#maroon is salty

[alkillyou]

dont ask me why his task is doing a family tree cuz i also dont know

[the-physicality]

ALSO:

[wolftheidioticfan]

AMONGUS

[kentopedia]

starry silence

dazai x reader my lil contribution to the chaos that was today's episode <3 not quite a reunion, but the aftermath of one ෆ. i'm happy he's safe & sound, but he must be so tired. :( sfw !! kind of sad bc i’m also dealing w jjk leaks i love being in pain (i don’t)

as dazai slept, moonlight cut across his face, highlighting the contours of his skin, the dark maroon cuts and bruises that had been littered across his face. though he seemed the image of a soldier home from war, his freshly washed hair and soft breaths turned him into something much more gentle. dark strands fell in soft waves over his head, shifting as he stirred, his inhale just a skip before his breathing evened out once more. 

you traced his jaw, watching the steady streams of air flow through his chest, out his nose. he looked so angelic, so tender in that waxy moonlight, comprised of something otherworldly and earthly all at once. 

a soft sigh left his lips as you traced his chin, and something about that sound of relief, of him relaxing completely under your palm, had you choking up. tears pricked at the edge of your waterline like sharp needles, each one filled with something poisonous. 

dazai didn’t move, but you curled into a ball, squeezing your legs to your chest as he slept on.

he’d been out for hours, ever since he’d gotten out of the shower, collapsing in a pile of long limbs stretched toward every corner of the room.

the blankets were much kinder to him than the steel bed he’d slept on at meursault, where he’d always kept one eye open. now, though, even his own clothes fit him poorly, like the white prison pants that had hung so loosely off his waist. 

under his t-shirt, the angles of his collarbone had become sharper, the planes of his stomach much flatter than you remembered. though his features had never been soft, even the skin of his cheeks had thinned, stress taking more of a toll on him than he'd admitted.

it was peaceful night outside, no sounds of screams to be heard in yokohama. you were certain that you’d absorbed every ounce of turmoil that had lingered in the city beyond your doorstep, and it gathered up in your chest like a bundle of fiery energy. something that you weren’t sure how to get rid of without bending over the porcelain toilet. 

everything had resolved itself, hadn’t it? yet, you couldn’t shake the twisted anxiety that lingered in your chest, even when dazai was right beside you, sleeping soundly with no lasting injuries. 

you rested your chin on your knees, letting that emptiness swallow you whole, disappearing somewhere that wasn’t entirely there. the steady rise and fall of dazai’s chest was the only thing that kept you grounded, kept you from drifting away, lost in a spiral of every possibility that hadn’t come to be. 

a small sound of misery left your lips, and you bit down hard, tasting blood as two salty drops rolled down your cheeks. though the cry had been nearly inaudible, dazai heard it nonetheless, alway attuned to you, even the simple fluctuation of your heartbeat a beacon for him across the universe. 

“what’s wrong, darling?” his words were quiet, like he was hesitant to break the atmosphere, in fear that he might startle you. 

you blinked, not sure when your vision had become so blurry, and twisted your neck, letting your jaw rest against your shoulder. “nothing,” you said, but your smile was weak, and the word was hardly a sound at all.

dazai had tucked his cheek under his hands, blinking up at you with sleepy brown eyes that so resembled a child's. it hurt you all over again, that this aching soul who had never seen the beauty in himself had almost been taken away from you. 

your lips parted, but the words halted at your tongue as you pinched your eyebrows together, trying to explain what exactly was within you. it wasn't quite sadness, but it wasn’t relief either, a cumulation of everything you’d ever felt, and something entirely new. 

though, as always, dazai seemed to understand. he reached a hand out, fingers slender and delicate, placing them on your wrist. “it's not good to hold back your tears, my love.” 

as if you’d just been waiting for dazai’s permission, you shook once more, silently, the tears rolling down your cheeks faster, harder. he sat up, bringing you closer with every moment, until you were wrapped in his warm arms. ones that were battered and bruised, but still the safest place in the world. 

he smelled clean, more like himself than he had when you had reunited with him, and that fact alone sent another nauseating wave of emotion over you. you gripped his shoulders, his chest, unable to get any closer, even as you tried to fuse yourself into his being, turn yourselves into one whole that could never again be separated.

dazai kissed your temple, holding you as you cried, saying nothing until you could form the words to explain the ache that in the deepest part of your stomach, stretching to the back of your throat. 

“i was so close to losing you, osamu,” you said, and even if dazai denied it, even if he said he’d always had it under control, you knew that wasn’t true. one slip up, one miscalculation, and you never would’ve seen him again. a single error by chuuya, by ango, by yourself… 

dazai’s fingers twitched against your spine, and he, for once, was faced with uncertainty. like he hadn’t considered what would’ve been ahead of you when he was gone for good, even if his death would always be a possibility. even if you'd always known that if the world wouldn’t kill him, maybe he’d do it himself.

“i’m here,” dazai said, and it wasn’t a promise, but it wasn’t a lie, and you'd accept it for what it was woth. “I’ll be here.” 

there was no way to predict how long that would hold true, but you’d grasp that last spark of hope tightly nevertheless. you'd shelter it away in your loving embrace until the universe clawed it from your bloody palms, stealing the very last light that it had dropped down from heaven into your life.

and that would have to be enough.

"i probably won't write anything abt the episode, i really need to work on—" … rylie is such a silly liar (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

[strongheartneteyam]

[ all credits of the Neteyam pic go to the incredibly talented @cinetrix ♡]

Champagne Problems

Part 2

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: neteyam is a simp for reader, black cat gf/golden retriever bf "trope", a whole lot of angst, beach party, use of alcohol, some romantic comedy vibes, neteyam acting a bit cocky lol, reader is a tiny bit of a meanie towards neteyam, sexual language, sexual content, reader is a bit antisocial, flirting, emotionally unavailable bc of trauma reader, unrequited love (neteyam is the one having the unrequited feelings), sexual tension, commitment issues, exophilia, size kink, interspecies relationship, bad words. Hit me up to lemme know if I forgot something ahaha

Reader is slightly older than Neteyam, for only 2 years.

Neteyam and Reader (AI Art)

Do you guys remember the story inspired by Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift that I promised like ages ago? Well... The first part is here? 🤓 A lot of people seemed to be excited to read this when I posted that sneak peak. Hope you guys like it! kiss kiss 💗

Slightly proofread.

Part 1 : Say Yes to Heaven

𓇼

If you dance, I'll dance

And if you don't, I'll dance anyway

Give peace a chance

Let the fear you have fall away

I've got my eye on you

(...)

Say yes to Heaven, say yes to me

Say Yes To Heaven (Lana Del Rey)

𓇼

"It's not like you're not gonna break me in half if we try to get down and dirty." You laugh a bit too much, the alcohol invading your brain slowly, making you care less and less about behaving in a "socially acceptable" way. Though you wondered if your not-a-bit-elegant-honesty mattered at all to Neteyam Sully, the na'vi boy sitting in the maroon leather couch, by your side, his huge size making the couch look ridiculously small. He was na'vi, after all. Totally different culture. The na'vi were way more upfront about their real thoughts and feelings.

Neteyam had been talking loudly, almost yelling, at your ear for the past 40 minutes, trying to make his voice sound louder than the party's music, so you could hear him try to convince you to hook up with him. As if the loud uplifting songs that echoed in the salty air of that Metkayina beach were not enough to bug your tired head, now you had Neteyam helping your headache get worse.

"That doesn't mean you can't let me take you home. Or even let me make you my mate, eventually, if we end up falling in love while we fuck under the starry sky. You might like laying with me in my hammock and letting me pleasure you more than you think. Maybe you'll want to be my girl once you get a taste of this na'vi spice" He was joking around with you while flirting.

His thick, muscular but still fleshy thighs were spread on the sofa way too much to your liking. It was almost like he was trying to show you how masculine or desirable - some bullshit like that - he was. You know, that kind of thing a lot of guys usually do when trying to seduce you.

You knew Neteyam was aware he was handsome, that his body was attractive. He had always had girls - na'vi and human - all over him since he was a teen, drooling over his beauty.

But if he thought his loverboy flirting that must have worked so easily with just way too many girls before was gonna work that easily with you, he was mistaken.

Okay, you had to admit he was being pretty insistent, though. Neteyam had been there for almost an hour already. You did not understand what was making him insist that much on you if you had an armor as impenetrable as the one of a human warrior of the Middle Ages, back on Earth. And those armors were really hard to get under.

"Listen" you took a last big sip of your champagne and put the glass cup on the wooden table next to the sofa "When you gonna give up, honey? It's not gonna work. I'm not hooking up with you." You looked him in the eyes.

Goddamn, were his orbs big compared to the ones of a human. 

They were beautiful, though.

Damn, (y/n)! Focus, girl!

"I'm known among my people for being disciplined, focused and getting what I want because I fight hard for it. You're my focus now, tawtute." (human) I'm not giving up on you. You're like my Ikran. You're wild and hard to get but I'll conquer you, sevin tawtute." (pretty human) "On the first try."

"Cocky much?" You smirked and shook your head in disapproval "No, but, seriously, Neteyam, are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten about tsaheylu? I don't have a neurological queue, babe. I know I have many braids in my hair," You pointed out your hairstyle "but they're all regular human braids. None of them have little tendrils on its tip. Sorry, Neteyam. We're Romeo and Juliet. And Juliet doesn't even love Romeo in this story. You're deemed to heartbreak." You said, like you could not care less about his attempts to win you over, sipping on your sparkling champagne, that went down your throat comfortably, making you feel cozy and safe. It wasn't gonna work, anyway.

You liked champagne a bit too much... you had to admit it was very possible that you had a bit of a drinking problem. Alcohol made you feel warm inside. In an emotional way too. It felt like someone was hugging you, when you would not let many real people hug you because you just were not exactly enthusiastic about having physical contact with just anyone. You only let your closest friends and some family members, like your little sister, hug you. 

Some people would often call you "cold" and say that you acted "like a queen, above everyone else", behind your back, but that could not be further from the truth. You actually hated how low your actual self steem was.

"Why don't you look at Munì?" You mentioned the curvy, tall, blue eyed Metkayina girl who clearly had a mad crush on Neteyam. She was incredibly pretty. Nobody could deny that. "She has been drooling over you ever since you got here. Give the poor girl a chance. She's such a cutie. If I liked girls, I'd easily do her. Look at those beautiful, long, toned legs. Look at her wide hips. Damn, she's yummy!" you were drinking too much, your honesty getting way too out there.

"I don't want her. I want you." He spoke, like he really meant it. "My hammock will be hanged between those two big trees you like to collect fruits from. I'll be waiting for you, if you want to meet me."

With that last line being said, Neteyam got up from the sofa and walked away, swiftly finding his younger brother Lo'ak and tapping on his back, like men usually do. Both brothers started what looked like an interesting conversation.

You were left alone wondering how Neteyam could say those words and walk away so nonchalantly. 

"Phew! I thought he'd never leave, girlie." Adeline screamed, coming closer to you.

She was your best friend. You guys knew way too much about each other, but that only drove you closer and made you two have a beautiful bond that felt unbreakable. She was one of the few people in the world you trusted with many of your secrets. But not even she knew everything about you. Yes, talk about trust issues…

"God, I was about to call his sister to take him away! Kiri is much more chill and quiet compared to her siblings. She's a sweetheart." You said, finally letting your guard down and being able to relax your body language, laying back on the couch and resting your bare feet on the wooden dark brown table in front of you

𓇼

You cursed yourself while you walked towards Neteyam's big light brown hammock, hanged between two big beautiful trees that reminded you of the Palm Trees that used to exist on Planet Earth.

Why were you doing that, anyway?

"Tawtute! You came." Neteyam smiled, relief all over his face 

You sighed.

"Yeah, but I'm still wondering why I did."

"Ouch!" He put his huge four fingered hand on his chest and frowned, like he was in pain

You rolled your eyes at him.

"Stop that, silly." Crossing your arms, you walked towards the big tropical tree in front of his hammock but still a little far

"Hey! Where are you going?" Neteyam almost screamed as you were already further away from him than you should be if you were actually gonna have sex with him

It was like you were running away from and showing up to the "job" at the same time. Go figure out.

You rested your back against that large tree, feeling the rough edges of the wood harassing your skin.

Neteyam was already almost there where you were. His long na'vi legs helped him walk faster than you anticipated.

Neteyam got next to you. You felt a little fear but a bit of excitement, simultaneously, when you realized your head only reached his hip.

Fuck, he was a giant next to you… why the hell did that turn you on?

"Are you afraid of me, yawntutsyìp?" (little loved one) Neteyam said in a lewd, low voice as you looked at him, feeling like a pathetic little ant looking up at a human

Was that how ants felt?

"No, silly, I'm not." You looked away from him and tried to focus on the way the eclipse had beautiful violet and blue tones

That almost worked. If it wasn't for Neteyam using his huge alien hand to stroke your hair softly.

"You're so pretty, tawtute." You could feel his gaze directed at you, you could feel his heat burning your skin. The desire he felt for you was almost freaking tangible. 

You kept your eyes on the stars.

"You're not gonna look at me, yawntutsyìp? Lemme see those pretty eyes, hmm?" Fuck, he was turning you on so much, your pussy felt good already and there was a tight knot forming in your lower belly. How did he do that to you with so little effort?

You looked up at Neteyam's face, your neck hurting. You did not expect to see a big bulge under his navy blue loincloth, though. Neteyam was so huge you could not help staring and your face totally betrayed your surprise.

"C'mon, I wanna feel your tiny body on mine." He paused and his big blue hand traced your collarbone and your shoulders "You're so small, tawtute… Hmmm…" he let out something between a moan and a growl "So soft too." Neteyam squeezed your arm, feeling your soft human flesh against his slender fingers "I love how different from na'vi girls you are. I'm so lucky to have you all to myself tonight."

Your breath was now labored and your pussy was soaked. Your poor panties were all wet.

"I'm dying to squeeze those titties. They look incredibly soft. But I won't do anything that intimate before you say "yes" first, yawntutsyìp."

•

Taglist:

@yeosxxx (u asked to be tagged in all my writings so I'm tagging u here hehe)

Comments are very welcome. I love all of you who take time to read my writings ♡ Thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart. If you wanna be added to the taglist, just leave a comment down below <3

[sixxeyes]

redamancy.

(n.) - a love returned in full feat. childe w.c. : 5.2 k warnings : nsfw , f!reader , entirely self-indulgent lol , very very soft. like excruciatingly soft. note : hbd to the literal love of my life :salute: i was going to write something out of pocket, but i'm a big baby and need lots of fluff so lol enjoy being loved by tartag three years in a row

Throughout the time dating your boyfriend, Childe has always been one hell of a lover to you. He has been nothing but understanding and kind; whenever you told him to give you some space while you pondered your own feelings for him or needed time to yourself, he had always nodded his head and promised you that he would be there for you should you ever called him.

And Childe always came through when you did call for him. 

He was patient with you as you figured out what you wanted in your relationship with him and how you felt specifically for him, never rushing you when you took some time to finally tell him that you loved him and only began to get clingy with you when you finally reciprocated his feelings. 

He loved you so much and you could feel it with every action he showed you.

And you wanted to show him how much you appreciate him with a cake made with love just for him. Your idea was big and grand; a heart cake with a cute whale on top decorated with cute stars and a moncerous caeli, his constellation, hidden somewhere on the cake.

However, due to your lack of baking ability and patience, your frosting wasn’t working correctly and… well.

Your heart beats rapidly against your chest seeing the lump of blue frosting melting ontop of your cake. The base was decently done, the light blue frosting wasn’t perfectly even but it was smooth enough and that was all that you needed. However, the decorative blue frosting for the whale had not set properly and Childe was due to visit any time soon. 

With a knife, you carefully scoop off the blue lump and try again in hopes of the frosting understanding your panic but your heart breaks once more seeing the blob fall onto your base. Just as you begin to try again, the sound of your door unlocking and opening sends your heart to your stomach. As the door closes and you hear rustling as your guest enters your home, you quickly stand in front of your mess of a cake in a state of panic. 

He was visiting way earlier than usual.

“Sweetheart?” Childe’s voice calls out for you. “Are you home?”

A head of orange curls pokes out from the doorway of your kitchen and immediately a bright smile grows on his face. With quick strides, you’re enveloped into a warm hug; the comforting scent of citrus and the salty breeze of the ocean surrounds you and it was like all of your worries for today just melt away as soon as his arms wrap around you. Childe’s scent, his entire presence, was something you found yourself easily melting into.

The deep ocean stares back at you, the dark seas twinkling lightly as they reflect their affections for you. It’s a rare sight to see such light in his eyes according to most others, like his short grumpy coworker who always picks a fight with your lover, but you’re glad that the stars reflected in his eyes are a sight reserved only for you to see.

“You’re wearing my shirt…” he murmurs quietly as he takes in the sight of you. Rough fingers fiddle with the edge of the maroon shirt over your form and he smiles sweetly. A soft kiss is pressed onto your cheek, gentle lips tickling your skin and you fight back a smile as more are firmly pressed along your face. If they had left marks, there would be a freckle of kisses along your visage.

“What’s all this?” Childe asks. His chin rests on your shoulder as he peeks over your body, but you reflexively shift your shoulders to shield the mess from his field of view. He attempts again and your head tilts in his way. A soft chuckle is heard beside your ear before his arms hold your body still and he successfully gets a view of the cake behind you, much to your dismay. 

“I was trying to make you a cake, but the decorating isn’t going as planned…” You murmur softly, eyes averting his gaze when he glances back to you. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes knowing the state of his cake. “Don’t laugh, I know it’s ugly right now.”

You’re fully expecting your boyfriend to tease you for the misshapen cake you decided to dedicate to him; it’s not unusual for the two of you to bicker and poke fun at one another. It was something that you loved about your relationship, but this was something you really tried your hardest on and if he made fun of you for this you were sure to start crying in front of him. 

A burning sensation begins to build in your eyes as you prepare for your lover’s remark.

“Oh, my beloved,” Childe coos. A gentle hand cups your jaw and guides your face in his direction; your eyes hesitantly meet his gaze and you want to cry even more with the way he looks at you. There’s nothing but affectionate warmth in his gaze as he takes in your gift before glancing back at you. “Why would I laugh at something you gifted me?”

You shrug and he softly chuckles beside you. You feel his lips press firmly onto the side of your cheek and your skin burns at the act. 

“You worked hard to make me a gift even if you didn’t need to, which is more than I could ever ask for,” Childe whispers lovingly into your ear. With another fond kiss to your head, your lover pulls away from your shared embrace. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Childe’s voice is soft, a contrast from your usual confident lover. The strong, powerful honed soldier fit to serve the Tsaritsa and the Tsaritsa only was now hesitantly asking you to do something intimate. You exhale softly at how you’ve gotten this powerful weapon of war wrapped around your finger and you wonder just what it was about you that he loved so much.

You couldn’t even get a proper answer out; as soon as you nod your head a pair of lightly chapped lips press onto yours. The kiss was very gentle and sweet. So many words of love and affection were poured into that simple kiss, every tender movement causing your heart to soar  in your chest. His hand gently squeezes your hand, a small reminder that he was experiencing this intimate moment with you, and you sigh from his touch.

You love him so much.

As you pull away from him, your eyes immediately meet his gaze and it only sends your nerves into more of a frazzled mess. If you’ve never been swept away by a heavy tide and pulled underneath the unforgiving undertow to be engulfed in the ocean, you might as well have experienced that now with the way your boyfriend was staring at you. Love was evident in his gaze, but with the dark blue engulfing his irises you knew there was something more brewing. 

With a short glance to your lips, Childe leans forward again to press his lips on yours. However, this time his kiss conveyed a different emotion than the previous one. Compared to the innocence of the other one, this one screamed of desperation and need. As his lips move hungrily over yours, you groan and grip onto the kitchen counter as he pushes into you. However, your boyfriend pulls away when you suddenly wince from the tile digging into your back. 

You don’t get a chance to question his motives before strong arms lift you from the ground and onto the counter. The cool temperature of the kitchen tiles contrast to the heat of the moment and you shudder in excitement, which only causes Childe to smile at your reaction. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, slipping between your legs and once more leaning into your body. As if on instinct, your arms loosely wrap around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. You shrug and avert your eyes playfully to the side as he leans in to press a kiss at the juncture of your neck beneath your ear. 

“Nothing much, just how much I love you,” you respond with a small laugh. Childe hums beside you before pulling away to stare into your eyes again. There’s a playful sparkle in his eyes, but it’s dwarfed by the amount of the warmest, most serene ocean blue that lull you in a comfort that you can only find with the man in front of you. 

“I would argue that that’s a bigger deal than you’re making it out to be.” He chuckles, rough and calloused hands resting on your waist as he pulls you into him. His lips find yours again, the same desire to love you and show his affections for you clear as day the more he kisses you. With a gentle prod at your bottom lip, his tongue slips into your mouth and explores everything that he can touch. Your hand runs through his orange curls and lightly grip his hair, groaning as his tongue slips over your own.

This only excites Childe further; it’s not his fault that you’re so sweet to him and have the cutest reactions when he’s giving his love to you. He wants to show you what you mean to him after going out of your comfort zone just for his sake. 

Childe pulls away from the kiss, but his lips never stray from you. They trail kisses along your neck as his fingers undo the buttons of his maroon shirt draping over your body. A sigh escapes your lips and your own fingers play with the ginger curls at the base of his neck. His tongue gently laps at your skin as his lips gently caress the area after and-

“Childe!” you yelp as you as his teeth playfully nip your skin. His lips curl into a smile that you most definitely can feel as he gently kisses your neck as an apology.

“Sorry, dear,” Childe murmurs, but he certainly doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse. Calloused fingers slide the maroon shirt off of your shoulders and the cooler temperature of the kitchen surrounds your entire being. Blue eyes are taking in your appearance, and you know there’s something brewing in the deep blue abyss as his eyes slowly stare down your body. 

Soon after, you can feel his hands explore the expanse of your exposed torso, running over your skin and curvature of your body. It’s like he’s mapping out the way your body feels from the way he’s touching you; there’s no inch of skin left untouched. Childe’s lips find yours again as he kisses you ardor, pouring every bit of love he has for you in the movement of his lips.

“W-wait,” you stammer breathlessly, pulling away from your lover when you feel his rough fingers slip under your bra strap. He’s fiddling with the clasp as his eyes meet your gaze. You can tell he was close to just letting his desires take control of him from the way he’s looking at you.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Childe asks. He tilts his head forward to press a kiss along your jaw.

“Shouldn’t I be the one kissing you?” You ask him, gently pushing away so that your eyes can meet once more. You give him a small smile as your fingers gently tickle the back of his neck. “It’s not fair for you to be in charge on your birthday; why don’t you relax while I love you?”

Childe can feel his heart soaring from the mere suggestion. Of course, he would never turn down any request from you, especially if it was a request to have your lips all over his body and hopefully around his dick. But, as much as he loved the idea, he had other plans in mind that he needed to do to you. 

It’s not his fault that you made it so easy to love you.

With a shake of his head and a quick movement from his fingers, your bra is unclasped and slipped off of your shoulders. A gasp escapes your lips as your chest is bare in front of your lover, though you know he is very much enjoying the view in front of him. 

“Not tonight,” Childe responds with an amused smile. His lips trail down your skin, soft kisses leading to your chest as rough hands gently run over your breasts. “Let me enjoy you as my gift tonight, darling.”

He doesn’t even let you respond to him as his lips press a gentle kiss at your nipple. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nub while his hand gropes at the breast left unattended. Your body shivers at his touch and you can’t help the blood rising to your face at his affections. Of course, you’re slightly embarrassed at having all of his attention on you on his special day even after making a mess of a cake for him. It should be you kissing him, trailing kisses down his body and worshiping him until all he could see were the galaxy of stars that shone the brightest the minute he was born. 

You breathe out his name in a soft whisper before Childe detaches himself from your chest. His thumbs brush over your nipples as his hands cup and squeeze your breasts. He smiles, licking his lips in a manner that sends a pleasant shudder down your spine. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Childe murmurs before leaning forward once more to kiss you. You hum in his kiss, groaning softly as his tongue parts your lips once more as he takes in your taste again and again. His hands slide down your body and his fingers find their way to the button of your shorts. With deft fingers, your button is swiftly undone and you lift your hips to help slide them off. 

“You’re one to talk, ‘Jax,” you quip back at him when he finally pulls away from the kiss, but your slightly playful demeanor when you feel his fingers brush past your clothed core. Your breath hitches and you can feel the smile on his lips when he kisses at the juncture of your neck. His name leaves your mouth in a soft whisper and your fingers cling to his shoulders. 

“Hm, what was that?” Childe chuckles softly when your body twitches as his finger presses into your clothed clit. Your huff of air clearly entertaining your boyfriend as he gently massages your sensitive bud through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your body shudders again as you close your eyes to his touch, your fingers burying themselves into his orange sea of curls as you try to ground yourself. 

