyes. Clearly she wasn’t the type who particularly liked being fussed over. “Acha, fine.” Then she glanced at Calum before looking back at her daughter and gesturing to the kitchen. “Oh, go get him some water or something. Don’t just sit there.”

Nura’s face scrunched up, looking over at Calum who had rolled his lips into his mouth. Nura scoffed, telling her mom, “He can get it himself.”

He suppressed the chuckle. He should’ve seen that one coming—why should she have to serve him in her own home when she already did so at the resort? Except Mrs. Ansari didn’t see it that way, clicking her tongue as she warned, “Nura.”

Rolling her eyes with a huff, Nura stood up reluctantly. “Fine,” she grumbled, shooting Calum a sharp look as she walked past him, only to stop before facing her mom again. “If you’re not contagious anymore, I’ll sleep with you so Calum can have my bed.” Mrs. Ansari nodded and Nura shifted her gaze to him, raising an eyebrow. “Hope you’re okay with downgrading to a full sized bed.”

Calum scowled after her, shaking his head at her dig before looking back at Mrs. Ansari, letting himself smile at the woman watching him. She then sat up, voice coating with curiosity as she spoke up. “Nura said you were friends—do you work at the resort, too?”

Calum’s lips parted, half feeling the need to give into the lie. But he quickly talked himself out of that useless point, fingers laced together as he let out an almost sheepish chuckle. “Oh, no. I’m, uh, actually staying there with a few of my friends. I met Nura on my first day there.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Ansari sounded, eyebrows raising in intrigue. She tilted her head before asking, “And you left to accompany Nura?” Calum’s throat worked, not entirely sure if she approved of his actions or not. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. No doubt it was strange that her daughter arrived to help out with a man she hadn’t seen before. It probably looked fucking weird, but Calum didn’t regret it. So he nodded quietly, felt something ease in him when Mrs. Ansari smiled and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

He returned her grin just as Nura reappeared, a tall glass of water in her hand that she begrudgingly offered him. His smile only widened, finding the pout puckering her lips really fucking adorable. With a tick of her head, she said, “I’ll show you to your room for the weekend.”

Just a few moments later, Calum was stepping inside Nura’s bedroom, utterly neat and minimalistic in every aspect. The bed was perfectly made, bright green plants in one corner of the room, a study desk opposite of the bed and a bookshelf filled to the brim with books—which was not at all surprising to him. To the left of the door they’d walked through was a dressing table, only a few makeup and belongings on top as Calum remembered most of them being in Nura’s suite back at the resort. The walls were a pastel mauve color, so light he had to squint to see it, and the floor free of carpet, the wood sleek under his sock clad feet. There was a picture frame on the single bedside table next to the lamp and alarm clock, a photo of a younger Nura with a man he recognized from the other pictures in the living room. Her dad, Calum could tell. Same eyes, same nose.

As he carefully put his duffel down on the floor next to the bed, Calum turned to see Nura leaning against the wall by the door, eyes on him. She was watching him intently, a small smile teasing the corner of her lips, and Calum raised his eyebrows under her gaze. Did he look out of place? He kind of felt like it, but the room smelled of vanilla and shea butter, a scent he had come to recognize Nura by, and he didn’t want to admit how easy it would be to fall asleep engulfed in it.

“What?” Calum finally asked with a low chuckle, wondering what was running through her mind.

Nura grinned, teeth biting into her lower lip as she glanced out the door. She then looked at him, the sun seeping through the window washing her brown skin in a pretty glow as she quietly, conspiringly, said, “I’ve never had a boy in this room before.”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up at that, feeling his smile return. Not what he had been expecting, but the way she had admitted it was tugging at his heart. From what Calum knew, Nura was Muslim, and although there were certain parts of the religion she did and didn’t practice—as far as he knew from what she had told him—he wasn’t surprise over the lack of boys that entered this room. He felt like a fucking thirteen year old boy at the mild case of excitement twisting his stomach as he asked, “Really?”

“Mhm,” Nura nodded with a gentle laugh. “I mean, my mom’s not so conservative, but my dad was. So, y’know, no boys ever stepped foot into the room when he was around. But, like, he passed when I was fifteen and after that, I still didn’t wanna bring boys in here. So, yeah,” Nura chuckled a bit nervously. “You’re the first.”

Calum felt his smile soften, briefly biting the inside of his cheek as Nura’s eyes met his. They gleamed against the sunlight, a sight he wouldn’t ever get tired of. “Well, I’m honored.” Nura laughed lightly, watching as Calum looked around her room some more, his grin returning as he gestured towards the bookshelf with an amused, “That doesn’t surprise me.” She rolled her eyes, unashamed of her overflowing shelf and Calum sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers linking together in the space between his legs. “Reminds me of my room; I’ve got this, like, big shelf filled with old vinyls and albums and stuff.”

Nura raised her eyebrows, teasing smile upturning her lips. “Really? You’re into music?” She blew air through her lips. “I had no idea.” He shot her a look at her sarcastic tone, earning a laugh from Nura. “Is it just a hobby? Your collection of music?”

He took a breath, hands bracing behind him on the mattress as he leaned back a bit. Her question was simple, innocent enough, yet it had Calum pausing to consider the thoughts running through his head. Music was the only thing that kept Calum sane; it was the only thing, other than his friends’ support, that kept him together when all of the bullshit with Dawn had happened. Playing his guitar was a hobby, but he found relief in collecting vinyls and records and listening to music. The way Nura lost herself in the books she read, it was the same for Calum when all of his focus went into the lyrics being sung and chords being played. He wanted to make a life out of his love for music, whether it be collecting his favorite records or selling them—hell, he knew how to play a few instruments, he wouldn’t mind teaching others how to play, either.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered Nura, catching the silent inquiring look that crossed her face. “I guess. . .” He trailed off with a thoughtful furrow of his eyebrows, head tilting back as he gazed up at the ceiling. “It wouldn’t be so bad, making some kind of career out of it. Maybe then I’ll have an appreciation for hard work.”

His last statement was spoken with a knowing smirk shot at Nura, who scoffed out a laugh as she remembered those words all too clearly—she’d snapped them at him that night at the restaurant. Her laugh had Calum grinning, and Nura ran her fingers through her hair as she shrugged. “If you’ve got the means to do it, I’d say that’s a wise way to spend your money,” she told him, the encouraging tone not lost on him.

Calum smiled. It felt. . . Good that someone other than his best friends thought his idea was one worth pursuing. He doubted his parents would care much what he did, too busy with their own business and too invested to let go of it any time soon. Something loosened in Calum’s chest at Nura’s smile, tone appreciative as he simply said, “Noted.”

*****

“I thought Billy liked barbecue chips—these are salt and vinegar.”

“Yeah, those are for me—hey, put them back in the cart!”

“Nura, we’re supposed to be shopping for your mom and Billy, not you!”

“A girl has her needs, damn it, Calum.”

He pursed his lips with a shake of his head, shooting Nura a look as she huffed and continued to push the cart along. The two of them continued down the aisles of Wal-Mart, finally heading towards the check-out with their stuffed cart. Nura may have gone a bit overboard, but it was their last day in Homestead and she wanted to make sure the fridge, freezer, and pantry were fully stocked before they left.

The past three days had been nothing short of interesting. It was a strange dynamic, having Calum around, and Nura was surprised how well he got along with her mom and Billy—which was kind of understandable, given that he hadn’t acted like a dick to them right off the bat as he did with her. But that was in the past.

In fact, Calum had been a huge help around the house, despite Nura’s constant teasing that he took in stride—and knew he deserved it, especially when he nearly sucked up one of Billy’s DS cartridges in the vacuum. Other than that near mishap, he helped her around the house, surprising Nura with his efficiency in the kitchen, got along really well with Billy and played video games with her seventeen year old brother, and had been quick with a small garbage can when Mrs. Ansari vomiting acted up and she couldn’t make it to the bathroom on time.

He hadn’t even been disgusted, and if Nura ever had any doubt about the kind of man Calum was, it was gone.

If anything, she could feel her heart pick up its pace every time he looked at her, felt the butterflies tickle her stomach whenever he smiled. She was falling, and it was probably a bad idea, but she didn’t care. 

“We’ve got everything?” Calum checked as they got to the self-checkout, eyeing the cart with a small smirk.

Nura snorted. “For the house and even some road trip snacks, yes.”

The two of them worked together as Nura scanned the items and Calum bagged them before putting them back int he cart, and not for the first time this weekend she found herself thinking how good of a team they made. Who knew the pretty rich boy was good at mundane things he could pay people to do?

