#the smell! the air!! the seagulls and the sound of waves

[monster-disaster]

[tentacle] The monster under the bed

tentacle!monster x human!Reader Good to know: somnophilia, a bit of dub-con

Summary: Your aunt's house is not as empty as you thought.

A/N: For kinktober 2023, I have a new town full of monsters. Here is the masterlist.

The change in the air is thick and heavy after you leave the Welcome to Grimbrook sign behind you. You feel it in your core. It's cold and silent. For a second, everything goes quiet, and the time seems to stop. The rumbling of your car gets muffled, and the colors of the lush, green forest at your sides fade into a milky fog flowing above the ground. You can't see the tall mountains and their sharp edges in the distance anymore. The clear blue sky turns gray, and you can't find the sun anymore, either. Just a few dim rays shine down on the road in front of you, showing your way to the village next to the sea.

As you get closer, you can smell the salty scent of the water even through the closed windows of your car. It's heavy in your nostrils. The sound of the waves gets louder too. From the top of the uphill, you can see the village with its old stone buildings and the sea behind everything. It seems colorless, merging into the dark sky at the horizon. It is beautiful and terrifying at the same time. There is something in Grimbrook that you can't pinpoint but freezes your insides. The only light you can see comes from a lighthouse at the edge of a cliff. It emits a soft, rhythmic beam of yellow light that cuts through the heavy fog, casting eerie shadows over the still village. Seagulls glide through the mist above the white seafoam, waving across the dark surface.

"Okay," you hum, forcing your eyes to go back to the GPS on your phone. The blue line clearly shows your way to the house you have to reach before night falls. It leads you out of the center of the villages until you reach a small suburb with Victorian houses standing in a long row with grand iron gates and gardens.

The monotone voice of the GPS informs you when you reach the right house, and after sitting in your car for a few more minutes, you have no other option but to get out and make your way up to the porch. The wooden planks creak under your steps as you look around a bit better. The house is old, with tall walls, characterful windows, and a dark green door with a golden knocker in the middle. It's cold in your hold as you knock it against the door.

You don't get an answer, though.

The door opens, and you find yourself facing a narrow foyer with stairs on the right side. Pictures and paintings hang on the walls in dark wood and golden frames. You can see the entrance of the kitchen at the end. And on your left side, there is an arch that leads you to the living room.

"Hello?" You break the silence. Your voice is hoarse and quiet. You have to force your legs to move and not turn back to your car and leave this place immediately. "Somebody?" Your gaze lands on a small table in the corner next to the entrance door. There is a letter with your name on it.

Dear Cat, I'm sorry I can't be here when you arrive. Make yourself at home, and we will talk tomorrow. Delilah

"Great," you sigh, letting the paper fall back onto the surface of the small table.

For a second, you think about searching for a hotel or something similar to spend the night, but to be honest, it doesn't sound much better either. You know you should leave the town to feel better, but it's not an option. So you close the door behind you and wander further into the house.

You got a call a few weeks ago about your aunt you met long years ago. She died, and now you have a house. You can keep it. You can sell it. Whatever you want.

The house is old, with a lot of wood, dark colors, and golden details. There are still newspapers from months ago on the coffee table in the living room. The rug under you is faded and thin. The floor creaks every now and again. There are two rooms and a bathroom upstairs. The bigger room is still occupied with your aunt's belongings. The scent of her perfume still lingers in the air. You remember her when you were a kid. She came to your grandmother's funeral, and you never saw her again. Nobody really talked about her in the family. The only things you know are that she was kind but preferred her own company above everything else. She lost her husband in her late twenties but stayed in Grimbrook, barely leaving the town.

The guestroom is much more bare than the other parts of the house. A bed in the middle with two nightstands and a lamp. There is a drawer in front of it and a mirror on the wall. The window is slightly open, letting in the cold autumn breeze. You have a view of the street from here. It's calm and empty. The only reasons you know you are not the only person in the town are because you can see a few cars here and there and a dog barking in the distance. The fog is thick and heavy. You can't see the end of the street through it.

After wandering around the house some more, you decide to call your friend until you have no other option but to change and try to get some sleep.

Climbing up on the bed in the guest room, you settle under the thick covers. The scent of the linen is faded and mixed with dust and the night air coming through the window. It's dark outside, not counting a few lamps on the street. Their orange lights filter into the room. And everything is quiet. So quiet that your ears almost start to ring. You are not used to it. You live in the city with constant noises.

When sleep takes you, it's restless and everything but relaxing. You fidget and turn, trying to find a comfortable position as you balance between the darkness and the real world. Your head feels just as foggy as Grimbrook, and at some point, you can't decide if you are dreaming or not.

You are on your back, one arm on your stomach, and the other is next to your body. The autumn breeze caresses your skin, moving up from your feet to your ankles and calves. Shiver runs through your spine at the feeling. You want to reach out for the blanket, but even though your arms move, they do not obey your command. Something pets the thin skin of your wrist. It's soft and barely noticeable. You feel your muscles stretch as you reach up to the headrest of the bed, but you don't even know why. The cold moves up further on your legs. It curls around your flesh, spreading you in the middle of the bed. Your heels dig into the mattress. Your body tenses when your limbs don't do as you want. A frown deepens between your brows.

"What?" A hoarse grunt leaves your lips. When you open your eyes, you meet darkness, and you are not sure if you are really awake or not. Your eyelids are heavy, and not even a second later, you fall back asleep again.

The bottom of your pajama slips down on your legs. The waist stretches around your parted legs. Something slides up on your stomach under your t-shirt. It is slick and soft. A gasp echoes in your room when it flicks your nipple. The thing curls around the flesh of your tits, groping and caressing. Your nipples harden under the strange touch. Saliva? A tongue?

Where are you?

And there is something else between your legs. The muscles of your thighs tense, and the hold around you tightens.

"What?" You groan again into the silence. As you look down on your body, you see your t-shirt around your neck. Your breasts are bare. Something dark and purple curls around them, squeezing and licking. The teasing on your nipples is almost painful. At the back of your mind, you want more. Your head falls back onto the pillows, and you are asleep again.

The tentacles between your legs move up and down on your pussy. Your panties are ruined between your wet center and the slick touch of theirs. One of them flicks your clit. Your back arches at the feeling. The cold night air hits your aching pussy when the thin fabric is pulled aside. One of them stays around your clit, flicking and rubbing the hard bud. The other one goes straight to your hole.

You want to move. To get closer or farther away, you can't decide. The tendrils don't let you go anyway.

You break the silence with a sudden moan. The limb enters you slowly. It slips into you easily, stretching your walls until you can't take another inch. It fills you up.

"Fuck," you groan.

Your breasts are soaked. The slickness on your skin shines under the dim streetlights. The tentacles play with your flesh, rubbing and pinching your nipples. The pain takes your breath away every now and again until you feel dizzy.

The others between your legs move without pausing even for a second. Your clit throbs, and your walls flutter. Pleasure flares inside your veins, rushing through your body with such force you never felt before. Your lungs burn for air, and your muscles ache as you lay taut, panting.

When you open your eyes, you see the ceiling and the old lamp hanging above you. You want to force your mind to think, to panic, to do something, but your senses are full of pleasure. The only thing you can do is moan and grind against the tentacle inside your pussy. It pounds into you, reaching every spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and beg for more. The sheet under you is soaked with your mixed juices. You can feel it dripping out of your hole.

Fuck, you want to shout, but you can't find your voice. You just shake and tremble in the hold of the limbs keeping you in place on the bed. Every nerve in your body is on edge, and when it snaps in your lower stomach, you can't remember how to breathe. Your climax forces you down and stops you from moving. A thin layer of sweat shines on your bare skin. Heat burns you from the inside, and your pussy flutters and sucks on the tendril inside you. It still moves in and out. It twitches and rubs against your walls. And doesn't stop even when the darkness envelopes you again.

When you wake up the next morning, you need a few minutes to remember where you are. The sun shines through the window, casting an orange hue over the old rug in the middle of the room. As you sit up, your t-shirt falls back over your torso, but your pants are still around your knees.

"What?" You grunt out. The question is barely louder than a whisper. Your hand shakes as you reach down between your legs. Your pussy is wet, sensitive, and swollen. A moan escapes you when your fingertip slides over your slit.

Your dream is still vivid in your mind. You can feel the tentacle in your pussy, using your hole and rubbing your clit. Your center starts to throb with need at the memory. And your breasts. Your other hand grabs one of your tits. Your nipples are still hard peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Hello? Cat?" The sudden noise snaps your head up to the door of your room. The voice comes from the entrance of the house. "It's Delilah." "Hey!" You croak out. You are not even sure if she can hear you. "I will be down in a minute." "Great!" She shouts back. "I will make some coffee, and we can talk about your plans with the house." Your fingers sink into your hole. You are still stretched out. You move in and out of your pussy easily.

Yeah, you think, you need a few nights if you want to decide about your plans.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

#monster romance #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster smut #tentacle smut #tentacle x reader #tentacle x human #tentacle monster #grimbrook #kinktober 2023

[hwajin]

— somebody to you

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: — bang chan | 4k follower event

genre: fluff

pairing: chan x gn!reader

Sun against your skin, the smell of watermelon and strawberry all around, mixed with salty breeze, with calming air. You were warm, blinded by sunlight, feet occasionally flooded with a wave of ocean. Accompanied with sounds of seagulls, of children buying ice cream, playing in the water, of couples talking and laughing, of families discussing - accompanied by the love of your life.

Chan's presence always clear beside you, even if you didn't see him. His body always close to your own, grazing a fingertip over your exposed skin, running a palm of sunscreen against your body caressing face, playing with hair. Not a moment passed where his touch wasn't on you, subtle loving, delicate. Not a moment when his giggle didn't feel your ears when your body jerked at his sudden contact, unexpectant, surprising. It was peace, it was love, it was everything you'd ever want - to be his, to call him yours.

A polaroid of you in the back of his phonecase when he took a picture of you, unknowing to you, lying by the beach with your glasses on, dozing off, in the comfort of sun and summer, his presence. Adding the picture to the folder dedicated to you and he smiled at it, stupidly enamoured, utterly hopeless. You were everything he'd ever wish for, had spent years upon years wishing on your love until you had granted it to him. Cherishing seconds he had with you, moments so so trivial yet deeming most precious.

Sharing kisses as the day got older, sun sinking behind horizon and you didn't wish to leave for home, not yet, not ever. Wanting every moment with him to last lifetimes, wanting his closure forever, wanting his lips on you until your final breath. Mouths swollen as time passed, red and puffed though it didn't stop you. Sharing kisses as the sun went down, as the ocean fell from green to blue to black, as every soul has left two lovers lay by the shore, seagulls and waves your only company - though each other was enough, for now and for endless years to come.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @happycandynoelle

#bang chan fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios

[devieuls]

ˋ Jealousy .

Neteyam Sully x Metkayina Reader ( ONE SHOT )

Synopsis : When the game of love becomes a double-edged sword, jealousy turns into a consuming force. After months of back and forth between you and Neteyam, his jealousy reaches its climax when you decide to make you want and openly flirt with one of his friends, tormenting him mercilessly. Trapped in a spiral of conflicting emotions, Neteyam will have to confront his inner demons and find out if the desire of possession can ever be love. In an explosion of conflicting feelings that will inevitably lead both of you to bask in each other, consumed by the fire of passion after the spark of jealousy caused by your behavior.

Warning : SMUT MDNI !Explicit sex! - Bites, oral sex, canines, hickeys, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, dirty talk, foreplay, dacryphilia, rude sex…

Lenght : 7.8k

NETEYAM: 21 y.o / Y/N: 19 y.o (dress)

NA'VI WORDS : TANHI: Star / Bioluminescent freckles; YAWNE: Beloved YAWNETU: Loved one

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

The eclipse was beginning on the horizon, tinging the sky with pinkish shades, while the last rays of light danced on the sea surface of Metkayina beach. The flames danced animatedly around the bonfire, crackling with an ancestral melody that filled the air, creating an intimate and relaxing atmosphere, while the sound of the sea became increasingly enveloping. Your group of friends sat in a circle on the warm sand, the faces illuminated by the eclipse that began to welcome Pandora’s night. The sky was tinged with shades of purple and bluish, while the sun slowly plunged into the sea, leaving behind a trail of sparkling reflections. Every now and then, the song of a seagull echoed in the air, accompanied by the call of other sea creatures. The waves broke gently on the beach, bringing with them small fragments of shells and algae, which the feet of those present caressed lightly. The smell of salt and wet sand mixed with the pungent smell of wood burnt by fire. Your voices resounded in the air, intertwined in a lively chorus of laughter and tales, while Aonung carried some alcohol taken from the marui of the provisions. Your friends exchanged stories of past adventures, future dreams, new and lost loves, while you tried not to pay too much attention to love stories, knowing you were in a strange situation with Neteyam.

It’s been months since you and Neteyam have been pulling and dropping the rope, like your feelings are just something to pass the time with and not something concrete. You flirted, you spent time together, you talked a lot and it was clear that there was alchemy between you, too bad neither of you had ever bothered to declare or to formalize something, remaining friends, yes, but "not only". You hated that feeling of stalemate, where you waited because even if you mentioned the thing life seemed to lead you to not finish the whole sentence. Neteyam also spent time with other girls, knowing full well that you felt something towards him, almost playing with this too, pushing your buttons until you collapse and completely let go of the rope. The boys who courted you certainly did not miss, you were considered the 'pearl' of the Metkayina clan for a reason, coveted by most of the warriors or young men of the clan to become their companion. Among these men was also Aonung, the son of the Olo'eyktan, who had been raving about you for years now, trying to win you over, but never really succeeding, because of you. But that night you decided to change the cards on the table, to play the same game as Neteyam, intolerant of your overt jealousy when he stayed with other women, beginning to become a little more intimate with Aonung, giving him the chance he’d been waiting for for years now.

Neteyam looked at you from a distance as he saw you walking in the opposite direction to his, where Aonung was sitting with some stolen booze, sharing it with his companions. You approached the boy’s ear, making sure you were perfectly under the watchful eye of Neteyam as you did so, starting to speak to Aonung. You sat next to him while you smiled brazenly, immediately eliminating the minimum distance between your body and that of young Metkayina. You laid your hands on his shoulder, continuing to speak to his ear, while he did the same to you, exchanging complicit glances and fascinated smiles. Neteyam peered at you, sitting silently on the other side of the bonfire along with some friendships he had made in the clan, as he felt a feeling of jealousy he began to burn inside him, struggling to contain the anger that was emerging. He twitched his innervated jaw as his eyes gazed intensely at the scene, feeling the bitter taste of jealousy on his tongue, but he forced himself to smile and appear distant, even though he is slowly breaking inside. He kept a calm appearance, trying to concentrate on his friends and the stories they were telling, pretending not to pay too much attention to them, even if in the long run his annoyance was evident. His mind, however, was filled with thoughts in turmoil, finding the strength not to get up and break the septum of his friend when he saw his hand resting undisturbed on your thigh.

You smiled at Aonung with a playful air, tilting your head slightly to the side as you exchanged little jokes you passed your fingers on his arm and then on his neck or loose curls, maintaining a subtle but obvious physical connection. Your giggles and jokes filled the air, making it heavy for Neteyam’s already saturated lungs. Every gesture, every look or joke you made was calculated to generate a sense of jealousy in the guy you really cared about. Your words are charged with a magnetic energy as you flirt with Aonung in a casual yet seductive way; aware of the power you were having over Neteyam, who had been playing this game for too long on his own, having fun bringing out his annoyance. After about an hour Neteyam surrendered to jealousy, unable to bear to see you so attached to another boy. He hated to see your body too exposed to seek physical contact with that of Aonung who certainly did not deny it, but rather, did even more than he should. The eyes of the Na'vi wandered with hunger on your body, as if you were something that he would eat soon after and then throw or reuse until you were ruined or he tired. And so, like a poisoned arrow, reality crept into Neteyam’s heart, making his blood bitter. He was only able to absorb the frustration as he got up, being stopped almost immediately by Lo'ak who was at his side and was aware of your many childish games. "Bro, you can’t stop her from doing the same thing you did to her." Lo'ak’s voice was sincere, too sincere, while the grip on his brother’s wrist prevented him from doing shit. Neteyam was bubbling, his skin was burning, and his jaw was contracting from nervousness, as if he hadn’t started that game. "Lo'ak. You better let me go. I swear, I won’t do anything." He said turning to him, the frustrated smile still on his face, but with the difference that Lo'ak knew his brother better than anyone else. He let him go. He knew that holding him back was just a way to break that subtle balance that still kept a hidden side he didn’t like to show, that contained an aspect of himself he hated to admit he had. Possession.

His steps were heavy and fast, his feet sinking into the wet sand leaving deep traces. Neteyam had stiff shoulders and a palpable wrath on his face. His eyes shone with anger and jealousy, while his breathless breath echoed in the tranquillity of the night. The full moon illuminated his path, bringing out the furious waves of her dark hair moving to the rhythm of his determined steps. The boy’s hands were tight fists, the knuckles white from tension. You noticed him out of the corner of your eye, letting a mischievous smile out, and a defiant nod shone in your eyes, knowing that your plan was working. Knowing that you had managed to bring Neteyam to a breaking point, where even his calm had found shelter away from him, and this expanded your satisfaction. Your confidence and ability to flirt with Aonung created ambivalent situations full of tension, on the one hand with sexual while on the other with pure ardent jealousy. You enjoyed finally having the power, playing with the desire and jealousy of your 'him', because he had to be 'him'. Him or nobody. So playing this dirty game only helped you get to the much-coveted prize, not taking into account the fact that every action has a reaction, so you will have to deal with the consequences of your choices. The waves were crashing hard on the coast, as if responding to his inner fury. The sound of the sea mixed with the sound of his footsteps, creating a symphony of tumultuous emotions, giving voice to his tacit jealousy. You were amazed when he put on one of the greatest masks you’ve seen, looking almost peaceful and natural. His slower steps and his calm breath, though his aura remained poisonous and pointed. The sea seemed to follow his mood once again.

Neteyam passed behind you, surpassing Aonung’s body, then slipping his hand over your shoulder and then around your neck. Swallow silently as you feel his thumb caress the line of your jawline, as he pulled your neck back slightly, slamming your head against his lower abdomen. You broke away from Aonung without even wanting it, while silently the grip around your neck strengthened the right to let out from your lips a choked breath. "Ma Tanhì" his gentle voice, with a bitter aftertaste that weighed down your thoughts. "May I have a word with you, please?" He went on, completely ignoring Aonung who was watching your interaction, annoyed. "Can you give us a minute? Aonung and I-" He stopped you even before you could finish the sentence, bending over your ear, without taking your hand from your soft flesh, weakening your voice. "Y/n. Baby, don’t make me mad. Get your sweet ass out of here and follow me before I make you regret even coming here dressed like this." He growled low in your ear, making you shiver down your spine. A quiver made its way between your legs, taking you to tighten them instantly. Neteyam’s hand let you go and you started breathing regularly, swallowing while you tried to suppress the pleasure of being taken that way by your 'him' and by how he had obviously shaken your strong and decisive tone. He took a few steps back, waiting for you to get up, not knowing that you wanted to keep pulling the strings a little longer.

"Kalin, what’s going on? Do you have to leave?" Aonung maliciously asked you, with a mocking tone as a smirk unfolded on his face, thinning his eyes. His hand was placed between your hair, as he moved some curls behind your ear, approaching you. You looked at him, biting your lip, giving him clear signals that clearly you didn’t mind what he was doing. "No, I don’t." You said, turning your back on Neteyam. Neteyam looked at you with a smirk for the boldness in which you had posed your challenge, almost offending him. He approached you again, taking you hard from your jaw, turning you completely in his direction, pressing his lips on yours. His free hand went to take Aonung’s fingers out of your hair and then create a new grip there.