“Sh-shut up,” you stammer out with a gentle yank of his hair. He only laughs softly in response and gently kisses your neck. Your breathing gets heavier with each movement of his fingers as he gently teases and prods at your clit and you can feel the pleasure building up. Your hips squirm on the kitchen counter as you try to grind up into his fingers for a bit more pressure; you needed a bit more stimulation than he was currently giving you.

Childe hums beside your ear, gently nipping your earlobe as he feels you shift your hips underneath him. “Do you need some more excitement, dear?” he muses. His fingers, however, slowly stop their pleasurable massage on your clit and your eyes widen at the cease of movement. He pulls away from you, his deep blue eyes an abyss of desire as he stares into your eyes. There’s a playful smirk on his lips as he glances at your lips and then meets your gaze once more. “There’s no need to rush; we have all day to enjoy the moment, and I want to take my time enjoying my birthday gift.”

He presses a tantalizing kiss at the crook of your neck before trailing slow, agonizing kisses down your body. You want to tell him to hurry up, but your voice fails you. Can anyone blame you when your lover was purposefully teasing you in the best way possible?

Your breath hitches when his lips finally meet the band of your underwear and it suddenly dawns on you what he’s going to do. Instinctively, your knees attempt to close so he doesn’t get a view of you down there, but, much to your dismay, his hands firmly hold your legs open.

“Childe,” you begin, but your words get caught in your throat when his eager fingers slip underneath the band of your panties and slide them down your legs. You don’t even get a chance to protest before you feel his lips kissing lower and lower until-

Your hips twitch and you let out a sweet noise when Childe kisses your clit. Your hand automatically comes up to cover your mouth knowing what he was about to do. With your fingers clinging to the kitchen counter and your mouth muffled, you moan softly as his tongue laps at your sensitive bud. The wet muscle swirls around the nub, lips kissing and sucking on it as you try your best to hang onto whatever amount of sanity you had left. The pleasure was building in your stomach and throughout your nerves as it washes over your body in gentle waves. 

A breathy cry leaves your lips when you feel him move even lower; his tongue licks a stripe up your folds and you can feel his mouth vibrate at your core as he savors your taste. You can only say his name once before his tongue delves into your pussy. Immediately, your hands fly to his head, fingers burying themselves into his ginger curls and your thighs squish around his head. 

You can feel him chuckle against you and then rough, calloused fingers firmly grip your thighs and pry your legs apart. The wet, soppy sound of his mouth suctioned to your cunt as his tongue thrusts into you is all you can hear while he eats you out. There’s the occasional groan from your boyfriend as your hand pushes his face deeper into your hips or when your hips grind up to meet his tongue, but regardless of what you hear your head is spinning as his stimulation overwhelms you.

Childe pulls away from your pussy only to press a kiss onto your clit again, one of his hands lets go of your plush thighs as he slips a finger into you. You’re panting heavily at this point and your grip on his hair tightens. The burning white pleasure is building even more as his finger thrusts inside your cunt; he’s building a steady rhythm with his meanwhile sucking and kissing your sensitive bud and your head is spinning. You are not going to last any longer if he keeps this up. 

Another finger slips in and you throw your head back. It’s hard to keep your mind from going insane with the way he brushes against that sweet spot. You can’t see him, but you can feel him smiling from underneath you and his fingers brush that spot again and again, massaging it until the heat in your body nearly explodes.

He’s so mean, but you can’t bring it in you to tell him to stop. Not when it feels so excruciatingly  good.

“Ch-Childe,” you stammer out in between moans, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Your boyfriend’s thumb gently rubs your thigh while the fingers that were pressing into your sweet spot over and over increase in intensity. The sloppy sound of his mouth sucking on your clit and the gentle rake of his teeth over the sensitive skin is enough to send you over the edge. The pleasure is building up so fast and your fingers bury deep into his hair as you practically shove him into your pussy. 

Were you suffocating him? Could he even breathe?

You didn’t care. All that was on your mind was the overwhelming white pleasure that burns through your body, crashing over your entire being as your hips ride into his face. His free hand grips your thighs as your legs tighten around his neck to pull him closer to your body while his fingers buried deep inside your walls help you ride out your orgasm. 

His name is the only word that spills out of your lips in a slurred and breathy mantra as the waves of your orgasm wash over your nerves.

As you cool down from the high of your climax, Childe gently slips his fingers out of your sensitive pussy. His hands pry open your shaking legs and you can see the twinkle of his eyes as he watches you, completely breathless, on the kitchen counter. 

You nearly cum again when your boyfriend locks eyes with you and licks his fingers clean. 

“You taste so sweet, love,” Childe coos, turning his head and pressing his lips against your inner thigh. He showers small kisses against your skin gently and your body shivers underneath his touch. “If I could, I would spend all day just eating you out until all I can taste is your pussy on my tongue for the rest of my life.”

You can feel your ears burning at his dirty words, but you can’t deny that it made your stomach somersault at the mere thought. 

“But, there are other, more urgent matters that I want to deal with. So, we’ll save that idea for next time, okay?” Childe whispers playfully. He presses a final kiss on your thigh before standing up once more. He leans into you; his hands firmly grab at your waist as he pulls you into his body. Your lover’s lips find yours in a kiss as his lips move against yours in fervor. 

The taste of your cum on his lips melts into your own mouth as his tongue slips into yours, and you groan as Childe presses more into you. His kisses are hungry and rough, almost as if his lust and desire to have you was taking full control of his body at this point. Your fingers cling onto his shoulders as you hold him close to you, savoring the heat of the moment and the passion shared between you two.

Childe whispers your name as he pulls away only for his lips to go straight for your neck. He’s kissing the skin of your neck, lips suctioning to areas of your skin as his tongue scrapes over the area trapped in his mouth. You sigh breathily, feeling his mouth caress and suck at your skin. You only wince when his teeth graze your skin and bite you once more. 

But you don’t stop him as he leaves love bites onto the expanse of your skin.

Lost in your own bliss and the kisses pressed into your skin, you don’t realize what Childe’s doing until you feel something hard press against your pussy. Your eyes slowly open as your turn your head to face your lover; a head of ginger curls is all you see as he’s too busy kissing your neck and fisting his dick as he prepares himself to fuck you.

Your stomach flutters in excitement and your hand slowly reaches down to touch his cock. When your fingers brush against his, you can feel your smile growing seeing his body flinch at your touch. 

“Babe?” Childe asks. He pulls away from the crook of your neck and you can feel your pussy moisten from the sight of him. 

He’s an absolute, horny wreck. His blue eyes are dark, darker than you’ve ever seen them and you fear he may have jumped too deep into the pits of the ocean from the way he’s looking at you. There’s a glaze over his eyes and his cheeks are flushed from not only eating you out earlier, but from pumping his dick in his hand and the excitement of having your cunt around him. 

Your heart swells in pride knowing that he’s like this because of you. 

“Let me do it for you,” you tell him softly, gently removing his hand from his cock as your fingers wrap around it in his stead. “It’s your birthday, at least let me treat you with this.”

Childe lets out a strained groan at your touch, but he doesn’t stop you. Instead, he buries his face back into the crook of your neck along with a few kisses sprinkled onto your skin. 

Immediately, you get to work. Your thumb swipes at the head of his dick and he shivers from the touch; you can feel your smile growing from his reactions to your touch. Your thumb gently massages the tip of his cock, gently coaxing as much precum as you could over the head before your hand begins to slowly pump his dick. It’s a slow and steady rhythm at first and Childe moans softly into your neck. His hips meet your hand in its pace and you can feel him get harder with each stroke. 

Childe whispers out your name in a soft moan when you playfully let your finger trail along the shaft of his cock before your hand grasps him once more to line him up at the entrance of your pussy. Your body shudders feeling the tip slip through your folds, the mixture of his precum and your wet pussy making the sensation all the more pleasurable.

“Are you ready?” you whisper to your boyfriend. Your free hand gently runs through Childe’s hair as he pulls away from your neck. His eyes meet yours and your pussy throbs at the pure lust and love in his eyes. A rough hand reaches up to grab yours, bringing it to his lips as he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m always ready for you, my beloved.”

Childe kisses you again, muffling both of your moans as he presses his hips into yours. His dick slides into your pussy; it brushes up against your walls in the best way possible, each inch digging into you sends waves of pleasure through your body. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his hips as you help push him deeper into your cunt. Your boyfriend laughs softly at your eagerness, pulling away from your lips with an amused smile. 

“Already?”

You roll your eyes and yank your hand away from his, but he quickly catches it once more. He intertwines your fingers with a gentle squeeze and a twinkle in his ocean eyes.

“Just shut up and fuck me, ‘Jax.”

Your lover does not need to be told what to do twice. With a quiet ‘yes, ma’am,’ Childe’s hips begin a slow and steady rhythm as he grinds into you. As the pleasant sensation of his dick rubbing inside your pussy, you sigh and let your eyes flutter shut; each movement is absolute bliss for you and you don’t doubt that Childe feels the same way from the way he’s groaning and panting in your ear. 

Whispers of praise and love are whispered into your ear the more the pressure builds up between the both of you. There’s no rush, no race for the end of the finish line as the both of you revel in the ecstasy shared as your hips meet again and again. Childe gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards him and his lips hungrily capture your own once more in a heated kiss. Your moans are swallowed by him as he pushes you onto the kitchen counter.

The cool tile presses against your back and you shiver, though it doesn’t distract you much considering the gradual increasing intensity of Childe’s hips thrusting into your own. His fingers, still intertwined with yours, squeeze your hand against the kitchen tile as he pulls away from your mouth. His eyes are beautiful as he stares down at you, gaze in a lust-filled haze and lips parted as the most beautiful, sweet moans leave his lips. 

“You feel so good; your pussy was made for me,” Childe groans out. He leans forward once more but buries his face back into the crook of your neck. It’s hard to focus on anything when his hips are slapping against your own, the noises getting louder and wetter the more he pulls his dick out only to slam back into your pussy, and his whines right beside your ear as the pleasure spreads throughout your body. 

His free hand roughly grabs a hold of your thigh, pulling your body closer to the edge of the counter before pushing your leg up. It’s a bit of a stretch for you, but god does the angle that he’s hitting you from feel so good. A strangled moan leaves your lips as Childe roughly fucks you, sparks of pleasure rapidly building up in your stomach the more he hits that special, sweet spot that makes you see stars.

“Childe, I-I’m…!” you cry out, fingers grasping the back of his head. You feel him kiss the base of your neck.

“Go on, I’m close too. Don’t hold back now.”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum, your second orgasm crashes over you in a huge wave; pleasure engulfs your entire being as your body spasms. Your leg tightly curls around his hip, your head thrown back and back arching. You can hear Childe grunt from beside you as your pussy clenches around his dick as he helps you ride out your orgasm with gentle praise.

You feel his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder as his hips messily thrust into your own before you feel his movements still and his pelvis buried deep into your own followed by a muffled moan. Both of your chests are heaving and the sound of heavy breathing echoes throughout the kitchen while you both desperately try to catch your breath. 

After a few quiet moments, Childe pulls away from your neck and gently tilts your head towards him to take a look at you. You’re sure you’re a mess, but you don’t care as you admire your boyfriend as he hovers above you. His hair is a mess, worse than usual from your fingers constantly burying themselves into his ginger sea of curls, and his cute cheeks are flushed from the throes of passion shared just moments prior. His lips are parted as he pants, the corners lifted slightly upwards as his ocean eyes take in your own messy, fucked out expression.

Childe kisses you, peppering soft kisses on your lips and gently around your face. 

“I love you. I love you so, so much,” he murmurs quietly against your skin and you don’t ever doubt what he truly means. His lips press into yours again, causing your heart to flutter in your chest at the simple, yet sweet act of affection. 

Your heart doesn’t stop swelling with the love you held specifically for Childe even as he pulls out of you and helps clean up the mess you made, not even when he playfully asks for another round as you head to the shower to wash up after already going at it just moments before.

You love him, too, and you thank the gods for guiding him to you so that you can love him just as much as he loves you.

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Prologue

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 406

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Prologue. Mentions and descriptions of drowning.

Enjoy! 🖤

His skin is on fire.

The chronic searing on the side of his throat cuts into the sheer panic of imminent drowning. Even though he’s fully submerged in the cool water, he can still feel the burning ravaging deep tracks across his epidermis.

He resurfaces again gasping for breath; his arms flailing about wildly and splashing water back into his mouth amidst the choking and spluttering. Each involuntary gulp brings not only the sharp sting of salt but also the acrid bitterness of fear that lacerates his tongue.

Frankie’s panicking big time, fully aware that he's drowning. His legs are kicking frantically under the water in that fight-or-flight desperation to keep him afloat. Fatigue sets in like an insidious weight, pulling at the muscles and draining the strength from every exertion.

He starts to hold his breath involuntarily and takes fish-like gasps as his head flops under again.

He re-emerges up through the surface and coughs, trying with all his might to stay buoyant; but in the middle of the ocean surrounded by heavy, choppy currents and flaming debris, it’s a hard feat to remain composed and optimistic at his impending doom.

He feels a sharp pain in the side of his hip wind him, and it knocks him back under the water where he swallows the salty taste of sickly brine into his already shrinking lungs.

Frankie kicks with all of his might to break through the surface. As he does, he grabs onto the item that had assaulted him so viciously in the water.

He scrambles and hoists himself up onto it; breathing through raw, deep gasps and coughing up gunky phlegm that dangles from his bottom lip, without ever wanting to let go.

He pushes himself again and steadies his aching body on what he assumes is a piece of the wing or tail of the aircraft. Either way, he’s thankful to see it as he sucks in oxygen desperately through throated wheezes.

He turns back to the flaming wreckage behind him aghast - the pieces of it that hadn’t yet sank - and presses his wet hand to the side of his neck wincing and whimpering in abject terror.

Those brown eyes of his are wider than ever before at the sight of the plane in pieces before him, burning vividly on the ocean’s surface.

Not another soul is seen floating in the water with him.

Not even the ones who have already drowned.

To be continued...

SERIES MASTERLIST | CHAPTER 1

Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged/commented on/re-blogged my initial teaser.

@suzdin @missladym1981 @magpiepills @millennial-teenybopper @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @msjarvis @tightjeansjavi @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @sin-djarin @rhoorl @disassociation-daydreams @quinnnfabrgay @chronically-ghosted @fuckyeahdindjarin @chiriwritesstuff @copperhalfcent @bluestar22x @5oh5 @gobaaby-blog-blog @myloveistoolittle @pastawench @maggiemayhemnj @linzels-blog @secretelephanttattoo @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @thethirstwivesclub @seratuyo @chronically-ghosted @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @toomanytookas @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes

[razbunz]

Best of the worst (Pt 2)

Toji x Fem Reader CW: Drinking/Smoking, Older Toji, Gets a little spicy, Shiu and others are mentioned, Cursing. Word Count: 5K (I cooked on this)

Husband Toji! Quickly packs for a honeymoon to Spain, A whole AirBnb for a week on the island of Ibiza, The warm waters rolling over your skin as you swim with your husband taking in the salty air of the coast.

Husband Toji! Splashing you aggressively with water when diving into the balearic sea, Soon taking you to a seafood dinner. Candlelit with flames wavering with every warm breeze that passes through the gazebo It's easy to gorge on crab legs and to chat playfully with your freshly wed husband. The wedding band on his finger shining in the moonlight as cicadas hum an evening tune.

Husband Toji! Gifts you a sundress, and goes grape picking at a local vineyard in the summer heat. He helps you reach the tallest vines by lifting you up by the hips; gripping them tightly so you stay sturdy in his arms. He holds the basket of grapes collected and once you reach the rim of the wicker pail he's coated in sweat- looking nothing less than ethereal. Toji hands over the grapes to the vine assistant, who suggests that they can make a small batch. It's heartily agreed it will be your ‘honeymoon’ blend.

Husband Toji! Eagerly taking the opportunity to get wine drunk with you at the rental house- laughing as you get more whiny and needy with each sip. Toji can't help but pout and tease you during your hazy state, eventually he will show kindness though- it's your honeymoon afterall.And will lay you on the bed gently, kissing and suckling at your supple flesh until you beg him to do something more, until your crying of pleasure.

Husband Toji! Trying not to pout as he boards the plane, internally he fears that you're only sticking around like some fucked up ‘honeymoon phase’. He will never admit to you but it really hurts his feelings, you're not sure he knows just how serious you are about him.

Husband Toji! He goes back to work soon after, he's heard your complaints that his field is dangerous and he shouldn't be doing that, More than ever now that he's married.

But in his head it's the only way and the best way to make money to support the both of you, Though he doesn't want to hurt your feelings It's something that must be done.

Husband Toji! He goes to work with his hands covered in leather gloves so his ring doesn't rust with blood he has to deal with on a daily basis. His gloves are drenched in a sticky maroon substance as cuts the hands off of a victim. It doesn't make his stomach feel bad anymore… it hasn't for a while. He offers it to the commissioner as some sort of sick gift- they hand over a briefcase of money and he's back home to being your loveable bear of a husband.

Husband Toji! But because of his job it's easy for him to help you during your period. He knows you try to avoid him during that time, And he laughs when you explain why. It pisses you off to the nth degree but he reassures you that he isn't disgusted. His hands are a warm safety when you're cramping, he runs his fingers up and down your stomach until the pain goes away. Even once when you stain the sheets while you expected him to be mad he races to the corner store to buy you snacks, as he sets the sheets into the wash. When he comes back he watches whatever film you want as he stirs up hot cocoa which he is a master at making.

Husband Toji! Hearing you throw up one morning, He rushes to the bathroom to see you spill your guts out; Lifting up your hair he pats your back soothingly. He's groggy but it comforts him to know that you're okay. But this pattern continues... Morning after morning you start to feel nauseous and ill, It's starting to scare him.

*

He's making dinner one night, suddenly noticing that you've been in the bathroom for almost an hour. He calls out your name and as he walks closer to the bathroom his ears prick up as they catch your sobs.

“Princess?” he calls out into the hallway awaiting a response. Your chest racks and you stop crying, trying to compose yourself to respond.

But he knocks on the door “Are you okay, pretty girl?” The silence echoes throughout the house.

Behind the door you're biting your lip to stop a sob.

“Princess, Open up please.” His voice itches with anxiety, He's growing impatient pacing through the hallway until he breaks open the door with a sharp CRACK the lock splintering immediately.

“Baby?” He sees your figure on the floor clutching something to your chest.

“There you are pretty.” his voice makes you shiver into the ground-he reaches out to you but you shrink back, whimpering in fear.

“M’sorry m’sorry toji.” you sound more pathetic than you ever thought.

“Sorry?” he scoffs “For what?” Standing back to give you some space, Instead of words you pass what's clutched to your chest. With one glance it makes him want to hurl.

Soon to be father Toji! Turning the blue stick in his hands, Two blue lines staring up at him like daggers. 

“M’sorryyyy Toji” by now you're hyperventilating, as he acknowledges the weight of it all.

“Baby it's okay!”  He crouches down and offers you a hand brushing your hair back.

“You're gonna kill me.” he shakes his head, you’re being dramatic.

“I'm not going to kill you princess.” pressing a kiss to your hand.

He chuckles for the second it takes you to realize that he is not made, he's rather happy.

Lifting you up he hugs you tight, peppering your wet cheeks with kisses, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“God I love you so much.” he confesses to you “Always wanted a little brat, hmm?” he looks down to see your face.

“You want one with me too mama?” you nod enthusiastically before admitting to Toji

“I thought you didn't want one!” you breathe a sigh of relief now knowing that you were wrong,

“Of course I did!” he pauses “I didn't think you wanted one with an old man like me!” He blushes and combs through his hair to reveal more of his face.

“Well clearly you're not that old.” You gesture to your body.

Laughs fill the bathroom.

Soon to be Father Toji! Goes to every single one of your doctor visits, He can just be back from a mission with bloody clothes in the back of the car but will be there. Holding your hand throughout the first ultrasound. When a heartbeat shows up on the monitor he squeezes your hand, smiling cheesily as a tiny baby shows up on screen-He keeps an ultrasound photo in his wallet now.

Soon to be Father Toji! If you thought he was protective before, When you're pregnant he might as well be a guard dog. Holding your hand everywhere and when people come up to gush about having a kid he is only 4 seconds from committing another murder. You're his wife and that's his kid. They shouldn't touch you.

Soon to be Father Toji! Ikea shopping with you as your due date approaches, By the end of the trip you’ve got a Crib, Dresser, and changing table with plenty of storage. 

When they arrive at the house he sets an entire day aside to build it all, yelling at the instructions while you sit down. Admiring him hammering everything together-  his biceps taut as he holds pieces together. Needless to say, you're happy to watch.

Soon to be Father Toji! Who looks at you odd when you hand him a tiny gift bag, When he opens it to see pastel pink onesie with a card saying ‘Its a Girl’. He's ready to be a father right then; letting you find names for his little girl. And with some guidance you both decide on the name Tsumiki, A beautiful name for his baby to come.

Soon to be Father Toji! Adores stepping into stores with his pretty little wife in his hands, buying whatever your eyes even flick over. When you paint the spare room an ash blue he asks 

‘Would you ever share your plushies with her?’ The look you give him shuts him up immediately, he’ll take that as a no.

He still loves you even when you woke him up at the asscrack of the morning because you were craving Auntie Anne's Cinnamon sticks, dragging himself out of bed because he wants to see you happy. When he gets them (and a cinnamon roll for himself). 

You eat them in the car, music low so you can talk to him. He chuckles when you mention that this scene looks so familiar- Time has passed, but you've only gotten more irresistible to him (especially when your swollen with his child)

Soon to be Father Toji!  Whereas as soon as the slight wince of discomfort leaves your lips, he's dragging you to the hospital even when you say you can wait it out a bit longer, he'd rather be safe.

He enters the Maternity Ward with you trying to calm your nerves to the best of his ability. Toji has seen lots of morbid things before…Torture victims and bodies without heads, but its different when its his precious wife screaming in agony with every contraction. He avoids looking at your form until he hears the cries of a child. His child. Walking up to your sweat slicked form he gives you a small peck on your forehead, hushing your whines of pain as they take your daughter away for a health check. 

“You did so good mama, so good for me hmm?” you don't have the energy to respond but soak in the voice of your husband and your body resting. Tsumiki is a healthy little girl, And much to Tojis relief he can't sense cursed energy.

It makes him unbelievably happy.

Father Toji! Letting you rest while he cradles his little girl in his arms, she's so small in his arms he's afraid that one wrong move and it'll be over. So he sits as still as a statue so his baby can sleep. He shakes his head at his life, never did he think he'd be a dad. Especially to a girl who resembles you so much, your small smile in particular.

Father Toji! Hates Hospitals to an incredible degree and races out the hospital with his baby, Tsumiki is held in a baby carrier with his grip unwavering. He places the carrier in the back and starts up the car for the drive home.

He drives much more carefully then he ever has, you could even say legally. 

Father Toji! Lets you take the next few weeks easy, he dearly wants another kid- but doesn't want to force another child on you; At least not this early. It's hard to compose his thoughts though when Tsumiki cries at 1:48 in the morning…like clockwork, You go sometimes but if you're deep sleeping there isn't a reason to bother. He swaddles her while she cries going into the pantry to fetch some formula hoping that she's just hungry.  He has work in the morning but he knows you're just as tired. 

So Toji hums strangers in the night softly, the words are mumbled and hushed so he doesn't wake you up in the next room. But upon not feeling the comforting warmth of your husband you look around the house. To find Him in the nursery coddling Tsumiki, bouncing up and down to a soft rhythm.

He looks at Tsumiki like it's his whole world.You dont say anything,You slink behind the wall hoping he doesn't sense your presence. You keep it short,retiring to sleep while you hold the memory close to your heart.

Father Toji! After feeding Tsumiki, he makes dinner for the two of you. It's filled with light conversation but he can sense your not saying something.

Once you finish though you look him dead in the eyes and ask

“Do you not want another kid with me?” Your voice is shaken and Toji is bewildered that this question would ever arise. 

“What? Of course, Whatever gave you that idea?’” He retorts finally thinking his hints have clocked in

“I- just thought you were a one and done type of guy…” A pregnant pause prevents both of you from talking. 

“Absolutely not. I love Tsumiki and she needs another sibling-maybe even a brother!”  He  sounds 10x excited at that.

He closes the distance between the two of you going to nip at your neck, biting it harshly.

 “Why, Wanna try? Hmmmm?” He grins and bites your cheek, you cringe at the feeling of wet saliva on your cheek- nodding as you lay back onto the bed letting his larger form crawl on top of yours. 

“Need words baby~” he coaxes you to speak, he loves seeing you desperate for him.

“Please Toji?” You test the waters,but he shakes his head.

“Please touch me Toji daddy?” and you pout giving him puppy eyes. At that he undos his belt taking the cool leather into his calloused hands.

“Take it real fucking good then.”

Father Toji! Makes sure you take everything he has to give, Cleaning you up gently but it’s all a blur when you look back at it. You wake up the following morning with the scent of honey and sweet fruit.  When he spots you trying to stand up to meet him halfway, he ushers you to sit down on the bed handing you a cup of tea with waffles and fruit. It makes you smile at his softness.