When the last of the items were scanned and bagged, Nura reached into her purse to grab her wallet, eyebrows knitting together when she didn’t find it. “Huh?” she sounded, confused, as she opened it and dug through, groaning when she realized she didn’t have it. She didn’t even think about how she’d driven to Wal-Mart without her license on her, but was more pressed about the fact that now there was no way to pay for her groceries. Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Calum asked, eyebrows knitting together.

Nura’s shoulders fell, turning to look at him with disdain on her features with a little bit of self-loathing. “I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

Calum blinked. “Oh.” Then he stepped towards her and Nura watched as he pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket and slid out a credit card. “We can just use mine.”

Nura’s eyes widened, grabbing his bicep as she stopped him. “Wait, no—I can’t let you pay for two hundred dollars’ worth of groceries, Calum.”

He looked down at her, a furrow in his eyebrows as if he didn’t understand the problem. It was stupidly endearing. “Yes, you can.” Then with a chuckle, he added, “Not like you have much of a choice, Nura. It’s okay.”

Her stomach twisted, eyebrows knitting deeply as she barely sounded a protesting, “But—” when Calum inserted his credit card. She took a breath before chewing on her lips, not entirely feeling right about this. Logically, Nura knew he had the money, knew that two hundred dollars wasn’t much to him, but that wasn’t the point. Taking care of her family was something Nura had become accustomed to; she and her mom did it together, even Billy chipped in with the summer jobs he’d get. It had always been the three of them, and while she definitely appreciated Calum’s kindness, it just felt strange accepting it. She didn’t want to owe him anything, and didn’t want him thinking she wanted him to pay for something for her family. It wasn’t his job.

When he pulled his card out and signed his name on the pad, Nura shifted her weight on her feet and peered up at him. “Thank you, Calum,” she said, her voice holding the genuine appreciation she felt over him fixing her blunder. “I’ll pay you back.”

She saw the frown that drew together his eyebrows as he pocketed his wallet, shooting her a near bewildered look. “The hell you will,” he said with a scoff. Calum shook his head, walking to the back of the cart to grip its handles. With a pointed look at her, he added, “I didn’t mind doing it, Nura, and I didn’t do it for you to owe me anything. I was happy to help.”

The look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t going to budge on his stance, and Nura just kind of fell for him a bit more in that moment. She also felt a wave of guilt for all the teasing she had done regarding him and his money, and wished she could take it back. Coupled with what Luke had told her that night at the club and him paying for her family’s groceries—not to mention the fact that when they’d stopped to get gas on their way to Homestead, he’d paid for it—Nura knew that Calum Hood wasn’t like any of the guests she’d ever encountered, and the money he had, he would use it for others before using it for himself.

That little trait only made him all the more attractive.

As they exited Wal-Mart, Nura tried, “Will you at least let me get you a drink when we get back? On me.” She didn’t know how much that would mean, given what he was paying to stay at the resort, but it was all she could think of doing. It was a small gesture, nothing compared to what he’d done.

And yet, Calum grinned at her, sharp features melting into a giddy softness as he pushed the cart along and nodded. “Absolutely.”

Nura left Homestead with a lighter heart than the one she’d arrived with. Most of it had to do with the fact that her mom, thank God, had started feeling a lot better than when Nura first got home. Her antibiotics seemed to kick in, and they did plenty in helping her mom out with the nausea and pain she had been feeling. With Calum and Nura chipping in to help around the house, even if it was only for three days, her mom was able to get as much rest as she could and it helped her recovery along.

She was no longer pale or running between her bed and the bathroom anymore, the pain had nearly subsided, and Nura knew her mom would be okay. And after telling her brother to be good and take care of their mom, and with Mrs. Ansari and Billy thanking Calum for all of his help, Nura and Calum left her house and were back on the road to the resort. This time, she joined in with him in singing along to the songs playing through the car at a louder volume; lighter hearts made for a happier car ride back, and Nura really fucking appreciated Calum’s help in it all. While she had been caught completely off guard when he had offered to come, she was so relieved he did.

They got back to the resort late in the evening when the sun had set and, ever the gentleman, Calum walked Nura back to her suite. Their footsteps softly thudded on the sleek floor, the hall empty as they reached her door around eight in the evening. Nura unlocked it and stepped inside, dropping her bag on the floor and turning to see Calum watching her, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in the pocket of his leather jacket which she couldn’t understand how he wore in the Florida heat.

Nura wrung her fingers together as she took a step towards him, feeling her skin flush as she began, “Calum—thank you, honestly, for helping out this weekend. You didn’t have to take time out of your vacation to do that and I—I really appreciate it.”

Calum’s eyebrows so briefly pulled together as his face scrunched up in protest, giving a shake of his head. “You don’t have to thank me, Nura.” He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’ve been takin’ care of us and it just felt like the right thing to do.”

She let out a breathy chuckle at that, about a foot or two worth of space between them as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, well, it’s my job to. You did it because you’re a good person.”

She saw the way his eyebrows raised, corner of his lips tugging into a wider smile as he scoffed lightly through his nose. There was a teasing glint in his dark eyes as he said, “Means a lot, coming from someone who once said I was just barely a decent person.”

Nura rolled her lips into her mouth, an embarrassed heat flushing her skin as Calum chuckled quietly at her reaction. Of course she remembered saying that to him, right after he had basically tipped her out of spite. It seemed like so long ago, rather than just a month. “Yeah, well,” Nura mused, not at all minding the way the space between them seemed to be closing. Her gaze lifted so brown eyes could remain locked with his, a teasing flutter in her stomach under Calum’s intent, purposeful stare. “Safe to say you’ve proven me wrong.”

They were so close, her vanilla scent mixing with the woodsy freshness of his cologne, a combination Nura desired more of as she looked up at him. Calum leaned towards her, nose brushing against hers, fueling the fire sparking in Nura’s veins as his voice dropped into a raspy, deliciously teasing murmur, “Enough to break your fraternization rule?”

Nura’s response was tilting her head up to finally give into the heat his body was radiating, to succumb to the way Calum was pulling her and connect her lips with his. She felt herself inhaling sharply as he returned the kiss, his hands finding her face as he kept her close, moving his lips with hers. Nura leaned into him, her own hands gripping his wrist as her lips parted, deepening the kiss earnestly, the softness of his lips curling her toes, pressing herself into him. She couldn’t possibly be close enough to him.

Calum’s hands were warm against her skin, the couple of rings he wore chilling her gloriously, and he tasted like the mint gum he’d been chewing in the car. The subtle flutter in her stomach whenever Calum smiled at her had erupted into a hoard of butterflies, his tongue sliding against hers. God, she knew it was a bad idea, knew she was crossing a professional line she had never ventured near. But the way Calum’s thumbs caressed her cheek, kissed her so softly yet intensely, had Nura throwing caution in the wind. How could she possibly focus on anything else when Calum was kissing her like it was what his lips were made to do?

They pulled apart too soon, a brush of lips and labored breathing, and Nura kept her eyes closed as she reveled in the warmth Calum’s body provided. Her heart was racing, his nose brushing against hers, and Nura found herself wanting to stay close. Bad ideas never seemed so good right now. “Yeah,” she finally breathed out, ragged and overwhelmed, eyes still closed as her lips curled into a dazed smile. “Definitely worth it it.”

*****

It was a long day. Every so often, the long days caught up to Nura and the day couldn’t be over quick enough as she made her around her specific areas. Her sneakers, though they were comfortable, at this point seemed to be too tight on her feet and she couldn’t wait to go back to her room and collapse for the night. Except it was one in the afternoon and her hour lunch break wasn’t for another half hour. A little bit less, she realized as she glanced at her Apple Watch and read the time as 1:06. Not fast enough though. And it didn’t help that she was waiting to hear back from some publishing firms she had applied to work for, itching to check her e-mail every few minutes. The day was already taking a toll on her.

God, she wanted to nap.

The Florida sun was something she was used to, but today it only seemed to slow her down. She kept walking from the restaurant to the pool, providing guests with drinks and snacks whenever they demanded them. Mundane, repetitive, but she got paid for it, so Nura walked around and did her job with a pleasant smile on her face despite it feeling so strained on her cheeks.

It wasn’t too bad, though, because at least while she was around the pool, she got to see Calum. He, Luke, Sierra, Michael and Crystal were all by the pool, and it was taking all of Nura’s willpower and every ounce of her professionalism not to openly admire the glow of Calum’s skin under the beaming sun, or trace the ink decorating his skin with her gaze. Their eyes would meet every now and again, and though Nura focused on doing her work, she could still feel the weight of his stare on her. It was nerve wracking and thrilling in the best ways.