Your lips brushed rough, exploring the contours of your mouths, before venturing deeper. His tongue entered your mouth shamelessly, savoring and sucking it with pleasure, almost knotting it and weaving it with uncontrollable hunger, creating a symphony of thrilling sensations. You blushed to think that this was the first kiss you exchanged with Neteyam, never getting to this part in the months you were just flirting. The tip of his tongue grazed yours, pushing and chasing yours like an erotic dance and thought as slow. Each movement was charged with possession and desire, creating a succession of frantic pulsations between your legs. The spasms of pleasure spread through your mouth, panting heavily as the boy created a deep and carnal connection, guiding you on a one-way journey into true ecstasy, an ever more intimate discovery of your most hidden desires. Neteyam wanted to show how his tongue possessed yours, not ashamed to make you pant for the air you were losing and your blush. His tongue came out of your mouth only when he felt fully satisfied by Aonung’s upset reaction, savoring your lips again before they came off, leaving a thread of saliva that still joined you. You blush more, feeling all the power accumulated with your game crumble in seconds. You gasped as you caught your breath and covered your mouth with your hand, cutting the thread that connected you two.

Pride. Pride and Possession. These were the feelings that Neteyam laid two fingers under your chin, looking you in the eye as you looked so helpless and embarrassed. He smiled at you brazenly, showing his lovely canines as he saw something in you had slightly broken, feeling Aonung’s burning, silent gaze. Around you it was as if everyone had turned to look at you in shock, not really believing what they had just seen.

"I told you to get off your ass and follow me. Why do you always make everything so difficult, yawntutsyìp?" He blew his words with a mocking tone on the hand that still covered your mouth, and then took you and dragged you behind some rocks, away from everything and everyone, where not even the crackling of the bonfire was heard anymore. You followed him in silence as you touched your lips in disbelief, your eyes still open and upset, not really being able to conceive of the fact that he really did what he did. "You kissed me… You kissed me in front of everyone… y-you" you whispered breathlessly, while your back scratched against some rocks because of the body of Neteyam that immobilized you and took away every way to escape, leaning your hand on the sides of your body on the rock. "Damn it, yeah. I did. And you loved it so much," he growled at you, feeling so small in that moment, vulnerable. He approached your ear, taking long deep breaths, trying to suppress the anger caused by your behavior. "I’m tired of these fucking games, y/n. You know I want you and you know you want me. Then why the hell did you let Aonung touch you? Why his hand was on your thigh and his eyes were on your breast. Shit, ngatsyìp. You don’t know how long I had to hold on to not break his hands and claw his eyes out." His voice always lower and hoarse, accompanied by snarls and hisses annoyed, first hitting the bundle of nerves between your legs than your ears. You looked away, taking some breaths and then being forced by his hand to look at him. "You look me in the eye when we talk. Ok. What? You don’t feel so strong playing with fire anymore?" he said mocking you, biting your lip violently.

"I just played your game…" you whispered so much that the sea breeze took your words away before they reached Neteyam’s ears. Your heart kept pounding in your ears while trying to realize the situation. "Voice, baby. I thought you had it before. Raise your voice well with me" he said growling at you, causing you to gasp heavily. His free hand washed away the invisible marks Aonung had left on your body, hating how your natural smell was mixed with another man’s. "I said. I just played your game. Now you’re jealous of something you started?" You found the courage to fight back with a tone worthy of yourself, which still made you feel remotely respected by yourself. "That's my girl. Hmhm Jealous? Jealousy isn’t enough, sweetie." he replied in a low, threatening voice. "If I was just jealous, I would have just tamed you later. Now it’s not enough, I want to see how your pride and respect fades from your eyes for me. Make you beg for forgiveness, cuz you belong to me, only to me." He replied with an asshole smile as the tips of his fingers rose along your thigh slowly, coming under your loincloth. You gasped, feeling the blush hit your cheeks again "Can you hear me? just me. Mine alone." concluded before pressing both hands on your hips and waist. His lips touching your jaw before they were on your neck. You could feel your heart rumbling in your chest as your body temperature reached levels of warmth you never imagined. His rough touch made you shudder and get goosebumps, while your silky skin scratched against the rocks, making you wince.

"Tamed? You think you can tame me like this?" You whispered and then panted when his soft lips snapped to start working on your neck, alternating wet kisses with bites. He laughed raucously, gripping your body. "You think you can’t be tamed? I’ve tamed animals bigger and more dangerous than you, Tanhì. But I don’t just want to tame you, baby. I want to break you." His voice easily cut through those security wires you held so close to you. You clenched your teeth as you searched for words that were missing and that were erased in your mind by the body of the Omatikayan. "I am not an Ikran to tame, or an Ilu, Neteyam" you said as your voice died again in your throat, feeling his hands press every inch of your body poorly covered. The idea of being 'tamed' by Neteyam seemed to you an idea too tempting for your uncleanness of mind. "Baby. There’s a difference between taming an animal and claiming what’s rightfully yours. I claim what’s mine, y/n. And you’re fucking mine. I own you." He growled on your neck as one of his hands slid behind your back, following your bear spine, exploring your curves, satisfied to hear you tremble under his touch. "I try to be good to you… I swear" He started again, his warm, slow voice sending impulses all over your body, as he untied the knot of your loincloth slowly, feeling the chills when the sea breeze and a few drops of waves wet your skin because of the rocks. "But you don’t listen to me…" your loincloth now on the ground, leaving your bundle of nerves exposed before him. "You make it so difficult. And you like to see me angry with this" his rough hands explored your body with curiosity and desire, leaving nothing untouched.

He easily tore off the top of the strings that covered your breasts, leaving you completely naked under him, making you blush while in the distance you still heard the buzz of some of your friends talking. Neteyam came down to your collarbones, and then came down to your breasts and took your red, hard nipple in your mouth, starting to brush one with your tongue. " I’ll tame you one way or another, ma yawne," he said as he held your breast in his mouth, sucking your raging buds, bringing one of his hands to do the same job. "And it’s so easy that you’ll beg for more…" his voice was a seductive whisper that sends shocks to your brain. "… and I’ll give it to you." moaned while working your breasts "again…" sucked slightly making you arch your back against his face. "and again. Until you’re drunk on me." His warm breath hit the swollen tip of your breasts, while his malevolent tongue knew perfectly how to do it job. He got slightly annoyed when you began to wriggle slightly because of the pleasure, and his knee ended between your legs, pressing the surface against your inner thigh. He pinched your nipple greedily with his teeth as he swirled his tongue around your bud. Your hand ended up between his braids, pulling them as you sought consolation, whining slightly for the attentions that made you pump more and more blood down your belly, against your intimacy. His hand not engaged in stimulating the other breast, wrapped itself around the base of your fluffy breast, squeezing it against his mouth, while he pumped and squeezed your bud harder and harder.

"ma 'teyam…" you whispered with a thread of voice as you tried to wriggle, feeling the friction between his body and the wet rocks, which made you wince. You stared at Neteyam’s face, his sharp features illuminated by some rays of dim light and his bright tanhì dusted on his cheeks. He smiled maliciously as he released your breasts, licking it one last time before holding hands on your butt, Your breasts pressed against the damp and rough rock, sending you electric shocks all over your body while he pressed his veiled erection on your ass. Your breasts pressed against the moist and rough rock, sending you electric shocks all over your body while he pressed his masculinity on your ass, making you shake your legs. You bit your lip as you felt your intimacy pulsating and becoming increasingly wet, accumulating all the excitement that made you want to have more, to feel more. His fingers slipped on your exposed backside as he admired you bent to ninety just for his pleasure. One of the two hands followed your chills as far as you needed them most, beginning to gently caress your dripping folds. "Oh, you’re so wet for some nipple play? You’re so pretty, yawne. This Aonung wouldn’t let you try it, would he?" He said as he bent over you, talking to your ear, as his fingers rubbed between your folds, playing slightly with your clitoris. He pinched, pulled and stroked it rough while you whimpered with pleasure against the wet rock. "Do you like it? You want more, don’t you baby? I know you want it" He laughed raucously against your ear, while his fingers only played superficially, not entering as you would have liked. "Yes," you whispered in your breath, biting your lip. "Beg me, Tanhì. Show me how much you want it. How much you want me." You blushed at his words. You wouldn’t have begged, you wanted to, but you still cared about dignity, and he realized that. His touch gradually became more absent, as you moved your hips in despair in the hope of hearing more without yielding to his request.

You wince when Neteyam wrapped a hand around your neck, making you bend your back as he carried you slightly closer to him, and then feel his hand slam against your buttock with enough force that you were almost sure it would leave its mark. It didn’t just hurt, you liked it. A submissive moan came out of your lips as you squeezed your eyes holding back some tears. "I said 'beg'. It wasn’t a request, baby. It’s an order" he growled in a tone you found more exciting than he should have. You bit your lip, then decided to fuck off your pride when a second spanking slammed against your ass before being tight. "Please…" you whispered with a thread of voice, meowing because of the spanking, his hard dick still pressed against you and the hand wrapped around your neck that made you feel shivers all over your body. "Beg harder, Yawne. I want to feel it properly" His fingers sank into your skin, your hips, your waist, your neck and your breasts, alternating between the areas to touch. Your whining and pleading was music to his ears, even better than a juicy yovo fruit on a hot day. He wanted to push you to your limit, and in a way, he was taming you for him, making you cry and beg for something he had already decided to give you, just for the sake of feeling you submissive. His hand tightened more around your neck, licking his lips when he heard your words. "Please Neteyam… More." You growled with clenched teeth, you didn’t have the psychophysical strength to resist Neteyam’s bastard games.

"Ma Yawne, I happen to have heard something like 'more'. Be more specific." Neteyam smiled a diabolical smile as he walked away from you, leaving you bent over and needing him. You felt a warmth invade your face, at other times you would be ashamed, but you wanted to feel it inside you. You had a taste of his covered dick against your ass and you wanted to feel it yours, to taste it and use it at your own pace, feeling somehow that his was not like the others. "I guess I have to leave you like this until I get the proper pleading. Without that obnoxious growl, baby" His mocking tone made you shudder as you got back on your feet, slightly wobbly. Neteyam’s masculine scent collided against your nose, sending you into more heat than before, feeling the overwhelming urge to ride it. You approached him and pressed your bare breasts against his chest, as a hand slowly descended along his sculpted abdomen, placing your fingers on the surface of his loincloth. You began to press the cloth down, as its smell made your tail move quickly and your nose curl to accommodate more. "Neteyam. We both know what I want, and so do you" You whispered against his skin, feeling his hot eyes on you. You felt a small gasp when your hand found its way inside the loincloth, caressing the hard flesh that covered so much. "So please… Please. Just do it."

Your gaze met his vibrant golden eyes as he watched you from above, letting you shove him on the sand with a smile, before you sat on his belly and felt the sand scratch against your knees. Neteyam took you from the choker necklace you were wearing and carried you on his lips, replicating the passionate kiss he gave you before taking you away. His bruised hands on your skin as he squeezed the soft, velvety flesh, while only one of yours went into your hair, creating a foothold. You welcomed his warm tongue again, as your heavy breaths mingled in your mouth, leaving some panting while you unhooked the loincloth knot, impatiently removing it. You embraced his hardened dick between your folds, creating only friction without letting it in, feeling it only between your already wet lips. The submissive growl that he left in your mouth made you pant, stimulating a point in your brain that cried out to let him in, to feel him inside you. Your hips kept swaying back and forth as you lubricated the Neteyam muscle with your humors. You felt the pulse of Neteyam’s lateral vein collide with your bundle of nerves and you pounded from the boy’s warm lips to look down, gasping and hissing slightly. You bit your lip as you saw the tiny bioluminescent freckles on his sex, watching as his tip had become slightly reddish, overbearing and angry as precum dripped out due to rubbing against your legs.

Neteyam’s eyes did not come away from you for a second, biting his lip as he watched you almost remain hypnotized by his member and blush almost feeling his mouth. He laughed raucously as he took warm breaths, still feeling you throbbing against his skin, then putting a hand under your chin and stroking your swollen lips, meeting your heavenly eyes. "What’s up, baby? Are you that hungry?" asked in a mocking tone, as he bent his head to the side, letting his pigtails slip over his shoulder. You nodded silently, starting to get drunk of his smell, of his touch. "You can take it. It's all yours." He told you with confidence, noticing how your eyes were pleading. "I don’t…" You blushed when you couldn’t find a way to tell him you’d never had oral sex. The sex among the native Na'vi was more rough, wild and devoid of particularities such as foreplay or the various games that could be played in the process. For this reason it had never occurred to you that a man’s manhood could be taken to other places besides your intimacy. "Baby, have you ever had a blowjob?" He asked bluntly, as he looked for your slightly embarrassed look, immediately realizing that like many other Na'vi he had been with, you had never experienced oral sex. "Oh, you never did…" he said in a mischievous tone as he gripped your hair before leading you down. Now that he knew your mouth were virgin, he felt excited to be the first of all. The idea of having your mouth before anyone else made him particularly happy and his sex, like his tail, seemed to give voice to his pride. "Fine. I’ll teach you how to please me" he said in a low voice.

You started to come down, slowly, savoring every inch of his skin that had a salty aftertaste. Your mouth passed over his chest, falling lower and lower as his hand guided you from his hair. He briefly left you when you arrived on his naked hip, going down with your lips up to his testicles, until he took back the grip in your curly hair and carried you on his sex, ready to be welcomed by your warmth. Your tongue flowed along its entire length, seeking approval in his eyes, seeing him already clench his jaw, making you understand that you had started well. You wrapped its hardness, feeling it already hot and moist, beating against your tongue as its precum pinched the taste buds with a strong and fresh taste. You started to lick the bittersweet liquid as his hand began to make you understand the mechanism of that new game. You made slow movements up and down, enjoying every breathless breath, every hissing and growling softly. His eyes closed as his head bent backwards, noticing the contraction of his abdomen as his tip slowly touched a low point in your throat, and when he felt he had touched your fluffy tonsils he opened his eyes at a snap, letting out a small growl. "Ma Eywa… You’re already so good for me," he said in a gasping voice, intrinsic to pleasure and desire. You watched him enjoy your mouth, unable to stop your thing from slamming into the sand because of the strong excitement that caused you to see it that way.

His golden eyes shone with their own light, slightly darker and tending to green while his gaze became more predatory, thinning as he drove his head at the speed that gave him the most pleasure. You started to take a little more of his hand with the rhythm that he liked and your eyes watered when he hit so far from taking your breath and drooling on his rod, making it reach the peak of pleasure and then bring it down, until he got impatient and raised his hips to make you take his manhood soft in your mouth as much as possible. Starting to fuck your mouth and throat as you let out wet sounds due to friction. You savored it all the way, becoming almost addicted to it, trying to push yourself to where your throat was hurting too, feeling its liquid coming again straight down your throat from how bad it was. His penis getting hotter as it almost seemed to swell in your mouth, making you moan and suck to take as much as possible from his rod. "Look how well you take me, such a beautiful mouth properly used. Maybe that’s how I should shut you up when you get sassy, huh?" He said in a tone full of desire and pleasant, relaxed yet tense because of your eager pumping. Your heart increased your heart rate by accommodating your body’s reaction. You accepted it, your legs heavy as your intimacy became increasingly soggy and eager. You were tense and excited.

It was he who pulled it out of your mouth when he felt he was close, closer than when other people blew him. Your mouth, your moaning and whining had led him to feel high. Completely gone only by your inexperienced but so skillful mouth. It took you out of your hair when it came off, feeling a pop almost like when you pop a bottle and the pressure creates a whistle. "My Eywa, look at you. such a good cocksucker" Your eyes shiny, full of tears while the redness on your cheeks was evident, like the one on your lips that were now swollen and wet with saliva that fell down to your chin. You already missed Neteyam in your mouth, which he noticed just before kissing you, drawing you to him by the necklace again that now looked like a leash and your hair the rope to keep you under his will. < Tamed. > This word rang in your head like a bolt from the blue, becoming strong but superficial. Neteyam’s warm lips could make you feel drunk, influenced by anything he said. The wet, silver sand rubbed against your back when Neteyam blocked you under him, taking him in between your trembling legs, quivering with the desire to feel his member inside you. His mouth went down the line of your jaw, before reaching your ear, where he opened his lips and you felt a smile born on his face. "It wasn’t that hard to tame you, Yawne." You growled faintly at his words, finding a glimmer of clarity that reminded you that you still had some dignity to preserve. " Shh baby, don’t do this now. I just want to see you whine while you ride me just like you did while you ate my dick, hmh?" His tone was a mixture of seriousness, eroticism and teasing. He enjoyed your implicit submission and as you still tried to stick to your pride, he wanted to break you. Your drunken look was enough to keep pushing your buttons to push you over the edge, he wanted to see you lost. Broken. Ruined forever for him. Becoming your biggest addiction so that you don’t want other men besides him.

Neteyam’s mouth began to come down on your neck, leaving mouth-watering kisses on sensitive skin, sucking and biting in places where it would be difficult to hide them. His hand traced the line of your body, making the touch ever lighter as his deep breath struck your neck now wet and branded. Your back arched, wishing to feel more. Eyes opened, as you looked at the stars above you and they seemed so close to you as your body burned under its expert touch. You felt his lips glide over your entire body slowly, causing you chills of pleasure and slight fear, feeling the redness expand on your face. His warm, wet tongue fell back into your navel, his hands shaping your hips, tightening them tightly. He winced when his lips came to your Venus Mountain, not fully understanding where he was going. And then enlightenment. He would play with your intimacy just like you did with him. A thrill of pleasure ran through your body as his mouth walked the path over your sex, feeling once again those jolts hitting the height of your needy clitoris, now swollen and sensitive even just to the sea breeze. His lips embraced the pinnacle of your intimacy, slightly using your teeth, unable to fully understand what he was using because of the gust of heat that clouded your mind. A first subdued moan ran away from your lips as he began to stimulate you, not being able to understand the words he was addressing you, too deaf from that new feeling, managing only to gasp and pant. Jolts of pleasure hit your heavy hips as his hands wrapped around your thighs holding them open to avoid closing spasms that would soon arrive. The touch of his lips on your sex was vivid, you felt the pleasure accumulate with every licking in the wet folds and every eager sucker.

The back arched to the point to hurt, while some pain in the jaw and throat were felt post-fellatio. Your hand found his hair, pulling it slightly as you groaned without shame, stronger than he did and faster. The sound of the waves could no longer censor your cries of pleasure as your free hand squeezed the sand, being bathed by some bolder waves that hit you collaborating with Neteyam’s work. Your eyes were closed, tight as you tried to breathe and let the high ride you, as Neteyam blew and pumped your intimacy mercilessly, gripping your soft thighs as the spasms began. You were afraid that you were feeling so good, not knowing if you were going to make it to the top, never having had this kind of experience. Neteyam ate you rough, drinking your juices and savoring the sweetish taste of your dripping moods trickling down his lips, wetting his chin. He started tickling your entrance with his fingertips, making you angry as you pulled some braids, as if to get him out of there, feeling weak. Neteyam continued his work there, blowing and sucking the air that made you contract the uterus, leaving him amazed and hungry. He swirled his tongue once again over your clitoris, feeling like you were close to reaching the best orgasm of your life. Your hips would unwittingly push against his face as he became more rude and greedy and then feel something in you unlock, and break. You poured yourself on his face, rubbing yourself again on him as Neteyam welcomed your juice into his mouth, satisfied that he had managed to make you come so profusely. You blushed violently as you breathed faster and faster, your chest rose and lowered under the still predatory gaze of Neteyam.