Father Toji! Just as equally excited when you tell him you're pregnant again, he knows it will be a challenge but it's one both of you want to face together. Since this one is planned you both take the pleasure in throwing a baby shower.

You invite all of your friends as does Toji, who has gotten closer with other people now that he is settled down- he won't admit it but it's easier to make friends when he doesn't constantly have to move around with a price on his head.

Well he still does…But at least he's home. At your home.

Father Toji! And Shiu about everything that's taken place this last year…

 “Two kids, big man?” Shiu jokes to him, jabbing him in the side while looking at your unknowing figure, as you chat to your friends.

Toji looks at his drink and chuckles “It's a huge change, I mean anything for her. That's my girl right there.”  His eyes meet yours and you give him a wide smile, he grins back.

“You ever thought about settling down Shiu?” Toji asks, setting his glass of champagne down onto the cedar table.

Shiu shakes his head “I'd like to, now that my best client is turning to mush on me.” Shiu snickers to himself.

“No the fuck I aint. I still kill people mind you.” Toji objects to his partner.

“You gonna do that when Tsumiki has a sibling too?” Shiu quips, hitting toji with verbal whiplash.

He doesn't know how to reply.

“ I… I don't know.”

“I'd figure that out before your woman does.” Shiu swigs the rest of his glass down, setting it down before walking up to you to say another congratulations.

Father Toji! Uncharacteristically shaken by that conversation with Shiu, though he powers through the party to hear some good news, It's a boy.

He’s ecstatic at just the thought of Tsumiki having a little brother and already brewing names.

As you drive back home with gifts packed into the trunk you giggle about some drama spilled earlier, he laughs commenting on your tales- but he's really thinking.

“Let's name him megumi.” you're talking when he says it- catching you off guard.

“Like how could sh- What?” you fumble over your own words forgetting the story that once filled your mind.

“Megumi.” he repeats; you nod, mouthing it trying to see how it flows off your tongue.

“I like it.”  You agree fidgeting with your maternity dress. He smiles lightly at that, kissing you gently at the next stoplight as if you might shatter from his touch.

Megumi’s his little blessing to come, Toji’s so thankful for you and his kids.

Father Toji! Megumi comes into the world with a fight, it's harder on you then Tsumiki. He's louder and fussier with his food, not liking the ones Tsumiki once did. Sweet potato puree is suddenly garbage now. Toji notices you need more rest after Megumi and how you spend more time in bed then with  the 3 of them, He does the best he can though- he always does.

Father Toji! Is super excited (emotional) when you begin to play with Megumi and Tsumiki, trying to get Tsumiki to walk often and feeding the two of them. Which Toji is unarguably better at, he's a master at feeding his kids. Baby food? Easy win, Solids? Something so easy that he's starting to enjoy cutting up tiny pieces of chicken and apples to feed them.

Father Toji! Denies that Megumi is a mirror reflection of him, Makes you frown thinking of the nine months of pain and cravings and hormones… just for him to look exactly like his father.

Toji doesn’t claim that his pout comes from him but it most definitely does.

Father Toji!  Loves watching you take care of Megumi, the way you play with him, playing peek-a-boo and talking to him about your day as if he can understand you. You tell him about how you and Toji met, just explaining his dad to him.

“Toji’s a big scary bear, But he's nice huh gumi? Your dad loves you soooooo much”  You look Toji in the eye when you say that, beaming as Megumi spits out baby gibberish as a response.

“I am not that scary!”  Toji retorts going up to take Megumi from your lap, you hand him off- Megumi  gives a bit of a tussle crying clawing at his dads skin but calms down when Toji offers him a lighthearted smile. (Megumi’s scared of him smiling with teeth)

Kiddos (Double dad Toji?) Are both sad that your kids are now both in elementary school. Megumi isn't super social, and likes to stay silent in class making pictures that he hands to you at the end of the day. Megumi is a big reader and listener which doesn't help, especially when it includes curse words that he hears mostly from his dad, occasionally you.

Meg’s has picked up “Motherfucker” too quickly for your taste. Tsumiki on the other hand is a social butterfly, playing with other kids and humming tunes she hears on the radio. She loves to hang around in the school garden with her closest friends and play ‘Bug matchmaker’ Megumi has joined her in this, and it freaks you out sometimes when they do it at home.

Double dad Toji! Knows Megumi has cursed energy, he's known it since Megumi was 6 months old. It scares him deeply- He doesn't want his kid to turn out like him, being thrown to the side when he’s not ‘good enough’.

So when Megumi comes home during second grade petting something invisible, he picks up the aura of a curse and tries his hardest to be normal about it. Toji only wishes his kid didn't have cursed energy but it's too late for that. He can sense the energy is mostly positive-it gives him some sort of morbid solace.

Double dad Toji! Has explained cursed energy to you before, and while you can't use it you try your best to understand it. Toji can't bring himself to tell you about what it can mean for Megumi, and he doesn't want to think of your reaction if you find out it could bring Megumi harm. So he goes to Shiu…

He pulls up to a bar slamming the doors to his Maserati he bought an suv after having kids

Ordering a Jack & Coke as he sits down next to Shiu

“How's the wife and kids?” Shiu asks politely before they catch up.

“Wife's good, but ummm… Megumi is definitely a Shikigami user and I need your help.” Shiu’s eyes draw wide.

“When did you find this out??” Shiu asks, fully engaged.

“Like fuck I dont know, couple days ago?” Toji bites his lip and raps his knuckles against the sticky wood counter of the sports bar. A game he betted on plays above but he cant bother to look up. Someone scored- he can't care for who,Shiu spends the time of the pause to think.

“How about you drive me to your place and I can tell you just how bad it is.” Toji knows Shiu can see curses so hopefully whatever it is…is good.

“Let's go then.” Toji grabs his keys and they speed off to your house.

Ringing the doorbell its only worse as Megumi opens the door

Toji can sense the energy and grimaces, while Shiu laughs holding his temple and rolls his back to let out a cackle.

You travel to the foyer seeing Toji pale and Shiu red with laughter.

“Back so soon?” you question as you hold Tsumiki's hand, who smiles e at her dad and greets shiu with a tiny bow.

“Yeah, there wasn't much going on.” Toji lies through his teeth.

“What about your game though? Yankees and the Dodgers?” you pressure him.

“We can watch it here.” Shiu tacks in “And the bar ran out of our favorite bourbon anyways.” It's a simple, yet effective excuse.

They walk to the coffee bar you have, cramped in the corner where he pulls out what he needs to make a vodka cran. You continue to make mac and cheese for dinner for the kiddos, not before asking toji to make you one as well. He kisses you on the cheek and mixes your first so they can talk business.

“He's a shikigami user alright, but they are his for sure.”

“10 shadows technique, you think?” Toji asks, sipping lightly at his drink. 

“Mhm, he's got it in control though, He has two dogs” Shiu takes a swig “They are his friends though, he was petting them at the door.”

Toji sighs with relief- 

“Ima need a smoke after this, you gonna join me?” Digging through his overcoat pocket for a carton of Marlboro reds offering to shiu as he pulls out one.

“When don't I?” he smiles, as they walk out to the porch.

Double Dad Toji!  Is a total Dad, In the  beginning of your relationship he thought yall were gonna bang and be done. Now he's standing over an ice cream cart letting Megs and Tsumiki choose what popsicle they want. Megumi chooses the spongebob one and Tsumiki chooses Bubbles. You find him doing this unspeakably attractive. He's a Total Dilf, the ones you used to dream about when you scrolled through ‘hot dad’ blogs. And he's yours.

Kiddos! Middle school is interesting for you and Toji watch to say the least. Megumi has started to talk more and fights a lot, this leads to plenty of parent meetings for you and Toji to deal with. Leading to Tojis favorite saying (much to your anger) is “Hey at least he has good grades” Which he is right… But that doesnt give him to make the entire campus fear him

You can only ‘wonder’ where he got it from. Toji, Of course it’s toji.

Your daughter, Tsumiki loves to go to the mall with her best friend buying whatever she can afford from claires. Much to Megumi's dismay he is dragged around the wholeeeeee time, into Bath & Body works and turning away when they point out Victoria's secret. The only thing he gets out of it is Cinnabon and Hot Topic.

Double Dad Toji! With you, explaining to Tsumiki that Megumi won't be going to the same high school as her. He can sense his energy growing and is used to feeling his dogs' energy around the house.

“He's going to go to a different high school then you Tsu,” Toji tries to his daughter.

Tsumiki takes a sip of Fanta before sitting down,

“Why?? Does he not want to go with me?” She questions

Tojis sends him to Tokyo Jujitsu High.

He’s special… kinda like Shiu and me, we can both see and do things that you can't.”

Tsumiki nods “Is he a sorcerer?” 

Toji sighs “Yes he is, me and mom-” he looks at you nod offering some sort of non-verbal comfort “think it's best to have him there.” 

Tsumiki rubs her eyes.“When is he going, Can he visit? Wait, is he going to be okay?! Does he know???” 

Tsumiki is a big questioner, it takes some time to explain to Tsumiki before she calms down

When Megumi comes back from detention that day Tsumiki gives him a huge hug. With tears pricking her eyes. Toji kisses your forehead before calling in pizza to lift the mood for the evening.

Double dad Toji! Thought he was done with parent meetings, he was wrong.

He waits outside the teachers office with you waiting for his main teacher, Satoru Gojo.

You're both ushered inside by the Snowy Haired man who grins at the both of you.

Gojo seems to frown looking at your husband but still eagerly greets the both of you.

“So your Megumi’s Dad, it’s no wonder your son is so strong!” He kicks up his feet on the desk.

“You must be his mother, pleasure to meet you too!” you agree and settle into the dark leather chair.

Gojo, Quickly moves onto talking about Megumi.

“He's a really bright kid! Great test scores on all the basics and he really shines on the Battlefield with his partners.” Gojo gushes, pulling out a lollipop humming to himself “Ah yes, my partner says he is a total team player.” 

Toji nods while gritting his teeth, it's no secret he isn't a fan of him.

“His Shikigami are strong and lives up to other users of the Ten Shadows Technique, maybe one day he’ll even tame Mahoraga!” Gojo laughs and adjusts his sunglasses.

Toji isn't pleased hearing this “As long as it won't destroy the kid.” They make eye contact and Gojo throws his hands back.

“I'll make sure of it, for both of you.”

His teacher goes back to explaining a lot of terms you just don't get. But toji seems to be following along well enough besides his piercing grip on your thigh and his eyes twitching every now and then.

Once you leave the office, you walk to the training fields where Megumi is supposed to be.

When you see him he's laughing and talking to a pink haired boy and brown haired girl. It makes you extremely happy to see Megumi having friends.

A tall, long black haired man approaches you- putting his hair into a bun.

“You two must be Megumi's parents, Satoru told me you guys were coming to visit.” Toji shakes his hand firmly.

“But where are my manners! I'm Suguru Geto, the other teacher here. I'm mostly in charge of keeping them in check…Since I'm sure you can guess.” He leans in “My associate wont”  you share a laugh with him.

He's a refresher from the partner, though probably complimenting each other's teaching skills.

Megumi looks up from his friends and lightly jogs to the two of you.

“Mom! Dad! Hey!” He is red from laughing and working in the sun- he now adorns a black fitted uniform not unlike his partners.

You hug him and Toji asks-

 “How's it going kid?” giving him a head pat, “Haven't seen you in awhile. Your sister is supposed to graduate early. Did you hear that?”

You spend the afternoon catching up with your son and meeting his friends.

Toji holds your hand as you walk out of the campus, it's comfortingly silent, and he opens the door of his old car for you before he drives home.

Double Dad Toji! Is emotional when Tsumiki graduates from high school, she's wearing a dark blue slim fit dress. The black graduation gown is open and she wears her hat.

When they toss the hats into the air it's impossible for him to not feel that he's done something right in his life.

You and him raised a kid that's starting to bloom in a beautiful way. It does horrify him at the realization she is attending college soon enough. And when you come back from the graduation he makes sure he proves your ‘silver fox’ comment.

Double Dad Toji! Letting you adjust his tie when you get ready for Megumi's graduation not long after. It's a smaller scene with mostly family and close friends protected by a veil.

The Upperclassmen cheer them on with smiles and taunts to ‘Just turn 1st grade already!’ after their teachers give heartfelt speeches.

He steps on stage with his partners and a beautiful shower of flowers covers their stage as they hug each other, cheers radiate from the people there.

You're crying, and Toji, well- he's almost there. 

Toji. Who finds comfort in you growing older by his side, Completing crossword puzzles with coffee and going on art museum dates. He's put down his weapons but not the cigarettes,

And you who loves to read next to him, appreciating the gentleness of his forever calloused hands still in love with the scent of his cologne and smoke.

It feels good to be in love, to have two kids who love you both endlessly. To live a dream- with you.

Thank you so much for reading! This took a lot of time but I really do love it. Requests are going to be open soon if you would like me to write anything! Love,Razzy!

[insomni-frog]

Caviar does Caviar things

I have no clue what to title this, this is my first time writing something in a while (so if you see any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors, no you don't /j)

Summary: Caviar goes back into the Duskgloom Sea because Black Pearl has been behaving oddly.

It was a fool's errand really.

No one in their right mind would willingly sail towards the Duskgloom sea if they knew what was good for them—and they would probably vow never to sail again if they knew what lived in those salty depths.

But Captain Caviar was no fool; in fact he would've considered himself an even bigger fool to ignore what was happening in those waters.

That sea witch enjoyed her quiet, and anyone dumb enough to sail in there would learn that rule very quickly; if they didn't end up soggy crumbs first.

So constant rumbling storm clouds and crashing waves—in the usual unnervingly serene waters—was a dead give away that something was wrong: even a landlubber would be able to spy something amiss, so it was even more blaringly obvious to an experienced sea hound like Caviar.

It was the whole reason he even embarked on, what was basically, a one-cookie suicide mission. Braving the briny depths in the Black Shark once more, like a foolhardy idiot, just to perform a wellness check on the sovereign of these waters.

Who, last time he saw her, seemed pretty keen on turning him into a past tense.

And for all Caviar knew he could've been navigating himself straight into a watery grave made especially for him. But he had a hunch it wasn't like that. After all the ol' sovereign of these depths, while having a nasty habit of sinking ships and (at best) marooning their sailors, didn't give chase past the waters she called hers.

So the infernal storm that seemed to keep brewing larger and angrier with each passing day, pulling in ships passing by and leaking out well past the boundaries of her territory, was enough for Caviar to dismiss what ever worries he had about sailing back to this place; however it did open up a completely different set.

Such as what ever it is he was even looking for. He wasn't a doctor, even if he knew his way around a medkit, and he was pretty sure not even Baumkuchen would know how to treat or give a diagnosis to a mermaid larger than a soda whale.

And then there was the angle that it was something not physical affecting the gigantic sea beast. While he didn't know the details, he did know that there was a decades old grudge constantly weighing on her mind; and that wasn't something one could fix with a pat on the back and some well wishes.

But at the same time he couldn't just sit around and do nothing about it. Sure there was a chance that it was nothing, and all he was doing was recklessly risking his dough here. But if it wasn't then he was putting the lives of thousands of cookies on the line by just twiddling his thumbs and hoping the Duskgloom Sea would calm down on its own.

So here he found himself, navigating himself through unsteady waters and into the nest of a crankier—and probably more jamthirsty—than usual mermaid.

It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, it would hopefully be no different than the last time: even if he didn't have the company of one Candy Diver Cookie this time. All he had to remember was the passage of sparkling coral reefs that would take him straight out of the graveyard of ships the sovereign called her playground if things went south.                                     *** He maneuvered past the remains of ships once grand—recognising a few of the makes and models (all though his memories had them in better condition)—creeping deeper into the dreadful lair. By now he thought the sea witch would've made herself known, considering she had been doing that plenty over the course of the week, but there was neither hide nor hair of her.

Which he had to say was impressive, considering he estimated the mermaid to be just about as big as two soda whales from tip to tail.

She could toss around ships like they were toys and here he was struggling to find a singular scale of her. For a brief moment it made Caviar wonder if she had moved on to clearer waters, but that was highly unlikely to be the case.

And it also wasn't like he was going full blast trying to find her: Caviar wanted to find her, not for her to find him. So he was relying on dim lights to guide him, because he certainly could not use sonar (he wouldn't take to kindly to someone blaring a siren into his ear, and he doubted she would as well).                                     *** At this point Caviar was pretty sure he had gone in deeper than he had before, which was easier to do considering there wasn't a raging mermaid on his tail. But that unnerved him more than it comforted him: If the sea witch wasn't here she could be of doing who knows what.

But his nerves were both settled and jumped when he finally caught a glimpse of the territorial mermaid.

She was nestled away in a little hollow made of ship wreckages, a shelter for her slumbering form that would send anything swimming the other way.

Yet here Caviar was, piloting the Black Shark closer inch by inch to get a proper look at her.

The sea beast was turned on her side, chest rising and falling slowly with each breath, and one could confuse it for a peaceful respite if it wasn't for the way her face was contorted into an irritated snarl—which was a common expression for the mermaid, but not in this way. Her eyebrows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, lips curling in the slightest manner and exposing just the pointed tips of her sharp teeth. It wasn't a look of anger that could boil the sea.

It was one of pain.

And Caviar didn't have to question what was causing it for too long; as he watched her try to roll onto her other side just for her to seize up and immediately flip back into her original position.

On the surface there wasn't anything glaringly wrong, no massive wound or missing scales, but as Caviar squinted in the low light and practically leaned against the window of the Black Shark for a closer look—he spotted it.

A bowsprit: It was wedged underneath her obsidian scales and lodged into a softer part of her, becoming Earthbread's worst splinter.

To think something that small and insignificant to the large mermaid was the cause of all this trouble—it was almost hard to believe. But if that was the cause then... Caviar couldn't just leave it like this.

So he did the most foolish thing he had done all day (besides sail into the storming Duskgloom Sea.) He exited the Black Shark to brave the slumbering sea witch head on. It wasn't like he had to worry about going soggy, any cookie with a pinch of salt in their dough could face the waters without much fuss—so for a salty sea dog like him there wasn't much to fear.

Besides the sharp teeth of the sovereign. But even if he turned back now he had a sinking gut feeling that not only would he be seeing the wrath of a restless mermaid, others would too.

He'd rather nip this in the bud before she stormed into a maelstrom so large it could sink the entire Crème Republic in one go; even if it meant the chance he would be reduced to nothing but crumbs in the process. But he'd rather turn to crumbs trying than letting others shoulder the responsibility for his cowardice.

And, as much as he wouldn't admit it outloud, he didn't like seeing the sea witch in so much discomfort.

Caviar treaded the waters quietly, creeping towards her imposing form that wasn't any less intimidating lying down. He kept a close eye on her scrunched up face, constantly checking to see if those terrifying eyes had peaked open or not—but they didn't. So here he found himself floating over her tail and mulling over his next course of action.

He couldn't just grab it while floating and pull it out, he would need to get his footing first. And the only footing in sight was that massive tail of hers. So, with a less than eager heart, he allowed himself to land atop her scales and waited with bated breath to see if she would wake.

She didn't. Her face scrunched a little more, but soon returned back to the disgruntled look of before.

Caviar would've breathed a sigh of relief if he wasn't worried about waking her. So, as quietly as he could, Caviar took a gentle grasp of the bowsprit. He positioned his footing for a better hold, after all this had to be down in one swift move—because he doubted the mermaid would let him have another go.

But as he adjusted his footing, and made sure his grip was firm, he could feel something shift behind him. With an apprehensive glance over his shoulder, he came face to face with the irritated sea witch.

She too was looking at him over her shoulder, those piercing eyes staring right into him with an unblinking stare. She didn't say anything, it was like she was still trying to process what she was looking at. And Caviar wasn't planning on letting her get the upper hand now, so with a quick grin he lurched his whole body forward.

The bowsprit slid loose, and with it so did he. They were both tossed backwards in the water from the mermaids tail thrashing in discomfort.

Caviar gave it a quick once over to make sure it had come out in one piece before dropping it to the ocean floor, the sea witch could decide what to do with it now.

Speaking of said sea witch, she did not look happy.

He tried to turn and make a break for the Black Shark, but she was much quicker. Caviar's whole body was seized in one of her hands, her thumb and index finger wrapping dangerously around his throat as she gave him a squeeze. He could hear the water rush around them, and before he knew it the both of them broke the surface.

Lightning crackled above them and illuminated the mermaids face, who looked about ready to bite him in half with how her lips were snarled. Her fingers clutched tighter around his throat, and Caviar was felt like his head was about to pop right off his shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut. But as quickly as the pressure came, it disappeared.

He curiously peaked open his eyes to see the sea witch looking at where the literal thorn in her side had been moments prior. While she did that the storm clouds that had been brewing non-stop over the course of the week started to ebb away, allowing thin beams of moonlight to shine down upon the two of them. The waters turned calm too.

Without the feeling like his head was about to explode, he could see in her other hand was the Black Shark, held like it was simply a children's toy.

Her gaze flicked back to him, but it didn't carry the same ire as before: in fact she just looked plain exhausted. With a loud humph Caviar was unceremoniously dropped into the drink below, the Black Shark alongside him. He watched as she receded back into the depths and he was left to float in the waters unnerving calm.

He didn't stick around to question why she didn't sink him right then and there, preferring to get back into Black Shark and leave while the sea witch sunk to have her long awaited sleep.

After all perhaps it was just best to let sleeping mers lie.

                                    *** Black Pearl sunk back into her abyss, exhaustion permeating her entire being. As she curled beneath the wreckages she called a nest, finally able to lie on her comfortable side, her eyes landed on the bowsprit tipped with her jam. She reached out and pinched it between her fingers, like it was nothing but a toothpick.

This thing was the culprit behind all her discomfort, the reason she couldn't sleep. She had tried and tried to dig it out herself, only resulting in pushing it deeper beneath her scales.

Yet that meaningless pile of dough had pulled it out in one go: like it was nothing. It made her grumble and hiss in irritation.

Didn't he know who she is—she's the sovereign of the abyss—and yet he helped her.

She flicked the bowsprit away into the depths and settled down for her long awaited rest.

Yet she struggled to get thoughts of that do-gooder cookie and his stupid smug grin out of her head.

Next time she saw him, she'd sink him for sure.

[creamiesstoryconer]

Yandere Harpy x Reader Taster

Yander Harpy x Reader Taster 

Word count: 666

Length of time to read: 5-8 minutes

This is a taster for a OC x Reader story I am working on, it currently has about 4 chapters planned and I am hoping to release every other day :) This is a taster I am posting for the first chapter enjoy 

TW:Mention of blood

Nature's natural lace, web, clinging onto the remains of the early morning dew. The clear pearls that drape themselves over finely pulled strings that are nestled in the sea of blue and green. Catching glimmers of sun as it breaks through the dense canopy, its golden light a welcoming glow to the undergrowth.

Fine petals of muted blues, reaching for its limited life line of light. Moments of silence such as now, rare within the small thicket. The gentle pushing of the wind picking up stray leaves, dancing with the yellowing trinkets in the air to be carried into the distance. 

Under your foot, grass that once stood tall crunches, its brothers in arms gently grazing your ankle. Early morning air crisp as always, nips at one's shoulders and nose, beckoning the solemnly sweet wind to join it in its conquest of stealing the heat from any warm body.

Knuckles tightly grasped around brown wicker, a basket neatly woven by hand. Packed sunngly with vibrant colours, forged from the long negated trail. 

Damp penetrates your nose, the untones of pine. Forcing the almost suffocating scent to almost have a refreshing taste upon your tongue. 

Onward,deeper into nature's land of peace, the hum of the village morning grows mute. Replaced with the rustling of leaves calling for you. Singing of birds just from sight, soothing and lulling.

Just a little deeper down the overgrown path you know so well, a routine experience every spring. To bring an offering, to wish for peace to the Earth, to keep a titration you grew bored of. The ways of the old and their tales are nothing but fables for children to be afraid of. 

Feet grew stiff at the edge of the opening, the woods breaking its dense canopy of greens to allow for the flooding of gold. Warm upon the skin, stark contrast to the morning wind, the honey coloured light swallows the clearing in its entirety. 

═══════════════════════════════════════════

A blur and a impact, 

The coarse texture of dried bark entangled in once soft locks of hair. Throbbing, building a deafening silence is what over stimulates the nerves. Soothing warmth trickling down your neck, tracing itself past your crook. Allowing for a bud of red to flow and root itself onto once pristine white clothing. Now defiled with browns and quickly darkening crimsons. 

The rising of your chest like hard labour, air having been stolen from your lungs. Hoarse gasps replace a steady rhythm that was once there. Drying your mouth as a once cared for body folds in upon itself. 

Ringing in your ears causes one's head to spin. To not focus is to not be able to see. 

Blurs of greens, a blue perhaps the sky. Golden shines for a moment. Then the sight of flesh. 