Ever since their kiss last week, there had been so many more snuck in. While she worked, Calum spent time with his friends in various activities the resort offered, but as soon as she clocked out, he was joining her in her room for dinner and a TV show to binge—even if, by the end, the show was long forgotten and they were too busy with dizzying kisses and wandering hands. It was a dangerous game they were playing, Nura knew, but all of her worries seem to melt away when she was with Calum. And it felt good, for once, to not constantly think of life’s problems that had taken residence on her shoulders. It felt so good to get lost in Calum’s kisses, his touch, to melt under his warm gaze and be the reason for that stunning smile. 

“Nura, you can take your break after dropping off that order,” Mr. Gonzalez said as she picked up a small tray with a single mango smoothie on it to be delivered poolside.

She nodded, stifling the yawn threatening to escape as she made her way back to the pool to give the drink to the middle aged woman who had ordered it. Nura balanced the circular trap on the palm of her right hand, left hand gripping the rim of the tray for extra security as she made her way over. The woman was sitting just a few feet away, and Nura couldn’t wait to give her the drink and go for her break.

And maybe she’d gotten lost in her thoughts, let herself get too distracted, but Nura hadn’t registered the two kids that were running past her, hadn’t heard their excited shoulders behind her over the busy poolside hum. But just as she reached the woman, the kids, probably about nine or ten years old, roughly bumped into Nura as they went, and the startled gasp ripped past her throat faster than she could grab the glass as it toppled over, sending the yellow colored smoothie splattering right onto the woman who’d been waiting for it.

Nura heard the few gasps around her, but they sounded distant over the sound of her rapid heartbeat and the woman’s startled shriek of, “Oh, my God!”

Face flushing in an embarrassed heat, Nura covered her mouth briefly, eyes wide in mortification as she stammered out, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, ma’am. I—Let me grab you a towel.”

“Don’t!” the woman snapped, ripping her sunglasses off her face to fix Nura with a fierce glare with icy blue eyes. Nura stopped, blood frozen and eyes apologetically wide. She was all too aware of the stares she and the now soaked woman were receiving, and she couldn’t be more horrified over the whole encounter. Especially as the pissed off woman sat up and continued, “You’ll manage to fuck that up, too. What, do you not know how to walk?”

They had been trained for moments such as this, where the customers create a scene just like what the woman was doing. But in the six summers Nura worked at the resort, nothing like this had ever happened to her, and in this moment, she forgot all about what she was told as she remained frozen in her spot, humiliated by the way she was being spoken to and angry that she couldn’t say anything back without the risk of being fired.

“Ma’am,” Nura began, hating that her voice was a bit unsteady, holding the tray to her chest and picking up the now empty glass. Throat working, she continued, “Let me get you a towel and—and another drink—”

“Don’t bother,” the woman scoffed, pulling out the towel she was laying on to wipe at her skin. The scowl was a permanent fixture on her face as she looked up at Nura. “You’re lucky you didn’t break the glass, or else I would’ve sued your ass faster than you can—”

“Hey—it was an accident and she already apologized. Move the fuck on.” Nura’s eyes widened, heart stopping in her chest as she whipped her head to the right to see Calum next to her. She gaped at him, breath still in her lungs as she wondered what the fuck he was doing as his own scowl was directed towards the seated woman.

Who, in turn, stared up at him with incredulity and irritation. Though many people were watching the scene, Nura was absently relieved that all action around the pool hadn’t ceased, because if there had been complete silence, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle any more humiliation than this. “Who the hell are you?” the woman demanded with a frown. “She spilled the damn drink on me—can’t even fucking do her job right.”

Nura’s face was on fire, that much she was certain of. And it certainly didn’t help when Calum took a step forward, figure looming and intimidating, as he snapped, “Accidents happen. If you’re so bothered, get off your ass and get your drink yours—”

The woman’s eyebrows had show up and jaw had dropped in astonishment, and Nura quickly cut in with a hasty, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll send someone else for your drink,” and, without thinking, grabbed Calum’s arm and roughly pulled him away.

Nura was too aware of the eyes on her, hearing Calum’s flip flops drag on the floor and his indignant protests as she told Lorraine to help out the pissed off lady by the pool, and it wasn’t until they were away from the pool and restaurant and headed towards her room where she finally let out a sharp breath.

“What the hell was that?” Nura demanded harshly, not even bothering to look at Calum as she made her way towards her room. She didn’t even want to eat anymore. She just needed to be in her room where she could have a proper fucking meltdown. Thank God her suite wasn’t far. They were already entering the hall with the brisk steps Nura had been taking.

Calum easily kept up with her pace, and she could hear his own anger as he returned, “She was treatin’ you like shit. I couldn’t just let her do that.”

Her vexation getting the best of her, Nura let out a humorless laugh, jamming her key into the door before shoving it open. “That’s fucking hilarious coming from you.”

Calum shut the door, the slam sounding distant as Nura’s heart pounded in her ear as she turned to face him. She didn’t even pause to admire him standing there in just a pair of black swimming trunks, the scowl on his face matching the one she wore. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, scoffing as he took a few steps towards her. Nura stood her ground, jaw tight. “Are you seriously bringing that up again? I thought we were fucking passed that, Nura.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant as her skin remained hot to the touch. “I thought so to, until you decided to say fuck my job and tried to play the hero when I didn’t ask for one.”

He genuinely looked bewildered at her statement and Nura knew it was because he didn’t think what he did was wrong. And while if she was more level headed, she would understand why he thought that, but right now it only fueled the fire burning her blood. There was a good chance he just made things worse. Gesturing towards the door behind him, Calum exclaimed, “That woman was being a bitch to you!”

Nura clicked her tongue loudly, looking away with an irritated shake of her head before returning, “It’s just part of the job. You’d know if you ever had one!”

Calum scoffed, incredulous and angry all at the same time as he raised his eyebrows at her. “Excuse me?”

“It’s all a part of working in customer service.” Nura let out a breath, lips curling in a near condescending smirk as she eyed him. “But I wouldn’t expect a trust fund brat like you to know that.”

His eyes narrowed, darkening as he took the few steps towards her, tall body towering over hers and Nura hated the excited twist in her stomach, and the thrill that shot down her spine, when Calum’s voice dropped and he returned darkly, “Only one being a brat here is you.”

Electricity shot through Nura’s core at Calum’s words, only being able to release a small breath until his lips captured hers in a rough, dizzying kiss that had her instantly wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It was a frenzied kiss, desperate and heated as Calum’s fingers instinctively worked on the button of Nura’s black uniform shorts, and thank fucking God he was only in swimming trunks as he pushed her shorts down her legs and she kicked them off.

They were a mess of heavy breaths, needy kisses, and working hands as the kiss briefly broke when Calum lifted Nura’s shirt off, a fire brimming in her chest as he pushed her onto the bed before climbing over her body to connect their lips once more. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, and Nura didn’t at all mind the combination as the scruff on his chin scratched at her skin, his warm body pressing into hers as Calum broke their kiss and Nura let out a dazed, breathy gasp when his plush lips teased her neck with kisses.

Her anger and humiliation from before melted away under Calum’s body, eyes fluttering shut as one hand went to the back of his head, fingers threading through his growing dark hair and head tilting back as she reveled in the way his lips and tongue and teeth worked at her neck. She was overwhelmed by him; by his taste, touch, scent as Calum moved lower, lower, lower, his lips leaving a trail of electricity in his wake as he kept going down her body, brown eyes absent of his own previous aggravation and flashing with wicked mischief as she watched him reach her underwear.

When he pulled it down, Nura bit down on her grinning lower lip, head tilting back into the pillows as his lips teased the inside of her thighs with kisses. 

Fuck a nap; this was exactly how she wanted to spend her break.

“I’m sorry ’bout what happened at the pool.” Nura felt Calum’s chest lightly vibrate under her ear as he spoke in a rasp, her gaze fixed on he way her fingers played with his. The room had fallen into a tranquil silence, the steady beat of Calum’s heart calming Nura more than a nap would have. “I just hated seein’ the way that woman spoke to you. Reminded me of how I spoke to you and I’m sorry for it.”

Nura’s eyebrows furrowed at that, lifting her head to look at Calum. He was resting against her headboard, the sheets doing well to cover her bare chest as she laid next to him. Calum’s brown eyes met hers and Nura’s features softened as the little bit of guilt she could still see in them. “You don’t have to apologize. I forgave you for that a long time ago.” The corner of his lips quirked up but Calum still didn’t let himself smile, and Nura rested her hand on his chest as she sighed. “Thank you for defending me. And I’m sorry, too, for being such a bitch about it.”

“No, don’t,” Calum said with a shake of his head, his left hand coming up to cover her right one on his chest. Nura glanced down, feeling a smile tug on her lips at his warm touch, at the way his tattooed hand seemed to perfectly hold hers. Her brown eyes met his soft ones, feeling herself melt under his gaze all over again. “It wasn’t my place to jump in like that, no matter how much it pissed me off. I put you in a tough spot and that wasn’t fair of me.”