You felt Neteyam’s warm, moist tip press against your still damp intimacy as you took long deep breaths and bit your lip. "Please…" you begged while you were still struggling to breathe because of the orgasm you just had. Neteyam came to look you in the eye, wanted to see the moment when you would break for him. "'Please, what, Ma yawne?" he said in a mocking tone, breathing your sweet smell, mixed with that of pheromones in bloom and your short breath. You closed your eyes turning your face to the side and he pressed between your folds. "I told you to look into my eyes, baby. Tell me what you want," his stern voice made you take your eyes back to his. You breathed deeply as one side of you kept screaming to resist, but that voice was getting so far into your mind as you felt the hot beats of Neteyam. You bit your lip, looking for words. "Just. Please. You know Neteyam…" you whispered while he pressed harder, entering you slightly before going out and sliding your moist lips into your intimacy, not entering. " Shit…"

Neteyam’s smell was intoxicating, like a dangerous drug that made you addicted to every breath or word that made you want more. Close your eyes for a moment, trying to think clearly, basking in the feeling of his sweaty chest pressed against yours. His sex pressed more and more with every damn caress, and when Neteyam’s lips met your neck, he began to torment it with wet and passionate kisses. "Say it, yawnetu… Tell me how much you want me" a kiss. "Let me hear how you feel." Now his tongue was sticking up your neck, making you wince. "You know you want it so badly…" His voice was the poison you couldn’t live without. "Say it and I’ll make you feel every inch of me" now a bite under the jaw, just below the ear. "I’ve already fucked your head, let me do the same where you really need to" He blew the words on your ear, in a sensual and slow tone. You were cracking and he knew it, it was hard to plead once, the second time it wouldn’t be easy. You were afraid to scream like you did before, but you wanted to scream for him, feel him inside pushing and taking over your body. "I know you like this, y/n" you sighed heavily at his words. "The adrenaline, the tension, the jealousy… the fear of being seen while I’m buried between your legs and you moan my name, begging for more. That makes it fun, and it turns you on." Two fingers accompanied his member to press against your clitoris, making you groan and arch your back, as he began to rub slowly. "You know you want me so bad as much as I want you. And I will have you. I will take you here and make you scream like nobody… not even Aonung. So, baby, stop resisting now and ask me." he ordered you, and you broke.

"Please… fuck me." You whispered, looking into his eyes with longing. Pride had left your body, and Neteyam smiled victorious, and then entered you easily, making you wince.

You whined as you felt your sex burn, widening to welcome its warmth. Neteyam kept you pinned against the sand as he began to push his member deep into you with brutal and merciless blows. He would pull back his pelvis and then push his member hard into you, touching your fragility. He kept pushing again and again… relentless, rude and almost savage, making you scream with pleasure at every stroke. A hand wrapped around your throat, stroking it with your thumb as you whimpered and he got excited at every tear of pleasure. "So sweet when you cry for my dick" You prayed that this moment would last as long as you could, feeling perfectly stuck with him. His hoarse groans and growls made you more needy, and every time his tip pressed against your weak spot, you arched your back feeling that you could welcome him better. Suddenly you came back to reality when he bit your lips as he slammed wildly at you, eating every scream or groan as your hands clung to his strong shoulders, scratching them and leaving bruises. His lunges were increasingly fierce, more focused at the point where you felt your excitement increase, as he leaned slightly to you, rubbing your bodies. Your excitement that slid down with every movement, unable to hold back the deep moans that Neteyam caused you, making you shudder. Your wet walls squeezed it and wrapped it with softness, allowing him to hit you deeper and deeper with more decisive strokes, until you felt close to orgasm again. You swear as Neteyam came out of you, leaving you a gap that was hard to fill except with him.

He took you from your hips after sitting, and placed you on him, clutching your soft flesh. You immediately sat on him, welcoming him back into you as you rode the high of both, your hands on his shoulders as your mouth left bites and hickeys on his neck, continuing to scratch his skin. Neteyam’s hands wrapped around your breast and ass, holding both with possession and desire, leaving some well-poised spanking that made you moan and sway more over him, feeling pleasure in his delicate ways. You felt heavy above him and you could get him to hit deep, moving to the places you most needed while some of his fingers slipped over your clitoris to stimulate him as you moved spasmodically. You leaned slightly backwards as you slammed your hips on him, feeling his tail wrap around your leg, squeezing it as he continued his movements to make you orgasm once more. You felt the heavy legs and the rest of the light body, following the rhythm you had decided, only managing to groan above him, whining about having more, as if you were not in charge in that position. He admired you, your body, as you sweated in pleasure, your whining and those drops of dew that bathed you the tanhì. He thought while you were grinding his dick.

At one point you could feel your body slipping out of your hands, and for a moment you lost touch with what was around you, the surging waves in the background, the hoarse groans and grunts, the wet beach and the moonlight illuminating your bodies. You arrived at your second orgasm, feeling your mind free, your muscles relaxed and a strong pleasure and well-being invading every inch of your body. Your movements did not stop, continuing to ride him, wanting to feel him inside you to the last, Applying his manhood as he had appropriated you. He squeezed your breasts, continuing to play with your clit, growling softly "Yawne… if you keep this up-" he whispered before being stopped by you. Your blushed face, swollen lips, and delicate scent had left him speechless even before you shut him up. "Shut the fuck up." You growled as you lowered your head, gripped by impetus and lust, continuing your rapid movements, squeezing your walls around him as his hands left bruises and scratches on your hips, guiding you on your high until it came inside you. His cum was hot inside you, filling you up until you almost feel stuffed. His orgasm was stronger than yours, his voice was hoarse in the groan he released, holding you to him.

You let yourself go on his chest, leaving his member buried in you as your moods mingled and descended upon your bodies. You closed your eyes as you took long breaths and still felt chills and spasms running through your body because of the orgasm you just had. Neteyam’s hand went up your back and then stroked your hair, leaving you to rest exhausted on him. "You were great, ma yawne" he said, leaving a kiss on your head, stroking your curls and smiling satisfied as he looked at your body full of his marks. You were his. "Is that what you say to everyone?" You answered, as you snuggled in need of affection, looking for his sweet touch. "No, that’s what I say to you. You are mine, these are words only for you, yawnetu." He said, lifting your face, leaving kisses on your face. "And after tonight, so will the Skxawngs looking at you. You’re my property." He said looking you in the eye, making you nod. You were still drunk from the double orgasm, from the fact that his cock was still inside you and from his grip. You were broken, in fact, it was always you, but without that pride you had. He tamed you, now you belonged to him and he belonged to you, he knew it. "Baby, I swear. Try what you did tonight again, and I won’t go easy on you like today" You opened your eyes, looking in disbelief. "Easy?! This seemed to you to 'go esay'?!" you gasps as you noticed his sneering smile, his hand caressing your face as you blush. "Aw, baby. Did you think this was my best?" He approached your ear, licking it slightly, making you feel shivers down your back. "That’s not even half of what you’re gonna feel with me."

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Notes II:

Idk, but I liked writing this One shot, I think I’m slightly improving the smuts skills and I’m so happy about it. I hope you enjoyed reading <3

-Mel

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TAG LIST : @riatesullironalite @shadowmoonlight0604

#Jealousy Neteyam #Mel's Avatar Garden #Mel's Neteyam Garden #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #avatar ff #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #avatar neteyam #avatar smut #avatar #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #avatar x na'vi reader #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x you #atwow neteyam #netyam sully #metkayina #metkayina reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader

[swanimagines]

CLOSE TO YOU | NIKOLAI LANTSOV

Summary: Nikolai giving you his coat on a cold night at the sea results to a sweet moment with him.

The sound of waves crashing against the Volkolvny, seagulls screaming and the smell of salty sea air were some things that you loved when out at the sea. The chilly night air on the other hand, was a thing you wished would be gone. And that was the case today too, having tried to find a nook at the ship which would be safe from the winds.

That was when Nikolai spotted you, striding over with a small smile.

“Feeling a bit chilly?” he asked, making you jump up in surprise. You blinked a few times before you slowly nodded.

“A little bit. Well, quite a bit. And I didn’t find my favourite sweater,” you replied, trying to keep your teeth from clattering.

“Well, if that’s the case…” Nikolai said and without hesitation, he shed off his coat, gesturing it towards you. “May I?”

You frowned, but didn’t try to stop him as he went behind you, laying the coat on your shoulders. “Don’t you need it? You’re outside more than I am.”

You knew he smirked at that, helping your arms through the sleeves. “I don’t mind the cold if it means I get to share my coat with someone as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks heating up as he said that, and you knew that’s exactly what he was after. The coat smelled like his cologne mixed with sea air and you resisted the urge to sniff it properly. And you couldn’t help but grin at his flirty comment, looking up at him shyly as he stood in front of you again. “Thank you, Nikolai. This is very kind of you.”

He looked down for a moment, letting out a little huff. “Anything for you,” he replied, a sprinkle of amusement in his voice. “Besides, I’ve been looking for an excuse to get close to you the whole night.”

Your cheeks grew hotter at that, and you let out a small laugh. Saints, this man always got you to behave like you were still “just” crushing on him and he knew it. Even when you were both aware of an unofficial relationship. But you decided to play along. “Well, you found your excuse then. And… I have to admit, I don’t mind being close to you either.”

Nikolai’s eyebrows rose a little as he looked at you, walking you towards the deck so you could look out into the sea. “Is that so? Well, maybe we should look for more excuses to be close then.”

You tried to prevent yourself from not beaming at him like an idiot and instead you crossed your arms. “Oh? And what kinds of excuses would those be?”

Nikolai chuckled, leaning a little closer. “I’m sure we’ll come up with some good ones.”

You smiled at it before turning your eyes back at the horizon - sun was already about to rise, you could see it dyeing some of the clouds with orange hue. You leaned your hands on the edge, glancing at Nikolai over your shoulder. “Yeah. But for now, I’m happy to be here with you right now.”

Nikolai came to stand beside you, laying his hand over yours, intertwining your fingers. “Me too,” he muttered. “Me too.”

And there you stood together, watching sunrise until the rest of the crew started waking up and the deck was bustling with life again.

As the sun rose up higher to the sky, you were once again reminded why these moments were to be treasured so much - the beauty of nature mixed with being with people you loved. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, Nikolai being a prince in hiding and all, but that was exactly why those moments were so important to have.

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[roosterbruiser]

𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝟐𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝, 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

You knew it as soon as you saw him for the first time. 

He was sitting just outside The Hard Deck, sipping a whiskey sour and watching the sun set in a glaze of glorious orange. You had stepped outside for just a moment, only to catch your breath. But you’d seen him sitting there, his honey-colored eyes so intently gazing at the sinking sun and his lips in a sweet smile. 

Something in your chest came loose when he glanced at you for the first time, when his cheeks flooded and he stuttered out an apology and offered to move his feet out of the only other chair so you could sit down. It felt like some anchor had come undone and you were free-floating to the freshwater at the surface, leaving behind all the murky bottom feeders you’d known before Bradley looked at you. It was like you immediately knew that this is how you would tell time: before he looked at you and after he looked at you. 

“Y’alright?” Bradley asked after a moment, the world almost alarmingly quiet around the two of you. Just some crying seagulls and crashing waves. “I really don’t mind moving! Wouldn’t mind the company either--honest!” 

As if to prove his point, he let his feet drop from the chair and pushed it towards you.

You didn’t trust yourself to form a syllable so you nodded, smiling a small smile, before sitting in the chair beside him. 

Bradley was a bit perplexed. One minute he was staring out over the ocean, thinking about his parents, and the next the most perfect fucking human specimen he’d ever seen was staring at him with a slacked jaw. Your cheeks were very rosy and your lips were swollen and your eyes were glossy--fucking perfect--and you were looking at him like you knew him. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked after a moment, eyebrows knit. 

You gathered your dress in your hands, fiddling nervously. Tilting your head and squinting, you looked at him again. You knew he was trying to place you--trying to figure out why you looked so familiar to him. 

“I don’t think so,” you told him. 

His chest grew warm at the first sound of your voice. 

He offered his hand, smiling. 

“I’m Bradley,” he said. “Promise I’m not always a chair hog.” 

You bit your lip, taking his hand in yours. And you just knew that his hand was one you were going to hold for a long time--a sturdy and sweet thing, one that fit into yours very nicely.

“Hi, Bradley,” you grinned. You knew it was going to fall out of your mouth, knew that those few glasses of wine you had were about to put in the work. “I think I’m your future wife.”

That day outside The Hard Deck feels like a very long time ago right now.

Right now, you’re lying on a different beach hundreds of miles away. It is warm, but not the same warm that California is. The sun is high in the sky, only a few wispy clouds drifting lazily up ahead. The sand is denser here, more white and less gold. There are much less people here, on this beach in Virginia, which you’re okay with. Less music, less hollering, less squealing, more room. 

The tired beach towel underneath your body smells achingly like your home with Bradley: detergent, cologne, fresh air. It’s soft against the parts of your body that are not covered by your bikini. 

You’re resting your heavy eyes, combing your fingers through Bradley’s damp curls languidly, trying not to squint up at the sun. He’s lying on his belly, mostly in the sand, with his cheek pressed against your belly. 

He’s somewhere between awake and asleep, his limbs heavy from carrying you around in the water--even though he would never admit that--and his belly full of the nectarines and cheese you brought in the picnic basket. Absently, he’s rubbing the smooth skin of your bump, humming softly when he feels your son nestle just beneath his palms. 

He’s always holding onto you in one way or the other--which he’s been doing since the very beginning. Things move fast when you tell someone that you’re their future wife, which you had never done before and he had never heard before. You were married before the following year, a spur-of-the-moment elopement just before his first big deployment after you two came together, and after a handful of years hopping all around the United States, you’re finally settled in his hometown together. 

And not long after you settled into your little bungalow, just catching your breaths after so many years on the move, did you discover you were pregnant. Your baby boy, whom you are going to name Archie Nicholas, is due in a few weeks time. He will be born in the warmest month of the summer--which is also the month you met Bradley all those years ago--which tickles you to think about.

The pregnancy has drifted forwards lazily, easily. You like it--pregnancy suits you. Just a bit of morning sickness, some swelling, and a few vivid dreams here and there. Bradley likes it, too--more than he cares to admit to anyone except you. 

Pregnancy has calmed you down, not that he needed you to calm down. You’re more slow-moving and sleepy now, always walking into his arms with pillow lines pressed into your cheeks and a yawn just behind your lips. You’re happy, an almost mindless kind of happy that just happens to you like that’s your natural state.

Bradley, who has always been an overly-attentive partner and sweet man, has only become more perfect in the months you’ve been growing your son. Kissing your belly in greeting each time he sees you, reading bedtime stories to your bump, struggling with that beautiful but complicated crib for a week, sending you baby names all day while he’s supposed to be working, bringing home those crab rangoons you’re always craving, playing with your hair in bed, telling you how big your baby is every week. 

You’ve known since the moment you saw him that he is the love of your life. And it is only reinforced every single day with every single breath that fills his lungs.

It’s simple, really. 

As simple as that board nose and those pert lips fall into your field of vision in the blue morning light. As simple as beholding him beneath the Virginia sun as he sips a lemonade and watches the clouds drift across overhead. As simple as watching his belly flex with laughter as he sprawls out on the floor after one too many whiskey sours.

You just know. 

You shift slightly, rolling your shoulders. 

“Y’okay, mama?” Bradley asks, voice thick with sleep. 

He blinks at you a few times and you hum in response, stroking the warm skin of your belly a few times. 

“M’fine,” you answer breathily. “Think your son is awake, though.” 

Like he’s been waiting for you to say it, Bradley feels movement beneath his cheek. This far along it feels much more pronounced, which he finds incredible. It’s tumbling and turning instead of little flutters. It’s a feeling that there is no mistaking. 

“No sleep for the wicked. Morning, sweet boy,” Bradley whispers to your son, pressing a couple open-mouthed kisses to your belly. “Mama too relaxed for your liking?” 

You laugh softly, glancing down at him. He’s grinning up at you.

“He prefers it when I’m his human rocking chair,” you breathe out, smiling when a foot or an elbow presses against your palm. “As in--moving.”

Bradley tuts, gazing up at you as you let your eyes slip shut again. 

You are still, without a doubt, the most perfect person he’s ever seen in his life. You have those glossy eyes and perpetually-swollen lips that he loves, which are only enhanced when you have enough drinks to get giggly. You’ve grown and flourished with life these past eight months, becoming fuller and pinker with joy as you’ve grown yours and Bradley’s firstborn child. 

It’s been precious, really, watching the person he loves the most carry his baby. He wasn’t sure you could ever get more precious to him, but you’ve continued to prove him wrong time and time again. 

He was enamored the first moment he saw you, all in and head over heels by the second date when you read his Tarot cards and completely bullshitted your way through it. 

When he proposed, only a few days before you two got married in a shitty courthouse in his service khakis and one of your old dresses, he thought that was when you were most precious to him: throat flexed with laughter, tears brimming your eyes, toothy grin on your lips. 

Then he thought you would never get more precious to him than when he came home from that first deployment, when he walked into the house to paper flowers decorating the walls and diced fresh fruit on a platter--which you knew is what he missed the most on the carrier besides you. And, even now, this is how you greet him when he comes home from deployment. All those sweet, hand-cut paper flowers and laboriously diced fruit just for him. 

There was even one night, just before you made the big move to Virginia together, when his heart screeched to a halt when he saw you. Naked in the early morning light, strewn across your floral sheets, hair standing up every which way. You were snoring softly, sleeping through the alarm you set. And in the doorway, with a mug of coffee in his hands for you, he thought that was it: he would never love you more than he did right there.

But then one day, he came home from work and found paper flowers taped to the bedroom door and a plate of fruit cut up. And you’d explained to him, with tears in your eyes and every single box from the move still ready to be unpacked, that you were going to give him a child. 

Every single day since then, even on the days that you cry over Toyota commercials and suddenly can’t stand the stench of beer, you have only become more precious to him. More precious than he ever knew one human could be to another. 

“Give mama some peace,” Bradley mutters, pressing his palm against your belly. You smile, your throat warm just listening to your husband speak to the baby that is so nearly in his arms. “She’s precious, did you know that? Of course, you’re precious, too. But mama’s our girl. Gotta let her sleep so she doesn’t fall asleep during Breaking Bad again.” 

Your whole body vibrates as you laugh, the calling seagulls in the distance no match to your booming laughter. Archie kicks at the movement, at the sound. Bradley’s laughing, too, moving closer to you. 

“I’m growing a human here,” you defend, a grin still biting your lips. “I don’t have time to get involved in Walter White’s life.” 

Bradley’s teasing, of course. He doesn’t mind that you fall asleep every single time you try and watch Breaking Bad together--which is a show you insisted that he couldn’t watch without you. In fact, he enjoys those moments. Just as soon as your cheek presses into his shoulder, the popcorn bowl propped on your belly rising and falling steadily with your breaths, he kisses your hair and pauses the show. And then he just sits quietly pressed against you, thinking about the day you give birth to his first son, thinking about how precious you have become to him through the years. Honestly, he would prefer to sit there nestled on the couch with you over any episode of any television show ever. 