Flesh unclothed, blotches of maroon identifiable upon the sun kissed skin. 

══════════════════════════════════════════

A guttural scream escapes your lips, ripping through your vocal cords, straining already fatigued muscle. 

Cheeks, red as puffed eyes strained to stay open, salty water - your own tears-  sullying your face. Teeth bared as saliva bubbles and leaks from the corner of your mouth. 

Fingers tangled within a sickenly soft plumage of feathers. Almost comforting to touch under dirt stuffed nails.

Air that was once almost refreshing to the lungs now reeks of desperation and fear. Tawng of metallic lingering, your own blood that was long dried and flaking. A dried river of rusty colour liquid fashioned from your own wound, wrapping around your neck like a macabre necklace. 

It’s animalistic eyes boaring into you, pupils blown to unnatural size. Tilting its head, forcing itself to envelope your sight. It’s chest rumbling, trilling… studying.

══════════════════════════════════════════

I am in desperate need for a proofreader (￣ ￣|||)

sorry this is another super short post but chapter one will be up tomorrow with about 2,000 words none of which are here this is just some extra content that i reworded and shortened so all new content tomorrow ;)

all feedback is welcome!

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 22

With a different mood board today as a Tilly tribute!

Part 23/26 | Ao3

Eris

Eris almost tripped over his third hound since entering the room; they twined around his legs like predators as he moved forward across the soft white carpet in the dark. It was early evening, but Eris still did not turn on any lights.

“I hope you don’t twist around Tilly’s feet this way, you beasts. If you trip her, we’ll be having a much different talk,” he sighed as he lowered himself into the chair by the window. Hestia cocked her head, looking up at him. Finding his bemused expression, she huffed and lay her head down on his knee. He obliged and ran a hand down her back.

Cinder was nowhere to be seen, likely with Tilly as he always was these days, nose pressed to her side, her stomach, her chest. He always needed to be near her, and as amusing as Eris found it, he also liked the comfort of knowing their little fireling already had such a fierce protector.

He sat back in the plush chair, taking in the sight of the room. Soft yellow walls looked like the changing leaves of a maple in late season, and the white gossamer curtains fluttered in a lovely way when someone walked past them. The crib was made of a dark polished oak to match the towering bookshelves, already brimming with books and knick-knacks of all sorts. Inside the crib was a pretty maroon blanket with a small matching knitted rabbit Alanna had made and sent from Day. A sewn bat plush, sent from the Night Court, of course, sat next to it.

Eris liked to come into this room, day or night, and just sit. He sometimes couldn’t believe it was all real, so he’d come here to remind himself. In just a few months, his son or daughter would be here, rocking in this chair with him or Tilly, sleeping in that crib under their watchful eyes, hearing but not really understanding the words on the pages of the books they read him or her. He closed his eyes and tried to picture it–the domesticity that still felt so wonderfully fragile and precious to him. He didn’t know if he deserved it after all he’d done, but he knew he’d fight to keep it to the very last breath in his lungs.

“Hello, love.” He opened his eyes as her voice, like the sound of bells, flitted to him from the doorway, Cinder bumping in at her side. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, just thinking.” She came over to him, sliding down to sit in his lap and resting her head on his chest in the dark. He smelled the salty tinge of tears in her scent. She’d been at her session. “Are you all done for the evening?”

Tilly sighed and nodded against him. “It was tough tonight.” Eris had finally convinced her to speak to someone after the nightmares had begun preventing her from getting any of the sleep she so desperately needed. It had been a little over a month now, but he could see the change in her, even if he hated that the sessions made her cry. Cedar was an older fae–much, much older than Eris–with skin like the bark of a tree and a voice so low and soft and smooth that it felt like honey to his ears. He’d liked her immediately, and had even spoken to her a few times himself. Tilly liked her, but not so much the exercises she had her doing. She knew it was helpful for her, though, so she saw it through. The nightmares had lessened significantly, and things were beginning to finally feel safe.

He hummed, smoothing a hand over her belly–his favorite thing to do–and rubbing gently. He was greeted with a sharp kick to his hand, and a grunt and laugh from Tilly. He loved feeling the baby move and punch and kick, and he loved feeling their magic dance with his, as it often did. It never became any less miraculous or awe-inducing to him.

“They’re a tumbler today.” She laughed, leaning back against him, letting him press his hand across her stomach again to feel the movements. He felt the roll of his child beneath the skin of his mate, and, as it did every time, it threatened to undo him entirely. Tilly turned to press a kiss to his jaw as he swallowed the emotion balling up in his throat.

“Have you an outfit picked for Spring yet?” She asked. Tamlin and Penny’s wedding was the day after tomorrow. They’d not be staying there, but she had wanted their outfits to somewhat coordinate. He’d picked a deep red jacket with black trousers, gold trimming around both. He knew one of her favorite dresses that still made her comfortable was a deep red, too.

“The dark red jacket with the gold embroidery. The one with the leaves.” Her smile lit her face.

“Oh, I’ve got the perfect dress to match!” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Would you like to go to the woods and work on your portals some more tomorrow?” They’d been doing that more the past month, too. With Beron gone, there wasn’t much risk left of allowing people to know she possessed magic, but they'd been keeping the portals under wraps for strategic use in the war ahead. They’d been practicing in the woods, as well as seeing the boundaries of Eris’ new High Lord powers, and both of them were becoming dangerously good. Tilly could open great swaths of sky, the borders flaming wildly, to just about anywhere. They planned to transport their armies this way on the battlefield, using the advantage of portals to move them about and gain the upper hand.

They’d been concerned that, with the pregnancy, they’d need to be more careful about her using magic in case it depleted her, but they’d found it did the opposite. The baby was clearly magically inclined and very powerful–both Eris and Tilly could feel the baby’s powers mingling with their own–but it seemed that the baby’s magic amplified Tilly’s own, too. She was growing her magic in its own right, but she was getting a true boost from their power, as well.

“I’ve actually got something else in mind for tomorrow, if you’re interested.”

“I’m always interested in anything you want to show me, love.” Eris whispered into her ear.

“Well, in that case, you rake, I can show you something back in our bedroom.”

Eris didn’t need to be told twice before he swept Tilly up in his arms, both of them laughing and Tilly shrieking, as he walked them back to their bedroom, navigating the dogs around their heels as they went.

Tilly

Tilly and Eris had left the grounds of the Forest House for the woods early enough that they’d been some of the first awake aside from the kitchen staff, and the fog was still low to the ground.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going, darling. Will you be winnowing us?” Tilly smiled at him.

“I thought we might fly?” Both Tilly and Eris had been thrilled when he’d discovered his beast form with his new powers. They’d both assumed he’d have the same form as Beron, so their delight had been unimaginable when, upon shifting, he’d emerged a massive black dragon with smooth, shimmering scales the shade of the night sky and a barbed tail and wings the scarlet of fire. Eris had been shocked enough that he’d accidentally burned a copse of trees to the ground while Tilly hopped around the new clearing in delight.

They’d played a bit, marveling at this new form, and Tilly hadn’t had to prod too hard to allow her on his back. They’d spent days flying high above the trees of Autumn, sailing through the breeze to the seas and the mountains and back. He moved so quickly in the skies, and she loved to lean back and lay across him with her arms spread wide. She felt safe with him, no matter the conditions of their travel; she knew he’d never let her fall.

“Of course, my lady. Where will we be flying to?”

“Caritta, near the border of Winter.” Eris tried and failed to hide his surprise.

“Near your old home?” She nodded resolutely as he shifted, blowing smoke from his nose as he held out a giant, clawed limb to help her climb him, holding still as she settled on his back.

“Yes, I’d like to bring you to my parents’ graves.”

+++

The wind had been a brisk chill over them as they traveled to the northernmost borders of Autumn, rising above the fog and into the sunlight. Eris was always as warm in this form as he was in is fae one, and Tilly loved letting that warmth seep into her skin and keep her from feeling the chill. He circled gently, settling down softly on the snow-covered ground of the old stone cemetery that Tilly directed him to. She hadn’t been here since before she’d been taken to her uncle’s manor what seemed like eons ago.

She dismounted and heard Eris shift back, stretching his limbs and coming up beside her as she scanned the quiet cemetery. The air was crisp as a breeze blew around them, tossing Tilly’s hair around her eyes. She felt Eris tuck a piece behind her ear then take her hand in his. She led them over to the familiar patch of earth, overgrown now from time and lack of visitors. She pushed back the vines and undergrowth, gently removing them and bringing the stones back into the sunlight. She let her fingers brush over their names.

Kieran Beck Loving Father and Husband

Gianna Beck Loving Mother and Wife

She was glad that they were still together, even in death. She hoped they could see her now; she hoped they were at peace. Tilly hated that it had been so long since she’d come here–hated that no one else visited either.

“Hi Mum. Hi Dad.” Her voice broke as she spoke, Eris kneeling down beside her. His presence and constant warmth was her touchstone, giving her the strength she needed as he wrapped his fingers around her own. “I know–I know it’s been awhile. I had to go with Uncle Donal for a bit, and then I was off a bit further than that, even. But I’ve brought someone very special back with me today for you both to meet. This is Eris Vanserra, my husband and my mate. Strange world, huh?”

She heard Eris snort a laugh next to her, and she laid her head on his shoulder. “He’s wonderful. He’s absolutely everything. I wish you could meet him and love him as much as I do.” She felt his hand squeeze hers, and the tears began to fall in earnest. “We’re going to be parents soon…only a few more months now. And I–” A sob escaped her chest. “I wish you were here. More than anything I wish you were here. I have no idea how to be a parent, and I know you’d tell me that we’ll figure it all out, and we will. Eris will be a wonderful father, but I still miss you both so much. I know you’d love to be here.” Her breath rattled through her chest, and she couldn’t quite catch up. She tried to steady her heart to speak again, but her eyes widened in surprise when Eris began to speak.

“It’s wonderful to meet you both. I’m sure, as a Vanserra, you’ve got some opinions about me in name only, but it truly is an honor for me to be here. You both raised a strong, fearsome, lovely female. She’s helping me change the court, one day at a time, and you would both be so proud of the things she’s accomplished.” Tilly snorted, but Eris continued on. “She also–” He paused to take a breath. “She saved my life. She’s saved my life, multiple times in multiple ways. We did not seek each other out, but fate led us together anyway, and from what Tilly has told me, you might have seen that coming.” He touched her mother’s stone gently. “Tilly brought me from the darkest corners of the world–brought me out into the light, and stood by my side–continues to stand by my side–when the darkness creeps in. I’ve never met a stronger person…she astounds me. It’s the privilege of my life to love her. Thank you both so much for the joy of her.”

Tilly was sobbing outright now as they both placed their hands on the stones, leaving a small pebble behind on each. They dried their eyes as Tilly had a few more moments of quiet with them, and, when she was finally ready, she took Eris’ hand and they walked back to the clearing hand in hand.

“Thank you for being here, Eris.”

“Thank you for bringing me, Tilly.”

+++

Spring was as chilly as Autumn when they arrived, winnowing in on the decorated front lawn of the manor. Fae lights had been strung along the beautiful opening, and flowers of all different types and colors lined the backyard where the ceremony would take place. Tilly and Eris had volunteered to arrive early in order to throw wards around the ceremony and manor doors to keep the heat in through the wedding and reception.

“Just like the Spring court to insist on an outdoor wedding in the dead of winter,” Eris groused as they made their way around the seating area. As Tilly and Eris raised the wards, some others began to filter in, filling the area with laughter and chatter. She recognized almost everyone from the High Lord’s meeting in Dawn, waving and nodding to the others as she slowly made her way around. When she and Eris met on the other side, closing the final gap, she leaned into him as he wound his arm around her.

“You look beautiful, Til. Tonight, and always.” He rubbed his hand over the side of her tummy, growing larger and firmer every day, often far warmer than the rest of her with the heat of the baby growing inside. “How’s my little princess today?”

“I hope you’re referring to me. The little prince, however, is doing just fine. Having a grand old time kicking his mother in the ribs every so often, as though I’d ever forget his presence.” This was a fun argument that they liked to go back and forth on now. Eris was certain beyond measure that they were having a daughter. He’d suggested name after name, always referring to the baby as a “her”, and detailing stories of brave maidens who turned into knights when he read to her belly at night. Tilly, however, was sure they were having a boy, a tiny little lordling who would, hopefully, favor their father. Deep down, Tilly knew that Eris was hoping for a girl out of nerves. He’d said as much repeatedly when he told her he didn’t think he’d be any good at raising a son. He’d had no guidance on how things should be, and he was scared history would repeat itself.

Despite her constant reassurance that, as long as he truly loved their child, he would be wonderful, Eris was scared and Tilly could tell. All she could do was tell him repeatedly how much she loved him, and how good of a father she knew he’d be. She’d say it until he believed it himself, or otherwise their son showed up and proved it to him.

They found their seats, snuggling close to each other in the nice humming warmth they’d provided. The ceremony was beautiful, her head finding Eris’ shoulder at one point as she remembered their own ceremony.

“You know, if you asked me about any details of our wedding ceremony, I couldn’t tell you a thing past the color of your eyes and the blush on your cheekbones?”

Eris huffed a quiet laugh at her. “I thought I’d died and gone to some heaven trying to make up for all the horrors I’d survived under Beron when I saw you. I thought surely, there’s a mistake. This is the most glorious creature I’ve ever seen.” Tilly laughed quietly back, turning her chin to press a kiss to his embroidered shoulder, then leaning back up so her lips grazed his ear.

“I’m so glad it was you, Eris.” She pressed another tiny kiss there as he shivered, pulling back as he turned to look into her eyes, his rimmed with an almost undetectable ring of silver.

“I would marry you a million times over, Matilda.” Her smile reached ear to ear as she laid her head back down on his arm, their love and the love of others radiating in the air around them.

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd @queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

[minkkumaz]

SLEEPING UNDER THE SUN

it was the groups day off, meaning there was free range to do anything you guys pleased. when a beach day was recommended, it was happily agreed upon, therefore everyone prepared! when you and yungyu play too hard, you both sit down to relax; unknowing that sleep was creeping on the two of you.

PAIRING lee yungyu x fem!reader WC 2.1k TAGS best friends to lover trope. fluff. minor swearing. beach hangout. reader and gyu tease eachother like a lot. vague description of body. OMI NOTE this imagine has been something i've been dying to write because not only am i madly in love with yungyu, this is literally the scenario i've been dreaming about adhjb he is so precious. this isn't really a blurb but it's definitely not a super long thought out idea so it's not proofread. enjoy the sillies.

the melodic sound of waves washing upon the shore filled your ears. sand beneath your feet was hot, making you speed up slightly as you followed behind the group. everything took you by surprise, the calming atmosphere you weren’t used to, that was about to be completely ruined by the pandemonium of your friends.

at this point, you were unable to get a single word in before minho was running after seungheon and kyungmin was accidentally dropping items one by one while walking to the spot jaeyun chose. haemin followed closely behind, making sure to pick up everything the clumsy boy let fall. you could practically hear him rolling his eyes while kyung walked unknowingly.

all of their excitement was prominent, as it was their weekend off in awhile. it made your lips perk up into a smile, seeing them get to be kids again. however you weren’t one to talk, having been extremely busy as well.

the closer you got, the more you felt the salty breeze blowing through your hair. it covered up the summer heat seamlessly. setting your beach bag and cooler down on the towel that was set up, letting out a long sigh of relief after holding the heavy items.

“y/n ah are you excited?!” yungyu jumped up and down happily.

“i think i might die because i am very excited. i’ve been wanting to come to the beach forever!” you grin, giving off the same energy.

“okay because we better swim out as far as possible into the ocean before yoonsung ropes us into a sand castle competition.” he puts his hand over his eyes to block out sunlight, looking for his hyung that seemed to of disappeared.

“hey, what’s wrong with building sand castles? they’re fun!”

“um because he takes it way too seriously! if there aren’t moats and sand - people in his castle he starts whining like a baby.” 

“good point. let’s go!” you grab his hand quickly and start booking it down the shore, oblivious to the bright shade of maroon that tinted yungyu’s cheeks. it was way too early to get sunburnt, so he couldn’t hide his blush.

“come back soon, we’re gonna prep the net for beach volleyball!” kyungmin says, making the both of you nod in return.

small puffs of sand kicked behind you while you ran, soon replaced by splashes of water. the ocean water was warm, rising from your knees to your chest the farther you went in.

once you were at a comfortable level where the currents were calm and the sun shone brightly above, you let yourself relax. small strands of seaweed swam under the water, tickling your legs

“this is the greatest ever.” you float around calmly.

“somehow i can hear the random passerbys shrieking about myungho’s abs from here.” 

“jealous cause his abs are better than yours?” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“what’s that supposed to mean?!” he furrows his eyebrows.

“hehe i’m just kidding gyu, i like your abs.” you pause for a second, “wait– not in that way! i’m just saying they’re perfectly acceptable!”

“whhh–” 

“um, anyways! do you think seungheon is going to come out with us anytime soon?” you question, looking back at the black haired boy.

“he’s probably being hassled by minho to put on sunscreen so i doubt he saw us come out.” yungyu shook his head still flustered, swimming to get closer next to you.

“speaking of sunscreen, you might need some. you look really red, gyu!” you frown.

“psh– what are you talking about i am totally not red, you’re seeing things.” he splashed some water in your direction to distract you.

“what was that for?!” you splash back, “keep this water on your side of the ocean.”

“bro there is water everywhere.”

“you know what i mean you idiot.”

“oh really? so if i got some of my water on you what would happen hmm?” he teased, scooping some water in his hand to throw at your face. while you failed to shield yourself, some of it got in your mouth.

“yungyu!” you cough, going after him as he started swimming to shore. “i’m a faster swimmer than you are!” he yelled behind him.

you tailed behind yungyu, letting the waves carry you faster towards him and the shore, immediately chasing him as soon as you were free from the ocean. 

“yungyu you loser, get your ass back over here!” you shout.

“get away!”

catching up quickly, you tackle him down into the sand. you sat on top of him, playfully rubbing sand in his hair while he screams for help. 

too caught up in the moment, you didn’t account how your position atop yungyu was oddly romantic; halfway through, you were teasing him out of embarassment rather than actual anger. you heard a voice call out to you, interrupting your innocent giggles.

“y/n! yungyu! you both have to stop making a scene oh my god..” jaeyun waves both of you back.

looking back at the boy beneath you, he’s wearing a sheepish smile. he was panting exhaustedly, letting his arms flop to his sides in defeat. the both of you shared a similar shy expression, now aware of the position you were in.

“ah– i’m sorry gyu i didn’t mean to get carried away..” you swing your leg back over his body and pull him up from the floor.

“no no no it’s okay! we were just teasing eachother it’s fine. giving in so easily?” he jokes, dipping his hand in a wave that washed up and running it through his hair in an attempt to get some sand out.

“never. you look silly with all those speckles in your hair, i’d say it was deserved.” 

“whatever you say. let’s go see what hyung is up to.” he beams, switching in demeanor.

both of you get up from your spot on the sand and walk up to where everyone was hanging out. there were folding chairs set up alongside two umbrellas that were big enough to keep everyone in the shade. 

everyone chat amongst themselves while minho chopped up fruit to share with the group. you sat next to yungyu on a towel and shared watermelon from a little tupperware.

“looks like you guys were having fun.” haemin commented in between bites.

“something of the sorts.” you respond, reaching over to grab another piece of the refreshing snack.

“hey! haemin she’s just mad that she swallowed a little bit of water.” yungyu tells him.

“sixty - six percent of the water in my body is now half salt water, thanks.” you roll your eyes.

“you two argue like a couple.” haemin mentions, before getting up to put his empty container back in the cooler.

like a couple? the though itself made butterflies dance around in your stomach; you quickly darted your gaze away from yungyu, too nervous to look and him and try not to imagine what it would be like to actually be together.

today was slightly off for you, having been made self aware of just how close you and him have been throughout the day. and to add onto it, the day had just begun.

some time passed before everyone grouped up to play some beach volleyball. it wasn’t a group hangout if they weren’t playing on some kind of bet. according to jaeyun, losing team would have to pitch in together to buy ice cream at the end of the day.

this was extremely in character, and you were not planning on losing against them. after the teams were separated, everyone played for awhile.

the game got quite intense, some casual shit talking between both groups. yungyu and jaeyun had that disgusted look on their faces whenever they were met with eachother, only separated by the measly net. this sight made you laugh, taking a mental photo.

after awhile, the scores were practically tied. in the middle of this, everyone decided to take a thirty minute break to re - energize with lunch that was packed earlier in the morning. it was an under statement to say that you were exhausted.

yungyu laid out on a towel that was sheltered by the umbrellas, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. you followed right behind him, letting yourself lay your head on his chest. he was your best friend, and these types of contact were normal in your friendship, however part of you swore you heard his heartbeat quicken.

“are you tired already?” he mumbled above you.

“a little. myungho’s hits are not to fuck with, remind me not to get in a fight with him like.. ever.”

“y/n, anyone here could fold you.”

“i’m too sleepy to fight back with you.” you sigh, letting your eyes close.

“i better not catch you falling asleep, stupid.” he complains sarcastically, while you let out a small ‘mhm’ in response.

at that point, he decides to let you be for a little while. you were the sleepiest person he’s ever known, having the ability to pass out anywhere and everywhere. the rest knew this, and most of the time paying no mind to it.

however, only a few minutes passed before your breathing measured to a steady pace, your face relaxed, and you didn’t feel your damp bathing suit clinging to your body anymore. yungyu glanced down a little and noticed this, poking at your cheek.

he stared at you, letting a smile play on his lips. it was easier to admire you when you weren’t going back and forth teasing eachother. maybe haemin was right, anyone who didn’t look twice would think there was some kind of romantic relationship between the two of you.

and just like you, that was something he hoped for. he just didn’t exactly knew how you felt yet. blissfully unaware, gyu wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. his hand lay in the dip of your waist, fingers slightly ghosting over your elbow as you hugged yourself.

“god i wish you knew how i felt about you.” he said, the only words that left his lips before he let his eyes shut, sleep overtaking him as well.

the feeling of skin against yours became more noticeable as you came out of your sleep spell. feeling groggy, your eyes blink open slowly, immediately being met with the boy you were laying on.

“gyu?!” you shot up, looking around you to see the rest of the boys off playing by the shore, then looking back at him.

“good morning to you too.” yungyu yawned.

“did i seriously fall asleep on you? how long was i out?”

“we weren’t asleep for that long, don’t worry. probably fourty - five minutes at most. “ he checked his phone, confirming his suspicions. 

“shit, everyone is probably waiting for us to start the game.” you groan, rubbing your eyes.

“hey, it’s our day to relax. they probably don’t care and it’s only four thirty.” he mutters, using his arm still snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“ah– when did you get so bold?” you squeak out.

“when i saw how cute you looked cuddled up against me.” he confesses casually.

“what.”

“what?”

“dude you can’t just say that! oh my god my heart..” you cover your face with your hands, embarrassed.

“scared you’re gonna fall in love with me?” he makes a gap between your middle and pointer finger to see your eye.

“i can’t be very scared for something that already happened.” you stutter.

“what.”

“what?”

“okay now you’re doing it! what the hell?!” he whines, removing your hands from your face.

“you started it first you idiot.” you pout, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“i’m just trying to get my point across! i was attempting to be suave with it.” he bites down on his bottom lip.

“and what exactly is your point?” 

“that i like you, and best friends don’t exactly do the things that we do.” his voice gets quiet, the atmosphere suddenly feeling heavy.

“yungyu..”

“i’m not trying to ruin our relationship or anything but–” 

“i like you too, yungyu.” you interrupted him.

“i think everyone kinda sorta knew that.” seungheon appeared behind both of you guys, followed by minho. 

the two of you jumped, looking in their direction. they both started laughing at both of your blushing faces. 

“way to interrupt a moment little bro.” yungyu stated before chucking a seashell in his direction.

“you’re growing up too fast you guys, you better not be kissing all the time from now on!” minho lectures.

“oh? like this?” you grab yungyu’s face, leaving a kiss on his lips to poke fun at minho.

yungyu’s eyes go wide, shocked at the sudden contact between the two of you. his fingers move over his lips, still feeling yours ghosting over them.

“gross, not in front of us!” seungheon pleaded, minho covering his eyes in disgust. both of them walked away teasingly, leaving you and gyu alone.

“boyfriend has a nice ring to it, yeah?” you think.

“better than best friend.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

[lauvwar-r]

raise y_our glass.

sypnosis. despite kaeya's whole... everything, blue is not the first colour that comes to mind when you think of him. in fact, it's quite the opposite.