Nura felt her smile grow, heart fluttering in her chest at the sincerity in Calum’s voice. She then let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she responded to Calum’s curious expression with, “Either we suck at apologizing to each other, or we’re really good at it.”

Calum scoffed, his grin finally appearing, bright and beautiful. “I think it’s the latter,” he said with a quick wink, leaning forward to connect their lips in a toe curling, breathtaking kiss.

She would’ve continued it, except her phone let out a notification ding, and Calum groaned in protest when Nura pulled away with a light giggle. She reached over Calum, ended up laying with her stomach on his as she grabbed her phone from the bedside and read the new e-mail she’d received. And as her eyes took in the words on the screen, Nura’s heart dropped and a gasp escaped her throat. “Oh, shit!”

“What?” Calum asked, worry creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my God,” Nura laughed, the excitement widening the grin on her face, reading the e-mail one last time before letting out a thrilled squeal. She kicked her legs excitedly, earning a bewildered laugh from Calum until she finally announced, voice high with enthusiasm, “Penguin Random House is offering me a job in their editorial department! Oh, my God—I got the job!”

She looked back at Calum as the words fell past her lips, catching the way his eyebrows shot up and something flashed across his eyes, akin to happiness and pride, before a grin split across his face. Those crinkles she adored so much appeared, just for her, as Calum laughed, “That’s incredible, doll—congratulations!”

Her stomach was wild with butterflies, cheeks aching from the grin she wore as she let out a squeal and pushed herself up to hug Calum. She laughed against him, feeling his arms wrap around her as he squeezed her tightly, bodies flushed as she felt his nose nudge at her neck. “Oh, my God—I’m moving to New York.” That had been the dream; to land a job at a publishing firm, preferably in New York City, and move there to start her life as proper adult. The thought was fucking terrifying, but one that brought Nura a kind of happiness she couldn’t comprehend.

Fuck, if only she didn’t have to go back to work in ten minutes. She’d properly be able to celebrate—especially since Calum was already in her bed.

*****

“Nura? Mr. McNulty would like to see you in his office.”

She looked up from where she was leaning against the bar, checking her e-mail to see another offer had come in. Over the past few days, ever since that first e-mail from Penguin Random House, the other firms Nura had applied to had finally reached back after the many video interviews she had done. She’d gotten job offers to most of them, including Simon & Schuster, which was her top choice, with Penguin being her second. Her days, despite dealing with the same kind of people all of the time, carried on with a happier note with each acceptance.

“Okay,” Nura nodded, pocketing her phone and taking off her apron. Riley took it from her, storing it under the bar as Nura walked out of the restaurant and in the direction of the main lobby of the resort. She couldn’t be sure why Mr. McNulty was calling her, but it was opportune; Nura could take that moment to tell him she wouldn’t be coming back next summer. Or ever again.

She reached his office door, knocking until she heard him answer with a “Come in.” Mr. McNulty glanced up from his computer, leaning back as he said, “Oh, Ms. Ansari, good. Please, have a seat.”

Nura was good at reading people, and right now, she got an uneasy vibe off of Mr. McNulty. He didn’t look entirely happy, elbows resting on the arm rests of his chair and hands linked together as Nura slowly sat down on the chair in front of his desk. “Is everything alright, sir?”

“I’m afraid not, Nura,” he said with a sigh, leaning forward as he clicked something on the laptop in front of him. Her eyebrows drew together as he turned the laptop to show her the screen as he said, “This is you with one of our resort guests, correct?”

Nura’s gaze went to the screen, heart in her throat as she watched a video of her exiting Calum’s bungalow from a few days ago, pausing on the steps as Calum leaned in to kiss her. The video ended with Nura turning around, giving the camera a clear shot of her face before it automatically stopped—along with Nura’s heart.

Shit. Oh, fucking shit.

Her lips parted, blood rushing in her ears as she tried to find the right words. “Sir, I-I can explain—”

“You know our policy, Ms. Ansari,” Mr. McNulty cut in with a shake of his head. He didn’t look angry, per se. Just disappointed, which Nura knew was worse. Especially since she knew the man, they got along well. She had never had such a transgression, and she was absolutely mortified. Fuck. She knew this would happen, knew they hadn’t been careful. “Engaging in relationships with our guests is against company regulations, and is grounds for immediate firing.”

Which would go on her record, and although she was going to quit anyway and already got offered jobs at all those firms, there was still the risk of them finding out about her getting fired from the resort. And she knew the reason for it wouldn’t be taken lightly, either. Shit. She was screwed.

She couldn’t even look Mr. McNulty in the eye, gaze dropped to her lap where she picked at her nails, face flushed in an embarrassed, saddened heat. How could she have been so dumb? So careless? Fuck.

“However—” Nura looked up when Mr. McNulty began speaking again, taking in the resigned expression he wore. “You have been with us for over five years, and despite your mistake, you’ve been an essential employee at Little Palms. Which is why I’m willing to offer you a deal.” She sat up, breath stilling in her lungs, eagerly and carefully listening. “I’m going to give you the chance of voluntarily submitting your resignation, effective immediately. You will get paid for the hours you have worked, but you will need to leave by the end of the day. This way, it doesn’t go on your record. Does that sound fair to you?”

Nura let out a heavy breath, disbelief crossing her features. She had already been planning to quit, and although that wouldn’t have been effective until the end of summer, doing so now was better than being fired. It would suck, Nura knew, having to leave the friends she made here quicker than she had anticipated, but Mr. McNulty’s offer was the lesser of two evils. At this point, she didn’t care what was fair or what wasn’t. It was her fault for being careless despite knowing the rules of the resort, and Mr. McNulty’s generosity wasn’t something she was going to take with a grain of salt.

“I—Yes. Yes, sir. That’s fair,” Nura nodded quickly, throat tight. None of it was fair, but it wasn’t like she was going to be unemployed. She had jobs lined up. It would be okay. She would be fine. “Thank you, Mr. McNulty.”

He nodded as the two of them stood up, and he reached his hand out and said, “It was wonderful having you with us, Ms. Ansari. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

She offered a small smile, shaking his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir.”

It wasn’t until she walked out of his office did Nura let out a breath, eyes closing briefly before opening as she leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t going to lie—that was kind of shitty. And although she knew she could use the extra time to pack up her life and get ready for her move to New York, it still left a small hole in her heart. Mr. McNulty only allowed her to resign out of her loyalty to the resort; so easily could she have just been fired, and Nura knew that would’ve sucked more. Still, it wasn’t wrong—or at least, she didn’t think it was—that the situation left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Nura sighed once more, giving a shake of her head as she began walking, figuring she might as well head to her suite to start packing. Her phone let out a ding and she pulled it out, eyebrows raising when she saw an e-mail from a Penguin Random House address. Nura hummed in acknowledgment, walking as she read the message from the woman who was the head of the editorial department, feeling a small smile tug at her lips as she read that the woman was excited to hear more from her, and that she hoped Nura accepted their offer.

And the e-mail had made her smile, reminding her of the hope she still had and how today wasn’t so shitty, until she got to the last line of the e-mail.

I’m so glad Mr. Hood—or Calum, as you may know him—recommended you to our firm. His e-mail only reaffirmed our decision in moving forward with your application.

Nura stopped, eyebrows slowly knitting together as she read those two sentences over and over again, hoping that she was only imagining them. But the more she read them, the clearer they got, and the heat that simmered in her veins only seemed to intensify with each second that passed by.

What the fuck.

He had reached out to them on her behalf? What the hell had he been thinking? Nura ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a sharp breath as she remembered the day she’d gotten the e-mail from them. He had been with her and he kept his damn mouth, didn’t even think to mention that he’d talked to them. 

Good thing he hadn’t, or else she would’ve probably ripped his head off while he was naked in her bed.

Heart drumming wildly in her chest, Nura texted him with trembling thumbs, casually asking him where he was. When he responded almost instantly, telling her he was at the beach, Nura didn’t think twice. She didn’t care she had to get her things ready—she needed to have a conversation with him first.

She arrived to the beach quickly, deaf to the sounds of people enjoying themselves and music playing and waves crashing. The sand was soft under her sneakers, eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as she searched for Calum, or maybe even his friends, knowing he was with them. She walked in the direction of the shore, looking right and then left, jaw clenching when she caught sight of him resting on a towel under an umbrella. 

Nura stormed over, her anger and indignation overwhelming her, ignoring the greetings his friends offered her as she stood in front of his now sitting body when he heard her name being uttered by everyone else. “I need to talk to you,” Nura stated through gritted teeth. God, she was so angry, so outraged that he would meddle in her business the way he had, no matter his intentions. 