“Baby, you know you can do whatever you want,” Bradley says softly, stroking your cheek as you settle back against the beach towel. “You’re giving me a baby. I’ll give you whatever you ask.” 

You hum, lacing your fingers in his hair again. 

“Give me thirty more minutes of this,” you sigh happily, closing your eyes again. “And then we can go home.”  

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @cherrycola27'𝐬 𝐓𝐆𝐌 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬, 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚!

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#tgm taylors version #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw series #bradley bradshaw one shot #bradley bradshaw blurb #top gun fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw one shot #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fanfiction

[killxz]

Serenity 🏞️

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

in which you and your partner love each other on a cliff in the rain

a/n: pls send prompts I'm struggling with writers block 🙏 as always, if you enjoyed leave a like or comment!

The scenery was beautiful. You were standing on the edge of a rugged cliff, the cool breeze gently weaving through your hair as you gaze out at the breathtaking scene before you. Below, the vast expanse of the ocean stretches out endlessly, its surface shimmering like liquid glass in the soft, golden light of the early evening.The sky above is painted with hues of orange, pink, and purple, as the sun begins its slow descent towards the horizon.

Wispy clouds catch the warm, fading sunlight, creating a stunning tapestry of colors that blend seamlessly with the tranquil waters below. As you stand there, the soothing sound of waves crashing against the rocks far below reaches your ears, creating a symphony of nature's melodies. Seagulls glide gracefully through the air, their silhouettes adding to the ethereal beauty of the moment. The air was chilly, the autumn days slowing creeping to winter.

The view from the cliff at early evening is a serene and awe-inspiring sight, a perfect harmony of nature's elements coming together. You turned to face Jason and went to sit down in the soft grass.

"Wait, hold on." Jason stopped you from sitting down. He whipped out a picnic blanket and set it on the floor, making sure that it was perfectly straight. "There, go ahead," he gestured for you to sit down. Your heart absolutely melted.

"Aww, thanks baby." You have him a smooch on his cheek and plopped down on the blanket. You carefully set the picnic basket on the blanket before patting the spot beside you. "Come on, sit down." Jason moved beside you and sat on the blanket, hooking an arm around your waist and tugging you closer to him. The warmth radiating from him keeps you warm in the cool breeze. You press your face into the collar of his hoodie, inhaling his familiar scent of gunpowder and leather. Jason's hand curls tighter around your waist, pressing you into him so he could press a kiss on your jaw.

"You hungry?" He asks. You nod and pull the basket closer to the both of you by the handle, opening it and taking out two lunchboxes Alfred had so kindly prepared for you and Jason. Thankfully, they were still warm from the food, the fuzzy warmth of it sending prickles down your arm. You hand the red and black one to Jason, passing him a fork and spoon at the same time. You took the other lunchbox, getting a set of cultery for yourself.

"Thanks," Jason mumbles. You smile and him and you both open your lunchbox at the same time. In the lunchbox, a generous portion of steaming white rice formed the base of the dish. Atop the rice sits the star of the show: a golden-brown, perfectly fried pork cutlet. The tonkatsu looked crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with a mouthwatering golden hue. Alfred's glossy, savory curry is generously ladled over the tonkatsu, and it cascades down the sides, pooling around the rice.

You bring the Katsudon closer to your nose, the enticing aroma of the dish envelops your senses. The curry sauce emits a fragrant blend of spices, including notes of cumin, coriander, and turmeric, which fill the air with warmth and depth. The fried pork cutlet adds its own inviting scent of savory goodness, with hints of toasted breadcrumbs and the rich aroma of well-cooked meat.

"It smells good," Jason says, nodding his head in approval. You stab your fork on a piece of katsu, and stuffed it into your mouth. "It tastes good." You say with your mouth full. Jason chuckles and lifts a finger to brush against the corner of your mouth, swiping away a smidge of curry. He then sticks that finger into his mouth, sucking on it. "It is delicious." He smirks. Your face was flushed, cheeks reddening at Jason's action.

"E-eat your food, you doofus!" You yell, smacking his arm. Jason chuckles and begins eating his food. With flushed cheeks, you return to your food, comfortable silence settling down between you and him, only broken by the sounds of chewing and the cultery clacking against each other.

After finishing the meal, you and Jason set the empty lunchboxes aside. You leaned against Jason, savoring the afterglow of your delicious dinner. The sound of the rain falling gently on the picnic blanket provides a soothing backdrop, complementing the beautiful view of the ocean beneath, which seems even more magical in the moonlight. Jason, with a contented smile, turns to you, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. "You know," he begins, his voice soft as a whisper, "this view is stunning, but it pales in comparison to the beauty of you." Your heart flutters at his cheesy words, and you can't help but return his smile. "You're always so cheesy," you reply, your voice filled with the same tenderness.

He chuckles softly. "Only because it's so much fun to see you like this." He leans in closer, his nose gently nuzzling against yours, and his lips meet yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.

The sky above you, a canvas of muted pastels, transitioned from shades of soft blue to dusky lavender as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air carried a subtle chill, a gentle reminder that night was approaching. The world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of what was to come. As Jason kissed you, you could sense a change in the atmosphere. The usual hustle and bustle of the day had quieted, replaced by a serene stillness. Trees, their leaves rustling softly, seemed to whisper secrets to one another, as if sharing the news of the impending rain. The first sign of the approaching drizzle was the faint scent of petrichor, that earthy aroma that arises when rain is on the way. It teased your senses, evoking memories of rainy days and childhood adventures.

The sky, once serene, now displayed subtle hints of transformation. Wispy clouds gathered overhead, their edges tinged with a delicate shade of gray. The colors of the world became more vivid as if nature itself was intensifying its beauty before the rain arrived. In the distance, you could hear the distant rumble of thunder.

The soft pitter patter of rain filled your ears as the raindrops hit the ground. Rain slips between you and Jason's face, sliding into where your lips met, creating a salty taste that lingered in your mouth. Jason pulled away, looking up towards the sky as a soft drizzle fell onto the both of you. Jason closed his eyes, his head tilted upwards as the rain slid down his face.

He opened his eyes and he looked towards you and grinned. Your heart can't help but flutter at the sight of him, his black hair with that streak of white sticking to his forehead, slick with rain. You can feel your own hair getting wet in the soft drizzle, your clothes sticking to your back. How can Jason look so effortlessly stunning? Jason gave you a look and pulled you towards him, giving you another deep kiss. Your hand reached up to grasp at his wet hoodie for support, the other hand on his thighs as he kissed you deeply, his hand supporting the back of your head, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss tasted of the earlier katsudon and the salty tang of rain. It was...wonderful. Jason slowly pushed you down until your back hit the wet picnic blanket. He straddled your hips, his knees on either side of your waist, his hands planted firmly on the space beside each side of your head as he hovered over you, smirking slightly. You tug his hoodie down to kiss him, not caring that the rain was getting heavier by the second.

"Ow!" You yelped as a raindrop hit your eye. Jason chuckles and kissed the corner of your eye. "We should get home," he says as he got off you. "Don't want you to be sick." He extended a hand and lifted you off the ground. You and Jason quickly packed up everything and ran to the car, slamming the door shut when both of you got in and laughed.

Let's just say that the both of you caught a cold and were cuddled up in bed the next day. Not that you mind it though.

#killxz #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #batboys #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #jason todd #batman #drabbles #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #why can't this be me #i need him so bad #i want him so bad

[soft-mafia]

Buzzsaw [Buggy x Reader]

Part 1: Introductions, Troublesome Girl

warnings: fem reader, oc insert, slow burn, age gap mention(reader is 20), blood/injury, reference to violence and murder, set before the events of One Piece, not completely proof read

a/n: I decided to go through with the idea of making my own series since I’ve been inspired by all of the fics others have made! I hope you guys like this loollll I’ll try to make sure to update as frequently as possible. Also there’s this part where Y/n introduces herself with her last name first, I only did that because in OP a lot of the characters do that too. Tbh I don’t think I’ll continue this if you guys don’t like it😭so please feel free to send in any opinions or critiques!! (This fic is about anime/manga Buggy btw)

“What do we think, boys?” Buggy asked as his men kneeled down next to the unconscious body of a woman. She was still breathing, but was bleeding out slowly. Her clothes were drenched in blood, more noticeable on her white coat.

“She’s loosing a lot of blood. Should we take her back to the ship?” One of his crew members asked.

Buggy squinted, rubbing his stubbled chin for a moment as he looked up in thought, “Hmmm..” he looked back down at the woman.

“Oh what the hell, I am feeling a bit generous today.” Buggy said before kneeling down to gently pick her up. She was light, extremely light, he knew that she had to get medical attention fast before she died.

“What the hell was she even doing out here anyway?” Cabaji questioned, “This island is desolate, there’s no town here and judging by her clothes it doesn’t look like she’s apart of a tribe of some sort.”

“It is a bit peculiar. We can ask her questions once she gets fixed up.. well erm, if she doesn’t die on us, that is.” Buggy looked down at the girl in his arms. [H/c] hair fell over her face, her lips slightly parted, there was blood dripping down her face from a head wound. Buggy held her firmly in his arms, carrying her back to the ship.

•

When she awoke, her head was pounding. The smell of musk and sea air filled her nose and made her cringe upon consciousness.

Faint sounds of seagulls could be heard from outside. She sat up and looked around; she was in a dingy make-shift nurses office, but all of her wounds were perfectly bandaged and wrapped up.

She swung her legs over the side of the cot, then looked around some more until she caught the glimpse of a window. Where the hell am I? She stood and made her way towards the glass to look out at her surroundings; there wasn’t any land. “Shit..” she mumbled under her breath before stomping out of the room, wanting to get a better look at where the hell she was.

When she stepped out of the room she was met with a long corridor of other doors, but at the end of it was a bright tunnel of light that she followed. It led her to the main deck, she looked up, holding an arm over her eyes to block out the morning sun. The girl was met with a Jolly Roger with a big red dot where the nose should be. What the hell?

She ran over to the edge of the ship, putting her hands on the railing as she looked down at the sea, she saw her reflection in the water far below, her face was clean, and a huge bandage was placed on the right side of her hairline, where her injury once was. The girl looked out to the sea for a while longer, a small wave of relief fell over her, until she remembered what happened.

She stood there for a moment, her breathing shaky as it all played out in her mind once again, her hair blowing through the wind.

“Look who finally woke up! Sorry toots but we had to toss that coat of yours, there’s no way you’d be able to get all that blood out of it anyway.” A deep chuckle emerged from behind her, followed by creaking footsteps against the deck. The girl turned around to face the voice in both shock and surprise. She looked like a ghost at snuck up on her, making the man put his hands up innocently, “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

The man was tall, broad shoulders and an even broader torso; he practically casted a shadow upon her, making her feel slightly intimidated. The most noticeable feature about him though was right in the center of his face.

At first glance she thought it was fake, but the texture of it, and the fact that his nostrils molded into it made her eyes widen slightly.

“You should be thanking me, my crew found you basically half dead, if it wasn’t for us you’d probably be eaten by the crabs.” The man said, his voice was hoarse but deep, and has a menacing undertone. She looked into his eyes, a deep ocean green, his brow bone casted a shadow over them that just added to his chiseled features. Rough looking stubble painted his jaw.

She felt a warm feeling in her chest, she stood there in awe, not even realizing he was speaking.

“Hm?” The man grunted, confused by her lack of response.. she looked like a stunned possum, “Are you listening to me?!” He growled, “Stop staring at me like that and show some appreciation!! It’s rare for me to be so generous, especially to brats like you.”

“Oh- uh.. are you a pirate?” The girl finally spoke, slowly taking her arms off of the railing and turning her body towards him. The way she moved interested him, soft movements, but careful and wary, like a cat.

“I’m not just any pirate.” The man chuckled and crossed his arms, the sleeves of his red striped t-shirt squeezing against those muscular arms, “I’m Captain Buggy!” He said with a grin, surely this girl knew who he was. He was the most feared, flashy pirate around!

She just stared at him again, with those same big bug eyes. “Eh-.. Captain Buggy the pirate clown!” He frowned at her, narrowing his eyes a bit, “The flashiest, most feared pirate captain in all of the East Blue?!”

“I don’t-.. I don’t really follow pirate stuff.” She replied, making him grumble and press his palm to his forehead for a moment before looking down at her again, “Well remember the name because I’m the reason why you’re still alive! What the hell even happened to you anyway? What causes a little girl like yourself to just.. wind up on a desolate island, half dead?”

Buggy raised a brow as he noticed her demeanor change, she looked to the side nervously, suddenly becoming scared again before she whispered, “Buzzsaw.”

This made the clown’s eyes widen, “What?”

“I was.. kidnapped by Buzzsaw. Me and my friends.”

“Buzzsaw?! The serial torturer that not even the marines mess with?!” Buggy felt a cold chill run down his spine, “It’s rare for someone to survive a run in with him.. he’s gonna be coming after you y’know?”

“He killed all of them.” The girl said, looking back out at sea. Buggy was really starting to regret his decision of saving this girl.. “Your friends?” His voice cracked. What the hell was I thinking?! That maniac is going to come back looking for this girl and I don’t think I’m strong enough to take down someone like him!! Buggy panicked in his mind.

“When I escaped he- didn’t try to fight back. He just let me leave.” She whispered again, not actually speaking to Buggy, but she was trying to make sense of it all. Why did he let me leave?

“Yeah yeah that’s nice. Uh, where do you live exactly?” Buggy laughed nervously, clasping his hands together, “Just tell me, I’ll tell the navigator and you’ll be back home in no time to mommy and daddy!” He grinned, breaking a sweat.

“I can’t go back home.” She turned back towards him, “I have nothing left— I don’t have parents, and now that all of my friends are dead I have nothing.” Tears pooled in her waterline, making Buggy’s heart clench.

Don’t look at me with those eyes..!!

“Well um.. you can’t stay here.” Buggy swallowed, “Sorry kid, but I can’t have you here. You being here just put a huge target on my ship!”

“But you can protect me, can’t you? Like you said, you’re the most feared pirate ever. There’s no way Buzzsaw would come after me if I’m with you.”

Buggy cursed himself for trying to impress this girl moments ago.. Damn it!! Why did I say that!! “Umm. Yes, but.. as a captain I have the duty to keep my crew safe!!” He stood up straight, hands on his hips, “Sure, I can fend off that guy without a problem.. but my crew aren’t the sharpest tools in the toolbox y’know.”

“Then let me join your crew or something! Is there an application I can fill out?” The girl looked up at him again, stepping closer to him, a desperate plead in her voice. “Eh- err.. fine! Fine! You can be on cabin girl duty or whatever..” I need to get rid of this girl!!

“Cabin girl?! Isn’t that for kids?! I’m an adult!!”

“You’re so ungrateful!! You know I can just throw you overboard right?!” Buggy snarled, “You’re lucky I’m even letting you join my crew!”

Buggy and the girl glared at each other for a moment before she huffed and turned away, crossing her arms. “What’s your name, anyway?” Buggy grumbled out, looking her body up and down, Hmm. Not too bad.

“Y/n.” She replied, “L/n Y/n.”

“Do you know anything about being a pirate, Y/n?” Buggy asked her with a smirk. After a few days she’ll be begging to go back home, she looks so weak! She wouldn’t last a day on this crew, that’s a perfect way to get that Buzzsaw off my tail! “Not really. But you can teach me right?” Y/n looked up at him, still glaring, but her voice was soft with a hint of hopefulness. Buggy hummed and put a hand on his chin, “I suppose I could..” Just for now.. until she starts crying to be let off the ship.

Buggy then stepped beside of Y/n, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and holding her firmly to his side with a laugh, “Well here, let me give you a tour of the ship! And a run down of what you’ll be doing for me.”

Y/n couldn’t help but blush. He was so strong, and the way he held her.. she chewed on her bottom lip and looked down at the deck as he led her off, rambling about pirate stuff, but she wasn’t listening. Y/n’s mind began to wander as well, what was she going to do now? Was she going to spend the rest of her life as a pirate, hiding behind this captain for the rest of her life? She couldn’t get the blood curdling screams out of her head, the sound of her friends choking on their own blood, the haunting images of their mangled corpses.

“Are you listening?” Buggy interrupted Y/n’s train of thought. She blinked for a moment, then looked back up at him, “Huh?” She then looked at her surroundings. They were in the lower deck, crates stacked upon crates, some unopened, some not.

“Your first task is simple, take stock of every thing, make sure things are in the right boxes.. shouldn’t be too hard, right?” Buggy gave Y/n a firm pat on the back which nearly knocked her over. “What?! But there’s like a million boxes in here!! And I’m still injured!”

“Well in that case it looks like you’re gonna have a lot of work to do then, huh?” Buggy laughed before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Y/n to her own devices. That should do it! Surely she won’t be able to finish all of that so easily without a slip up.. and once she makes a mistake I can just kick her off at the next town without feeling like an asshole! Perfect!

The next day, Buggy walked down to the storage room, Cabaji and Mohji in tow behind him with a huge smirk on his face— but when he got there.. Y/n was asleep on top of one of the crates, everything looked clean and orderly. He then bent down to pick something up off the floor, “What’s this?” He grunted, squinting and looking at it as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

It was a clipboard, Y/n had written down each labeled box along with its components, “No way! No way she did this all by herself!! It’s impossible!!”

Buggy’s grumbling was interrupted by a scream from Mohji, then a loud thud as he fell to the floor.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Y/n shouted as she jolted awake. “I didn’t mean to wake you up!! I swear!!” The beast tamer scrambled to his feet, then brushed off dust from his chest.

Buggy stormed over to Y/n, “You- you did all of this?!” He pointed at the clip board.

Y/n rubbed her eyes, then took it from him, “Oh yeah, I did. I organized everything and took stock just like you asked.. how long was I asleep?”

Buggy grumbled and looked down at his wrist, “No idea..”

Y/n furrowed her brows, sitting up on her knees while watching Buggy as he checked his bare wrist as if he was wearing a watch, “What are you looking at?”

Buggy snorted softly when he realized what he was doing, he then jerked his fist down and then growled at Y/n, “That’s none of your concern!!!” He snapped before turning away, his coat swishing behind him flashily as he stomped out of the storage room.

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy headcanons #oc x buggy #oc x canon #buggy imagines #one piece x reader #one piece x oc #buggy the star clown #buggy op #op buggy

[reasonsmandy]

Sunset Rendezvous

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by @littlehoneyfreak + anon — ¹ From your prompt list can you write 12 with Eddie if you get time if you can’t dw but I just love your writing and need more Eddie in my life 🩷.

² oh yeah it’s very weird to me smut fics with actors 😭 but you can write a eddie smut 🥺

✧.* summary — The tour had consumed both of you, and this weekend at the beach would be your time to forget the pressure and just enjoy each other.

✧.* warnings — Smut, MINORS DNI, a lot of fluff, praise.

✧.* word count — 2.0k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I tried something new writing smut today, hope you like it and know that I'm free to hear your feedback :)

You and Eddie arrived at the beach house just as the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the sandy shore. The ocean was calm and still, the waves gently lapping at the shore. As you stepped out of the car, the salty smell of the sea filled your nose, and the cool breeze blew strands of your hair across your face.

"Eddie, look at this view!" You exclaim happily, kicking off your shoes to feel the sand on your toes.

"I'm so happy you like it, shooting star" He says wrapping his arms around your waist. "Come on, let me show you around our little house for the weekend."

The beach house was quaint and cozy, with a white picket fence surrounding a small garden filled with colorful flowers. The house itself was painted a soft blue, with white shutters on the windows. A small wooden porch wrapped around the front of the house, with two Adirondack chairs facing the ocean.