. . .word count. 608

. . .warnings ⸝⸝ tags. gn!reader, fluff, use of one nickname: "dear", angst, major character death, hurt/no comfort, swearing, descriptive grief, lack of capital letters and correct grammar perhaps ahaha :(

blue is not the colour you think of when you think of kaeya.

you'd think you would (since he's a literal replica of berry & mint burst) but you don't. though, if you were to, you'd think of starsilver moons — the mark of your first kiss.

it's near the end of one of your many dates with the so-called charming and mysterious cavalry captain, you're both at windrise with a perfect view of cerulean, huddled under vanessa's tree only an angel's kiss apart.

you're dating but you're not dating, you know?

he's sent you countless letters wrapped in soft ribbon and calla lilies from starfell lake (you can tell because they smell fresher, lovelier and not like vomit — unlike calla lilies from springvale. ref: draff) that leave you giddy with clenched fists, flushed cheeks and a journal of newly pressed flora. AND you've treated him to enough after-rounds lunches at good hunter to make them routine!

…but you're not dating

… yet

fucking archons, you're absolutely infatuated with him.

regardless, after months of childish pining, he reaches for your hand, caressing it warmly (like it's natural to him???) creating goosebumps that tickle your skin. curse him for being so sly.

"i can hear your heart racing, you know?" he whispers, tracing hearts into your skin. it's one of his favourite hobbies nowadays, he says. you recall him shortening his nails.

"ha!" you bluff, "you're hearing things, captain. it's probably the wind"

"maybe. but they do say i have quite the hearing skills, dear." he replies, a smirk adorning his face. "and if my hearing serves me right - and i'd say it does - i'd deduce that you're in love with me."

lighthearted jesting is typical between you two but you can't stop the way your chest tightens, nerves heighten like a criminal caught red handed with bright red evidence smeared across your face.

"no- captain…" you lie unconvincingly, "i'm most certainly not-"

"well that's a shame then. because i'm most certainly in love with you"

chaos rumbles in your chest, threatening to spill, "…you're joking. kaeya alberich don't you dare joke with me, it's not funny-"

"i'm not." there's sincerity in the stars of his eyes that bleeds with the love in his chest. "i love you, name."

your heart rate increases. his hand drifts from your knuckles… to your arm… and finally-

"more than your favourite wine?"

you feel a mix of cool leather and rough skin on your cheek.

"more than my favourite wine."

and you don't doubt him. not when his lips prevent you from doing so and not when a blue moon means so much more to you now.

but blue is not the colour you think of when you think of kaeya.

you want to so, so bad. because sapphire is the colour of the gem on your finger and the sky on his days off but when you think of kaeya you think of stinging bloodshot eyes and salty tears.

his uniform is no longer blue: it's marred and mangled, tainted with disgusting maroon — a polar opposite to the mocking ivory snow that surrounds him. and you feel vile. angry. fucking pathetic, like a blade that's been sheathed and twisted in your gut to make its stay permanent while you...just let it happen.

your nose is filled with iron, instead of wood and dragonspine has never felt any colder.

so you can't think of blue when you think of kaeya…not when a bloody crimson was the colour of the setting sun that day.

and not when it was the colour of his favourite wine — the same wine you raise a glass of behind mondstadt's cathedral.

masterlist! ⸝⸝ genshin masterlist!

notes. . . get it? cuz his favourite wine is death after noon ahahaha... n e wayz, first written post yipeee!!! blame huh yunjin, keshi and thai life insurance ads for this post :)

[kingofthe-egirls]

STRANDED: EUSTASS "CAPTAIN" KID x Y/N

collab with the "sunflower supernovas" ;)

special dedication to @stargirldelight since eustass is her official sweetheart 😈

(cw: stranded on a deserted island, she shows up with a gun but safety is on, reader is scarred along her face, she's stranded as well, sex, creampie, someone sees them after sex)

(a/n: i've never written for eustass before! i hope yall like him lol sorry if he's ooc, i haven't seen much of him besides wano hehe)

Songs: "Hey Little Songbird" from Hadestown (except she's Hades)

words: 2.1k

There’s no metal on this island.

Not even underground.

I huff, still standing on the beach where I washed up. Where’s Killer?

And, more importantly, where the fuck is my ship?

****

I start by scouting the coast.

It’s rocky, barely even sand, more like sharp shells and smooth pebbles. My boots crunch over the gravelly shore as I scan the horizon, eyes squinting against the brilliant sunlight. It’s like this island is somehow closer to the sun than the rest of the planet. I smirk; must be somewhere in the middle, then.

Seagulls call overhead, and I shield my eyes with my mechanic’s arm: no ship in sight. No News Coo, either.

Well, shit.

Something snaps the brush behind me, several feet off from the coast. I swirl, cape swinging soaked and heavy from my aching shoulders. I shrug it off, letting it slop to the ground with a disgusting squelch. It smells like seaweed, and the salty ocean still clinging to its fur is draining my soul. I grimace; I liked that cape.

Snaps come again, and I focus on the higher ground of the forest’s edge to see a girl stepping out. She’s wearing a tattered nightdress, slashes through the middle and the sleeves are all but torn off. She’s pretty.

She’s holding a gun.

“Stay back!” She commands, shaking where she stands, and I laugh. Can’t help it—the tiny thing is a cub that thinks it’s a tigress. I slap my mechanic’s arm across my knee, finally getting some reprieve from my marooner’s misfortune.

“Sorry,” I say, spreading my chapped lips in a sloppy grin. My lipstick feels dry and cracked, and it sort of splits my bottom lip as I smile. I cough, suddenly, the seaweed and saltwater still getting to me.

“Oh!” She cries, dropping the gun and rushing toward me. She’d left the safety on, the shit-for-brains.

“Ya weren’t holding that right,” I say, before coughing up a mouthful of seawater. “Safety’s still on, too.”

She frowns, but stays close enough to hover over me. “S-sorry,” she says, fluttering small hands over my ribs, my waist. I want to buck her off—to wave her away and ask for help with finding my ship, but she smells like flowers so I let her stay.

“What’s your name?” I ask, hoarse. She has strong arms, and sharp eyes. Her collarbones jut out like raw-cut diamonds. She frowns at my midsection, her face coming up to only my sternum. She’s short.

“Y/n,” she speaks plainly.

“Sweet name,” I say, and then brush her off finally. She seems like a castaway, just like me. “Stranded?”

“Mm,” she nods, standing farther back with her arms crossed. Her hair is wet. “How bout you?”

“Same,” I say, before stepping around her to continue scouting the coast. There has to be a sign, somewhere, of what the fuck happened to my ship. I slink off two metal gears, spinning them around my head as I step over broken shells. She sucks in a breath, and I turn.

“So you’re a power user,” she says, stepping along after me. Her feet are bare, and the shells must hurt. She winces, slightly, but I don’t stop her.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I sneer again, strides covering more ground than three of hers: she has to jog to keep up.

She scrunches her nose.

“Sorry,” she steps on a particularly sharp stone, and stops. I sigh, holding out my metal arm. She stares, but I don’t move, so she steps closer. Her silhouette is barely covered by the shredded remnants of her cotton nightdress.

I slide my arm around her, hoisting her atop my metal shoulder like a parrot. She sits, awkwardly at first. She scrunches her nose again—a sign of displeasure, and I stop. “What, metal seat’s not so comfy? Ya got a sensitive ass, or somethin’?”

She snorts.

“Sorry,” she says again, so I shift her around to the other side. Her weight is warm, and surprisingly comfortable. “What’s your story?”

So I tell her.

****

We scout as far as we can before the sun starts to set. She says she has a camp set up in the middle of the woods, but it’s too far to get to before nightfall. So, we start gathering firewood while I rearrange my metallic supplies to make a sort of lean-to for shelter. Not my most elegant work, but shit still gets the job done. She returns with an armful of sandy driftwood.

She has sand in her hair.

She flicks the tangled strands across her shoulder, struggling to focus on the flint in her hands with the messy curls getting in her way.

“Here,” I say, tossing her a small metal washer. She stares at it, silent. I roll my eyes, but crouch behind her to run her curls through the eye of the metal nut. She shivers, goosebumps starting to form along her exposed skin. “Cold?” I ask, before thunking down heavily on the other side of the campfire.

She strikes at the flint, sparks catching on the fluffy twigs she found in the forest. She blows smoothly on the sparks, and soon enough the rest of the wood is catching. I’m surprised: fire-starting isn’t so easy, for most people.

“Surprised?” She asks, flames reflected in her sharp eyes. I shake my head, but she snorts. She’s crouching in front of the fire, on a sheet of metal so her feet don’t hurt. “Survival skills are actually something I’m good at,” she sniffs, smoke filling the air between us. “I was my ship’s forager, for a while. Scouting out into the wilderness, seeing if there’s treasure.” She seems proud of her journeys.

“Was?”

She scrunches her nose to the side again, her lips twisting sourly. “Since they left me here as a fucking castaway, yeah. Was.”

“Sorry,” I say, legs splayed out in front of me. She shakes her head.

“S’not your fault.”

She speaks with bitterness, like she’s chewing on lemon slices.

A wolf's howl calls out from the wilderness. She flinches, and I don’t. I scruff a hand through my still-wet hair. I wish I wasn't shivering, still recovering from the seaweed and saltwater. “So, how long have you been here?”

She stares at me with haunted eyes. “Three years.”

“Shit,” I say, staring back at her with a revised admiration. She shrugs.

“News Coo doesn’t come here,” she sprinkles dried pine needles on the fire, and the orange sparks flare. “So there’s no way to send a message, unless you can find a cork and a bottle.”

“Have you?”

“Nope.”

I swallow, shifting in the sandy beach. Shells and stones crackle under me. The fire smells like turpentine: the pine sending curls of fragrant smoke up into the sky. “Smoke signals?”

She smiles.

“Sure, if you like wasting time.”

She’s strong, like me.

She reminds me of my friend, so long ago, who I named my ship after. I want her to see my ship. I want to see her on my ship. She tilts her sandy head, scars crisscrossing under her eyes. Claw marks, probably from the wolves we heard howl in the distance. I lick my lips; she mimics my movement, but slowly. She looks like a shark, analyzing her soon-to-be prey. 

I cock my head, “You’re coming home with me." My throat is dry and cracked like the lipstick on my face. We need fresh water, and soon. She flicks her dark eyes up to me, alight with something not unlike starvation. It sends chills down my spine, despite the campfire’s heat. I smirk, slow and shitty like Killer always hates. “I have a ship and crew, I dunno where they are, but they’ll find us. And we could use a survivor like you.”

She shrugs. “Sure, if your ship magically shows up, I’ll start working for you.”

I scruff a hand through my hair, swirling nerves in my belly for the first time in a while. I see something feral inside her, shining like the sharp edge of a knife’s blade.

I was wrong:

She is a tigress.

****

She’s straddling me, my chest bare as she scrabbles with my belt buckle. She’s feral for sure, starving for intimacy and lucky me: I washed up just in time.

She scratches sharp fingers over my torso, cracked and dirty nails leaving red marks along my skin. She sniffs deeply, leaning forward to bury her face in my stomach. She's drinking in my skin, my scent, my sneering lips as she leans up to steal another sloppy kiss from me. She pulls back, smears of red lipstick scarlet and pretty along her scarred face. She's fucking hot as hell.

And she's pulling down my pants, boxers and all, and straddling me again to start sinking slowly onto my cock raw. She's feral, hissing through her clenched teeth as my aching hardness stretches her out. She's warm, and velvety soft. I grip her hips, hissing as we both feel the splitting pleasure of the first second of sex. She's scrunching her eyebrows, and I stroke her hip bones beneath her dress. They're sharper than they should be.

Yeah, I'm definitely taking her home with me.

She starts riding me slowly, lowering herself all the way down to the base of my cock. She takes the barrel swiftly, starting to speed up. "Fuck," I groan, sparks shooting through me as she grips me tighter. Her pussy's so fucking sweet, sucking me up all sloppy as she slams her hips down into mine. I stroke her lower back as it arches, shushing her as she starts to whimper on my length. "Sweetheart," I say, and she glimmers down at me with feral eyes. Like gleaming embers. Her hair is messy, having come undone from the makeshift metal ribbon.

"Sweetheart?" She mimics, as sarcastic as can be. I snicker, and start bucking up into her from below. She's scrabbling at my collarbones, suddenly bowed forward as she shivers with an orgasm. "Shit–," she whispers, "S'good, shit!"

I start fucking her recklessly now, swelling inside her as I get closer to my own climax. Shivers are running up and down my spine, the shells and sea glass crunching beneath my movements. She's smaller than me, and I don't want to snap her in half, but…

With her strangled cries and squeezing pussy, it's all I wanna do.

So she takes it, as hard and fast as she can, and she slurs swear words into the skin of my neck. She bites the skin, breaking it as she slurps at my pulse point. Shit, she likes it rough.

"S-slow down, sweetheart," I say, squeezing my hand between us so I can thumb at her clit. She hisses, teeth bared, as she pushes up from my chest to arch her hips how she likes.

I send her over another sweet climax, and she's sighing and slowing down.

"How's that?" I ask, squeezing her waist in both hands. My thrusts are stuttered now, sparks in my blood, as the white edge of an orgasm creeps through the edges of my vision. She nods, teeth sunk into her lower lip, and I cum.

Shit, shit shit shi–

"Holy shit–," I grunt, eyes squeezing shut as I pump her full of sperm. She gasps, stilling under my bruising touch, and I hope there won't be that many marks on her already scarred body.

Someone calls from offshore.

"Fuck!" She screams, scrambling off of me and backwards through the shells. She stares at the ocean, and I groggily see the sharp teeth of the ship I call home. Killer is standing on the prow, waving with his scythes overhead. She stands, straightening her tattered nightdress, and I follow suit. Squirming, she glances at me, and I smirk as I see spunk trickling down her calf and ankle onto shells and pebbles. I shove my softening cock back into my trousers, and buckle my belt. She's laughing now, shaking her head with her hands on her cheeks.

She stares at me.

"Welcome aboard, sweetheart."

She rolls her eyes, and I smirk.

"Scout y/n, at your service," she salutes, and I laugh out loud. She snickers, knocking her shoulder into mine as we start walking to meet the ship.

She's gonna look so good standing on that fucking prow.

"Oh," she turns to me, eyes blazing, "I still have stuff at my campsite. Telescopes, survival kits. Sake," she raises an eyebrow, and I feel my lips crack as my smirk widens.

"Y'know what, sweetheart?" I grab her hand, and squeeze it tight. She matches my grip strength, and I stumble. She laughs, a deep belly laugh that sends sparks down my spine. I shake my head, smiling, "You're gonna fit right in."

[light-yaers]

Maroon.

Masterlist | AO3 | Ko-Fi

Cassian wasn’t like the others. He was like the red clay beneath the white salt on Crait outpost. He was maroon, and he used to be yours. 

Or: the time you and Cassian met, up until the Battle of Scarif. 

Warnings: major character death [follows Rogue One: A Star Wars Story], grief, trauma, implied sexual content, masses of angst.

A/N: I will just say that I think this is the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Also-- I do attempt to say something in Kenari in this work. I got it by combining Portuguese and Spanish words. It’s not real Kenari. It’s just the best attempt I had. 

Word Count: 10k+

maroon.

Red. 

 That’s the only colour you can see now. Sketched upon every surface, splattered on every flight suit, hidden beneath every fingernail.

 You see it so often now that the entire world seems red. The sky had an ominous haze to it, foggy, with a sickly shade of pink that resembles evaporated blood; sucked up by the clouds; preparing to rain down upon all that you find holy.

 Cassian sees it too, but in different ways.

His red is made up of Ferrix bricks, and the clay that makes up Rix Road. The maroon tinge of grease on his palms, the luminescence of the whiskey that Maarva used to love, B2EMO’s distinctive paint job. 

 He described them all so well that you could imagine everything so vividly. Often times, you found yourself spacing out on perimeter searches and ground missions, mapping out the Ferrix roads and Bix’s section of scrapyard inside your head.

 He didn’t tell everyone about his life.

 You were special, in that sense.

 It had been a while, you knew that, since he’d left his home. For a few months, he worked closely with a higher-up— Luthen Rael— until his expertise was needed elsewhere.

 The more time passed, the more savvy the Empire got when it came to double agents. Luthen was under a constant watchful eye now, too far gone to try and bite back against the thumb that he so callously lived beneath.

 It just wasn’t worth it; for him; or for Cassian.

 You were there when they dropped him off on base; an outpost on Crait. There was nothing much there, bar the salty taste of the air and the vast wasteland.

 But, there was red. Red everywhere. The clay that lay beneath the thick, ice-like layer of salt that covered the planet, exposed by footsteps and tank wheels and X-wing take-offs. 

 So. Much. Red.

 And then, there was Cassian.

 He jumped off the lander hesitantly, strength lined his shoulders and jaw. All he held was a bag of personal belongings, and the eyes of someone who had seen too much, too far, for how old he was. 

 But, he still hadn’t seen salvation. None of you had.

 “Lieutenant,” your commander said, jumping off the ship behind Cassian. You nodded at him on approach, not yet acknowledging the unknown rebel. 

 “Commander. Glad you made it back safely,” you said respectfully.

 “Almost didn’t, but—,” he smacked his hand on Cassian’s shoulder, alerting you to each other. “Andor here got us out of an Imperial mess,” 

 You regarded him then, taking in the complexity of his gaze. “You’re a pilot?” you chided.

 “Anything that can run, I can fly,” 

 “You’ll fit right in,” you smiled, and Cassian’s shoulders instantly relaxed. You stuck your hand out to him in proper greeting. He smacked his palm against yours, shaking your hand softly in return.

 “Lieutenant,” Cassian said.

 “Andor,” you replied. 

 You were one step closer to friends.

 Being on a planet such as this left you with free time— the worst disease you could ever want when in the rebellion. Free time meant suffering souls. Free time meant overthinking. 

 Cassian was in briefings. Having not been on base before, he was subjected to different training. Security, what to do in the event of an attack or ambush, dormitory regulations and the like.

 A few hours after greeting him, you were in the landing bay, going over the mechanic rounds for the fifth time. You’d got so bored that you’d taken to memorising the mechanic teams shift rotations. You were in communications, a Lieutenant, but when things were stale it often left you lonely.

 “Lieutenant,” your commander called, but you were so zoned out you hardly heard. “C-26!” he boomed, prompting you to drop your data pad abruptly. It crashed to the floor, a few buttons pinging off and rolling in all directions.

 You internally cursed.

 “Commander,” you turned to him, noticing Cassian behind him as you did.

 “I know things are dry. Show the new recruit around, will you? The escape routes, the fire doors, the dormitory building,”

 You saluted him, gaining back some of your composure. “Yes, Sir,” 

 He left as soon as he’d arrived, leaving Cassian and you in the landing bay alone. As soon as he was gone, you instantly relaxed, letting out muttered curses beneath your breath as you dropped to the floor, looking for stray data pad parts.

 “He’s a real stick in the mud,” Cassian spoke first, peering down at you as you scrambled on the floor.

 “He’s a very good commander. You’ll learn that with more time here,” you snapped, annoyed more at yourself than at Cassian. He huffed behind you, amused.

 “Is it always this… quiet?” 

 “No. This is abnormal,” you admitted, standing up and assessing the data pad parts in your palm. “Luthen’s off the radar, you know?” 

 Cassian nodded gravely.

 “It was getting too hot,” 

 “What work did you do with him?” you asked, trying to be as unbothered as possible, but Cassian immediately stumbled.

 “Why do you want to know?” 

 You laughed, a belly chuckle. “This isn’t some random planet, Andor. Nor a back alley. This is the rebellion. We share here. We’re on the right side of the war,” 

 Maybe this was a test. Your own secret one to assess him. To work him out. To see what game he was playing. Everyone did it, even if you were all on the same team.

 Cassian regarded you quizzically, trying to work you out.

 “You already know,” he replied. You smiled. He’d caught on immediately. 

 “Aldhani. That’s a feat,” 

 “So I’m told,” 

 “You were there. No point in pushing away congratulations from the rebellion. You deserve it—,” 

 “No, I don’t,” he cut over you, stiff as a board, as hard as steel. His gaze had turned soured, his eyes stone cold. 

 Silence descended the landing bay. You reattached the buttons on your data pad quickly, the clicks of metal upon metal clanging throughout the empty bay.

 “Come on. There’s much to see,” you said finally. The two of you started the tour of the outpost. 

 He never mentioned home, never mentioned Maarva or Bix or Ferrix, in the first few months. Only after you’d been assigned a few dual missions, scouting patrols, being a pilot and comm unit, did he finally open up.

 You did, too.

 “My mother is from Sorgan,” you said gently, five hours into an eight-hour perimeter scout. 

 It was customary to split up tasks on the outpost. It wasn’t like other rebel bases. There weren’t masses of cadets around to borrow. 

 “She never liked grey. Only greens, and blues, and the oranges of the sunset. My father was from Yavin. Same greens, same trees, but completely different ways of living. She moved there for him, uprooted her small village life because she fell in love as soon as she saw him,” 

 You loved talking about your parents.

 You missed them. They were some of the first to join the Alliance, and some of the first to die. You were raised with rebellion in your blood, brought up by your godparents and moved from base to base with them.

 Crait outpost was their attempt at keeping you safe, but all it did was drive you insane. Why someone such as Cassian was here, you didn’t know— it was effectively a ghost town now, with no more than one hundred officials on base, and only acting as a secure link for meetings to take place, or for transport missions.

 “They were rebels?” Cassian asked, sat in front of you and piloting the ship. The space was small, compact, and your flight suits were stuffy, but this was the only time you felt free.

 Shoved in a tiny ship, scouting the outer atmosphere of a planet that you knew like the back of your hand— but you were in the sky, dotted amongst the stars. You craved this.

 “Yes. They died rebels, too,” you said it quickly, getting it out of the way. All rebels had lost someone; maybe everyone; who was close to them. It was customary. 

 “And now, you will finish what they started,” Cassian said, no hint of falseness in his voice.

 You glanced to your left, catching his reflection in the control console. It was the only way you could see each other sat like this. His reflection was wobbled, warped, but you still got to see his eyes. 

 You sort of loved them, really, over the months you’d got to know them with increasing intensity. 

 “That’s the plan,” you leaned back in your seat. 

 The urge to say what about you? was overwhelming, but you bit on your tongue. Getting personal was not obligatory. Being more than acquaintances was less normal than this, but you opened up because this felt different.

 Cassian felt different. 

 You swallowed through the silence, through the cogs whirring in Cassian’s brain. 

 Until they finally clicked.

 “I had a mother. She wasn’t my real mother, but she was as good as. She was all I ever knew,” he started, and you breathed out slowly as relief washed over you.

 This went two ways.

 Good.

 “Maarva was the bravest person in the galaxy. That’s not an exaggeration, it’s the truth. A daughter of Ferrix. Died with honour. She protected me through it all,” he listed off everything he wanted, recalling small details and going on tangents whenever he pleased. 

 You listened intently, laughing at his funny stories, envisioning the copper streets of Ferrix.

 “I was a pain in her ass, I knew it. From age fourteen I was scaling over the wall in the scrapyard to find Bix. We were just kids,” 

 “Was there something more?” this is the first time you properly interjected. He perked his eyebrow up at you in the console reflection.

 You squinted back at him, amused. 

 “Come on. A man like you has to have some broken hearts behind him,” you let out, smiling uncontrollably. He does the same. 

 “For a little while, yes,” he admitted. 

 “Knew it,” you muttered, and Cassian leaned forward slightly. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he was shocked, because you read him so easily. 

 A silence descended across the tiny cockpit, encasing you both in a feeling of knowing. Knowing each other, knowing the stars in the sky, maybe even knowing that all of this was temporary; probably. 

 “When I left Ferrix for the last time, I put her on a ship with Brasso, Bee, some others,” Cassian continued slowly, leaning back in his chair and letting out a sigh. “I promised I’d find her,”

 He hadn’t. 

 “There’s still time,” you said strongly, meaning every word. 

 You knew Cassian well enough by now to know that, when he put his mind to something, more often than not he ended up succeeding. It’d been a long time since he’d left Ferrix; many moons had passed and grown and disappeared in that time; but not Cassian’s love for Bix. 

 Not his allegiance to justice, or the rebellion. Not his skill and brash nature and overly annoying attempts at getting you to laugh during meetings with General Mon Mothma or other higher-ups. 

 You meant every word, every breath. If he tried to, now, he would find his family again. 

 “My time is for the rebellion, now,” he replied finally, sending you a soft smile into the console reflection. “Wherever they are, they’re safer without me,”

 There was nothing you could say to make it better, nothing you could offer to give him even a shred of hope when you knew it was pointless. He was here, and they were elsewhere; that was the way he wanted it, as much as it pained him. 

 You remembered that perimeter search well. You dwelled on it often, mostly when Cassian was off world for missions and you weren’t in contact; or when he was pissing you off to oblivion that you wanted to blast him between the eyes. 

 But, upon every landing; every return to Crait that he graced you with; his hugs got even tighter. 

 When the Death Star hit Alderaan, he was away. You fretted, you cried in private, worried for his safety and whether the Empire would hit his planet next. But, when he returned, you were the first to sprint out to his ship. 

 He dropped himself from the cockpit, skipping over the last two ladder rungs, and almost tripping upon landing, as he scrambled to you— sprinting, full pelt, directly towards each other. 

 He dropped his helmet to the ground, unbothered, before you embraced with an unceremonious smack into each other. 