Calum frowned from behind his sunglasses, taking them off before he slowly stood up. Not even his stupid tattooed body could distract Nura from the glare she wore. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Nope. No endearing nickname would distract her either. Nails digging into her palms, Nura demanded, “Did you reach out to Penguin Random House on my behalf so they would give me the job?”

She saw the realization flash across Calum’s face, lips parting as guilt tugged at his features and the knot in Nura’s stomach tightened. All of Calum’s friends had fallen silent as he started, “I—yeah, I did, but Nura—they were goin’ to give you the job anyway.”

“Maybe!” she exclaimed defiantly, eyebrows shooting up. “But it was what you did that made them go through with it, and I didn’t fucking ask you to do that.”

“Nura—” Calum let out a breath, frowning down at her as he gave a shake of his head. “I was just tryin’ to help.”

The sun was burning down her back, and it only drove Nura’s irritation further. Her chest felt tight, hating every minute of this. “I didn’t ask you to,” she repeated through gritted teeth, expression as hard as her eyes, and she knew Calum could see that. “I want to have a job because of my own hard work, not because of anything else.” She crossed her arms over her chest, voice lacing with a bitter venom as she added, “But I guess that’s too hard for someone who hasn’t worked a damn day in their life to understand.”

The hurt flashed across Calum’s face and for a moment, Nura regretted the words she’d uttered. God, they had been past that. She had stopped throwing his access to money in his face, had realized he was so much more than his bank account. But she was so angry in his act of meddling, and she lashed out when she was hurt, uncaring of who got caught in the damage. And it didn’t matter how much she liked Calum, how much he made her smile or laugh or feel good. He hadn’t respected her work ethic, had interfered when he wasn’t needed, and it only ended up hurting her. So she hurt him.

Nura took a step back, thinning her lips at him, uncaring of his friends’ stares as her brown eyes remained locked with Calum’s. His eyebrows were drawn together, the hurt more prominent on his face than anything else, and although the sight of him looking at her light that tightened Nura’s throat, it didn’t stop her from saying, “You cost me two jobs today, Calum. Do me a favor and stay the hell away.”

He saw the alarmed confusion in his eyes at her words, but Nura didn’t give him a chance to say anything as she turned and walked away, arms crossed tightly as she made her way off the beach. She knew he tried to go after her, was stopped when Ashton said, “Let her go, man,” and a dry sob escaped Nura as soon as she was far enough away from them. She felt her face scrunch up as she fought to keep the tears away; tears of anger, of sadness, of hurt—whatever the fuck they may be. It all came crashing into her after disappearing from Calum’s intense, pleading gaze, and Nura only let the tears fall when she was in the privacy of her bedroom.

She had expected to say goodbye to the resort soon enough. Saying goodbye to Calum, though, had never crossed her mind. 

*****

“She’s settled well in New York,” Mrs. Ansari told him with a smile, a happiness in her eyes as she spoke about her daughter. “She always wanted to get out of Florida, and even though I don’t like her being so far, I know she’s happy. That’s all I can ask for.”

Calum smiled, looking down at his hands as he twirled one of his rings. “She’s definitely a city girl—I’m not surprised she fits right in,” he said, unable to keep the fondness from slipping into his tone. Her face flashed across his mind; glimmering brown eyes and a smile that rendered him breathless every time. “They’re lucky to have her there.”

There was a silence that settled upon them briefly, and Calum heard the sound of porcelain clicking against glass as Mrs. Ansari put her mug of tea on the coffee table. “She told me what you did.” Calum’s throat worked as he looked up to meet the older woman’s gaze, surprised when she smiled at him gently. “Your heart was in the right place, Calum, and I know Nura knows that. She’s just. . .” She trailed off with a soft chuckle. “She’s independent, always has been. Her father and I raised her to work hard for what she wants and what you did, although it was only out of good intentions, made her feel as though you didn’t value who she was.”

Calum sat up, hating that that was ever a thought in Nura’s head. He admired her, so fucking much. And helping her had been such a natural instinct that Calum hadn’t stopped to think how it could be interpretated. Fuck, he should’ve known that the only way to help Nura was to support her in how she chose to run her life, not pave a pathway for her. Calum shook his head with a sigh, gaze dropping once more as he stared at his half drank cup of tea. Without even thinking, he murmured, “I value her more than anything.”

And he did. Of course he did. She’d come into his life like a whirlwind when he least expected it, when he was too busy being bitter over the way Dawn’s life had been moving forward despite her taking advantage of him. Nura was better than anyone Calum had ever met. She never took advantage of him, was quick to knock him down a peg or two when he needed to be, and, fuck, he loved her for it. Of all the things in the resort, Nura was the one who gave him a peace of mind, who pulled him out of the vat of bitterness that Dawn had thrown him in. He’d gone to Little Palm to so the beach and ocean and everything else in between could distract him. But it was Nura who did so by keeping him on his toes in the best way possible. 

He heard the smile in Mrs. Ansari’s voice. “Give her some time, beta. If you truly care about her, and I can tell that you do, you’ll try one more time.”

The late October chill of New York was something Calum was familiar with. He enjoyed it, a nice change from the warmth of Los Angeles, and he didn’t mind standing out on the sidewalk, back leaning against his car as he kept his gaze fixated on the front door of the building in front of him. His hands were kept warm in the pocket of his long dark grey coat, watching each person that walked out of the door, hoping it was the one familiar face he had been in search for.

He had half a mind to pull out a cigarette to warm him up, but he didn’t want the first time she saw him in months to be when he smelled of tobacco. Fuck, he didn’t even know if she wanted to see him. For all he knew, she would see him waiting outside and turn right back into the building. His heart drummed in his chest, and no words of reassurances from his friends or Mrs. Ansari echoing in his brain could ever prepare him for the moment that Nura emerged from the revolving door of Simon & Schuster, dark hair dancing in the breeze as she took in a breath of the late afternoon New York air.

Calum’s heart leaped in his throat the second he saw her, pushing himself off the car and standing straight, feeling every drop of blood racing in his veins as Nura started descending the concrete steps and looked up, only for her dark eyes to lock onto Calum’s.

Nura stopped where she stood, hands buried in the pocket of her own peacoat and he wondered if she was trying to determine whether she was imagining him or not. He saw the shock on her face, lips parted as Calum took a tentative step forward. There was still about fifteen feet worth of space between them, filled with people passing by, and he was desperate to close it.

“What—” Nura let out a breath, and Calum swore he didn’t think he had missed her voice so much. She finally descended the stairs, making her way towards him, eyebrows drawing together as she asked, “What’re you doing here?”

For a moment, all Calum could do was stare at her. Standing in front of him after months of just being a memory in his head, Calum was desperate to drink in the sight of her for as long as he could. She looked beautiful, unsurprisingly, having replaced her resort uniform with jeans, heeled boots and a turtleneck under her coat. Absolutely stunning.

“I—” Calum paused, clearing his throat before he reached into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out the item that had been weighing it down. Nura watched, her eyebrows rising at the item in his hands. “I thought you’d want your book back.”

A scoff escaped Nura’s upturning lips, taking her copy of Aristotle and Dante from his hands. She had never asked for it back when she left the resort, and it had been the only thing Calum had of Nura’s once she left. He’d read the book once and then twice over, soaking in the words that had become her favorite to read. He felt closer to her every time he read it, momentarily allowing himself to forget how he had fucked things up between them.

Nura rolled her lips into her mouth before lifting her gaze to meet his eyes, gently asking, “Did you like it?”

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, hands returning to the pockets of his coat. “It was beautiful,” he nodded, voice softer than he intended. He looked down at his shoes then, black Docs stark against the pavement. “Ari kind of frustrated me, though.”

“How come?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, considering his next words carefully before he told himself to just stop thinking. He’d been thinking of saying them for so long. Now, he finally would. “It took him so long to figure out he loved Dante.” Calum’s gaze met Nura’s, offering her a small, close mouthed smile, a bit sad, but truthful. “But for me, figuring out I loved you was the easiest thing.”

Calum heard the sharp inhale Nura took at his words, brown eyes framed by long lashes widening as she gaped at him, and Calum didn’t regret it. He’d been holding those words in for so long, had kept them in his chest to the point where it had become almost painful. Now they were out there, spoken to the person they were meant to, and now Nura had the power. So he stood there, watching her, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

He saw the subtle way her eyebrows drew together, grip on her book tightening as her throat worked. “I—” Nura took an unsteady breath and Calum wondered if she could hear his pounding heart. Nura dropped her gaze, looking down at the book, letting out a nervous chuckle as she said, “Well, Ari’s a gay kid in 1987, so things weren’t so easy for him figure out—”

God, if she was anyone else, Calum would’ve hurt his eyes by how hard he would’ve rolled him. Instead, he felt himself letting out a breathless chuckle, some of the nervous tension easing in his muscles as he took a step towards her and cut in, “But I also admire him.” Nura pressed her lips together, watching him as Calum offered a small smile. “Because he gave me the push to come out here, to tell you how I feel, to apologize for the way I fucked things up.”