As you stepped onto the porch, you were greeted by the sound of seagulls calling to each other in the distance. You could hear the gentle sound of the waves breaking on the shore, and the rustle of palm fronds in the breeze. The air was fresh and clean, with just a hint of salt in the wind.

The sky was painted with a mix of pink, orange, and purple hues, as the sun slowly disappeared below the horizon. You could feel the sand between your toes as you walked down the porch steps towards the beach, hand in hand with Eddie. You could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the coolness of the ocean breeze on your face.

"I needed this so much." You say opening your arms, feeling the wind on your face. "The tour was killing me, I couldn't take it anymore."

"Don't mention it, If I hear any of our songs one more time I'll explode." Roundtree sits in the sand, watching you with a smile on his face. "Not to mention I needed that time with my girl."

"I love it when you call me that." You say sitting on his lap cupping his face in your hands.

"Yeah?" He whispers, cupping her face and looking deeply into her eyes. "I love you my girl."

As the sun set, the beach grew quiet and peaceful, with just the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. You and Eddie stayed on the beach, sitting close together as the stars began to twinkle above.

Eddie wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and the scent of his cologne mixed with the salty ocean air.

"I missed this so much," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "Just you and me."

You turned your head, meeting his lips with your own in a passionate kiss. The taste of the ocean lingered on your tongue, mixing with the sweetness of Eddie's lips.

As the kiss deepened, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. You could feel the heat between your bodies growing, as the longing and desire you had both felt on the tour finally had a chance to be expressed.

"Did you miss me, handsome?" You whisper, feeling the blonde's kisses on your neck. "So show me then."

Roundtree noticed the mischievous look that was on your face and couldn't help but smile, he kept spreading kisses down your neck. You let out sighs with the touch of his lips on your skin, if there was a man who made you feel good it was him.

The bassist takes his fingers to the knot of your bikini and undoes it, you go back a little letting him take the garment off of you, he stays for a few seconds just admiring the view and you feel a blush rise in your face due to this sudden attention. He kisses you again, this time with more urgency, he needs to feel you.

You broke the kiss, looking deep into Eddie's eyes. "I want you, Eddie," you whispered. "Right here, right now."

He didn't need any more invitations. With a sense of urgency, he pulled you close to him, feeling the heat of your body against his. He lifted you up and carried you towards the water, the waves crashing at your feet.

"Hey pretty boy, what are you doing?" You ask laughing. But he doesn't answer you.

You could feel the sand and water between your toes as he laid you down gently on a blanket, the moon casting a glow on your skin. You watched as he slowly finished undressing you, his eyes filled with desire.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down your neck and chest. "My beautiful girl."

"Only yours." You whisper, feeling his breathing against your skin.

Roundtree looks at you as he starts to kiss your belly, you feel a chill run down your spine as you see the desire in his eyes. "Open your legs." He says squeezing your thighs.

You obeyed, parting your legs for him, feeling the sand beneath you. He trailed kisses down your inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most. You moaned as he flicked his tongue over your sensitive skin, sending shivers up your spine, you felt goosebumps on your stomach looking forward to knowing what he was going to do.

"Such a pretty girl." He says, admiring you like you were the most amazing treasure. "Let me taste you my gorgeous."

He says and wastes no time, Eddie continues to explore your body with his lips and tongue, you feel yourself getting lost in the moment. You grip the blanket beneath you, moaning louder with each passing second. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore only adds to the intensity of the moment.

You look down and see Eddie's eyes staring back up at you, his mouth still moving in a rhythmic motion. He looks up at you and gives you a wink, before continuing his work.

As you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, you grab Eddie's hair, pulling him up to you for a deep, passionate kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only makes you want him more.

"Eddie," you pant, "I need you inside me."

Without a word, Eddie positions himself between your legs, slowly sliding inside you. You gasp at the sensation, feeling completely filled and satisfied. The two of you move together, your bodies in perfect sync with each other.

"Come for me, my girl," Eddie murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Let me feel you come apart in my arms."

As you reach your climax, you scream Eddie's name into the night sky, feeling completely connected to him in every way possible. He keeps going, though, slowing down and speeding up in just the right way to make you come again and again.

The two of you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

…

You wake up to the sound of a movie playing on the TV. Eddie is already up, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand. You groggily make your way over to him and he invites you to join him, pouring a cup of coffee for you too.

As the movie goes on, you notice Eddie is gushing over the actress on the screen, complimenting her on everything from her hair to her acting skills. It starts to get on your nerves, and you can feel yourself getting irritated.

"Eddie, can't we just watch the movie without you obsessing over the actress?" you say, trying to hide your annoyance.

Eddie smirks, knowing he's getting to you. "Oh come on, don't be jealous. You know you're the only one for me."

You roll your eyes, but can't help but feel a little bit flattered. Eddie leans in, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "Oh please, Eddie. You're just trying to get a rise out of me."

He grins mischievously. "Maybe I am. But that doesn't change how I feel about you."

You cross your arms, still pretending to be annoyed. "Fine, then I'll just go make my own coffee."

Eddie stands up and blocks your path. "No way, shooting star, come back here. You're not getting away that easily." He leans in and plants a kiss on your lips, pulling you close to him. "Wasn't your name I was calling last night? You're the only one in my life, my girl."

You can't help but smile, feeling your irritation melt away. "Okay, okay, you win. But can you at least stop gushing about that actress? It's getting on my nerves."

Eddie chuckles. "Sure thing, my girl. You know you're the only leading lady in my life. I'm crazy about you, nobody else." He pulls you into his lap and resumes the movie, running his fingers through your hair. "And you know what? You look funny when you pretend to be mad."

You swat at him playfully, but can't help but laugh. You settle into his embrace, feeling grateful for the love and laughter he brings into your life.

He pulls you back in and kisses you deeply. "I love you, shooting star," he whispers against your lips.

"I love you too," you say, melting into his embrace. "But if you ever do that again, I'll make you sleep on the couch."

"Deal." He laughs, kissing you once more.

You run your hand up Eddie's thigh, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He shivers at your touch, a low growl escaping his lips. And you knew that was your time to shine, so you pretended to laugh.

"What's so funny, shooting star?" Eddie asks, with his eyebrows raised.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about that one day on tour." You start to say and he looks at you intently, waiting for you to continue."Do you remember that drummer who was hitting on me?"

Eddie closes the feature immediately.

"Now, who's making whom jealous?" you whisper in his ear, feeling his breath hitch as you nibble on his earlobe. "Do you want to know how many guys were hitting on me during that tour?"

Eddie's eyes darken with a mixture of desire and jealousy, and you know you have him right where you want him. "I don't want to know," he growls, pulling you closer to him.

"Are you sure?" you tease, running your hand higher up his thigh. "It was a lot, you know. I had to keep reminding them that I'm taken."

Eddie's hand slides up your back, pulling you closer to him. "Is that so?" he murmurs, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck. "Well, maybe I'll have to remind you who you belong to."

You shiver at his words, feeling the heat building between your bodies. "Maybe you should," you whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer to you.

Roundtree gets up from the sofa, taking you in his lap to take you to the bedroom, without ceasing to kiss your mouth, your neck, every detail of your skin. That weekend was going to be wonderful.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

#djats #daisy jones and the six #djats x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie loving #eddie roundtree #djats icons #djatsedit #djats spoilers #daisy jones and the six fanfic #the dunne brothers #daisy jones & the six #the six

[ihni]

Seagulls.

His body is alight with indescribable pain, and there's a crumbling mall around him and a monster in front of him and tentacles like knives in his chest, his sides, his back -

He can't breathe. Exhaled all the air in his lungs on that scream, his last scream, a final act of defiance against a monster that he didn't have the strength to defy until now, and now he can't draw in new breath, he can't -

There were noises. Pandemonium. Concrete cracking, glass shattering, metal bending. Explosions, roaring. Screams. He's pretty sure there were screams. They might still be there, but they're drowned out by the sounds of -

Seagulls.

He blinks, and for a second the destroyed ceiling of the mall and the dark sky beyond turns blue, the light blue of a cloudless summer day. He blinks again, and it's gone.

He's lying down, and it's cold tiles against his back and there's blood underneath him but the blood warms him like sand on the beach, and he blinks again and the blue sky is back and the cacophony of noise is blending together to a buzzing, to white noise, to something rythmic like -

Waves breaking. Swash on sand.

Someone bends over him. A girl. Long red hair, crying, she's in pain like he's in pain and oh god he's in so much pain, but he doesn't want her to hurt so he says -

"I'm sorry"

- and doesn't know what he's sorry for.

He blinks. The sky is blue, the air smells like salt, and someone is bending over him. A woman. Long blonde hair, smiling. She reaches out a hand and gently brushes a bloody strand of hair out of his face.

He can't move. His body is broken, there are holes in his chest, his blood is full of crushed glass, tearing him up from the inside. It's worse than anything and everything he has ever experienced, is enough to push every memory and rational thought right out of his head and replace it with agony.

"It hurts," he says, and it's a sob, a wheeze, blood bubbling out between his lips.

"I know," someone says, and it's a woman. Long blonde hair, smiling. Familiar. Her hand is on his cheek, her fingers brushing away the tears that are drawing clean paths through the grime on his temples. Her touch is soft, cool on his burning skin, soothing -

Something wet hits his face, something salty like a tear, but that doesn't make sense because no one is crying but him. The sky is blue above him and the sand is warm beneath him and the sounds around him are of seagulls and waves, and that must be it, not a teardrop but a splash from the sea; salty and wet, as if the ocean itself cries for him -

"It hurts," he says again, because it does, but there's a woman there, with long blonde hair, and he knows her, it's -

"Mom"

- and her smile widens and her hands are on his face and her smile is the sun, is warmth and comfort and peace.

"I'll kiss it better," she says, and bends down and places her lips on his forehead, lightly, barely touching.

He closes his eyes, and takes what feels like the first breath in forever. Something like life blooms from her touch.

She presses a kiss to each of his closed eyelids, and he feels his heart restart in his chest and can't remember when it stopped.

She kisses his cheek, and the background noises - that aren't the seagulls, or the sounds of waves - fade. Another kiss on his other cheek, and the sky stabilizes, and stays blue. He can't recall what it used to be, before.

"It still hurts," he murmurs, confused but at peace, but she kisses his bare chest where a hole should be, and there's nothing there but unbroken skin.

"Does it?" she asks, laughter in her tone, and he realizes that no, it doesn't. Where before there was a wildfire raging in every inch of his body, now there's only the gentle warmth of the sun bearing down on them both. There's no more pain, because his mother kissed it better, just like she said she would.

He sits up. Digs his toes into the white sand, looks out over the endless blue in front of him, sky and water, meeting at the horizon far from here, before he turns and looks at the woman beside him. His mother.

"I've missed you," he says, "Please don't leave", and his voice cracks like he hasn't seen her in a long time, but he can't remember ever being away from her, can't remember anything but this moment, right here.

"Oh baby," she says, and her arms are around him. They don't reach all the way around his shoulders, and for a second there is a fleeting memory of another hug, a lifetime ago, where his shoulders were smaller, where he was smaller, but as soon as it appeared it fades. "I won't leave you, ever again."

There's seagulls and a blue sky, cool waves meeting warm sand and his mother's arms around him, and everything feels right.

He buries his face in her long, blonde hair as she murmurs in his ear, "You're finally home."

#billy hargrove #billy and his mom #stranger things #listen i have no excuse #i am sorry #i just needed to give him a happy ending and sometimes my brain crosses the wrong wires #and in this instance the happy ending was to at least give him a happy Ending (as in death) #this is like ... my version of the horrible canon #and i guess a writing exercise too #im in the cottage and i wrote this on my phone #i can't explain myself #ihni writes #character death #i hate myself for it I'm sorry

[erebuscanread]

Why Bob is called 'BOB'

Hello Humans! It's the vice curator Tae the lizard. I have finally let hooman out for some enrichment time! Below the cut is what they've created. Hooman hopes you enjoy it. Leave a like, reblog or even hit up the ask button. Any feedback is really appreciated.

Pairing(s): Bob/!gn reader (nicknamed Sunshine)

Warnings: Fluff, Bob being a garden fairy, no beta we die like Goose.

Bob doesn’t stand for baby on board as his new team thought. He grew up on a ranch and learned how to fix things early on. That translated into him fixing anything that needed fixing even when he went through the Naval aviation academy. If a table was wobbly, the next day it wasn’t. The sink was leaking, it suddenly was fixed a few hours later. He was like a handyman ghost. His past team members finally caught on to his stealth fixing and dubbed him Bob the Builder. The nickname made him feel bashful because he wasn’t looking to be praised for the work he did, he just wanted to help anyone he could. 

After the Dagger squad became a permanent fixture in Fighter Town, Bob purchased a home close enough to the base that it was an easy commute and was still close to the beach. He loved waking up to the sounds of waves crashing on the beach and smelling the saltiness of the sea. Another thing he liked about his new home, which he was shy to admit, was his neighbor. He caught glimpses of them in the morning when he went on his morning run and they were headed to work. He would also spot them after work when he sat on the back porch to watch the sunset over the water. He hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to them yet. He gave them a small nod and smile every them they crossed paths.

Bob’s love language was acts of service so when he noticed that part of the small fence that separated his neighbor's yard from Bob’s was broken he spent a weeknight fixing it while his neighbor was out for the evening. It started off with little things like that. Much to his chagrin, he was caught by his enchanting neighbor when he was working on building flower boxes for his neighbor's blossoming garden. He was going to drop them off at their front door and run away like usual. He felt slightly creepy about how he was acting but his nerves still prevented him from reaching out and introducing himself. As he went to put the flower boxes on the front porch the door opened and Bob jumped, the flower boxes clattering onto the porch. Bob was a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and mouth formed into an ‘o’. 

“Uh- I- uhh.” Bob sputtered as he tried to find words to say. 

“Good morning, my garden gnome,”

  His neighbor was smiling at him with a mischievous glint in their eyes. 

“G-good morning, I’m so sorry. I noticed that your flower boxes were no longer working for your garden and I was making myself a pair so I thought I would make you a couple too. Now I realize that probably comes off as creepy.” 

Bob rambled needless in front of his neighbor who was smiling at him. 

“I was wondering who was sneaking into my garden and making it look better than I ever could. I thought maybe it was a water sprite, maybe a smart seagull or a garden gnome.” They regarded him with a bright smile that lit up their eyes. 

“I’m relieved that it was you in my garden and not anything other mischievous creature.”

Bob was stunned. Not only was his neighbor stunning in the morning light, but was full of an internal light that warmed Bob’s heart. He immediately nicknamed them Sunshine in his head. Bob tried to collect himself to form a coherent sentence.

“I’m Bob, not a fairy, spirit, or otherwise. At least as for as I know.” 

Bob chuckled, the sound filling the air and making his neighbors smile even brighter. 

“It’s nice to meet you Bob.” 

His neighbor stuck out their hand and introduced themselves. Bob grasped their hand with a grin and a flushed face. The flower boxes were forgotten on the porch until his foot nudged one of the boxes. He did even realize that he was gravitating closer to his neighbor. He let go of their hand and picked up the flower boxes. 

“It’s really thoughtful of you to make extra flower boxes for me. I’ve been meaning to buy new ones but life has been a bit busy for me.”

They took the flower boxes into their arms and started to turn towards the door to their beach home. 

“Do you want to come in for coffee and help me set up the boxes?” 

“I would like that a lot.” 

The two of them walked into Sunshine’s home. This was the beginning of a beautiful story of two souls intertwining effortlessly. 

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #tmg2 #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader

[submerged-into-clouds]

So. This is the mer!Hound fanfiction I wrote for @montyuh . I haven't had a chance to properly revise it due to a difficult university semester, — up until now, — but I'm just going to drop it here and skitter away like a cockroach.

Premise:

Mer!Hound / Little Mermaid AU

What to expect from the work and the work itself are under "read more".

What to expect:

I haven't written for purposes of online posting in years, so it is very likely not as refined as it could be.

English is not my first language (a classic, but true)

No dialogue

Written in third person, but mainly revolves around Hound’s thoughts and experiences

Human character is incredibly ambiguous, and is referred to neutrally.

Some other characters get mentioned, but it's left up to interpretation as to who they are

Angst (?) primarily, but has a happy ending

Pure vibes

The flow relies on time skips, they are indicated by underscore separations.

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

When the dawn descends upon the crescent shore, shunning away the grey remnants of the early morning, the quiet splashing of the waves is no longer the only sound that hangs in the air. As if on cue with the first rays of sun, a few shallow squawks of seagulls cut through the air; even the wind seems to pick up its ceaseless run bringing upon the smell and sounds unknown from just beyond the lip of the cove.

When the dawn comes, usually he enjoys the shimmering of sun from underneath the surface of the water in the safe haven of a mangrove forest, should he choose to stay by the land, or face it among the reefs where he could bask in its warmth openly. But a limp figure sprawled across his forearm felt like the heaviest anchor this very morning.

Hound is a mer not cowardly, but curious — perhaps against his better will, — and only once his back grew warm and dry did he avert his eyes from the form of the human to gaze at the horizon and the shiny trail of light on the ocean's face. It's much past dawn.

They aren't dead — Hound met dead people: bodies floating in the water, as recent as last night. This one doesn't have the bloated and heavy appearance, and no human blood found its way onto the sand, and in the back of his worried mind he proudly considers it possible with his input.

His memories drift back: the metal massives cutting through the waves with their sharp noses, gliding along. On nights like this, he was invisible in the dark.

He would jump and cling briefly onto the side of the metal ship. Rare crevices and indents in the metal he would bury he clawed fingers in, and stalk around the portholes to take a peek inside.

Their sub nautical vessels had more of everything. More texture, more angles, more means of propulsion and protection. In comparison, human ships almost appeared bare to him, like a crustacean with the most unremarkable and newly formed chitin, marked by nothing but a rarely experienced scuffle; or perhaps an eroded rock that no life found itself perching upon.

But did those giants carry treasures!

Unlike what was generally known or observed of humans, what ended up in the ocean was an indication of life beyond just the theorised schedules and behaviours. Who had an unopened can of fruits with them? Who lost their embroidered coat? Who was the author of a drawing lost to the sea? What were the numerous orange cat phones?

Items like these carried character and mystery so alluring!

So Hound learned to stealthily follow around and scale the rare ships and boats to see where all of these treasures came from, although unlike this night, he never did it under a stormy sky. Never had a ship begun to sink, either.

__________

A mammal's skin felt so unlike what he yet got to touch! Not stiff, like his cartilage, yet not as smooth as the gelatinous surface of a sea jellie. Their hands look like they've seen work.

The sea calls him to retreat, but Hound spends his last few minutes on the surface hunching over and squinting: their eyes are still under the eyelids, and their lips gave grown blue and skin — pale; he stalled on having them be left slumbering at the water's edge.

In a few moments after the sun has finally touched their cheeks, the colour gathers on them — a most positive sign of their blood still flowing. And suddenly, like the breeze itself had brought a faintest sound, he heard a groan, originating unmistakably from beneath him.

With a jolt, and dropping them rather unceremoniously, Hound all by jumped back in the ocean. Waves splashed together above him, and the space around now locked into the serene quietness of the ocean, and nothing else was heard. The water filtered through him like a roaring current, and yet it felt that he could not inhale enough as he recalled how their eyes only began to open.

__________

Hound half-listens when the one called Sea-Witch speaks to him the terms of his deal — tail split in two in favour of a pair of prosthetic limbs; how to sustain himself his bottom would be encased in that armour, like a man half-built.