 “Thank the stars,” you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. He laughed, but it wasn’t full of comedy; it was relief filled. 

 “Did you miss me?” He squeezed you harder. 

 “Shut up, Cassian.” You squeezed him harder right back, until you were just two rebels, standing in an almost empty landing bay, clutching onto the other like he was the very air that you needed to breathe. 

 On base, you would work around each other in the way giggling school kids would. He would come to the comms rooms just to ask you one question, before hitting you with a joke on his way out. You’d head to the Admiral’s quarters with a message to deliver, only to be hit by Cassian’s gleaming gaze as you entered the room. 

 He was higher-up than you, a Captain, hot shit. But he never looked down on you; not ever. 

 “Captain Andor,” you announced. He stood up straight from his position, leaned down, next to the Admiral.

 “Lieutenant, how can I help?” He smiled at you jokingly. When formalities came into play, he loved chalking it up, making it worse. Purely because neither of you were like it behind closed doors. 

 “I’ve intercepted a relay from a close-by Destroyer. I think it’ll interest you to listen, considering we had a tip from someone on a planet close by about the defector,”

 The Defector. An Imperial pilot that randomly decided to join the side of the rebellion. He’d been the talk of the Alliance since Alderaan had been hit. 

 “Good work, Lieutenant,” Cassian started rounding the circular table that separated you. “Tell me everything you’ve heard,” he stopped to peer down at you, smile on his face, before the two of you left for communications.

 It wasn’t long after that when he left again. On another mission, out amongst the stars while you played the housewife, fixing the same coolant compartments over, and over again, and trying not to go crazy. You could count on one hand the months that you and Cassian had known each other, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into the trap—

 The trap of care and concern. In the rebellion, it was the worst trap of them all. 

 Against protocol, Cassian sent you message relays this time. Maybe it was due to everything feeling less stable, everything going to shit. The Death Star was in full flight; citizens were at war with their own minds, worrying about whether they’d be the next planet to be destroyed by the power of a dying star. 

 Jedha City, that’s where we’re going. Saw Gerrara is close, as is the defector. I’m with someone who’s very valuable to the cause, someone who can get us close to Gerrara. I’m safe. I miss you. 

 You read them at night, over, and over again. Every crumb and speck of communication that he could muster or even allow. 

 Jedha City, that’s where he, K-2SO, and this mystery helper were. His written words allowed you to imagine him, surrounded by sand, by the wind, by the ruins of old temples and all that sandstone that made up the planet, and the city itself— alone, yes— but also being him. 

 Cassian was brave, Cassian was fearless. He was born to be a rebel, and, despite his troubled upbringing, he was still kind. That was a good sign of his character. 

 “C-26,” your commander approached you one morning. You were alone in comms, choosing to stay during breakfast to get more done. The quiet was the only place where you weren’t reminded of Cassian. “A word?”

 “Of course, Sir,” you swivelled on your chair to peer up at him. 

 “We just received news,” he started, but the tone of his voice shifted immediately. Your heart dropped. “Jedha City has been hit by the Death Star,”

 Words couldn’t describe the jolt that slashed its way through your entire body. 

 “We haven’t received word from Andor or Kay-Two, but due to their mission parameters, their location was on world—,”

 “Stop,” you let out harshly, trying to come to terms with the words he was saying. He stopped when you asked, standing up straight as he waited for you to reply. “You think they didn’t make it out, is that what you’re saying?”

 “I just want you to prepare for the worst,” he replied sullenly. “That’s what I’m saying, C-26. I know you and Andor are close,”

 “That’s irrelevant—,”

 “No, it’s not,” he said strongly, taking you by surprise. “I’ve been at this outpost with you for close to two years, seen you when you’re bored stiff and wondering what the hell your purpose is,” you listened to his every word. “As soon as Cassian showed up, that all changed, don’t deny it,”

 “I’m not,” you said defensively, standing up abruptly to face him, but there was part of you that had completely shut down. 

 This wasn’t the time where you needed someone else to confirm just how close you and Cassian were. This wasn’t the time where you needed someone to drill into you about the extent of your lonely, prior life on this outpost— only gleaming brighter after his very arrival. 

 You needed to raise your guard and focus on your breathing and not spill your guts all over the floor by your commander’s feet. 

 “We’ll find out in a few hours,” he added, finally. “Feel free to take some time.”

 “With all due respect, Commander, I’d rather be so busy that my fingers go numb than sit in the silence of the landing bay and wait for him to come home.”

 He nodded at you, taken aback by the power laced between your words. 

 “As you wish,” he said, softer this time. “Back to work, then, C-26,” he gulped after speaking, like he didn’t want to have the formality of it all right now. Not while you were tensing every muscle in your body to stop yourself from screaming, and he could see that pain written all over your face.

 “Yes, Sir,” you breathed out as you sat back down, swivelling yourself back towards your screens. Your fingers got to work, and your commander disappeared once more. 

 You stayed at your desk for eighteen hours straight. You looked up images of the Death Star hitting Jedha City. You reached out to other bases to see if they had any updates themselves. You scanned the skies with radar until the clockwise motion of the visuals had fucked up your eyes for the night. 

 When you dozed, dreams finally took you. 

 You and Cassian are on a forest planet, somewhere that looks like Yavin and Sorgan combined. He looks younger, almost, less stressed by his years as a rebel. His clothes are clean. Gently, he turns to you as you both stroll through the lush greenery, sticking out his hand for you to take. 

 “Come,” he urges, as you slip your hand into his grasp. When he smiles, it’s like nothing can ever be wrong with the world. “I have to show you something,”

 You follow him as he leads you to a clearing; large and built from limestone. It’s moss covered, dazzling in the sun rays as the vibrant green lights up the entire clearing. It’s soft, it’s warm, and you have Cassian’s hand in your own— there is nothing that could have made you happier. 

 “Here,” he says, tugging you forward with more excitement. You squeal as you stumble into him, but he simply repositions himself and holds you to his chest warmly. 

 You both look out over the horizon. You’re at the top of a cliff; steep and deadly should you fall; but quiet and beautiful where you’re stood. You see mountains on the horizon, snow-capped and covered by a subtle fog. The sun is setting as you breathe in sync, as Cassian gently drops his cheek onto the top of your head. 

 “This view,” he says. “This view reminds me of you,” you watch in silence, a warmth cascading through your gut, as the sky changes to a glowing red. “The colour red reminds me of you. Maroon, burgundy, whatever shade, it doesn’t matter. When I see something red, I think of you, wherever I am in the galaxy,”

 You peer up at him, eyes glassy with emotion. “Red reminds me of you, too,” you admit. “The red of Ferrix bricks. The clay that makes up Rix Road. The maroon tinge of grease on your palms,” you pick up his hand softly, but it is spotless. “The luminescence of the whiskey that Maarva used to love. Bee’s paint job,” you list everything one by one, certain that you’re thinking on the spot, but there is an odd sense of Deja vu that falls over you. 

 Gently, smiling, he takes your chin into his hand, resting his thumb just below your bottom lip. His eyes skim every feature on your desperate face, every wrinkle and bump and scar and bruise. The sign of a rebel is etched on your skin, while he is completely perfect. The small scar above his eyebrow is gone. The collection of dirt stains from clay don’t litter his face. 

 He is perfect, but not his usual perfect. He is perfect in aesthetic ways, not in the ways that make Cassian; Cassian. 

 You suck in a breath as he starts to lean forward, softly, gently, your gut lurching within your body with the desire to absolutely crumble against the feel of his lips on your own. 

 “The red of the Death Star ray,” he whispers, just an inch from your face. 

 “What?” you gasp suddenly, tugging away ever so slightly. 

 “You remind me of that red, too,” he smiles at you so genuinely that you feel sick. “The red of the Death Star. The red of the Death Star that killed me,”

 “Cassian—,” you stutter, pulling away from him. He’s still smiling, and you feel like you might vomit your guts upon the forest floor at any moment. “No,” you find your words. “You’re not my Cassian,”

 “Here it is, now,” he says, turning back to the horizon. The sunset that once faced the sky has now been replaced— by an explosion the size of a small moon. Debris already litters the crater, as the impact of the ray heads in every direction on the planet. 

 You look at him, distraught, but he’s in some kind of trance. 

 “Look at that,” he breathes out, before turning back to you. “What a beautiful way to die.”

 You woke up to beeping. Incessant and shrill, you shot up in your chair as you realised what had happened. You’d fallen asleep at your desk, drifted into dreams that were unable to replicate Cassian in person. Quickly, you shut off your systems. When the beeping stopped, you leaned back in your chair and tried not to think about how your fingers were shaking, how your heart was beating out of your chest. 

 Inhale. Shake. Exhale. Shake. Inhale. Shake. Exhale. Cry. 

 You wiped away a stray tear, not wanting your own subconscious to be your downfall. You wouldn’t let it, wouldn’t let it show. He had to be alive, somewhere out there, he had to still be completing this mission. 

 What a beautiful way to die. 

 You switched off the light by your desk, knowing it was time to call it a day. You wouldn’t be of help if you were sleep deprived. Hoisting yourself from your chair, you left communications glumly. Your back clicked when you stretched yourself out. 

 The bays were empty. You had no idea what time it was, but from the quiet of the outpost, you guessed everyone was in their dorms. Gently, you placed your hand on one of the X-wings in the bay. It was customary for pilots to swipe the noses of their ships before take-off, just for good luck, just for the hell of it. 

 You always oddly loved the way Cassian did it. Before every perimeter search or recon mission, the methodical way he so delicately placed his hand and dragged it against the smooth metal of his ship reminded you of the soft way he draped his arm around others; around you. 

 Oh, Maker, please let him be alive. 

 Back in your dorm, you didn’t sleep— but you still dreamt. You dreamt of him, of the real Cassian, not the one that had infiltrated your mind beforehand.

 In the morning, a knock woke you from your dozing. As the door wooshed up, you were hit with the face of your commander. You saluted him immediately, standing to attention. 

 “Sir,”

 “At ease,” he said breathlessly. He’d run all the way here. “There’s a call for you,”

 “Sir?” you let out, but he was already smiling. 

 “It’s Cassian.”

 The two of you sprinted to the control room, hearts in your throats. Your commander was older, but not by much. Your godparents had placed you under his command for a reason, and you knew this was one of those times. His softness was needed, as too was his formality and allegiance to the rebellion as a whole. 

 He cared; and that’s what mattered in the long run. 

 You rounded the corner to the control room and almost stumbled, but he grabbed your waist before you could trip. “Come on. He’s on the General’s frequency,”

 The General’s frequency? This was a line solely reserved for Alliance Generals to talk to one another undisturbed. This was unheard of; Cassian was a Captain; you were a Lieutenant. 

 As you passed the control table, you slowed your breathing. A comm headset sat atop a desk, just waiting for you. Your commander stayed behind you, filling the room with a calmer energy. “Go on, C-26,” he urged, and you almost burst out laughing; from relief. 

 You peered back at him, sending him the softest smile you had within you. He reciprocated in full. 

 “I’ll leave you be,” he decided, before stepping back slowly. When the thud of his boots disappeared down the corridor, you finally allowed yourself to pick up the headset. 

 You slipped it on, feeling the pump of blood in your ears and the incessant beat of your heart as you prayed to the Maker. Then, you clicked the relay button. 

 “Cassian?” You whispered pathetically, but there was no other way around how you felt. 

 “Meu korazon,” his voice trickled over you like honey, in some language that you couldn’t identify. He’d called you it many times before—it was a long time joke that he never told you what it meant, but you still felt warm whenever the name cascaded over you. The relief in his tone is what got to you the most. 

 “What does that mean?” you asked, on the brink of tears. Cassian chuckled; it was a sound you loved. 

 “Nothing,” he let out, changing his tone. “I’m just happy to hear your voice. Meu korazon,” he repeated. You shut your eyes, trying not to utterly explode into tears. You’d never felt more relieved in your life, never been happier to hear someone’s voice.

 “Where are you?”

 “Yavin 4. We got off Jedha in time, just before the planet was destroyed,”

 “We?”

 “Me, Kay, and some stragglers we’ve picked up. The defector is with us, and two protectors of the temple from Jedha. And—,” he stopped, sucking in a deep breath. “Jyn Erso,”

 “Erso?” You let out instinctually. Everyone knew of Galen Erso, Imperial weapons designer, the man responsible for the fucking Death Star. 

 “It’s complicated, not something that I can explain over a comm relay,” he admitted, and your heart sank. You knew things were escalating, knew missions were in place. You waited for orders to rally every single day, knowing that it was only a matter of time before a strike occurred on the Death Star.

 “Are you coming back?” You whispered. “To Crait,”

 He went silent for a moment, and you knew what his answer would be. 

 “No, I’m not,” he let out. Your heart broke, the blood rushed to your head. “You’re coming to Yavin 4 instead.”

 The shuttle came for you as soon as possible. Your commander had set it up without question, knowing that it was time for you to get involved elsewhere. This wasn’t just about Cassian; it was about you. You packed in record speed, bringing the limited items that you owned and fitting them in one bag alone. 

 Before you left your dorm, you etched your name on the underside of the small desk in the corner. Others had done it too, names like Lynx 2BBY. You added yours, scribbling 0BBY next to it, knowing that you wouldn’t be coming back again. You had more purpose than this, more than working behind the scenes when you knew you were capable.

 Cassian knew it too. Knew that you could do more; wanted to do more; to end this war once and for all. 

 You jumped on the shuttle before your commander, but he stopped by the hull door. You turned back, rucksack on your shoulder, and peered down at him. “You’re not coming, are you?” You knew. He shook his head with a small smile. 

 From this position, you were closer to his height now, basically the same. It felt odd, being able to look him in the eye fully; it also felt needed. 

 “There’s still work for me to do here,” he said finally. 

 It sunk in then that this might be the last time you saw him for a long time. Depending on how things went, depending on the mission at hand with Jyn Erso. 

 “Thank you,” you said. “For being the best commander to work beneath, and for being my friend,” you meant it. 

 “It’s been a pleasure,” he smiled, before saluting you once more. You saluted back strongly, before the hull door slowly rose, cutting you off from each other.

 He waved as you took off, flying high above the outpost until you left the atmosphere. 

 You arrived at the hight of the meeting. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa were present, amongst others. The room was packed to the brim as you entered at the back, rising onto tiptoes to see better.

 “There’s no choice but to retreat! The Empire will stop at nothing to ensure every base, every planet that we inhabit, is dead and gone—,”

 “There’s a flaw!” A young woman spoke up, someone that you knew to be Jyn Erso. You stepped through two others, looking out into the light. The breath hitched in your throat when you saw Cassian next to her. “There’s a flaw planted specifically for this use. We need to gather a team and strike it while the iron is hot,”

 “With all due respect, Gerrara and your father are dead, Erso,” Tynnra Pamlo spoke up softly, but with purpose. “How can we believe these claims? When there is so much at stake and our resources are already running so thin,”

 “I can vouch for her,” Cassian stepped forward abruptly. You flinched as he did, his eyes skimming the crowd of higher-ups and rebels— until his gaze finally hit yours. 

 He stopped, going silent for a moment as a few sets of eyes hit yours from following his own. Jyn followed his gaze, too, and when her stare hit yours, her expression softened. Perhaps, Cassian had told her about you. He’d gone to all this trouble just to get you here; had called you over the General’s frequency to ensure that you knew he was alive and well. Had called you meu korazon, whatever that may mean. 

 My heart. My heart. 

 You smiled at her, before glancing back to Cassian. 

 “Go on, Captain,” Mon Mothma urged him, and the moment ended. “Continue.”

 “I can vouch for Jyn,” Cassian repeated. “I was there, both on Jedha and on Eadu. I saw the hologram with my own eyes,”

 “That’s all well and good, Captain, but there is no evidence. It’s been destroyed. We simply have no choice,” Vasp Vaspar chimed in, but he looked almost apologetic. 

 “You’re asking us to invade an Imperial installation based on nothing but hope,” Pamlo spoke up again, looking directly at Jyn. Jyn smiled sadly, strongly. 

 “Rebellions are built on hope.”

 It wasn’t enough.

 “So, it is decided,” Pamlo spoke again. “We will scatter our fleet, retreat to safer planets, hide away— until we are strong enough to fight back against their weapon,”

 “No— please, Senator—,” Jyn persisted, but Pamlo held up her hand. 

 “All those in favour of retreating?” 

 The majority put their hands up. The room fell silent. 

 “It is done.” Pamlo left first, followed by the scattering of cadets and rebels. 

 You fought against the dissipating sea of people to get to him. Cassian caught your eye, pointing to the door, so you followed the rest of the gaggle back to the landing bays. Your heart was in your throat when you made it out, glancing and scanning over all the pilots, mechs, and techs that left the meeting with upset frowns on their faces. 

 When Cassian emerged, he pushed himself through the crowd and broke into a run immediately. 

 “Cassian—,” you breathed out, but the air was ripped from your lungs when he bombarded you into an embrace. He held you for a long moment, so hard that you could feel his heart as it pumped in his body, syncing up with your own. “Thank the stars,” you let out from relief; a saying that you’d said to him so many times before, on missions where he almost hadn’t made it home. 

 “Did you miss me, meu korazon?” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. 

 “I always miss you,” gently, he brought his hand to the back of your head, stroking your hair softly. You nuzzled your cheek into the nook between his shoulder and neck, breathing him in. 

 This felt different. They said that distance made the heart grow fonder, but you and Cassian weren’t like normal people. Perhaps it was the threat of death that kept you so close, the worry that one of you might never return when they left. Either way, it had come to this. You thanked the Maker for him. 

 When he pulled away, he raised his hand to your cheek. You smiled; before punching him in the stomach swiftly. 

 “Hey!” He yelped. 

 “How many times do I have to tell you to not die?” You exclaimed. 

 “I didn’t!”

 “You almost did!” You pointed at him threateningly. 

 “But— I didn’t,” he said, straightening himself out as his surprised tone mellowed. He smirked at you, but you shot him with a look of fire.

 “Don’t you dare make that face at me,” 

 “What face? This is just my face,”

 “You know exactly what face I mean, hot shot. That little smirk,” you imitated the smirk. “Like you know everything, like you’ve just thrown an insult at me and are proud of yourself,”

 “Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?” 

 You almost swallowed your tongue, stepping back and immediately feeling your ears go boiling hot at his comment. You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way his gaze was eating you up inside. It skimmed down your body and all the way up again, divulging all your secrets within seconds. 

 “No, you haven’t,” you almost spat it out, knowing that the heat was growing onto your cheeks as well. “You should more often, you piece of Bantha shit,”

 His smirk turned into a full grin, which then prompted chuckles to burst from his lips. You rolled your eyes at him, pissed off and flattered and wanting him all at the same time.

 “I hate you, I swear,” you said through clenched teeth. A lie. 

 “Don’t swear it. You know you don’t hate me, meu korazon,”

 “Tell me what that means,” you uncrossed your arms, stepping closer to him again. “Tell me, Cassian.”

 He sucked in a deep breath, and suddenly the roles had shifted. His ears got warm; his cheeks went rouge. He kissed his teeth as he accepted this; he had to tell you the truth after so many months.

 “It means—,” 

 “It means cooler than him,” Jyn spoke up suddenly, approaching you both gently. “Because you are definitely cooler than him,” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile. She stuck her hand out to you gently, which you took happily. “Everything he’s told me about you has been good,”

 “I should hope so,” you joked, as the two of you looked back at Cassian. He looked awkward, or caught out, or both. 

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” his voice trailed off, as he placed his hands on his hips and looked uncomfortably around the bay. 

 Eventually, others gathered. You were introduced to Bodhi, the defector, a scrawny pilot with a big heart; Chirrut and Baze, the temple protectors; a few others who wanted Jyn’s plan to be set in motion. It was clear that they’d all been through a lot— Jedha, Eadu—and now their want to do something good had been denied. 

 Throughout the solemn chat, you stuck by Cassian’s side. At one point, he placed his hand on the small of your back, peering down at you like you were pure gold. This was the Cassian that you adored— tired, but still fighting. There was dirt on his forehead and some dark circles under his eyes, but he still looked perfect. 

 “I knew they wouldn’t believe you,” he said to Jyn, peering down at the floor with his hand on his hip, the other on you. Gently, you wrapped your arm around his back, too, just so he knew you were there. 

 Jyn stepped forward, a look like fire on her face. “Thanks for the support,” she said stubbornly. Cassian met her eye. 

 “But I do,” he said strongly. “We do,”

 Men and women gathered, over thirty of them, all ready to stand up and fight for the cause that they believed in. When Cassian spoke, you held onto his every word. He was impossible not to listen to, impossible not to go utterly silent whenever a speech erupted itself from his mouth.

 Jyn approached you and Cassian after it was decided; they would all fight.

 “I’m not used to people sticking around,” Jyn smiled, a smile that you knew to be genuine. She turned to you gently. 

 “Welcome home,” you let out. 

 What ensued was a heist of epic proportions. You helped Bodhi locate a stray passenger lander, watched as he powered it up, checked the fuel gage and coolant compartment. You sat in the co-pilot seat, going through checks. 

 “I thought you were in communications?” Bodhi asked somewhat frantically. He had a rapid way of talking, but he was sweet. 

 “I am,”

 “Then how do you know so much about ships? Do you pilot as well?” you scoffed at his question. 

 “In the Alliance, we’re all all-rounders, truthfully. But—after my parents died—I wasn’t allowed to fly anymore,” you admitted. 

 “Why?” you shrugged, sad whenever you remembered your godparents taking that away from you. 

 “My guardians when I was growing up, they just want to protect me. I just wish—I wish that they’d realise I’m good for more than this,” 

 “This is legendary,” Bodhi said suddenly. “Hijacking an Alliance lander, going to Scarif for the Death Star plans. This is what someone like you was made for,” you knew you’d only just met him, but your heart reached out to him. 

 You placed your hand on his forearm, nodding at him in appreciation. 

 “Thanks, Bodhi.” You smiled at him, eyes glassy. 

 “This is what I’ve been saying for almost a year,” Cassian’s arrival made you flinch. You swivelled around to meet his gaze, looking at him knowingly as he peered down at you proudly. “You’ve always been capable of so much more, but you’ve been held back your entire life,”

 “Who are your guardians? Are they here?” Bodhi asked. You sucked in a sharp breath. 

 “They’re both Admirals,” you confessed. “They’re not posted in this system, they’re elsewhere, but,” you glanced back at Cassian, shooting his own smirk back at him. “What they don’t know, won’t hurt them,”

 Cassian pointed at you, leaning down affectionately, and bringing his fingers to hold you by the chin. His thumb rested just below your bottom lip; just like the dream; but this was real. 

 “This is why I love you,” he said lowly. Bodhi turned away with an awkward smile on his face. 

 “Tell me what meu korazon means, you coward,” 

 “Not until you ask nicely,” Cassian joked, shifting his thumb ever so slightly upwards, so it was swiping against your lip. You fought the urge to smash your face onto his; he was so close, it would be easy, and he’d definitely expect it. “You’re looking at my lips, meu korazon,” he whispered, and you all too late realised that you had been staring at his mouth.

 It was hard not to. 

 “Because I’m waiting for you to tell me what it means,” you lied. 

 “I’ll go find Jyn—the ship is ready to fly,” Bodhi said quickly, removing himself from the cockpit as soon as possible. Cassian laughed to himself, a knowing laugh that radiated through every pore in your body. 

 “I forgot he was still there, truthfully,” Cassian let out. You held your breath with embarrassment, falling into him ever so slightly.

 “We’re awful people,”

 “We’re only human, you can’t blame us,” 

 “I can, and I will blame us,” you chuckled out, bobbing your shoulders softly with built up laugher. You had to bring a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling to oblivion. 

 “Hey,” Cassian said, annoyed suddenly. “Don’t do that,” he grabbed your hand gently and pulled it away from your mouth, holding it in his own. “I was about to kiss you, that’s just not fair,”

 He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. Your heart jolted beneath your ribcage, lurching forward so quickly that you’re surprised you didn’t kiss him as soon as his words had stopped being spoken. He was looking at you like you were gold, like you were the red of the sunset that both of you loved, the maroon clay that laid beneath the salt on Crait, where you’d both met all those months before. 

 “Tell me what meu korazon means, and you can kiss me all you like,” you whispered, giving him an ultimatum. He let out a soft huff, peering down at the floor as an excuse to lay his forehead on yours. 

 His hand wound its way onto your cheek, his thumb swiping there instead. 

 “You’re impossible,” he let out. You shut your eyes, feeling the strength in his arms as you laid your hands on his biceps, just to hold him as he squatted on the floor by the co-pilot chair. 

 “That’s why you love me,” 

 “I do,” you opened your eyes. “I really do,” he admitted. “My heart. It means—you’re my heart, meu korazon.”

 My heart, my heart. How many times had he called you it? He’d started after a trip where his cover had been blown. He’d come home, beaten and bruised to within an inch of his life. You cared for him for days, fussing over him in the med-bay, reading him books as he lay in bed.