She was listening to him intently, eyes wide and earnest, and Calum pulled his hands out of his pockets and cupped her cheeks. Her skin was as soft as he remembered it, felt a ghost of a smile curl his lips when her eyes fluttered as soon as he touched her. Even in the heart of New York, he could smell her delicious vanilla scent.

“You make me better, Nura. With your jokes and your ethics and all of the things that make you, you. Watching you push yourself pushes me, and that makes you the best person I know.” 

“Oh, shit.” Calum let out a short laugh at the whisper she let out, looking up at him in awe and incredulity. He hadn’t meant to make her speechless, but he needed her to hear the truth, every ounce of it. She licked her lips, the corners tugging up. “That’s, uh, a lot of credit you’re giving me.”

Calum’s own lips formed a smirk, still feeling his nerves buzz in his veins. “You deserve it,” he told her before tilting his chin and widening his smirk. “You pushed me to open up my own record shop, after all.”

Nura’s eyebrows shot up, surprise crossing her features. “What? Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Calum confirmed, thumb stroking her cheek. “Over in Brooklyn. Complete with records, instruments, and even lessons by yours truly.” Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “Gonna check out that hard work thing you’re always talking about.”

Nura laughed at that, using the book to lightly smack his arm as Calum laughed, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen almost completely. When her laughter quieted, brown eyes lifting to meet his, she softly asked, “Did you mean it, what you said? That you. . . You love me?”

Calum’s smile softened, throat working as her eyes provided him with a warmth against the New York chill. He lowered his chin, eyes on hers as he confirmed, “I love you.”

Nura’s chest fell with a sharp exhale, and Calum briefly caught sight of her wide grin before she closed the gap between them with a press of her lips to his. Heat warmed Calum throughout his body as he kissed her back, leaning into her the way he had been desperate to do so for months, feeling her arms wind around his waist as she held him close. It felt so good, so fucking right to kiss her, to feel her so closely, to love her like he wanted to.

“I love you, too,” she murmured against his lips, a giggle escaping her as she uttered those words so happily. 

They pulled away with thundering hearts and giddy grins, and the flush in her cheeks told Calum that they would be okay. It was all the reassurance he needed. Calum grinned, snickering lightly as he hooked an arm around Nura’s neck and mused, “Money can’t buy me that.”

Nura’s expression fell flat, bemused despite Calum’s teasing grin, and she smacked her lips together with a roll of her eyes before saying, “Shut up and kiss me again.”

His face hurt from how widely he was grinning, ready and willing to comply. “Yes, ma’am.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @loveroflrh​ @softforcal​ @sweetcherrymike​ @astroashtonio​ @meetashthere​ @novacanecalum​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @highfivecalum​ @calumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @imfuckin10plybud​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @old-zeppelin-shirt​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​  

[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 16

Wordcount: 4, 869 Rating: M for strong language, moderate sexual references, violence, and gore The reader is referred to as she/her. "God knows. Maybe you have a greater purpose to serve. Why else did he make you?" Chapter synopsis: And you never considered yourself trigger-happy. But the shots have been fired. They're dead before you can interrogate them. Allen is eager to convince you it was the right thing to do, but even he can't deny the horrors that will follow. The war rages on. Alfred stays ignorant for the meantime, and you revel in his bliss of it. You share one last peaceful night with him before the fearful unknown.

16 - Nothing breaks like a heart

The reader is referred to as she/her.

An ear-splitting bang echoed in the pool room. Blood and small chunks of flesh landed on the tiled floor in a splat. Tearing his hand away with a shaky gasp, he held the wrist and hunched over to writhe in agony. "Ergh... Fuck!" He spluttered, feeling a violent tremble seize his wounded hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

He lifted his head to glare at you with the utmost betrayal. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

A sizely hole formed in his palm. The exposed flesh was still oozing out blood like a full sponge, dripping onto the ground in generous puddles. A whole section of his bone was missing. And you did it. You shot Alfred. You paled in horror for a few moments, but as he panted before you with tears streaming down his red and enflamed face, it became apparent that your guilt was unfounded.

"What I did that for? You aren't Alfred!" You exasperated, raising the gun shakily to point it between his fearful eyes. "You're a clone!"

A sour flavor was left in your mouth as you spat out the word. His origins were no mystery.

Nobody else could have been responsible or capable of such a heinous crime. To grow an abomination from whatever DNA was left in their lab. You only imagined them to be created for one purpose, and one purpose only. To torment, kill, and replace Alfred. As the thoughts raced through your head, you tightened your finger around the trigger—"Wait, wait! Don't shoot!" He begged, throwing his arms up.

"I know you're freaking out right now, but I have no idea what's going on either!"

Gritting your teeth at his excuse, you were determined to not let it get to you. But it was easier said than done. "Shut up! Don't think for a second you can fool me!" Despite the cutting conviction of your voice, you took on a terrified expression at the thought of shooting him. "I'm gonna do it. You're nothing but a freak of nature! And you'll never... Never..."

As you trailed off, you realized you indeed couldn't pull the trigger.

Not when the barrel was aimed at a face that looked just like Alfred's.

It was contorted with so much fear and despair, pleading silently for you to not hurt him. The fact that he was a spitting image of him made it even harder. How he moved, talked, acted—seeing it chipped away your resolve, leaving you all but paralyzed. The gun was left juddering furiously in your hands in light clacks, holding him hostage at the moment before death.

"Please. Please don't do it." He whispered, bringing his hands down to shield himself. "You gotta help me, (F/N). I don't know how, but I woke up in this body. That's... That's all that happened."

How painfully familiar it sounded.

I woke up in this body.

The similarities were so uncanny, it was cruel. Giving your head a quick shake, your lips quivered as you uttered this.

"You're lying. You're not real."

Creases formed between his brows. "I'm not lying! And I am real! I'll prove it to you, I swear! We went through so much shit together, like uh—" He pointed at you and laughed nervously as he sifted through the scanty archives of his memories. "—I kidnapped you. Ha! See? I know something! That's how we met! And you hated my guts at first."

You swallowed thickly as uncertainty slowly overwhelmed you. If he could remember that, he had to be real, right? No. You had to fend off the feeling. "That's not good enough!" Your finger stayed on the trigger, and the barrel, on him.

He tensed up as panic caught him in a chokehold. "Okay, okay! Well, er..." His heart was pounding harder and harder with every second he failed to say something. "... Oh! Remember the time I nearly got murdered by a cult leader? He had a whole kabuki mask get-up and everything—just like, like Professor Callaghan from Big Hero 6. You know that movie right?"

You sucked in a sharp breath. The title didn't ring any bells, but what he said had you second-guessing yourself. Was he not lying after all? Lowering the gun at that, your motion was slowed by slight hesitance. "... How... How do you know those things?" You asked faintly. "What are you?"

Before he could formulate an answer, footsteps thudded down the hall. Your thoughts came to a complete standstill.

Then, you heard a voice.

"(F/N)!" They shouted. Was it Allen? Your heart sank when you realized you couldn’t tell—it sounded too similar to Alfred. Or were you just imagining things? The sheer amount of panic was too incapacitating that you couldn't think.

So you did the unthinkable.

Raising the gun once more, you fired a shot into his abdomen.

The second you let the bullet fly, you regretted it.

Both your ears rang as the next few moments occurred in silence. And they would unfold in painstakingly slow motion. Dropping the gun to the ground in a soundless clatter, you watched him stumble back a few steps with his eyes popping out of his skull. Blood was spreading around the flaps of his kimono from a new hole in his chest. But the gore couldn't compare to his look of betrayal.

Of a heartbreak so deep, it destroyed you.

"Oh my God..." You raised both hands to your mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed on the ground in a bloody heap. "I just—I just killed—" Tears streamed relentlessly down to your chin as you stood frozen.

"(F/N)! I heard gunshots. What the fuck happened?!" Allen appeared in the doorway. His loud voice derailed your train of thoughts, forcing you to turn to the man. When you did, your heart clenched at the realization you made a mistake. It wasn't him. Alfred was never down the hall, and you panicked.

He never even had a chance to explain himself.

When Allen caught sight of the corpse by your feet, he dug his hands through his hair. Terror ran deep in his expression as he processed what he was seeing. "Shit, (F/N)." His nose scrunched up in shock. Never did he imagine the day would come where you would take someone's life. At least, not so soon.