Not unheard of it was, of course, but any self-respecting scientist would deem the proposed methods dubious and undeniably dangerous.

In a dark and remote cave he found them, where the volcanic formations layered one atop the other, twisting this terrain into a wiggled maze; the red polyps thriving in the heat of the hydrothermal vents, outstretching like a palm leaf, and so many of them were there that the deeper he went the less light there was. It was a place many knew stood, but few sought, as why else would one carry a title of the Sea-Witch in not for a warning? With no directions, no

And should the object of his affection not be willing or unable to find a way to help upkeep this construct — it will inevitably be rejected by his flesh, and he will remain helpless, abandoned by both sea and land, he hears them continue.

In return the Sea-Witch asks for his translator and he gives it up eagerly. Their eyes are many and they shine with an indiscernible emotion as they tell him they know he'll be back to ask to be able to swim in the sea again, that none but them would be able to stitch his tail back to its function, and then he'll be forever in their debt.

When the dawn comes that day, Hound wakes up with a burden in his chest and a splitting pain in his lower half.

__________

Metal prosthetics are heavy and sturdy, holding his weight up diligently, but his newly acquired joints ache. When he stands in the shallow waters on an unfamiliar shore, he feels nothing akin to a gentle touch of a wave — the feeling is empty and flat, more a suggestion than an experience, and Hound finds himself longing for it.

But then the human shows up, and the smile on their face and the sound of their voice is sweet and soothing, like a sea rocking him in its arms and singing him deep lullabies, and Hound finds that whatever wound starts forming in his heart at the memory of his home heals itself in their presence.

His scales aren't as smooth above fhe water, and he finds he needs to cover himself with a protective lotion more often than not — lest they begin to flake. Hound isn't human — just humanoid. He, who now stands on two mechanical legs, can feel the breeze and the sun just like humans do, even if his hearing is impaired and his joints hurt more and more day by day. Whatever was done to him — maybe magic, but more likely incomprehensible to him science was wearing itself thin.

He was lucky he was found by them, and even beyond lucky that the reaction they had didn't happen to escalate into something that would compromise him.

___________

He wishes he could understand them. Without a translator, all of the human's words are hopelessly lost to the melody of their voice, and he can't make his mouth approximate the sounds of their language to even try expressing his thoughts. Only at that point does Hound think back to the one called Sea-Witch briefly: would they have anticipated the barrier in communication that would form once Hound has parted with his device? Did they need the translator for their own purposes? Or to make sure he fails? Or both?

Whatever the answer may be, and however bitter the feeling is, it doesn't really matter now, Hound reasons.

__________

Time after time they attempt to tend to his legs. Hound can't discern what they speak, yet sits patiently when they take time to inspect the properties of the construction — it's metal, partially circuitry, partially hydraulics, and the rest happens to be beyond him. He wouldn't dare to pry open this set-up, of course. Maybe a creature small like them from their perspective would see something he missed? Maybe this person happens to be an engineer in their own human life? He wishes he could ask.

The repeated search yields no results to their liking, it seems. Human body language is so expressive, Hound thinks, with all the pants and exhales and sighs that leave their lungs, they would have raised a storm of bubbles underwater. And in those bubbles fish would play…

He fantasises about it more than a creature in his position should, perhaps. Humans can't go underwater, and their lungs aren't built for it. The few divers he happened to observe from far away, have relied on the bulky weight of oxygen tanks. This accommodation, he supposes, is justifiable. What are his bought legs but an accommodation tool for the terrain he isn't built for? Wouldn't there be a joy to be had in trying? Maybe they couldn't swim as swiftly as him, maybe they couldn't breathe underwater or even hold their breath for a time that would matter, maybe the pressure deeper in wouldn't suit them.

He would help — he is so ready to! If he ever returns, that is.

__________

He does wish at times he was more like the human who visits him, or suitable to their stature at least. It's inconvenient to try to take in their features as a person of his height, as it is even harder to make it subtle. But when he brings his face closer to theirs to look in their eyes — they don't seem to mind. So he does it again. And again. And until they all but lay in his embrace, until when they breathe he can feel the faintest touch of warm air on his skin — he does so. But never further. He keeps himself content with looking at them, deep in thought.

__________

One of his most prized possessions back in the ocean was a human book. Clearly handbound, it held up well to his and others’ surprise. Even wet and salt'd, what they figured out to be an oil based ink clung stout to the paper, which was, perhaps, the weakest part of the entire piece.

How sad, he thought back then, when something so fundamental as pages erode away. The ink won't wash, but chip away, the waxed linen threads will hold on tight, but all that is around them will slip into obscurity.

One day, he sees the human write something in a book that maybe lacked the same intricacy that the one he had, but was a book nonetheless.

He pointed at it. Gently, almost shy of his own movement he laid his hand on the page. The human, after a few short moments of contemplation, shifted where they sat, and suddenly Hound found himself with the book on his metallic lap. He notices the left page covered in sporadic notes, indiscernible from his height, and as he trails his gaze along to the empty page on the right, he feels them open his fingers to put their tiny stylus into.

He turns his head. They say something. He stares. They giggle and gesture in a way he sees as welcoming to an empty page.

At first, he wrote his name. It's a script different from the one on the left in many ways, but deep down there's a flutter of hope in him that maybe they happen to know it. But they just stare curiously at it, take their finger to it, clearly trying to tell the symbols apart, maybe grasp the grammar. Of course not.

So, clumsily, he draws a datapad. An approximation of a base. His favourite fish.

The way their face lights up is worth a thousand broken pencils, and this activity continues long into the evening, until the pages are done and Hound's spine aches, until the human begins to shiver in the wind and swat at a few insects.

__________

He sees their eyes glowing from under the water surface at night. Those like him. Some he knows, some he does not. Those unfamiliar to him would look upon his form with an intensity unmatched, but they wouldn't utter a word. Time would pass, and they would leave, and so quite were they that if he could sleep as easily as he used to, Hound would consider them remnants of a fleeting dream.

Those he knows — they speak to him. Their voices carry tongue he hasn't heard in cycles, but their words are filled with pain and worry. They tell him to leave and seek a person who can help, a mer or a human, doesn't matter. They tell him to hurry. Some break and judge his apparent incision and apathy.

He smiles gently, cups their faces, touches their shoulders, as he kneels in the cold water where they meet him. He assures them that it will turn out alright, and with a sad smile he shuts down their requests to abandon the human that visits him. Their tails beat foam in the water, and they beg him still, until the dawn begins to shine. Only then they retreat.

__________

Today the human stayed much later than they usually do. They huddled close to him, cloaked in a warm sheet. They held his clawed hand — and oh they are so small against him. Their face contorts into emotion that Hound hopes is worry, but fears is disgust: day by day his scales shelk, and no doubt his body has lost its colour alongside its lustre.

Before he uttered his agreement back then, the Sea-Witch left him with a parting gift of a question — why? In that moment Hound thought to himself briefly, remembering the eyes of the person who nearly found their rest amidst the bottom dwellers — it was the first time he saw a human up close. Now when they lay across from him so close, he sees that shine again, a body full of life, a head full of knowledge, and all they've shown him, and all he discovered for himself — the songbirds, the flowers, the bound books, the sound of surface music, the soft and warm touch of a body when they suddenly lay a comforting palm on his cheek and it feels like an embrace yet to be given. It's curiosity that brought him here. And while, regrettably, he can't tell the stories of what he's found out, of what he thinks and feels, he doesn't regret it.

So he closes his eyes in content even when their hand slithers back to their side.

__________

He was so sure he wouldn't open them again. His body broke out into a fever the next morning, and that brought upon him the weakness and hurt he didn't think possible.

The human cried, he heard faintly, as if the kilometres of water laid above him again, and it was only his head and legs that were on fire. He felt every bone back then, it seemed, and the seam along which his tail was once split felt akin to a metallic zipper on human clothes.

________

He would awake weakened and bruised, but alive, in what he could only describe as a tub, sunlight pouring through the large open window. He was feeling much lighter than he remembers being in this last short little while.

Looking down at his legs, he instead finds a tail again — pale and sickly-looking, stitched and held together by the methods unknown to him; and the shock he experiences could only be rivalled by the pain shooting through him when he involuntarily jolts, and fear that mayhaps the Sea-Witch did get to him after all.

But with his gasps the water fills his lungs, and he feels himself grow calmer. And there must be chemicals put into this liquid, for the fluttering of his heart and his fins would otherwise be unrestricted.

Outside the glass wall he sees a room, clearly fit for a science team. A bit away, he sees a docking pool and the water splashing in it, and the grumpy gaze of another mer like him staying away from the bigger commotion.

Lastly, he sees his human, and past that the sound and visuals are a blur, as with a child-like joy he realises that he understands them. They talk out of breath at him about all that transpired, they apologise for involving the team of scientists they knew, they express relief that he's alive, they apologise again and again, and they speak so sincerely Hound isn't sure they know he can understand them yet. He gently touches the part of his skull where the translator would have been attached — and sure enough, it's slightly sore with the presence of a newly installed apparatus. No doubt that's what that lone mer was here for.

They speak and speak, and their voice flows in and through him with so much meaning, and the sheer comprehension of it is making his head spin. They haven't left, and just like he has them, they sought him out.

So when his tail grows back, marked with a scar, when his scales lay even again, when his soul and consciousness settle from their flutter, when he eventually gets acclimated to the ocean waters once more and swims in it, he knows they will meet again.

In the moment, out of breath, they ask, and he eagerly tells them his name. Smiling, they tell him theirs. And in the sunlit glory of the water their face shone bright.

🐟🐟🐟🐟

#i may one day revisit and rewrite this one #i may be anxious about it #but it is also nice to practice writing again #maccadams #mer!hound #tf g1 #transformers fanfiction #merformers #sonne rambles

[zodiacs-web]

This is the first time I'm doing this holy crap ummmm

Well, hello! I saw that requests were open so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing a Tanjiro x childhood friend reader (gender neutral or fem whichever works for you :D). Like, uh, something fluffy?

༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽ I don't know how to do these things aahahahbaa

Amor del Mar

╰₊✧ Tanjiro Kamado x Gn!Reader

╰₊✧ Synopsis: You and Tanjiro come upon the beach

╰₊✧ What's in the web: Fluff

He could smell it, he told you. The smell of the ocean nearby had him grabbing your hand in a hurry. It has been a long time since you both visited the ocean. Chores, misaligned schedules, and the paranoia of demons were at fault. As you grew up, those times of hanging out whenever you wanted vanished.

But one thing remained certain: you two stayed close to one another no matter the situation. You went on the journey with him to become a demon slayer and ended up becoming one yourself. As you came upon the beach, the sudden brush of his thumb against your knuckle caught you off guard.

"Isn't it nice to be here?" As he looked out at the beautiful scenery, his tone was calm, and you watched him with interest. "Where the sea can take away your pain."

The smile on his face gets accompanied by a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, your love for them never ending. As you take in the view, the sound of crashing waves and the seagulls call seem to calm a part of you. He gasped as he saw you run towards the ocean, your hands unlocking as he placed down Nezuko's box.

As if he was the embodiment of wind, he chased after you. It's as if the world stopped for a minute so you both can enjoy the peace you've longed for. Eyes filled with adoration for one another as you both danced in the water. After a few minutes of splashing one another with water and playing tag — to be a child again was where it was at.

You both finally sit down after the humidity takes a bit of a strike on you. As the sound of crashing waves fills the air, he interlocks his hand with yours.

#zodiac's web #tanjiro fluff #tanjiro x y/n #tanjiro kamado #kimetsu tanjiro #kny #kny x reader #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x you #demon slayer x reader

[bohemian-nights]

What We May Mend (Chapter 2)

Word Count: ~8,817

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Laena Velaryon

Warnings⚠️: Mentions of previous attempted suicide

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them.

AN: Continuing to give Laena the happy ending she deserved 🐉

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Voices. It was the sound of voices that she came to. Cutting through the darkness that had engulfed her. She wondered why it was always so. It happened to her twice now. The last time that Laena could recall in the haze of her mind between wake and whatever was on the other side of this world hazy had been when she was but a girl. No older than her seventh name day.

She had never been clumsy. It was not in her nature to be. She was born for adventure, but on this particular adventure, she had slipped.         

A storm had come and gone leaving quite the mess upon Hide Tides shores in its wake, but that did little to stop her from adventuring out onto the beach in hunt for seashells to add to her collection. However, it did lead to her slipping on an upturned tree during her exploration.                                                                        

Falling head first onto the wood, she was knocked out stone cold. She was lucky that a pair of maids happened to see her fall while out admiring the men at work clearing the mess or else she might have awoken to a pack of seagulls pecking at her feet instead of a most anxious brother.         

It was her mother and septa’s which she had heard first over the sound of waves breaking the bay from the open window letting in sea air. Hissing at Laenor in the way one would a babe that had pulled a little too tightly on one’s hair, to stop poking at her foot, his occupation of choice during the half day which had made up for her unexpected slumber. “Let your sister rest, Laenor.” He had refused to leave her bedside. He wished to be the first face for he had rather urgent news to impart upon her. Or at least he believed that she would find the sword, a real sword, not a wooden plaything, which their father had gifted him to be rather urgent news. 

Wanting her to share in his excitement. There were their cousins, of course, Driftmark bursted to the seams with her uncle's brood of children. They could always be depended upon for an audience, but no matter how dear the cousin was, they were no match for a sister's company. 

It was only when she had mumbled to him squinting at the blinding candlelight, her head reeling still, “Laenor if you do not stop poking at me then I shall never wake,” did her brother fling himself at her and cease his incessant attempts at waking her. She had never been in any real danger then, but seeing her come alive sent the castle in aflutter. 

The sound of voices was always so pleasant to wake to. She supposed they had to be after darkness. They were a greeting. A light. Guiding her back to consciousness. Letting her know she was still among the living. Letting her know she was safe in the presence of those who loved her best. That she was alive. That she had not yet gone away from this world. Mayhaps that is the way she should view it now and then. Although the circumstances which she had awoken to this time were quite different from the last. 

Neither mother’s sweet voice nor the raspy tone of her long departed Septa reached her ear.  She did not feel Laenor poking at her feet and she most certainly did not smell the salty sea air that permeated throughout Driftmark or the cry of seagulls.   

Her head pounded with something fierce. Aching more than when she had hit it against that tree trunk. In fact, her whole body ached. As if she had swam across the narrow sea without feast while being whacked with a hammer from her head to her abdomen. 

A hazy configuration of shrouded images and muddled sounds flickering in and out. Pushing against the pain. Playing against the darkness behind her closed eyelids. Shouts rang through. I shall have your head if anything happens to her. Back to bed Baela. Now! The head is out. Hold it! The sound of a babe wailing. Heat that could only belong to a dragon. An assortment of memories she could recall with clarity that she would rather forget and others made in her stupor that she could not recall even making. 

It was the sound of a maid's voice that cut through the darkness. Muffled at first. As if she were talking from the other side of a great field, but little by little it grew. 

Her voice did not surprise Laena. It would have to be one of the maids that looked over her while she was ill for no one apart from them would be equipped to do so. Daemon would no doubt make a poor nurse nor would he keep to her bedside for very long while they waited for her to wake. Of course, it would be the maid. While the owner of said voice was not a shock, the words spoken from it were. 

“He’s a bony babe, my prince.” The girl said rather cheerfully though her tone was of little importance.

He. That was important. Their babe had survived that terrible long night.  Not only had he survived, he was a boy. A son. They had a son. She had hoped and prayed, by some miracle she had hoped that all would be right, but hope was all too often a fool’s errand and the Gods were more cruel than not. 

They had been cruel to her through these years. She had prayed with each babe that she gave him that this one would be a boy, that she would give him a son, that he may look upon her with adoration for what she had given him,  but they never answered her prayers until now. At long last she the God smiled upon her. She had given Daemon Targaryen his son and heir. 

Laena could hear his little gurgles over the sound of the maid's northern lilt. Beth. That was her name. It had to be Beth. Bless her. She had always found the girl to be a mousy timid thing, but the girls, especially Rhaena who would often grow shy when not in the company of her family, adored her. They found her to be an excellent storyteller, companion, and safeguarder of whatever little secrets they kept from their parents. 

“A healthy lad too. He'll make a fine lord.” The babe let out another gurgle as a hum could be heard in reply.  Daemons hum. They couldn’t be far if she could hear it. A bit of a strain to be sure, they were not in the room with her, she did not think that they were that near, but they could not be so very far. Somewhere in their chambers. In their sitting room? 

She fluttered her eyes but stopped herself from opening them. Mayhaps the stranger had never left her. There had been so much blood and she had felt so very ill. On the verge of insanity. Had she truly been spared by him? Mayhaps he was merely waiting. Playing another trick upon her before he enveloped her in eternal darkness.      

“Will you not hold him Baela?” Baela. Baela was not with them? She was not there wherever there was. She had refused to hold the babe? It was she who had been most excited to meet the new babe when she had been told that her mother was once again great with child. She who had met every kick with a grin, kissed or talked to her mother's belly any chance she got after her father had told her that the baby could hear her, and refused to go to bed without saying good night to the babe. 

She who tried to impart her own excitement onto her less-than-enthusiastic sister who was rather apprehensive of another dragonrider being added to the family, the odd one out twice over. She who had come up with at least a dozen names for the new babe, that girl who had relished in her role as eldest sister beginning anew, but now that girl would not even hold her brother? 

“No,” Baela replied in a small defiant voice. Sounded rather muffled. As if she spoke into a piece of cloth, however, there was something about that little stubborn voice that seemed so close. Like she was sitting right there beside her. 

Where Laena did not wish her eyes to see, she felt. Suddenly she became aware of a touch that was at her side. Warm and solid. Could her mind conjure up such a thing in this place? The realm between the living and the dead if that was where she was?

“Baela—” Daemon began abruptly. Exasperated as if he had already told whatever he was to say a thousand times and he probably had if he had gone so far as to chastise her, their eldest girl had inherited his stubbornness after all, but she could not let him go on. Not like this. Not knowing if what she heard was real or simply something she wished to be. 

“Sweetling,” A croak reached Laena’s ears. The voice of an old woman. The same voice she heard in Vhagar field. The same voice when—she could not think of that now. Instead, she reached out a hand towards her daughter. Swiping the back of her arm. That warmth, the warmth of living breathing flesh, could the Stranger make that up?  “Go hold your brother.”

She held her breath for a mere second. Waiting, but that little arm she felt clinging to her wasted no time in throwing itself around her neck along with its twin. He could not make that up. Laena decided to open her eyes to come face to face with silver locks. She closed them again. Inhaling her daughter in. 

“Muna’s awake kepa!” Baela let out with a shout moving her little head toward the nursery. A shout which could no doubt be heard clear across the manse. The volume was not needed nonetheless no A streak of silver flew out of the corner of her dark eyes. Another weight joined that of her sister. Repeating her actions to throw herself at Laena’s unoccupied side. Clinging to her as if she might disappear before her eyes. 

“Don’t crowd your mother girls.” The unmistakable sound of Daemon's heavy footsteps drew near as he chastised their girls. Letting out a sigh as great as them in exhaustion.    

“They can crowd me for all they like Daemon. I do not care.” She spoke beaming into her girls' silver heads with a laugh. How could she care when she missed them as much as they had missed her? She had almost missed them and yet she was here. Almost missed this.

Had she missed anything? Surely some time had passed. How long had she been asleep? A day? Two? A fortnight? Gods above, a moon?  It mattered not now. Not when the Stranger had spared her to keep her here with them. 