 That’s when he’d called you it for the first time, all those months ago. Since then, you’d asked around about it. What language it could be, if anyone knew what it meant, since Cassian had been so against telling you every time you’d asked. 

 Now you knew why. He’d been waiting for to realise it, waiting for you to understand that you were his heart, his body, his love. 

 You kissed him before you lost your nerve. It felt like coming home. It was everything you’d ever wanted and more. He was soft, but you felt the fire within him. One that started in both of your guts and grew outwards, overtaking every sense and controlling your every move. 

 When you pulled away, you took the time to indulge in the way he looked. A deer in headlights, flushed, breathing heavily. 

 “If you’d told me that sooner, I would have kissed you sooner,” you let out, a few chuckles escaping alongside the words. 

 “We’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he smiled, holding you close. 

 You both stayed like that for a while, laughing subtly at the fact you’d finally done it—you and Cassian had finally told each other the truth, spilled your guts upon the floor for each other, felt the other in a way that you’d both so desperately wanted behind closed doors. 

 When the shuttle engine started, all of you held your breath. 

 “Cargo shuttle, read back, please. What’s going on out there?” the control tower spoke through the pilot comms. Jyn approached Bodhi, squatting by his side to hear better. “That ship’s off limits, no one’s supposed to be on board until further instructions,”

 Bodhi clicked the relay. “Uh—yes, yes, we are. Affirmative,”

 “That’s an impounded Imperial ship. What’s your call-sign, pilot?”

 Bodhi looked to Jyn, stuttering over his words. You watched her mouth we have to go, while Bodhi continued to struggle with what to answer.

 “Say something,” Jyn whispered, fierce. “Come on,”

 Bodhi exhaled shakily. “Rogue,” he glanced around for approval. “Rogue One,”

 “Rogue One? There is no Rogue one,”

 K-2SO switched on the radar scanner, evidently running out of patience. “Well, there is now,”

 The shuttle took off abruptly, rising into the sky as fast as Bodhi and K2 could get it off the rebel base. As soon as you left the atmosphere, you were punched into hyperspace. You stood with Cassian by the cockpit, watching the blue lights of lightspeed cover the ship windshield. 

 You were going into the belly of the beast, right into the enemy’s hands, but you’d never felt more part of something. 

 Flying through Scarif’s shield was up there as the scariest moment of your life, but still you all persisted. Cadets in the back got on their gear and checked their blasters, dusting off their helmets and preparing themselves both mentally and physically for what was about to come.

 Upon landing, Cassian took you aside gently. 

 “I need you to stay here,” he explained. “We need someone on the ground with Bodhi while Jyn and I find the data inside. It’s too risky having more of us inside the building,”

 “Okay,” you said, just so he knew you understood. Gently, he placed a communicator into your hand, wrapping your fingers around it slowly. 

 “For you and me. You need me, you call me,” he whispered. Once again, this was not allowed, but he was doing it for you. 

 All of a sudden, everything hit you all at once. He was leaving, the same way he did every time he took off from Crait outpost and went off world. He was leaving, and he may not come back this time. Really not come back this time.

 You peered up at him with all your strength, widening your eyes to get across every fibre of your love for him, everything. 

 “Come back to me, Cassian.”

 “I’m not going anywhere,” he laid his hand on your cheek. “I promise,”

 “Because, I swear, I’ll kill you otherwise. I really will,” you let out, stuttering over your word and trying not to crumble completely. 

 Cassian leant forward and kissed you simply—as if it was the most normal thing he could ever do. When he pulled away, that fucking smirk was on his face again. The one you loved to hate, but dreamt about when he wasn’t around. 

 “What a beautiful way to die, meu korazon.” he said. 

 And then, he was gone. 

 And all hell broke loose.

 First, it was the troopers. There were so many of them, all with their blasters firing. You stayed with Bodhi in the ship while cadets fought them outside, knowing that you needed to be here for the transmission of the plans. It was essential. 

 Then, it was the walkers. They bombarded over the landing bays and destroyed ships and people alike. Smashing their bulking feet down upon the ground without so much as a second glance. 

 Chirrut and Baze were dead. You struggled to breathe. 

 Come on, Cassian. 

 Bodhi had sent distress signals to all branches of the galaxy, praying for rebels to arrive. It was a call to action, a cry for help. You needed all the help you could get, as the war raged outside and you focused on not losing your cool. 

 “Bodhi!” you screamed, just so he could hear you. You were sat at the secondary comms, heart in your throat at what you were hearing. The tears came faster than you could have imagined. “They’re here! They heard us!”

 Above Scarif’s shield entrance, two dozen rebel ships had arrived. They were there to help, there to answer your call. Bodhi grabbed his comm immediately, knowing what to do. 

 “Rogue One to the Rebellion!” he yelled. 

 “This is Admiral Raddus to Rogue One!”

 “Raddus, they have the plans. They found the Death Star plans. They have to transmit them from the communications tower! You have to take down the shield gate, it’s the only way we’re gonna get them through!” he spoke quickly, efficiently, and for a moment you allowed yourself to feel relieved. 

 “Pull up a hammerhead corvette—I have an idea. Stand by Rogue One, we’re on it!” Raddus replied. Bodhi bowed his head in thanks. 

 After the battle for the past hour, the fear of death from every trooper and walker and higher up on this godforsaken planet, you were hopeful—you were hopeful. 

 “This is for you, Galen,” Bodhi whispered to himself. It was go time. 

 “Bodhi, we need to tell Cassian—,”

 “Grenade!” he yelled over you, as the tinker of metal upon the hull of the ship alerted you both to the danger. 

 You had seconds to live. 

 You did the first thing you could think of; you clipped a blaster to you hip and jumped out of the shuttle; right before it exploded and blasted into a thousand pieces. You fell onto the sand of the landing pad, covering your head and ignoring the agonising sting of burns on your back. 

 All around you, troopers and cadets lay dead on the floor. Debris littered the sand. The once beautiful seclusion of the bay, surrounded by swinging palm trees, had been obliterated. 

 And Bodhi. Bodhi lay, burning, on the hull of the destroyed and on fire wreckage of Rogue One. 

 It was hard to hope for the best when all you wanted to do was join him. You felt the guilt first, then the grief, then the excruciating pain of all the losses you’d endured. You knew what you’d signed up to, knew this was always inevitable, but that didn’t stop you from feeling broken.

 When you moved, your skin burned. But still, you moved. You moved into the tree line, into the last of the greenery that surrounded you. You think your mother would have done the same, and your father; hidden in the foliage; made friends with the leaves as you focused on not dying. 

 You gulped down the pain, knowing that you needed medical attention; badly. It would have to wait. 

 You grabbed the communicator Cassian gave you and turned it on. You clicked the relay. 

 “Cassian,” you croaked. “Cassian—everyone’s dead,” you said, not even knowing if he was listening on the other end. 

 Static was all you were met with, until he finally replied. 

 “I know,” was all he said. “So is Kay-Two. But, you are alive,”

 “And you,” you said bluntly, struggling to be emotive when your energy was all but gone. “I’m trapped, at the landing pads. There are walkers, and—there were troopers—Bodhi. He’s—,” you stuttered through the words, trying to hold it together.

 “Use that big brain of yours,” he urged you forward. “I know you can get out, meu korazon. Through the shield gate, back to the Rebellion,”

 “Not without you,” the tears came thick and fast as you realised what was happening. “Where are you, my love?” you struggled to get it out.

 “We’re at the communication tower. Krennic—he got me with his blaster,” you stifled a sob. “We’re waiting now, for the shield to go down. We’re so close,”

 You allowed yourself to picture the perfect outcome: Raddus manages to open the shield gate, allowing the Rebellion into the atmosphere. They blast away the last of the enemy, kill Krennic where he stands, destroy their ships and leave them marooned on the planet to rot. 

 You find a ship and pick up Jyn and Cassian from atop the tower. They crawl into your ship and fall to the ground, hugging, safe, while you fly them far away from this god-awful place—back home; back to Yavin 4.

 You kiss Cassian a thousand times; you kiss him until your lips go numb and your belly hurts from all the laughter that he causes to burst from within you. He touches you softly and warmly, keeping you safe while also letting you roam free; the way you’ve always wanted to live. 

 You destroy the Death Star. You destroy the Empire, together. Alive. 

 “Okay,” you said, shutting your eyes and dispelling the last of your cold tears. You sucked in a shaking breath, forcing yourself to stand. “I’m finding a ship and getting off this fucking planet. And then—I’m coming back for you, Cassian. I will always come back,”

 “Meu korazon, I know,” 

 His comms cut off. You forced yourself to move.

 You blasted your way through the last trooper stragglers, going from landing pad to landing pad, looking for a ship. When you found one, you thanked the Maker within your heart. Somewhere deep down, you let yourself rejoice. 

 Just this once. Only for a second. 

 You’re working on autopilot when you entered the beat-up lander, praying that the engine is still usable. It stopped and stuttered to life, while you worked on powering up the comms systems. The static pinged abruptly, and you fiddled with the frequency knob until you could hear Admiral Raddus. 

 “Admiral, this is—,” you stopped. You didn’t know what to say. “I’m on landing pad four. How is the shield gate plan going?”

 “Tell me your call-sign, Lieutenant,” he pushed you, replying over the static. You sat in the pilot seat, looking out the dirtied windshield. 

 “Rogue Two,” you made it up on the spot. It was fitting.

 “Rogue Two, copy. Look at the sky,” he said knowingly. 

 You leaned forward, looking at the sky above. The blue haze of the shield gate had all but disappeared, after a Star Destroyer had crashed directly through it. It was still falling—in that slow motion sort of way that is both menacing and beautiful. 

 “They did it,” you whispered, but your comms were still on. 

 “The plans are being transmitted and uploaded as we speak, Rogue Two,” he announced. You thanked him, before clicking off your relay and got to piloting. 

 Before you could think, you took off in you ship. Quickly, you headed to the tower. If they were still up there, there was a chance that you’d be able to pick them up. You prayed, you hoped, you dreamed. 

 Cassian. 

 “Cassian,” you said over yours and his comm. “I’m in an Imperial lander, circling the tower. Where are you?”

 Only static came from the communicator. 

 “Cassian, come in,” you urged, as tears fell from your distressed eyes. 

 Nothing. 

 “Cassian!” you shouted, you screamed, you raged. 

 “Rogue Two—get out of there!” Admiral Raddus exclaimed over your ship comm. “They’re here. The Death Star is here,”

 You ceased to breathe. On the horizon, you saw it. Hulking, large, a sickly shade of grey and the size of a fucking planet as it loomed over everything. It covered the sun, casting a shadow over the entire planet. 

 “Rogue Two, that’s an order!” another voice came over your comms, but it wasn’t Raddus. “Don’t you dare disobey your commander,”

 “Commander?” you replied, eyes still glued to the horizon as you circled the tower for a third time. 

 “The shield gate is down. Leave the atmosphere, Rogue Two. Now,” he pleaded, and you wanted to rip the control console before you. You wanted to destroy every scrap of metal, every bolt, every button, and scanner that resided in this grim ship. 

 You only wanted him. You needed him. 

 “I can’t, Sir,” you croaked. 

 “Yes, you can,” he urged. You could picture his face, concerned and worried and on the brink of a meltdown in his X-wing, up in the stars. “Yes, you can!” he exclaimed again, shouting at you full pelt. 

 With every wasted second, the Death Star was gaining power and would soon blow. It would destroy the planet in minutes, seconds. Immediately. 

 “Please,” he let out. “You have so much more to do in this life.”

 You grimaced when you left the tower, heading for the upper atmosphere. You could see the collection of rebel ships, above the destroyed shield gate. Admiral Raddus, Bail Organa, your commander. They were all here—they’d all responded and helped. 

 You didn’t say a word as you entered space, letting the darkness encase you. You ignored the stars; the stars weren’t the same without him here. They would never be. 

 You blocked out the frantic comm relays from your ears. Something about Vader himself, something about the plans still uploading—nothing about Cassian. You turned off your comms altogether; you would follow the rebels back to base when you saw them jump into hyperspace; but this time was for you and Cassian. 

 Picking up your communicator, you looked down at the planet beneath you. Somewhere, Cassian was still down there. Jyn was still down there. 

 “Cassian,” you tried again, hating the sound of the static after each word. “Cassian,” your voice wobbled, your tears started to fall again. “My love, I need you. You said, if I needed you, to call you. I’m calling you, Cassian. I need you,”

 The air shifted when the Death Star fired on Scarif.

 You watched in horror as the initial blast slowly erupted, crumbling the crust of the planet as if it were nothing but a piece of paper that had been stabbed by a sharp lead pencil. 

 “Do you see it, meu korazon?” Cassian’s voice croaked over the comm. You almost vomited up your heart. “The colour of the sky. It’s red, but still soft. It reminds me of you,”

 You bit away the want to scream. 

 “Describe it to me,”

 “The skies used to look like this when I was a boy—on Kenari. They were so soft, so red, casting a glow over our forests and reflecting off the waxy leaves that we used to build our homes,” his voice was beautiful. You memorised every syllable and note and croak that he could muster. “My sister would clap at the sunset, every night. It happened so fast. One minute, the sky was still blue, the next a pale pink, and then—you,”

 “Me?” you sniffed through your tears. You couldn’t see properly. 

 “You. That shade of maroon, the deep kind. The kind that warms you. The kind that I see whenever I close my eyes. You,”

 The explosion was spreading fast, forcing the water from the vast ocean of the planet in all directions. 

 “Where are you, my love?” you asked. You wished you hadn’t.

 “On the beach, meu korazon. It’s beautiful. I’m with Jyn,”

 “Good,” your voice shook. 

 The first of the rebel ships flew into hyperspace around you. Time was up. 

 “Cassian,” you wobbled. “I love you,”

 “I know,” he said, huffing slightly. “I’ve loved you since you dropped that data pad and scrambled on the floor to pick up the buttons,”

 “Meu korazon,” you stuttered out. 

 “Meu koraz—,” the communicator went dead. 

 All you could hear was static, the ugly kind, the kind that made you want to vomit up your heart and use it to drive the ship home. 

 “Cassian?” you shut your eyes, feeling every muscle in your body give up. The air was ripped from your lungs. “Cassian!” you let out a scream so shrill it could’ve curdled cream. 

 Below you, the last of the planet was being destroyed. The crust crumbled like breadcrumbs, scattering out into the stars, while the core lay slowly dying. The light of a dying planet—it was maroon.

 Just like him. 

 Admiral Raddus’ ship blasted into hyperspace quickly, so you had no choice but to follow. There were only a few ships left now, including the looming Star Destroyer on the horizon that you knew wasn’t the ally. 

 You blinked away your tears, punching your ship into hyperspace as you collapsed onto the console. You wept, you cried so badly that your throat went red raw. The communicator was flush in your palm, cutting off the blood circulation and turning your knuckles white all the while. 

 You could no longer dream.

 When you returned to base, you didn’t speak for four days. You went back to work, helping Mon Mothma with a statement and planning the first stages of the attack on the Death Star. Despite doing it without words, Mon Mothma still chose to rank you up. 

 Captain. You were a Captain now, just like he was. 

 “Congratulations, Captain,” your commander approached you in the comms room. You were alone, but you preferred it that way. He was staying on Yavin 4 until rebels were needed at Crait once again. 

 He saluted you, and you silently laughed, allowing yourself a small smile. 

 “How does it feel, hm?” he sat next to you, smiling at you sullenly. 

 You said nothing, still not comfortable with the sound of your voice after you listened to it for so long—screaming, wailing—a few days prior. It made you feel sick. 

 When you didn’t reply, your commander shuffled to find something in his pocket. “I thought I’d bring these for you. He was always leaving his stuff around, you know? His dorm was next to mine, and it was gross,”

 Gently, he dangled Cassian’s dog tags before you. He never wore them, there was no point when he was always on recon missions. It would be a dead giveaway. You sucked in a deep breath as he slowly lowered them into your palms. They were cold, freezing cold, like they’d been left in the snow for days. You instinctually warmed them with your fingers. Turning them over, you read his name. 

 Captain Cassian Andor. 

 You were speechless, and not just because you’d decided not to talk for days on end. There were no words that would be thanks enough for what your commander had just given you. You had nothing of Cassian’s, nothing to remember him by, until now. 

 Gently, you skimmed your fingers over the metal over and over again, furrowing your brows when the tears started to well behind your eyes. 

 You looked up at your commander. “Thank you,” it burst from your lips, a coarse whisper, but words, nonetheless. He smiled. 

 “There she is. I was starting to miss her,” he said fondly.

 He left you to have some time, smiling as he exited the communication bay. You exhaled shakily as you finally put them around your neck. They were cold when you shoved them beneath your shirt, resting them over your heart. 

 This was the Alliance. The Rebellion. And Cassian had fought valiantly for what he believed in. An excellent pilot, a stellar fighter, the man you loved and who loved you back. It seemed only fitting that he would return to the sky, where he came from. 

 Scattered amongst the stars forevermore. 

 Meu korazon.  

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 12

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude continue life on the island and are met with an unexpected devastation. Mentions of smut & injury. There is mention of a miscarriage in this chapter. It's not massively detailed, but is emotional. I'll highlight a trigger warning in case you'd like to skip over the parts where it's mentioned. Please protect your peace if you need to. 🖤

Some external, helpful links if you need them: UK | USA

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 11

She finds Frankie standing on the beach with his hand shielding his eyes under the visor of his cap, staring upwards.

“¿Qué estás mirando?” (What are you looking at?) Jude asks him in Spanish, and he looks down at her and smiles approvingly.

“Tu español está mejorando mucho." (Your Spanish is coming along quite well.)

“Well, I have a good teacher,” Jude smiles, running her hand inside his and nuzzling into his arm.

She inhales the scent of him - a scent uniquely his own, born from days spent under the scorching sun and nights beneath the star-studded sky. It’s an earthy, almost primal aroma, mingled with the subtle undertones of sweat and the salty tang of the ocean.

“Up there. There are some berries up on the ridge. I think I can get to ‘em.” He points to the ridge and under the ledge there are some wiry brambles with clusters of dark berries swaying in the breeze.

“No, Frankie. That’s fucking suicide, what if you slip?” Jude says with a frown and trying not to focus on her stomach rumbling heavily in the process.

“I won’t. I need you to help me.” He smiles as he starts walking up the hill and she follows behind him trying to protest.

“A few fucking berries, that could turn out to be poisonous by the way, isn’t worth risking your life.” Her argument has a solid point, but equally she isn't throwing her weight into it to try and stop him. She simply hasn’t the energy to fight him on this.

She doesn’t have the energy for anything anymore. 

She tries to push the discomfort to the back of her mind, focusing instead on the task at hand, anything to distract herself from the empty feeling in her belly. A dull ache settles in the pit of her stomach, growing more pronounced with each passing moment. It’s a hollow, biting sensation, like a relentless tide that threatens to consume her from within.

She can almost feel her body pleading for sustenance, craving the nourishment that seems perpetually out of reach. With a resigned sigh, Jude wraps her arms around herself, as if trying to ward off the hunger pains that seem to grip her with increasing intensity and follows behind him.

“And if they aren’t, then it’s worth the risk.” Frankie turns, walking backwards up the steep hill and grins down at her. 

His hair has become longer, shaggier; sticking out in long, floppy curls under his cap, tousled by the salty breeze and the relentless sun. Strands of chestnut brown cascade down past his ears, framing his weather-beaten face in a wild, untamed mane.

Jude shakes her head and tries not to smile back at the crazy idiot. She knows he’s right; it is worth it to see, but doesn’t mean she has to agree with his stupid-ass plan. 

“If you fall I’m gonna be so pissed.” She mutters with a tiny, renegade smirk escaping from the corner of her mouth as she puffs up the steep hill.

Up on the ridge, Frankie kicks off his worn flip-flops and crouches down on the ledge, leaning forward on his hands and knees and peering over the edge. 

It isn’t a vastly high drop, but still high enough that if he did fall onto the rocks below; he’d suffer a bad injury - a broken bone or two at the very least. And if he does hit his head? Well... he tries not to think about it.

He casts his eyes directly under the ledge and can see various rocks and anchor points jutting out of it to which he can steady himself on. Yeah, he can do this. Vamos, hijo de puta. (Let’s go, motherfucker.)

“Okay. I’m gonna lower myself down and hang onto the ledge. I need you here in case I lose my grip. You can pull me back up, alright?” Frankie explains to her, turning around on his hands and knees and shuffling backwards until he feels his feet hanging freely over it. The breeze whips between his toes.

“You say it as if it’s easy to pull a six foot-odd man back up again.” Jude sighs, kneeling down and following close to him; her face almost right in his as he inches backwards further.

“It is easy.” He smirks. “Besides, I’m five-eleven.” He stops and steals a quick kiss; his head protruding out of his neck like a turtle from its shell.

Before he can back away, Jude pulls his face back and kisses him harder. 

“I’ll be okay, I promise.” He assures her through a gaspy moan.

"Yeah. I've got you." Jude confirms.

Frankie tucks stands of renegade curls away under his cap so he can see better, and shuffles further and lowers himself down off the ledge slowly. He’s holding himself up with both his arms on the ledge supporting his body weight.

“Whoa, look at those big balls you got there,” Jude remarks with an animated face holding wide eyes at his confidence. She’s poised with her hands around his right arm, ready to grab a tight hold on to him if he says.

“They saved my life in a car crash once,” he grins sardonically up at her, squinting in the sunlight, as he steadies himself on the ridge ledge; his legs swinging below him like a pendulum to try and balance on anything he can reach with his toes.

He feels a protrusion from the ledge and rests the ball of his foot on it, curling his toes around to get a good grip.

“Did you have to do this kind of aerobatics in the Army?” She asks.

“Not quite.” He grins. He can see the bramble tossing about as the wind toys with it; those berries looking purple and juicy up this close to them. “I think I can reach it.”

“Please be fucking careful!” Jude warns, holding all the tension in her gut as she sees him reach out to the brambles with his left arm, seeming like it goes on forever like Stretch Armstrong. 

“I got it.” Frankie confirms, and the weakening muscle in his arm that’s still on the ledge flexes as his fingers dig into the ground to steady himself from slipping. 

Jude places her hand under his armpit and pulls as he hoists himself upwards onto the ledge scuttling forward. 

He wipes his knees down from the dust and pebbles that coated them and holds the branch out to her.

“Do you think they’re edible?” She asks, peering at the berries curiously.

“Only one way to find out.” Frankie pulls a few of the purple berries off the branch and hands them to her before taking some for himself. 

“The worst outcome is that we’ll get the shits and then die,” he smirks as he pops a couple in his mouth without hesitating or thinking too much about it. 

“Meh. Just another day in paradise,” Jude muses, chewing as the berries explode; their tangy juice coating the inside her mouth.

They strip the bramble of all the berries in a mere few minutes and Frankie tosses it over the ledge again as they make their way down the hill back towards the beach. 

Luckily, they didn’t get the shits or die. But equally the berries were not enough to keep their hunger at bay for very long.

TRIGGER WARNING

A week or so later, Frankie wakes up to find that Jude isn’t in the bed with him. 

A little screech alerts him to Egon’s presence, who has since braved the courage to actually venture fully into the shack, and occasionally shit all over it too, much to Frankie’s annoyance. 

It’s kinda cute though when the monkey allows Jude to pet him and even climbs on her shoulder as she walks across the beach before he’ll jump off and scarper away to wherever it is he hides on the island.

Frankie sits up, feeling the room turn on a slant and shakes his head waiting for the dizzy spell to subside. Closing his eyes, Frankie takes slow, deep breaths, willing the dizziness to pass. He can hear the distant crash of waves and the rustle of trees on the breeze, but they seem to come from a far-off place, disconnected from his spinning reality.

After a few moments, the sensation begins to subside, leaving him feeling drained and exhausted. Opening his eyes, he blinks away the lingering disorientation, trying to shake off the remnants of the dizzy spell that has momentarily overwhelmed him.

There are many dizzy spells as of late. 

Egon screeches again, like his own personal alarm clock that seems unrelenting, and Frankie gives him the finger lazily.

“I’m up, buddy.” He groans, and Egon just stares at him with eyes round and bulbous. 

Frankie calls out to Jude through a yawn, but isn’t met with a response; his eyes instead are drawn to the t-shirt discarded on the floor that has a red stain on it. 

He can feel his heartbeat accelerate inside his chest as he swings his legs out of the cushion bed and dashes out the shack. 

“Jude?” He calls out her name again and heads forward in large, panicked strides across the sand. He spots her down by the water’s edge. 

Frankie rushes over to her and finds her clutching her stomach; blood trickling on the sand underneath her. 

“Hey, hey...” He soothes, pulling her close noticing she’s crying hysterically. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” Frankie asks, stroking her back and noting how much blood is glistening up at him like scattered rubies over the sand. 

“I-I think I lost it...” Jude snivels through incoherent sobs and wails. 

He looks at her with widening eyes. “Lost what?” Her eyes bore into him and it drops. “Shit, you were pregnant?”