But it arrived as an unwelcome surprise, unexpected and uninvited. "Did you kill that guy?"

You nodded profusely as a sob racked your body.

He scrambled over and shielded you from the grotesque scene. "Hey, hey, hey! Don’t feel bad! I’ve killed loads of people too, so welcome to the club!" The man rambled frantically, rubbing away your tears with his fingers. But who was he to tell you these things when he felt his own tears come?

"I’m sure he deserved it, and you were just protecting yourself, so don’t worry!" Allen forced a wide, manic smile.

His efforts to console you were in vain as you cried even harder. Pulling you into his chest, he rested his chin on your head that trembled to your coughs. "I'm so sorry..." Allen screwed his eyes shut and squeezed you tighter. "... I’m sorry I left you by yourself. This is my fault, not yours. It's my fault."

The string of apologies he spewed out was on your behalf, but he meant them with every fiber of his being. He had failed to protect the single most valuable thing to him.

And the blatant lie he forced you to accept was the last resort to preserve it. But it was time that stopped. "No, I killed him." You asserted shakily. He had nothing to do with this, and his eagerness to shoulder the blame only rubbed more salt into the wound. If you let him have his way, you would never live it down.

Without removing yourself from the hug, you pointed at the motionless body with your head turned away. "Look at him. I could never lie."

Allen lingered his gaze on you before obliging, albeit reluctantly. Nearing the corpse cautiously, he kicked its chest to roll it over. It revealed the dead man’s face in all its glory. Alfred’s face.

"..."

What the fuck.

When he thought he couldn’t be any more disgusted by the tyranny of technology, he was proved wrong yet again. This was clearly your father’s doing. And it was a declaration of war. But perhaps, it was just the continuation of the one that never ended.

Arthur was completely shit-faced downstairs. Slamming his beer mug down on the counter after he downed the whole thing, he gasped.

"Bwah! That hits the spot." His cheeks and ears were redder than a tomato, a stark contrast to his companion who was stone-cold sober.

Alfred raised a brow. "Sure looks like it. Dude, you gotta lay off the booze. You’re gonna regret it first thing tomorrow." Once he sighed that out, he rested his cheek on his hand. Then, he glowered at the hallway where you and Allen disappeared to.

"How long does it take to piss? They’ve been gone for ages. Twenty minutes? Thirty minutes? I don’t fucking know," The mechanic let out a low chuckle and slapped him on the back. The force made his torso bounce, much to his annoyance. "What’s your deal?"

The other hummed mischievously. "I was just thinking about what you said." Arthur squinted almost suggestively, causing Alfred to do the same, but only out of being appalled. "Maybe... Maybe they aren’t pissing. Since they’re gone for so long at the bathrooms at that—so maybe, urgh... They’re doing the nasty together." The Brit practically howled with laughter, having figured he was probably right.

It was a plausible assumption. As he humored the suggestion Alfred heated up more severely than his intoxicated friend. You having sex with Allen? His chest whirred and nostrils flared. He'd never been this enraged before, but behind the mask of anger was a deep hurt and toxic kind of jealousy.

"Shut up! You’re drunk and slurring your words. You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Arthur snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, brother. But the only time I’m this honest is when I’m drunk, so."

Alfred’s eyes went round. Without a moment’s hesitation, he shot out of his stool and made a beeline to the hall. Before he could make it far, he bumped right into the very subjects of his conversation. Much to his relief, they were in no state that indicated they did anything sexual by nature; you were in his arms and fast asleep. Not that he was happy about it. "Woah. She's out like a light."

"Yeah, so keep your voice down." The other grumbled, bouncing you lightly. "I think it's about time we head home. How drunk is he?"

The blonde blinked. He wasn't expecting him to catch on so quickly. "Off his ass. He's red as."

Allen clicked his tongue and brushed past him. "Called it." Alfred would have dismissed it as something he always did. But since he was carrying you, it made him feel like an extra. So when the man walked off, he followed with a scowl. "Can you get a cab? I'm gonna sit in the corner for a bit."

And sit in the corner he did, laying your body across his lap so you could rest. Alfred narrowed his eyes into a dark glare, lingering on the sight as the club music pounded away in his ears. And he told him to keep his voice down? "Yeah, I'll call you a damn cab."

You pretended to be asleep the whole ride back to Arthur's. It was easy with Allen's shoulder at a perfect height for your face to bury in. For half an hour, you were stuck in that position. There, you listened to the symphony of a trip home from the club: the automated voice of the taxi A.I and the drunken warbles of an intoxicated friend. Without seeing it, you could feel Alfred watching you for the whole duration of the ordeal.

Fortunately, you could escape any interaction with him as Allen carried you to the bathroom upon arriving.

"Oi, where are you taking her?"

The redhead kicked the door open. "What does it look like?"

"Shouldn't you wake her up, at least?"

"Yeah, yeah. Quit breathing down my neck, already."

"Dude—"

The door locked. Setting you down on your feet, you held onto his arms to regain your balance. Once you did, you glanced up at him with the utmost panic. "I can't face him." Digging two hands through your hair, you let out a shaky gasp—"Oh my god, I don't know what to do! I shot him, Allen. I fucking shot him! What's he gonna think of me when he finds out?"

He sighed and gripped your shoulders firmly. With his brows furrowed in a stern expression, he corrected you. "You didn't shoot him. You shot another version of him." Allen couldn't stress that enough. But there were many things he needed to shed a light on in this emergency bathroom meeting. "And it was kinda my fault that happened. If I was there, I woulda' shot him for you."

"That's not the point, here! And it's never gonna be your fault. It's mine, and mine alone. End of story." You swiped a hand across his face for emphasis. While he groaned in dismay, a brief pause followed as you regained your breath.

At least an hour had passed, but you still couldn't wrap your head around it.

"I can't believe I did that. I don't even know how I could! I panicked. I thought Alfred was coming down the hall, but—"

"—but it was me. Doll-" Allen exasperated, dragging out the pet name. "-you can't blame yourself for what you did. Shit happens. And who says what you did was wrong, huh? You probably just saved us all from a bloodbath. And you know that!" Rocking you gently back and forth to shake some sense into you, he leaned in to peer into your wide eyes staring into space.

"That's why you shot him. You did the right thing."

As he blurted that out, the memory replayed in your head again and again like a broken record. Intrusive thoughts were a bitch. And there was one particular detail of the event that you would never forget. "Was it the right thing to do, though?" You murmured, lowering your doubtful gaze to the tiled floor. The betrayal in his eyes was so genuine, you came to regret everything you've done.

"What if he was real like he said?"

You were asking some hard-hitting questions, that was for sure. Everything else was shrouded in a fog of uncertainty.

"Well, it wouldn't matter if he was real. Cuz' he's dead."

Allen's expression morphed into a dark glower.

"But if he was still alive, there'd be two of him, and not for long. They'd kill each other, for sure. I mean, if I found out there was a second-rate version of me farting around out there, I'd kill that poser for sport. Hunt him down like game." Lifting up your chin so you'd look at him, he flashed a grin.

"So don't feel bad. You killed him and saved Alfred the trouble."

Softening your gaze at that, you pulled him into another hug. Allen was always amazing at comforting you in the direst of situations.

"... Maybe you're right."

He chuckled and patted your back. "I'm always right."

But there was still one concern he could never address.

If your father made a clone of Alfred, a real and legitimate copy, there was no saying he could make another. Hell, you even expected him to. He could keep churning him out so long as he had his DNA. The only way to end this threat was quick to cross your mind, but you didn't want to think about it.

You would have to kill your father.

Allen figured. But today suffered enough bloodshed.

Before he left the bathroom for you to use, he held onto your cheek.

Flickering his striking scarlet eyes over your troubled expression, he caught you in a quiet gaze. You could easily translate the untold fondness he watched you with. We can still run away together.

He pulled away slowly, reluctantly. Then, the door closed behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It never crossed your mind the first time he brought it up earlier tonight, but you finally understood what he really meant by running away. Allen wanted to share his life with you. Heat flurried in your chest as you considered the idea.

Tears threatened to return once you realized how much you wanted to do it, just not with him. The desire was there, but it happened to be stronger for someone else.

Alfred had been waiting outside with his back against the wall, arms crossed with a frown. It only deepened when Allen walked out.

"What're you lookin' at?" The redhead mumbled.

"... Nothing. Just wondering why you two spend so much time in the bathroom together." Alfred pointed out, glancing down at the cigarette between his fingers. He would have been jumping for joy if it weren't for wanting to look serious. "What were you doing with her in the penthouse?"