Daemon finally came into view. He looked as exhausted as he sounded, but his pale face lit up when their eyes met. He had to take care of their girls, she reminded herself as she counted the lines upon his person. No, he had to take care of their children if the small bundle swaddled in ivory lined with spun gold that squirmed in his arms had anything to say about and he had certainly made his opinions known. 

Oh, she had nearly forgotten what it was like to see a babe in his arms. A pleasant sight despite his patience clearly having worn thinner than those lines of age showing from three of them now all clamoring for his attention. 

It was no easy task wrangling the two of them even with Beth's help and now they had the little one. Their son. The call of a mother took hold. 

“Can I hold him?” It was an utterly silly question. After all, she had given birth to him even if she could not quite yet fully recall the details of it. He had come from her. The tiny bundle in her husband’s arms was undoubtedly theirs, hers, but she felt nervous somehow. 

Daemon let a chuckle that rang around the room,  but he did not make a joke of it. He swiftly moved over to hand her the babe as he nodded at Beth who scurried out of the room to alert the healer of her mistress's awakening. Perching himself on the wall nearest to her bed as he looked down at his family with the hint of a smile upon his pale face. Small enough for one to miss if they did not know him well enough. 

Laena winced slightly as she sat herself up. She felt something churning in her belly, nerves she supposed, but she would not miss this. It is natural she tried telling herself. This nervousness. This birth was not like the others.

She had been handed each one of her babes the moment they arrived in this world. Not even allowing the midwives to clean them up as she reached for them. Why should they need to be presentable for her? They were her children. They were always presentable. There had been no waiting for the Gods to know how long to hold them. No apprehension. Just a need to have them in her arms. That need hadn’t left her despite everything as she took him in her arms. Her nerves washed away when she gazed down at him.

He was a small babe. Not quite as small as Rhaena, but he was quite a bit smaller than Baela had been, though he appeared to have the same set of lungs upon him as his eldest sister. Quite a fussy babe he was. Thankfully he quieted when she began to rock him.  He looked peaceful. Content, like he had not a care in the world. Looking at him Laena could not help feeling content too. A beautiful little pink thing crowned with wisps of silver hair and he was hers. 

“Have you named him?” She asked not daring to take her eyes off him now that he was in her hold as the back of her finger stroked down his cheek. 

The naming had been discussed extensively within the last moon. Aemon, Aegon, Daemon, and much to Laena’s displeasure, Viserys were all suggested. Names of the female persuasion had not even been thought of. They as well as the girls had all been convinced that this child was a boy. She had even seen Baela praying for a boy so that he would not steal her dresses and bobbles as Rhaena did. It appeared that their suspicions and prayers had held true, and those good names could be put to use. 

Had Daemon already chosen one of them for him? She would understand though she would be rather doleful at the prospect. She had not needed to fret over that though maybe there was something else which to fret over. 

“No, kepa said we could not name him.” Baela supplied scrunching her nose up at her last word. No one could miss the distaste evident in her tone nor the fact that she had not once l even though she sat not two feet away from him. If certainly had not escaped Laena’s notice. 

“Baela calls him the little beast.” Rhaena pipped up causing her sister to whip her head in her direction. 

“That is not very nice Baela,” Laena said, shifting with a sigh to stifle a whimper from the tinge that was at her side from said movement to focus her attention on her eldest son. A frown stretched across her face. Marring the smooth sable skin with concern. 

She had known what it was like to find a brother a nuisance, she had seen her fair share of sibling quarrels, but this was uncalled for. Her brother was just a babe. He had done nothing which was deserving of her hostility. 

“I do not muna. She’s lying!”

“Yes, you do. I’m not lying, I've heard you say it under your breath when you think no one can hear you.”

“I have not!” She continued to insist. Her brown eyes narrowed at her sister in a show of intimidation, but Rhaena held her own. She met her glare with her chin held high. They would have no doubt gone on that way for an age, but all it took was one look from their father to cease their bickering with each other though it did little to ease the tension in the room. 

“He has father's eyes,” Rhaena whispered into where she had re-planted herself at her left side. Settling back down to turn her attention to her brother. Her eyes crestfallen as she reached out a hand to stroke the downy skin of his cheek. 

“He has his entire face.” Baela breathed under her breath. Her brows furrowed up with a look of irritation which caused a lump to form in Laena’s throat as she looked between her children. She sounded so very serious. Far too serious, and though she was in general awe of the babe, and doted upon him in spite of her earlier apprehension Rhaena looked far too doleful when she gazed at him. Perhaps one would write off their behavior as being that of sisters not yet used to the addition made to their party,  but she knew what it could mean. Her poor lambs.

There could be no doubt he looked more like his father than either of his sisters. One need only look at him to see that.  He was as pale as they had,  but nearly all babes emerged from their mother's womb as pale as the moon from what Laena had seen. However, unlike when his sisters had come into this world, the skin on the back of his ears and the nail beds of his fingers did not hold any brown to indicate that his complexion would darken.

Rhaena was not wrong that he had his eyes. Hearing the fuss made over him the babe had opened his eyes a fraction to gaze up at his mother. Revealing a set of green orbs that belonged to that of his sire. To be sure they were a lighter shade of green than Daemon’s, but they would darken to match his with time. He was his father's very image. Down to the slope of his little nose and his chin. Oh, that was definitely Daemon’s. 

Laena cleared her throat. From the corner of her eyes, she spied her husband, but he thankfully did not see her. His entire focus was on the sleeping babe she cradled in her arms.  He did not notice anything else around him. Anything amiss he was blind to. He did not notice Baela’s anger or Rhaena’s sadness. He did not notice. That lump grew. Worry gripping her tight

Her son did look like his father and his sister did not and by the rules of their society he was his father's heir. Those designations and truth could not be helped, but she would not have her children treated unequally. Made to feel as if they were not Targaryen enough. To think they were any less than or any better than the others because they did not have the proper look, disposition, or sex. That tore families apart, it was tearing one family apart across the narrow sea, but by the Gods, Laena would not see the same happen to hers. 

They were all her children. All their children. They had all been sired.  They were just as Targaryen as the last. It did not matter if one did not have a dragon where the others did. If one had the right parts hanging between their legs and the others did not. There would be no differences and she would see that no differences be thrust upon them. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was quicker.

He had noticed. “Sons ought to look like their fathers and daughters ought to be as pretty as their mothers,” Daemon moved off from where he had perched himself to place a kiss into each of their girls' silver heads. Petting the back of their locs with fatherly affection. With each gentle stroke and at the beams upon each little brown face Laena felt her worry abate. 

“Oh, then I pity him,” Her little brow unfurrowed and softened as she finally gazed down at the babe with some regard, but did not move to croon over him as Rhaena did.  “For you are not very handsome kepa.” It was Daemon this time who let out a chuckle at their daughter's words as Laena bit her lip to contain her laughter. Baela looked less than pleased at her parents finding fun in what she had said. She had only told the truth. How could they laugh at the truth? With a frown returning to her brow she opened her mouth to protest when a knock sounded at the door.

The healer thought Laena. She thought wrong. It was a dark-haired man, a letter with the Velaryon seal, gripped in his hand. The letter she had strangely not given a thought to, letters always came from Driftmark and they had more than cause to now send one,  but the man she gave exceedingly more than a thought to. 

She had seen him before. That night. She had seen him that night, replaying the scene in her head. That man breathing into her husband's ear a smile upon his face that reached Daemon’s lips. She hadn’t liked the sight of him then and she could not say she was especially fond of the sight of him now. Not when he commanded Daemon's sole attention when their eyes met from across the room. 

He made no move to order the man to leave. To tell them that they were not to be disturbed. That the only guests allowed were Beth and the maester. That he should hand him the letter and he should call him if he had need of him and dismiss him there and then, but he did not. No, he did none of that. Instead, her husband pulled away from them to go over to where he stood  out of earshot. 

“Father said that we have to pick out an egg for the baby.” Rhaena began in a soft voice to her mother. Not wishing to wake the babe that had fallen asleep. Her tone wistful, though shame as she was to say, Laena paid it half a mind. Her attention was on the other side of her chamber. With the two men whispering to each other. She made a point to nod her head feigning interest, more so for Baela’s sake who had taken to watching her every move and expression, rather than for her youngest daughter who was still entranced by her baby brother.

In Laena's defense, the topic had been settled. A dragon egg or several would surely be sent for. They’d make their pick of the lot, the egg would be placed in their son's cradle, in good time it would hatch, and rider and dragon could only be separated by death. That would be the natural end of it. The same had been done for Rhaena and Baela although the former's egg had turned to stone while the latter was on the eve of taking to the skies on her small dragon’s back..

It was more than both she and Daemon had. Admittedly the thought of Vhagar sent a small pain to her heart, but her room had been bathed in shadows for the span of half a minute thrice over since she had woken. No doubt Vhagar too had been alerted by their bond though her dragon was not worth wasting any thought on. At least not the thought that Laena gave to a certain dragonrider and the conversation she was not a party to. Not the thought she gave to the pair of men standing in the shadows of the room whispering to each other. What were they whispering about? 

She should not give any thought to it. It was harmless enough. One would think that it was harmless enough.  He was just relaying a message. Except she could not help recalling the last time he had been in her husband's company. How a smirk had formed on her husband's pale face as he grabbed the man’s arm to bring him nearer to him as he filled his cup with more Pentosi wine. Whispering something in his ear which brought color to his cheeks a spark to two pairs of green and amber eyes. A thumb made small circles into the fabric of the sleeve where he had placed as that spark was flamed. 

They had not cared that they were at dinner. That their host could see them. That their children could see them. That Laena herself sat at his side. He did not care about proprietary and her own feelings. Her own embarrassment. Why should he? What was she to do? Nothing, she had done nothing apart from biting her tongue and willing away the tears that wished to spill. Trying and failing not to think too much of it. To not show that she thought anything of it. 

It reminded her, she shuddered to say, it reminded her of Laenor and his friends. To be sure Daemon was not like Laenor. Not in that way. She knew that or at least not entirely in that way. 

Laena had never had to force him to her bed. He was the one most days who dragged her into his bed like a man dying of thirst and she was the only tonic that could revive him. He never once turned her when she had wanted him. 

He had never had difficulty finishing. He never kicked her from his bed in disgust when he finished. Even when he was under the spell of veracious spirits his ardor for her never abated, and praise the mother above, he had whispered another’s name when he spilled into her. Always Laena or my sweet girl. My pretty little wife. Or just wife. It was said with such want it might as well have been my beauty.   

She knew she was not the only one. A pang that she had learned to live with. Laena had seen him with plenty a maid. She’d seen the looks they’d exchanged when one conquest or another waited upon him with a My Prince and a bat of their eyes. How they’d linger on him, gift her glares, looks of pity, or avert their gaze when they met hers. How the girls would come out from the magistrate’s study where Daemon spent his days flush-faced and with a smile on their lips and a saunter. How friendly he was with the new girls and they blushed under his heady stares, languishing caresses, and more than that. 

Laena knew what sort of man her husband was. His appetites that she alone could seemingly not satisfy. She accepted that. There was nothing which she could do to stop him, but must he do so now? Here when she had just arisen out from the Strangers clutch? Where their son, his long desired heir that she had nearly paid for with her life to bring forth in this world, slept in her arms? Must he subject her to this humiliation too? After everything that she had done, he still could not put aside his lust for a mere hour or two. 

“He said I could also find a new egg as well or claim a dragon when we arrive at Dragonstone.” Dragonstone. That was new. That commanded Laena’s undivided attention. 

Home. Well, it may not be her home, but it was the ancestral seat of House Targaryen. It was Westeros and no matter how much Daemon said on the contrary, it was their home and he was taking them back. 

It angered her. She knew that she should be overjoyed at the prospect, tis what she had longed for, but it angered her. 

Ten years. For ten years she had implored him to see reason. Ten years she had tried to get him to see her need, pleaded with tears staining her cheeks, got down upon her knees with their babes in her arms, and begged him to take them back, yet he had refused her. After she had birthed Baela when she had only wanted to take her to see her parents so that they could meet their first grandchild, he refused. After Rhaena’s birth when she had been so weak all she had wanted was to be back on the rocky shores of her birth he said no to that comfort. 

Those eight years when her womb could not quicken, when all she asked for was for the children to grow up among their family in the way that they had he ignored her. With this babe when she felt like something terrible might happen if they stayed in this foreign land among strangers, he dismissed her fear. He had refused every last desperate plea for her health, for her sanity, for their children, so that they may not exist as exiles on this lonely island he had swept them to all because he could whoever it was that he had run from, but now he wished to take them back. 

Another knock sounded at the door. This time it was in fact Beth with the swarthy healer, his attendant, and a midwife who came to check on her. Laena had not much cared for the sight of either, a not so small part of her had hoped he had been dismissed after he suggested that she be cut open, but she supposed in the end that he had saved her life and delivered their babe safely.

At the arrival of the healer, Daemon finally dismissed the dark-haired servant. Scribbling something on but of parchment and handing it to him. A small balm for her anguish to be sure and a problem which to be remedied soon. She would not let this fester and languish for ten years all while she smiled prettily and turned her head acting oblivious. She could not live a life of secrets, half-truths, and shuttered doors clad in iron as she had before. 

“Let us leave your mother girls for the healer to look after her.” Beth held out her hand for them to take. Attempting to tempt them away from their mothers' side with a promise of fresh sweets from the kitchen. When that had not worked Rhaena had been promised that she  could put the babe down, and it was at the  encouragement of Laena herself that Baela reluctantly agreed to leave her chambers

With Rhaena the last of the lot cradling her brother like her beloved egg gone out the teak doors of her chamber, the healer began his examination, and the Velaryon lady began a series of questions. 

“How long have I been asleep for?” A fortnight was Daemon's reply. Only a mere fortnight. The lump loosened. It was not too terribly long of a time. She had not missed anything of real importance when it came to her babe that is. He had not treated her like a stranger. Crying out for Beth or Rhaena who clearly doted upon him like a living doll in her absence. Not recognizing his own mother when she held and kissed him. Content, she had made him content. It had been such a relief when he had fallen asleep in her arms. One she would not give up for anything in the known world. 

“When will I be able to leave this bed?” With her children gone and the excitement dissipating of her waking from her inertia she has been able to see the full extent of her malaise and Laena was absolutely exhausted. She felt so very weak. If she were to attempt to climb out from her bed she was sure she would collapse before she made it to the door. Daemon would once more have to carry her back to bed and she would not be let out for another fortnight if that. Banned from all but the confines of this room. 

Soon was the maesters reply. Soon could mean very many things and his refusal to look her in the eye was not at all reassuring. He must have felt the glare that she gave him because he scrambled to add, “If you are good and get some proper rest I can imagine you shall be recovered enough to venture for a walk around magistrates gardens by the end of the week.” If she were good. That was all she was, good. Good to her detriment. Laena did not like his condescension, but he had answered and a week was far better than soon. 

Will I ever have more children? She so wished to ask, recalling all she had lost, but she was not quite prepared to hear the answer. A no my lady would be so final. It would be the most horrid news she would ever receive. So she buried the thought of that no in the distant reaches of her mind. What she had settled upon in its place was hardly what one would call amenable. 

What possessed her to prattle on as she were to she did not know other than a festering feeling in her the pit belly that was on the brink of burst, but as cruel and improper as they were she did not regret uttering a single word. 

“Have you sent for my mother? Did you tell my father I have birthed your heir? That he has a real grandson. That the Driftwood throne does not have to pass to a bastard born of—”

“I’m afraid that my wife is still quite tired and needs some rest.” Daemon cut her off before she could say anymore though the damage had already been done, but was the healer to care? Westeros was across the sea. Who was he to report what she had said to? He had never been nor was he likely to come across anyone who would care. She had not said anything that anyone with eyes could not see, all the same, a pale hand came forth to pet her curls as Daemon stared down the healer with a thin smile. Up and down. Stroke after stroke. Mimicking a brush though he did not even look at her. With each caress, Laena felt like she was an unruly child being scolded by their septa for saying something truly wretched. 

The healer hesitated, but only for a moment. Her husband's smile at the man, while not cruel, was not entirely friendly either. It left no room for argument. The maester swallowed his words with a, of course my prince, promised to come back in by the morrow to check on her progress, had his attendants gather his things, deposited something on her writing desk, and slipped from the room with a slight bow. 

Her husband ceased his petting to go to that desk. Picking up what the maester had left there among the scattered papers, her writings, idle correspondences long forgotten, and childish drawings. In his hands, she could plainly see it was a small dark vial. Its contents were definitely liquid. It was the only thing that could fit in it. Some concoction he had put together, but what exactly it was she was less sure of.  She did not want to be sure because if it was what she thought it was—

Daemon uncorked its top and held it out to her, pulling her from her speculation with a call to action. “Drink.” It is milk of the poppy. She convinced herself as she eyed the bottle. Not bothering to hide her suspicions. He wants me to shut up and he does not care how. He just wishes it done. A crossroad where one would have to bend for  He did not want an argument and she did not wish to be shut up.  

Then and there while she still did not regret it, Laena supposed she should have chosen her words more carefully. Or at least waited until the healer had left. Discretion never hurt when it came to her husband. 

Even in the best of times, Daemon was a broody creature. He was the embodiment of his house through and through. Any slight, a look, one wrong word could set him off and send him in a foul mood. She had said several wrong words and this past fortnight, these past moons had hardly been the best of times. 

Still, regardless of her slight to his person, he could not expect her to subject herself to this. To make her drink that by her own hand for Gods sake. “I will not—-”

“Drink it Laena.” His words were clipped. Ground out with gritted teeth His eyes had grown cold. His face was pure marble. So much so that Laena thought if she reached out a hand to touch it she would find no life there. For a moment she wondered if he would pry her lips open and force the liquid down her throat if she refused his demand once more. She did not wish to find out if he would. She doubted that the odds would be in her favor.

Laena took the vial from his outstretched hands and swallowed it in one gulp without another complaint. The sweet taste stuck to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. A taste which she was familiar with and did not entirely mind.  Dreamwine. It was dreamwine thankfully and not milk of the poppy. It would take a little longer to dull her senses, but once she had fallen asleep she would have no choice, but to get some proper rest. Though it did help to blanket her mind in a cloud and loosen her tongue all the same.

“Well, you can not doubt that he is yours, my prince.” He winced. His eyes blazed and the marble cracked. Like she had taken Dark Sister from where it rested by his chair in the sitting room and stabbed him with it. The blade pierced his heart as he had done to her. Leaving him to succumb to his wounds. As if she had been the one who caused him so much misery since the day they wed. 

Mayhaps she had hurt him. She had certainly not made him happy, but she had not been the one to court him either. She had not asked for his hand. She did not impregnate herself

nor ask him for their children though they were welcomed. Never dragged him across the Narrow Sea to live a half-life away from everyone who cared for them.  

“Do not ever let me hear you utter those words from your lips again. Especially not in front of our children. Do you understand me?” He growled. A hand at his side balled into a fist and then relaxed over and over as she roared with laughter. Perhaps it was unwise to keep provoking the Rogue Prince as such, but the provocation was not wholly her own. It was born part dreamwine, part her own sorrow, but a larger part the ridiculousness of the situation they found themselves in. Most of all at his ire. “I have never doubted your fidelity Laena. Not once.”

Even she knew that. If he had ever thought her unfaithful, if he had ever truly thought that Baela and Rhaena were not born of his seed, that they were sired by some faceless common man, one of the magistrates many guests, or one of her cousins who had done the courtesy of paying them a visit or two over the years no doubt at her mother's behest, he would have drowned them and her in the sea before she could name them. A proper Velaryon funeral he would say to himself. No doubt toasting his efficiency. He would never claim bastard blood nor would he have the stench of it wear his name. 