Jude shakes her head, “I-I didn’t know... I haven’t had a period for a-a long time now; I-I thought it would be okay. I’m so sorry.” She sobs.

“Come here,” Frankie pulls her back into his chest cradling her. “Sssh. Está bien, hermosa. Estás bien. You haven’t done anything wrong, okay?” (It’s okay, beautiful. You’re okay.)

She cries harder into his shoulder; crying in pain, exhaustion and disbelief that she was even carrying life inside her to even begin with. Her periods had stopped months ago, the drastic weight loss being the culprit no doubt, and despite their sex being unprotected - I mean it’s not as if you can just nip to the island pharmacy for some protection, right? - she’d been lucky that they hadn’t had a mishap prior to this.

Neither of them had really considered it; a slight invincibility when they lost themselves inside their passion, which only now birthed a terrible consequence to their recklessness. 

The harrowing sound of her wails is all he can hear, echoing around him as though it’s being blasted out of the sky onto his head to crush him. He’s winded, frozen temporarily as the sudden dawning on what has happened, comes out of nowhere unforeseen, and yet is devastating nonetheless.

As the waves crashed gently against the shore during the night, a sense of unease had settled over Jude, an inexplicable feeling of discomfort that seemed to gnaw at her from within. At first, she brushed it off as nothing more than the natural anxieties that came with their precarious situation on the island. More hunger pains, perhaps?

But as the hours passed, the sensation grew stronger, a persistent whisper of dread that refused to be ignored. Her hand instinctively drifted to her stomach as the cramps twisted and burned. With a sinking heart, Jude realised what was happening.

Tears welled in her eyes as the truth sank in - a truth too painful to acknowledge, too devastating to comprehend. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Jude grappled with the enormity of the loss.

The grief was a physical weight, pressing down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Quietly leaving the shack so as not to wake or worry Frankie, she sank to her knees, the sand cool and gritty beneath her fingers, as she surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotion that consumed her.

Through the haze of tears, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her, offering comfort and solace in the face of their shared sorrow. 

And as Frankie holds her close now, murmuring words of reassurance, Jude clings to him with all her strength, drawing strength from his presence in their darkest hour.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, c’mon. I got you, hermosa.” Frankie soothes standing, his voice cracking. 

He scoops her up in his arms, carrying her as she clings onto him, and wades into the sea with her until the water covers them both. He swirls it around over and in between her thighs, gently washing away the blood with his hands and kissing her forehead continually as she silently sobs and hiccups onto his bony shoulder.

He just holds her in the water in his arms, feeling how light she feels and trying not to let the tears slip out of his own eyes - but ultimately he loses that battle. He throws down everything and waves the white flag in defeat.

A little whimper slips out of him through chapped lips he squeezes together to try to prevent it, and his eyes fill with water, turning red. 

Frankie looks up at the sky as those stinging tears make tracks down his eyes, and curses whoever or whatever it is that is up there for doing this to her - for doing this to them. 

Maldito cabrón… (You fucking bastard.)

TRIGGER WARNING (EMOTIONAL DISTRESS AFTERMATH)

Days later, Frankie is up on the lookout on the ridge that he’d constructed a while back. 

It’s a simple amalgamation of branches that he’d weaved together, tying with vines to create a little shady igloo on the edge of the ridge so they had some shelter up on high.

Occasionally, Jude would come up and sit with him, but she got more and more tired making the journey up the steep hill until she stopped coming altogether.

He’d made a flag with the ugliest floral shirt of the bunch, and erected it on a thick, sturdy branch and it flapped about in the breeze. A passing boat or plane would surely notice it due to its lurid orange colour, but he’s given up any hope of it being spotted at all as the months wore on, fighting the pull inside of him to just tear it all down.

The branch igloo up on the ridge has become his thinking spot as of late, a place to escape to when it all gets a bit much. 

And it’s getting a bit much now. 

From up here he can see the shack, the rocky beachfront and the gloomy, empty horizon. He’ll glance down now and again to see Jude wander out the shack and disappear into the wooded area to return a few minutes later - sometimes with Egon on her shoulder - taking toilet breaks to relieve herself in the dugout he’d built for them.

Although the term “built” is used loosely; it’s basically a deep hole they can shit and piss in and bury it, which is far enough away that it won’t stink out the shack too much if it happens to be caught on a sea breeze. 

It’s been a few days since Jude had lost whatever it was she was carrying inside of her; lost a part of him that he’d planted inside her when they were intimate with one another. 

Historically, Frankie hadn’t thought much about becoming a father; his life spiralling out of control was too busy to accommodate parental responsibilities back in the real world.

Carla had mentioned it a few times, probably a last ditch attempt to cling onto whatever remaining shreds there was of their tattered relationship that she could, but he was always reluctant - a baby would just mess with his shit and he didn’t have time for it.

He didn’t have time for anyone in the end. He was selfish in that regard.

But it feels different now, like the decision has been snatched from him somehow, and that feeling sloshes unsettled inside of his empty stomach. A sense of restlessness stirs within Frankie, his hands subtly tremoring again as he looks down at them.

The familiar pull of darkness tugging at him, tempting him with the promise of sweet oblivion, of escaping the pain and sorrow that threatens to completely overwhelm him.

As Frankie squeezes his hands into fists, his mind engulfed in a storm of grief and despair, a familiar yearning shreds at his insides. The seductive call of stupefaction, giddy highs and surges he longs to feel filtering through his veins as he inhales.

He can hear it, whispering enticingly in the recess of his mind, promising temporary respite from the agony of their loss. 

He longs to lose himself in the numbing embrace of white, chalky powder again, to drown it all out. But even as the desire burns fiercely within him, Frankie knows that there are no drugs to be found on the isolated island.

A bitter irony settles over him as he grapples with the cruel reality of his situation. In the past, drugs had been his refuge, his escape from the harsh realities of life. Peace in a small plastic packet as he lays his head in its lap for a while.

But now, stranded on this desolate shore, there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the raw, unfiltered emotions that assail him.

He’d held Jude inside of his arms for hours after that; kept seeing the blood each time he closed his eyes, and it stung in places where he didn’t think it would sting. It felt like the walls of his chest were caving in and collapsing on top of his organs as they began suffocating him relentlessly - he couldn’t breathe. 

She cried in pain, and hardly spoke for a while as he did his best to comfort her; rubbing her tummy with his giant hand to soothe the cramps; to be there holding on tightly until she fell asleep, then slipping outside to let his own emotions come flooding out.

He had to be her fortress; he could be a crumbling castle on his own.

Frankie is exhausted, he’s sitting on the ground with his knees drawn up to his chest wearing a jacket that smells of must and sea water, keeping his own body warm against the breeze that seems sharper up on the ridge, like knives cutting into his skin.

He spots grey clouds on the horizon and wills them closer, to pour on his head and drown him - and fill the water bottles in the process. 

He doesn’t have to wait very long, they’re soon above his head and the rain is unrelenting - heavy and soaking into him. He opens his mouth, his head tilted back and lets it fill with water until it’s full and he swallows it down, repeating the process a few times, until he summons the will to trudge back down to the beach and check on the bottles.

A monotonous zombie, keeping on for keeping ons sake. It’s either that or he’ll break completely, fall off that ledge fully, but he knows he can’t leave Jude; he has to be strong for her, even if he has no strength left anymore. 

It rains non-stop for a couple of days; the most rain in succession they’ve experienced on the island thus far. They take the opportunity to drink as much as they can to stay hydrated and refill the bottles again and put the caps back on.

Jude smiles faintly at him as he crouches over the sand pulling out the bottles as they fill up and he watches her whilst she sits on the rocks completely soaked through, wondering if she’ll ever be okay again.

Wondering if he’ll ever be okay again.

Frankie wants to reach inside of her and pull out all of the hurt she’s being sucked into; a turbulent whirlpool as is he. He wants to protect her, to pull her into his arms and tell her everything is okay, but instead he’s rendered still looking at her lithe, bony frame as she wastes away in front of him, and he’s powerless to stop it. 

He’s let her down; he knows that somewhere inside of him, he’s done her a great injustice. He isn’t able to save her like he hoped he could. Those first few days on the island of living in sweet denial about being rescued was a blessing in some ways.

He’ll give anything to go back to that point and relive it - get a do over and tackle things differently. Wave a magic wand and make it all go away. Lay down with her in the sand and assure her that when they both wake up again, they’ll be home, safe - away from here. 

Frankie sighs out as she stands up and approaches him; the shorts she wears dangling low on her hips and she holds them up as she walks. 

Jude pushes a bottle of water into his hands and urges him to drink more. He does as she asks, complying for her and relishing the feel of her hand stroking inside the tendrils of curls that are now way past his ears. He pulls gently on her braid, wisps of it flying about in the breeze.

“How you doing, Rapunzel?” Frankie asks her, gently.

She runs her fingers through his greased scalp after taking off his cap and putting it on her head whilst she combs through his locks, untangling them.

Jude kisses his forehead with her dry lips, then his nose as he wraps his arms around the back of her thighs and hoists her into his lap as he sits in the damp sand, resting his chin on her head. 

“I’m okay,” she says to him. 

“You’ve been quiet,” Frankie explains gently. “How’s the cramps?” He rubs her tummy; his large palm almost covering it and massaging soothing circles over it.

His breath hitches, remembering there was once a tiny part of him growing in there. 

“Gone. The bleeding stopped too.” She looks away, and he turns her chin back towards him.

“Don’t hide from me,” he pleads to her and kisses her lips softly. 

“I’m not. I promise. How are you doing?” Jude asks him.

“Copacetic.” He shrugs. “I’m dealing.”

She nods and relaxes her head backwards onto his bony clavicle. 

“Maybe we should...” Frankie begins, not wanting to find the words, because it’ll be the death of him. “Maybe we should stop.”

She looks at him, registering what he’s getting at and it renders her mute, a sharp laceration slashing at her heart.

“We should stop having sex,” he clarifies, unable to look her in the eye. Unable to take his hands off of her for they stay wrapped around her.

She drops her gaze too.

The current is a little choppy and they listen to the sounds of the waves rolling in and out until the night sky approaches. They’re soaked through from the rain and shivering a little as they make their way back to the shack and dry off. 

Frankie holds Jude inside of his arms, kissing over her cheeks and jaw. He catches her eyes staring up at him and he rests his head on his elbow, looking back down at her as she strokes the back of his neck affectionately. 

He closes his eyes, just relishing the feel of her touch as her fingertips make infectious circles, twisting the hair at the nape of his neck around them and occasionally scratching his skin in a haunting way. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jude asks him, absorbing all the weary features of his overgrown face. 

The slight heart-shaped patch that she can trace along his jaw, still remains hairfree, despite the rugged growth of his beard.

Frankie opens his eyes, his pupils growing and adjusting to the dim light again; two dark pools of tar set inside the fantastical obsidian and gold kaleidoscopes of his irises. 

“I was thinking about how good it feels when you touch me.” Frankie replies, with a dipped smile dying a horrific death across his mouth. 

“Like this?” Jude asks, as her scratching around the back of his head intensifies; her nails raking across his skull and he shivers closing his eyes. 

“Yeah, like that.” He sighs out in a contented relief; her touch melting everything away, his body surrendering like she has him under a deep, entrancing spell.

He’ll do anything for her, be anything for her - just as long as she never stops touching him.

She lifts her head slightly and meets his lips, kissing onto him and tasting him. He kisses her back, his arm swooping under her and crushing her against his chest. 

“I can’t bear it,” she whispers. 

“What?” He asks, as he brushes his sharp nose against hers.

“The thought of you not wanting to touch me again.”

Groaning, he tenses up and closes his eyes. “I want to. Of course I want to. I just don’t-”

“It wasn’t your fault either, Frankie.” She runs her hand through his hair again, gathering it at the back of his neck in a short pony. Unruly curls fall around his face, and he’s never looked more beautiful to her then right now. 

Jude reaches down gently and feels how hard he is in his shorts; the reaction from all that scalp massaging and intensity that blooms between them when they’re affectionate - it kills him.

Frankie breathes out, his resistance waning fast, his body succumbing to that weakness that weighs heavily on him all the fucking time.

She kisses him; a silent whimper absorbing into his skin like ink, spreading through him as he kisses her back with just as much courage as she has. 

But he resists. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” Frankie whispers, his hand flat against her stomach and his eyes filling with mounting sorrow. 

But he wants to cave; cave into her selfishly as she receives him with just as much yearning, crushing them both like a tidal wave smashing their bodies and ripping them to shreds.

“You could never hurt me,” Jude replies confidently.

“I know, I just… we should wait,” he sighs out as she nestles against him, resting her head on his shoulder as he holds her close. “I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Jude smiles as he cradles her and she can hear his heartbeat. “You’re something else, Fish.” 

He scoffs. “Hardly.”

They lay like that until Frankie can hear the shift in Jude’s breathing, laboured and heavier as she’s asleep.

They don’t last long in their abstinence. Giving in a few days later as Frankie can’t bear the temptation of surrendering on his knees as Jude smiles at him.

That's all it takes - a glimmer of genuine affection towards him that melts away his resolve down to his bones like sulfuric acid. 

They don't speak verbally, but their communication is loud and understood entirely; their language of wanton moans and breaths filtering through their skin into their senses and bloodstream. Inhaling one another in and tasting all the warm energy they create together, passing it back and forth between their bodies and souls alike.

Sex is a hunger, sex is energy; sex is love. Sex is the way a man gives love to a woman in that moment, giving his body and mind to her in equal measure and she absorbs it, absorbs him; understanding the manual of him and his moving parts. Even if some of them have been broken before. 

The spark between them is no longer a mere spark, it’s a raging fire spreading out of control and burning up everything in its path. They feel it, they feel it now; united in their grief and healing one another through touch and gasps.

Frankie presses his forehead to Jude’s, breathing in deep as he feels her tighten around his cock, feels her need for him in more ways than words can ever say.

His thumb strokes the side of her face in complete awe and he kisses her deeply, falling deeper into the starry abyss of her. And he never wants to be pulled out. 

Unable to quell that want, that need and that pain; purging it into one another and recycling it into an intense desire that neither of them has ever felt before.

She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen as she comes; her body glowing, blinding him until his eyeballs dissolve into the hollows of his skull. The notes of her whines tattooed under the layers of his skin. 

And that, my friends, is what it feels like to make love. 

The constant rain has reduced the fire to nothing but a pit of sludgy ash, and the mud cement that Frankie had made when he first constructed the shack, almost a year ago now, is starting to melt. 

He notices the shack looking a little on the slant as he wakes up one morning and can see water trickling in through the wooden planks.

The ocean waves are more ferocious as the days wear on and whilst he re-coats the outside of the shack in the mud sludge again when a lull in the rain comes, the feisty current makes it impossible to fish in the bay. 

Jude takes to thoroughly scouting the wood for any sign of food after the school of fish has dwindled alarmingly, with Egon attached to her shoulder and occasionally getting his tiny foot tangled in her knotty braid. 

“You must be eating something,” she says to the fuzzy haired critter, side-eyeing him. “There’s been no fish for you to steal for a while.” 

Egon simply screeches and scuttles across her other shoulder before dashing up into the trees and disappearing. She stops, looking up and watching him go; swinging on the vines, and then something catches her eye. 

Jude steps back and spots lots of pods hanging off some branches above her in the canopy; covered by the tree leaves as they drape. They aren’t obvious to spot with the naked eye. If it wasn’t for Egon, she would’ve never noticed and carried on completely unaware. 

“You little shit,” she calls to the monkey shaking her head in disbelief. 

There’s no way she can simply reach up and pick them, they’re too high. Jude looks about and approaches a tree that looks easy enough to climb to her immediate left, and starts to steady her footing as she reaches up to the branches elevating herself. 

Jude takes her time; climbing trees is easy enough for kids without a sense of danger, but as an adult stranded miles from any medical care, she knows she has to be sensible about this.

She climbs further up, testing to see if the branches can support her weight before fully hoisting herself up on them. She reaches forward and pulls a branch closer to her, hearing Egon screeching further up in the treetops. 

“Yep. I’m stealing your food now, buddy. See how you like it, huh?” Jude chuckles to herself. He still continues to protest much to her mirth.

“You’re lucky we didn’t eat you, okay?” She scolds the monkey as he appears on the other tree adjacent to her, shaking a branch and some of the pods fall to the ground. 

She reaches for some and plucks them, examining them in her hand. They’re knobbly and bumpy to the touch, like peapods but only more bulbous and slightly bigger.

She cracks the outer pod shell open with her nails and inside is a gummy sap. 

The flesh inside has a similar consistency to a cherry, and as she sniffs it, it smells incredibly saccharine. She pops some in her mouth, wincing at how tartly sweet it is and there’s a pip that she spits out as her teeth crunch against it. 

Jude reaches up for some more, swallowing. “No wonder you wanted to keep these to yourself.” She remarks glancing over at Egon who’s chewing through his own pod greedily. 

She shakes her head smiling, and reaches forward for more, but then promptly loses her footing and falls forward out of the tree. 

Frankie steps back and smears his fingers over the fresh layer of sludgy mud cement, patting it down smoothly.

He wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead, squinting in the dim light to inspect the job he’s almost completed.

He looks up at the sky and can see it hasn’t changed from that heavy grey hue all day, and hopes the rain will hold off until the cement dries at least. 

He hears something in the distance as he rounds the front of the shack, mixing the mud with his hand again and stops, listening out furtively. 

He hears it again - it’s his name being called in the distance.

“FRANKIE!” 

He drops the cement tin and scoots out towards the tree line, stopping to listen every few seconds. 

He calls out for her, wiping his muddy hand down his shorts. She calls back, her voice getting louder as he follows it through the trees.

“Jude?”

“Frankie!”

“Jude?”

“Marco.”

He smirks. “Polo. Where are you?” Frankie calls out again, scanning the bushes for any movement.

“I’m over here!” Jude lifts her hand up as high as she can and winces, gasping out in incredible pain as she moves. 

She hears rustling and then Frankie appears through the shrubs. He rushes to her when he sees her in a crumpled heap on the ground. 

She’d lain there for a few moments after the fall, trying to determine whether she was still alive or not; the thudding of her heart, the adrenaline rush making her breath uncatchable in her throat. The fuzzing in her ears and the feel from the soft pads of her fingertips scraping against the ground as she tried to push herself upright, seemed like the only senses she could focus on.  

But then she’d felt a sudden stabbing rush through her left arm and into her shoulder and collarbone, and collapsed upon herself once more as the pressure was too much. 

“What the fuck happened?” Frankie reaches forward, and as soon as he touches her arm she screams out at him. 

“No! No! Don’t touch it!” Jude wails in an eerie screech. 

“Shit, what did you do?” 

“I fell out of the tree, I think it’s broken.” She groans as she tries and fails to sit up again. 

Frankie looks up at the tree above her. “What were you doing up there?”

“Egon.”

“Oh, so you’re copying the fuckin' monkey now?” Frankie smirks at her incredulously. 

“No, he has a food source up there, look.” She opens her right hand and he takes the pods out of it that she’s still holding on to. 

“What are they?” He brings it up to his nose and sniffs it. 

“I think it’s tamarind.” Jude breathes out heavily like a woman going into labour, puffing through deep, intense breaths. 

“Tamarind?” He questions.

“Yeah. Taste it, it’s really sweet.” She says.

He cracks open the pod and smells the sticky gum on his fingers, sucking them and putting a piece inside his mouth.

“Fuck. That's pretty sweet,” he winces at first before spitting out the pip. 

“Yeah.”

“Alright Tarzan. Let’s get you up, slowly.” Frankie swallows and reaches for her other arm and pulls her up gently as he hooks his arm around her waist. 

“If I’m Tarzan, that means you’re Jane.” Jude chuckles as she grits her teeth. 

“I’ll rock it.” He remarks. 

The pain in her arm overwhelms everything, and for a moment it feels as though it’s been fully ripped off her body and is still on the ground somewhere else.

He pushes her arm into her chest for protection, realising from her shrieks as she cries out in pain that it’s either definitely broken or dislocated at least. He’ll see to that later; right now he has to get her out of here, get her somewhere safe and calm her down.

“I got you.” Frankie slings her other arm around his neck as he supports her upright and begins to drag her away on her jellified feet back in the direction of the shack. 

“At least we have something to eat again, for now...” Jude says as he sits her on the cushion bed. 

“Yeah, although you should’ve waited for me; what if you’d hit your head or something?” Frankie scolds as he picks out a shirt from the case and unfolds it.

“I didn’t, I’m okay.”

“Only just,” he remarks with a frown. “Can you take your t-shirt off?”

“If you can help me, sure.”

He nods and kneels down in front of her helping her to slip her undamaged arm out of the sleeve and then over her head; she has the bikini top on underneath and he glances at the bones of her ribcage visible under her skin as they protrude outward. 

His eyes find hers and they’re swimming in a concerned sadness, as though it pains him more than he lets on to see her suffering like this.

He tries to mask his angst-like expression as best as he can, but she can see right through it.

Jude feels his fingers probe them, running across the ridges slightly. She looks back down at her arm and he doesn’t mention her rib cage verbally. He doesn’t need to; they’re both fully aware of their starving quandary.

Slowly, Frankie moves the t-shirt down her other arm and she cries out at the slightest movements. “I know. Easy, baby.”

He looks over her shoulder and arm and can’t see any obvious signs of a bone sticking out. He inspects her back and runs his fingers lightly over her skin. 

“Okay, tell me when it hurts.” He says.

“What are you... OWWW, FUCK!!” She yells out as his fingers press in just under her shoulder joint and he feels a softness where there shouldn’t be. 

He presses in the same spot on her other shoulder and feels bone instead. 

“I think you popped your shoulder out.” Frankie confirms. 

“You think or you know, Doctor Morales?” Jude asks him through a sharp frown and watery eyes. 

He digs his thumbs into her right shoulder that’s fine, and feels around feeling for where the joint is, like a map he’ll remember for the other shoulder.

“I can try and pop it back in for you.”

“What if you trap a nerve, shouldn’t we just leave it?” She protests with panicked eyes.

Frankie shakes his head. “If you wanna walk around with a dislocated shoulder for the rest of your life, be my guest.” He remarks with a huff. “I’ve done this before.”

“When?”

“On duty. One of the guys in my unit fell down a blast hole, and we had to fix it. No med help in the middle of the desert.” He shrugs casually. 

She sighs out. “Okay... let’s do it.”

“It’s gonna hurt.”

“It already fucking hurts!” Jude snaps at him.

Frankie pulls her wrist down from her chest slowly and holds her hand, stroking his thumb over the knuckles before squeezing it. 

“On the count of three,” Frankie places his left hand around her wrist and the other one further up her damaged arm. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath in, grinding her teeth together. 

“Uno.” Frankie counts in Spanish. He tightens his grip around her arm and she whimpers, bracing herself.

"Oh fuck."

“Dos.” He shunts her arm upwards and twists in a quick succession, and Jude screams out so loudly that it sounds like she’s being murdered.

“Tres!” Frankie finishes casually as he lets go of her arm. 

“FUCK!” Jude blinks through tears that begin to blind her. 

“I think I got it, I heard it pop in.” Frankie reaches for the shirt and ties a tourniquet around her shoulder to support it and then kisses her head gently. 

“Oh God...” She says, leaning forward and feeling woozy. 

“You okay?” 

“No, I think I’m gonna puke.” She coughs and breathes out slowly, willing herself to get through the searing pain that radiates down her arm and into her fingertips. She can feel herself heave, but nothing comes up. 

“Slowly, just breathe.” Frankie says, rubbing her back.

Jude sits upright, breathing in and swallowing again. She tastes bile as Frankie hands her a bottle of water. She sips from it slowly and breathes out. "Oh God."

“Better?” Frankie asks her with concerned eyes.

“Not in the slightest. Jesus, that’s fucking kills.”

He smiles gently and reaches forward, kissing her head. “You’ll be okay. Just don’t climb any more trees.”

“Yes, Jane.” She mocks as he smirks at her.

To be continued...

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: I'm no longer adding tags due to some of them not working correctly. Please ensure you're following me and turn on notifications so you don't miss a chapter instead. If you'd like to be removed form the tag list, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged/commented on/re-blogged my initial teaser & prologue:

@suzdin @missladym1981 @magpiepills @millennial-teenybopper @legendary-pink-dot @msjarvis @tightjeansjavi @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @sin-djarin @rhoorl @disassociation-daydreams @quinnnfabrgay @chronically-ghosted @fuckyeahdindjarin @chiriwritesstuff @copperhalfcent @bluestar22x @5oh5 @gobaaby-blog-blog @myloveistoolittle @pastawench @maggiemayhemnj @secretelephanttattoo @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @thethirstwivesclub @seratuyo @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @toomanytookas @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes @sawymredfox @iloveenya @elegantduckturtle @covetyou @undercoverpena @connectioneverywhere @trulybetty @nerdieforpedro @thisneozonerecs @fckyeapedrothots99 @goodwithcheese @anavatazes @doughmonkey @lilmizmoz @76bookworm76