The other felt a spell of irritation hit him. It was always jealousy with this one, wasn't it? But he couldn't be a hypocrite. "None a'ya business, bub." He hummed, slotting the cancer stick in between his teeth. A sly smirk widened his lips as he saw the blonde tense up. "You saw how tired she was. So don't even think about it."

Don't even think about it, he'd said. How come everything coming out of his mouth sounded like a euphemism for sex? Don't keep her up with stupid conversations would've sounded better. Alfred huffed and stormed back to the guest room. Or was it just his mind that was in the gutter? He blamed Arthur for even bringing it up.

Hanging his clothes on a chair, he curled up under the covers. His chest was whirring again, and the discomfort was akin to something you've gone through before. Separation anxiety. When you did show up ten minutes later, he rolled over to the door to watch your form. Hearing the fabric shuffle in your direction made your heart skip in panic.

He was awake.

"Arthur's puking his guts out, so if you hear coughing, it's him."

Hopefully, some light-hearted banter could keep you from acting up. But that was easier said than done.

The blanket lifted briefly so you could get under it. Once you got comfortable, he didn't hesitate to pull you in by the waist to spoon you. Ever since he saw you sleep in the club, and on Allen no less, he'd been dying to do this. "... I tried telling him." He murmured into your ear. "But I've slept through worse. You flop and roll a lot."

The feeling of his breath on your neck and the sound of his husky voice made your heart ache. Every night was spent like this, warm and snug in his arms, but tonight was different. Inside, you were still agonizing over what you had done to him, even if it wasn't exactly him. So to feel his chest rise against your back, then his legs rub against yours, you just couldn't take it—it was all too much.

Rolling over to him, you caught his neck in your arms and pulled it down for a tight squeeze. What you uttered next captured your deepest and most inexplicable desire. To truly be alone with him.

"I can't take it here anymore." You muttered furiously, hugging him around his neck to start crushing him.

He let out a shaky breath at the sudden pressure.

"Hey, hey, calm down. What's wrong?"

"I can't calm down. I need to talk to you. Alone." Sitting up at that, you pulled him along. It came especially easy as he stood up, eager to understand your spontaneity. "And in someplace that's not here. There's just... Too many people. Four is too many."

Alfred lit up, but his growing smile did his emotions no justice. He was ecstatic. Things were always simpler when it was just the two of you. Maybe you were finally getting sick of these cramped living conditions, the scrutiny. At least, he knew he was. So it was almost as if you read his mind. "Okaay. Are we going on a midnight adventure?" He piped.

But then again, you always seemed to be walking on the same wavelength as him.

He followed you around the room like a puppy as you collected some things—your jacket, then Alfred's phone to shoot Allen a text. We're off to the nearest no-tell motel to talk. We'll be back in the morning. Setting the device onto the desk, you threw him his belongings. His gun and trusty coil of tools. Catching them wordlessly, he shot you a quizzical look. "Well, aren't you mysterious? Where are we going?"

Little did he know, your decision to leave the house for the night had only so much to do with random selfish impulses. From the outside, it looked exactly like that. Up and going without a care in the world, without care for Allen, and becoming unreachable for the next several hours. But after what happened, you just needed time to recalibrate.

"Where we always used to go." You threw your jacket on. Dragging him out into the hall, he caught a brief glimpse of Arthur passed out over the toilet before he found himself in the garage.

Handing him his key, you opened the car door next to the driver's seat. "We have to be quick before Allen tries to stop us."

The said man was sitting on the roof when he heard the rumbling of the garage door. Immediately after the sound stopped, a car sped out of it with an aggressive vroom and disappeared into the night. Narrowing his eyes at the rear window, he stood up and tossed his cigarette over the edge. Where the hell were you going this late at night? And with Alfred, no less?

He could feel hot jealousy prick him all over again. But it was warped with a harrowing kind of sadness. No matter what he did or what he said, he couldn't seem to get in between you two. Allen sat back down and lit up another cigarette. Giving that a few puffs, he surrounded his head in a cloud of grey smoke. Maybe he did know you for too long.

For eight years, he'd been a brotherly figure in your life. Now, he was afraid that was all he was ever going to be.

~~~

Parking the car in the courtyard after the most thrilling joyride, you pulled Alfred into the reception to book a room. Given his inhumane strength, your efforts to drag him down the hall were to no avail. Peering down at you with a warm smile, his face contorted with an amused look as you tugged at his arm as hard as you could. "Easy there, tiger. This is a motel, not a five-star hotel."

Between two walls littered with cracks was a dimly lit interior. Everything smelt like vomit, piss, and alcohol to boot, and yet, you were bounding beside him in excitement. "I know! But doesn't this feel nostalgic? We lived in these places for ages." You exasperated, scanning a keycard to unlock the door.

Alfred didn't think he was a sentimental person, but hearing you reminisce the past so fondly was enough to change his smile into a bittersweet one. "I guess." He couldn’t remember everything like you, but for now, he could pretend he did. "Motels are economic and discrete, so where was a better place to go?"

Once you both got inside, he felt your hand let go of his. For a moment, he felt just the smallest dash of loneliness—it was the emptiness of not feeling you somewhere where you should have been. Fortunately, it faded when you gleamed at him while you explored the room with child-like curiosity.

"I think I did a pretty good job at converting you." Alfred mused.

You flopped onto the bed to lie on your back. "Converting me to what?"

The mattress dipped to your right, so you rolled over to face him. "To a commoner. Or maybe something lower than that." He grinned devilishly. And for that comment, he would earn a strong shove on his chest. Despite nearly falling off the edge, he merely scooted back in. "I've never seen someone this happy staying in a dump like this."

"Don't give yourself too much credit. I just miss it." Pausing briefly at that, a small smile spread to your lips when you saw his, wide and as endearing as ever. If there was one thing you wanted to see before you died, it was this. Alfred's warm smile. As you lingered on the thought, you realized you were completely smitten with him.

But most importantly, at peace.

This was exactly why you even dragged him here in the first place. For some quality alone time, backtracking, and a good, long talk without interruptions. "I'd know all about dumps." You murmured, reaching out to play with a lock of his sandy blonde hair. "Zao and I tend to find our best friends in them."

He chuckled airily. "Is this me?"

"... Well, sure. But I was talking about Allen."

Things got dark pretty fast.

You both laughed it off. He didn't have great memories of motels, but laying here with you reminded him of what you said about them. A lot of good things happened in these tiny rooms, apparently. And they were what you two talked about until three AM in the morning, standing together out on the balcony. From here, the heart of the city could be seen, from the aerial roads of spinners in the distance to the endless hills of skyscrapers and blinking lights.

"I was thinking," Alfred murmured quietly, turning his head to you. The right side of his face reflected the glow of the city. But it couldn't quite compare to the hope that lit up his eyes, as subtle as it was. "Is everything finally over?"

You turned to him, gaze softened. For just tonight, you would let him bask in his ignorance. And yourself, in his hold. "Not yet." You whispered. The feeling of his hand on your waist was a feeling you could get used to. Reaching out to his other one on the railing, you guided it to your side so he could hold you properly.

Alfred squeezed you eagerly, pressing closer to your body.

Taking his face into your hands, you gave him one last gesture of untold affection. It was a culmination of raw emotion free from your own better judgment. A means to communicate without talking.

You pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

At that very space in time, a singular thought occurred to both of you—I wish this moment would last forever.

"But we'll make it... Just like we always do."

|

What would you do if I killed you?

Nothing, because I'd be dead.

What if you survived? Or left behind a soul?

Then I'll come back and find you.

|

The club was still pounding away, much like the headache in his skull. Sucking in a sharp breath, he suffered the worst wake-up call in his short life—he was still bleeding, and in terrible pain. He shakily felt around his wound while hyperventilating on the ground. How he hadn't kicked the bucket yet was beyond him.

"Get your ass up already. I know you're not dead." A man growled in disdain, giving the body on the ground a light kick.

"Gh—!" He let out a pained gasp and clung onto the ground for dear life. It had been years since he felt this alive—ironically, it was when he was inches away from death.

His perpetrator had their dark eyes fixated on him like a stain on the floor. Their pupils were as red as the blood his victim bathed in. But they always had a strong stomach for gore. "What am I gonna say when the owner finds out I'm the reason you even got in here? You're bleeding into the pool." They murmured, raising his leg to keep tormenting the other like a new hobby.

With a few more kicks, the body rolled onto its back.

"Ugh... Fuck... How am I not dead?" He coughed in agony.

The other shrugged, flicking their ponytail over their shoulder. "God knows. Maybe you have a greater purpose to serve." As cryptic as that sounded, it was nothing but the truth. He had more to his life than dying in a nightclub. Dying could be a part of it, but this couldn't be the location to do it, nor could it be by your hand—the closest kin to his creator.

"Why else did he make you?"