Of course what he would tell the great Sea Snake and his formidable Targaryen wife would be a different tale. She was in the sea clutching the babe to her chest before I could stop her. Whether they would believe it or not would be the question. How could they believe that their vivacious daughter would do such a thing to herself and her child, though they had not been there when she tried to do the very same thing a fortnight past? 

“Your daughter delivered me my heir after almost commanding Vhagar to light herself and my son on fire.” She wondered if he had put that in his letter. He had saved her, he would write that if he had written at all. He had to save her. He’d let them know that he had saved her from herself even if in truth he had driven her to it.  

“No, you have not, not in the way I have doubted yours.” Secrets the secrets he kept or rather did a poor job keeping. The whispers. The maids. That servant. Ten years of treating her as if she had never been enough. It would drive anyone mad and Laena was not immune to that madness no matter how pretty smiles she wore. 

He had started opening his mouth to speak some pretty little fib, but she would not hear it. “I would rather not hear your excuses, Daemon. Or your apologies.” He shut his mouth with a huff. Nodding his head, his gaze turned away from her. 

She would rather not know, not hear whatever lie he would conjure up, or hear some half-hearted attempt at penitence. It was best that way. Laena could pretend that way. On this at least she wished to pretend he had not disrespected her. That he had kept to his vows despite her inadequacies.

Besides, if he told her the truth they both knew, he would have no choice but to apologize and she knew what a farce it would be. Laena knew that he would not mean it. That he would do it all again if he were given the chance. That may very well do it again with the Gods knew who. With someone who was not just a stranger whom he could slack his lust upon. That made the whole venture pointless. She was too tired for pointlessness. Too tired for anything really, but above all she was too tired to be lied to. 

He seemed to realize it was pointless too for he knelt by her bedside. The fire in his eyes was gone as he nuzzled his head into her arm before taking it and raining kisses into the bronze skin. Out of habit, she began threading her fingers through the white strands of his mane.  He leaned into her touch. Laena supposed she should not comfort him so, but she could not help it when he looked like a little boy who had been told that his most prized beast had fallen and broken his leg and he shot the poor thing to put him out of his misery. “I have loved you. Above everyone I have loved you Laena.” 

Mayhaps he had. In his own way. As much as a man like him could. Mayhaps he did love her, more than anyone was a charitable exaggeration for that claim belonged to someone half around the world. Laena was painfully aware of her limitations when it came to her husband, but more than his first wife surely. For if he found her to be truly detestable he would’ve done away with her as he had the Lady Rhea Royce, but that was still not enough. His love was not enough when it did this to her. 

Bitter. She was bitter and had become a mad spiteful woman and she had not even realized it til now. How much everything boiled over until all that was left was bitterness, heartache, and her own misery. That is what his love had done to her. 

“Your love is a strange thing husband.” The sound of their son's cries from the nursery broke through before she could say more or he would defend himself. 

A hungry cry, for he would not stop regardless of how Beth tried to soothe him with her rocking sweet lullabies. Not until she called for the wetnurse. Soon enough, no sound apart from suckling and placid coos could be heard. His wetnurse had soothed him, and provided him with the nourishment he so needed, but Laena wanted to go to him. 

She was his mother. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to feed him. Needed to, but she could do little more than hold him in her arms with the help of Daemon and that would be of no help to a hungry babe. Even if it was, she was so very tired. She would need to be held and comforted just as much as he would. Poor her. Poor babe. Their poor—

Laena reached out for him then. Grabbing her husband's arm with a grip that was feebler than she liked to catch his attention, though there hadn't been a need, for it had already turned to her when their son's cries had ceased. Daemon wasted no time enveloping her frail brown hand in his much larger much rougher pale one. His green eyes widened as he waited for her 

Whatever animosity they held for each other faded with the sound of their babe. He was always good for that. When the children were small and depended upon them she could rely upon him in turn. They were at their best here. He doted upon her and them for that brief spell. If only it was always like that though she pushed that thought away to focus on this. 

“Aemon.” He looked at her as if she had grown two heads and spoke in tongues at her murmur. Not having the faintest idea what she was rambling on about. It was not often that one, even his wife of ten long years, stumped the great Prince Daemon Targaryen. 

She laughed at that confused look. She could not help it. The scrunch upon his brow in a way reminded her of Baela. Her giggle caused only him to. It was the dreamwine. It had to be the dreamwine. She should be serious, this was a serious discussion, but she felt so loopy where she had not a minute ago. Fighting to keep her eyes open that desperately wanted to shut and drift off into the land of sweet dreams, but the effort was worth it. 

“I want to name our son Aemon Daemon.” She repeated slowly. Every word was a strain. The dreamwine making its way through her. She was sure she sounded as if she had drunk a whole bottle of Dornish red, but Laena would not rest, no matter how much she needed it until he agreed to it. God forbid he named the babe after his brother or they added another Aegon onto their family tree. That wouldn’t do. 

“After my grandsire.” She would have suggested Baelon, but they had already named Baela after him. Laena supposed Daemon was also suitable, but even her husband would not be so vain as to try and name their son after himself. 

Corlys or Laenor were other suitable options, but he would never agree to either. They were too Velaryon and Laena did concede that her children were Targaryen’s through and through despite her birthing them. She herself was half so no matter how Velaryon she looked and felt. It was only fitting they carry the names of their house. She would not be that cruel to deny him or them that. 

Laena had never met her grandfather. He had died before she had come to be, but everyone who knew him had had nothing but a kind word, including her husband, to say about him.  Why not name the babe in his honor? Aemon was as Targaryen as they came, no one of this generation had the name, and it would please her mother to hear it. 

A smile, no, a grin spread across her husband's face. The corners of his eyes crinkled up as he beamed at her.  It was a long time since she had managed to pull that from him.  “Aemon,” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, whispering the name into her skin. A promise sealed with a kiss. The sound of their son's name played over in Laena’s head. Aemon. Aemon Targaryen. It suited him. 

Daemon placed a kiss on the back of her hand. As gentle as a “Get some rest sweet girl.” It occurred to her hearing that the dreamwine was more for their sake than his. You will see them grow old and have children of their own. The memory came back to her like a blow to the side of her head. Rest, she needed rest. She did not need to fight it. For their sake, she would listen. She had no choice but to listen. They needed her, but she had one last question to ask. 

“What was in that letter?” Curiosity. She knew why she had asked the question. Her curiosity.  She did not have to know at that exact moment. After all, it was just a letter from her parents congratulating them. Mayhaps writing to invite them home, but her pride making up for all the times she put it aside. The last slips of her consciousness wanted to know. 

All the color that had been brought by the naming of their son had been drained from her husband's face at her question. An overreaction by her estimation considering who it came from. “Laena—”

“I saw it was from Driftmark. I would like to know what it said, husband.” Her voice was laced with honey as she brought a hand up to caress his jaw. Trying to coax an answer from with a little trick she had picked up. 

It was such a simple thing. Never mind who carried it, it was from her family. It was nothing pertaining to him. Nothing that could cause her distress. Surely he could tell her what was in it. Surely he could give her that. It was simple, but a simple thing is never a simple thing. 

She had thought he would tell her then that he might’ve wanted to surprise her with their going home. She was no longer upset that he had made the decision without her, or that Rhaena had been the one to tell him and not he, nor was Laena frightened of whatever forces they may face once they arrived back. Home was home and she had waited so long to be back among the familiar. 

He had no choice but to see the uselessness of waiting now if that was what his wariness was about. Laena thought he would, but instead, he once more kissed the back of her hand, cupped her cheek, gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes, and went to stroking her curls as he lulled her to sleep with his touch. 

An age went by. Her eyes had closed at some point. Fighting to keep them open was a losing battle irrespective of the expression upon Daemon's face and the gloom that had settled over their chambers, but then he had given her as she asked and she almost wished she hadn't asked for it no matter how much it would not stop what had already happened. Laena would turn back time to do that. Something outside every mortal's power and the Gods once they had been set in motion. 

It was a whisper. A faint whisper. One could miss it if they had not been  “Your brother is dead Laena.” Daemon must have hoped that she had already departed for the land of dreams as he breathed those dark words into the crown of her curls with one last kiss. Why else would he tell her the truth and infect her with nightmares and terrors beyond her wildest imagination? 

No lies. She wanted no lies. Simply the truth. He had given her what she asked for at long last, but she had forgotten that the truth was just as cruel as a lie. 

Ao3 Link:

#laena velaryon #daemon targaryen #laena x daemon #daemon x laena #daemon targaryen x laena velaryon #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #hotd

[whistleclangen]

Moon 0, Part Three - The Aftermath: Addendum

Juniperpaw wishes Mousepetal had believed them sooner. Well, they’re not sure if he’d ever really believed them really, but the senior healer had finally let them go speak to Whistleclan, after days of awful dreams that they’re sure are trying to warn of something dangerous coming for the other clan. The visions and the wailing and screaming of cats intermingled with the sound of wind whistling through the seaside rocks had made it pretty clear to him that Whistleclan had some kind of peril in their future. He hopes he’s not too late.

Juniperpaw carefully makes his way down the cliffs where Blufflcan territory ends and Whistleclan territory begins. He gazes out toward the horizon, at the endless blue expanse of the ocean with the midmorning sun glinting off its oddly placid surface, and for some reason, the sight makes him shudder. They hope they don’t have to spend too much time away from home. Just a quick trip to the Whistleclan camp to speak to their healer and maybe their leader. What’s the Whistleclan leader’s name again, Bramblestar? Brushstar? Something like that. And the healer is named Shadowstreak, Mousepetal had introduced him to them at their first Half-Moon meeting. Juniperpaw wonders why Starclan sent this warning to him instead of to them. 

Mousepetal had instructed him on where to find the Whistleclan camp, but had refused to escort him himself. Apparently, the kits or the elders needed him to treat their scrapes or tick bites or something, and he was completely booked for the day. Ugh. Juniperpaw hopes he remembers his mentor’s instructions. The path to the camp ends up being pretty easy to find, once you know what you're looking for. But as they approach, it is immediately obvious to Juniperpaw that something is very, very wrong. 

For one, there’s an eerie silence in the air, unbroken even by the screeching of seagulls, and the scent of blood hangs heavy, getting stronger with every step toward where the Whistleclan camp should be. Oh, stars above, am I too late? Every instinct in them is screaming at them to turn around and race home, but they have to see, they have to know what happened. 

Juniperpaw breaks into a run, no longer caring if he’s spotted by Whistleclan warriors before he reaches the camp. The sand shifts uncomfortably below his paws, but he doesn’t slow until he reaches the hidden tunnel to the camp. The sand around the entrance is disturbed by pawsteps, which they hope is a good sign. They strengthen their resolve and pad into the tunnel. 

It is dark only for a few moments before the mid morning sun reaches him again on the other side of the tunnel. Laid out before him is a scene of carnage. Blood is splattered across the sand and rocks that make up the Whistleclan camp. Everywhere they step, the sand is churned up from movement and what looks like fighting, and he can’t help but step in some of the drying blood that’s already soaking into the sand. There are also streaks of blood and claw marks in the sand that seem to imply that someone was dragged away, toward the ocean. However, despite the alarming amount of gore, there is a disturbing lack of corpses anywhere that Juniperpaw can see.

What in Starclan’s name happened here?

The healer apprentice is overwhelmed. They’ve never smelled this much blood before in their life, and the cloying coppery scent is invading their senses now, but they can’t seem to stop themself from padding further into the Whistleclan camp. Juniperpaw doesn’t even know what they’re looking for. Survivors maybe? There’s no dead bodies that he can see, let alone living ones. But still his paws carry him forward, around the large tidepool at the center of camp and down the beach, following the lines of blood and marks scored into the sand by claws that couldn’t dig deep enough to catch hold, until he’s standing right at the edge of the tide. Here, the trail of blood ends, as if a cat was dragged toward the waves and pulled under the surf. 

But what kind of creature would be able to do that? What kind of creature would even want to do that? It looked like the camp had been attacked and ransacked, maybe by dogs or rogues, but neither of those would bring the bodies of their kills into the ocean… would they? No, that’s just stupid, it has to be something else. Juniperpaw doesn't know all that much about sea creatures, maybe Whistleclan was massacred by something perfectly natural. 

Abruptly, Juniperpaw decides they’ve seen enough. He needs to report back to Mousepetal and Quillstar, he needs to get away from here as fast as his legs will carry him, because the more he dwells on it, the more he thinks that something entirely unnatural happened here. This doesn’t feel like an attack by some regular creature. For some reason, Juniperpaw has a creeping feeling that whatever did this isn’t… normal.

The healer apprentice is about to turn and leave when something catches his eye under the waves. He pauses, and stares at that spot, trying to get a better look at whatever it was, but he can’t seem to find it again. In the back of their mind, they know they need to leave, they need to leave now, but they can’t help but feel like Whistleclan’s death was their fault, and if they'd just warned them a day earlier, some of them might have lived. If he can figure out what happened to them, maybe it will absolve him of the blame he carries.

Juniperpaw sees another flash below the surface of the water. He waits, barely daring to breathe, and swearing to himself that he’ll run as soon as he gets a good look at the- whatever it is. Then all of a sudden, something erupts from the depths of the water, something long and winding, like the tentacle of an octopus, but much, much larger and nearly void black. Blood still clings to the thing where the seawater hasn’t managed to wash it off yet.

Juniperpaw stares at the thing. He knows that this is his chance to run, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to look away as the tentacle undulates before him. He feels almost hypnotized by the thing, and as he watches, a few more of them rise from the waves to join the first, waving around in the air. 

Then suddenly, quick as a flash, one of them reaches up to whip around Juniperpaw’s ankle, and he loses his balance as it knocks him off his paws. Then it drags him toward the hungry ocean, and Juniperpaw never sees another sunrise.

#whistlemoon #clangen #whistleclan #cw blood #cw animal death #warrior cats #warriors #clangen comic #wc #warrior cats clangen #whistle juniper

[pricetagofficial]

The Little Merman -D.G. Part Two

Warnings: Language, bits of angst, bits of fluff, typical shenanigans, Dick and Reader are too cute for words. 

Masterlist

Pairing: Merman! Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I know it’s been a month and I am so sorry, work and school and life caught up with me (if you know, you know) but I’m all good and hope you enjoy this part of the story! And as usual, big thanks to my beta fish @offendedfishnoises​ for proofing this for me, and for putting up with my shit every day and mass spam messages. Love you!

Your finger swirled your spoon around the cup of tea in front of you, the words of your advisor going in one ear and out the other.

“Y/N, are you even listening?” 

“Hm?” 

Lifting your head, you gave Rachel a sheepish look. Her face morphed into an unamused expression. 

“You asked me to be your advisor when you took over the throne, so maybe let me advise you?” she asked. 

Sitting up, you let out a sigh. “You’re right, you’re right.” Waving your hand, you motioned her to go on. 

Giving you one last look, Rachel turned back to her podium with her dark purple cape flowing with her movements. 

She was right, you really should be paying attention but how could you when you were worried? Your merman never showed up at your next meeting, and you were scared something bad happened to him. You waited until the sun was well behind the horizon, and the cool night air was rolling in before you decided to head back to shore. 

Did you do something to make him not show up? Were all those playful jokes and banter just that? Were you nothing more than a way to pass time? 

Rachel looked over and saw the upset look on your face and sighed softly. She had been friends with you for years, and she could see that you were upset over something. 

“We can pick this back up tomorrow, Y/N go get some rest.” 

At her words, your head picked up and instantly got concerned. “Rachel, I’m fine really–” 

“Y/N, you were never at this meeting. Whatever is going on with you, you need to sort it out.” Rachel smiled softly, and nodded her head towards the door. “Go take a walk or something, we can start early tomorrow.” 

Giving her your thanks, you headed out of the library and down the grand staircase before exiting the castle to embrace the warm ocean air, as the mists from the shore sprayed your face. 

The ocean always brought comfort to you, the sounds and smells of the sea bringing you back to the memories of your childhood sailing with your parents before their tragic accident a few years ago. 

It wasn’t too long after that, you learned of your merman friend and in an odd way he helped you deal with that grief explaining to you that the merfolk believed they all returned to the ocean when they died. 

On the days it was harder to carry the weight, you liked to believe your parents became part of something they loved. 

Without paying attention, your thoughts brought you to the shore. Kicking your shoes off, you made your way to the edge of the water and dug your toes in the sand. Slowly, you felt the relaxing take hold of you.

The song of the seagulls with the smooth rhythm of the waves lulled you into a sense of tranquility. It wasn’t long before you heard a sound to your left. 

Opening your eyes, you were greeted with the sight of a peculiar looking man who looked to be struggling to walk on the sand. Before you could speak, you felt something run past you and head straight for your visitor. 

Steadying yourself, you saw that your massive great dane had pushed past you to greet the new friend. 

“Titus! No!” 

Taking off after them, you caught up to the dog as it chased the man up onto a tall rock clinging to it for dear life. Grabbing the collar, you sat in the sand and pulled Titus down with you so he could sit. 

Once you got him calm, you looked up at the person hiding on the rock. He had shaggy black hair, and tanned skin with a sweet look on his face. But what caught your attention was his eyes, they were the most beautiful shade of blue you had ever seen. 

Making sure Titus was still sitting, you slowly got up and brushed the sand off. 

“Hello, I’m–uh, I’m Y/N.” you greeted, walking to the rock. You waited for a response, but there wasn’t one. Instead, he just kept staring at you. 

“What’s yours?” 

Dick realized at this point, he should respond. He was so excited that he had found you, he didn’t notice the massive black monster coming straight for him. Until now, Dick had his doubts. But now he knew that he made the right choice, Dick wanted to be with you. Hopefully you felt the same. 

Opening his mouth to respond, Dick’s face fell when he remembered Slade took his voice. 

Picking up on his dilemma, you gave him a soft smile. “Can’t talk?” 

Dick shook his head. 

“Well, good thing I can talk enough for the both of us.” 

Turning his head, Dick hid his smile and the slight tint of red to his cheeks. 

Seeing the thing you dubbed Titus, sat peacefully at your side, DIck slowly slid off the rock and moved to stand. Feeling the sand between his toes was an odd feeling he wasn’t used to yet, and Dick wasn’t sure he liked it. 

Watching him stand, you noticed there was something off about him. His stance was wobbly and if you didn’t know better you’d think he’d never seen sand or a dog before. Titus barked at your side, making him jump. 

A giggle escaped your lips as you knelt down to pet the great dane. “This is Titus. He won’t hurt you, just loves to play and cuddle.” 

Dick gave the animal a questionable look before turning it on you. He trusted you, but would this thing really not hurt him? 

Slowly kneeling next to you, Dick held his hand out flinching when Titus moved his wet nose and nuzzled it against his palm. Seeing that it was true that Titus wouldn’t hurt him, Dick smiled and rubbed his ears like you did. 

Before you could stop it, Titus barked happily and tackled him into the sand in a fit of laughter as the dog licked all over his face.

“Titus!” Getting to your feet, you couldn’t fight the laughter at seeing him wipe the dog drool off his face. “Sorry about that, dogs can get really affectionate and Titus is no exception.” 

Dick shook his head with a smile, trying to relay that it was okay. Looking at the dog –an interesting name for an animal– Dick watched as Titus sat by him with a proud look on his face as if to say that Dick was his now. Not that he was going to complain, even if he had his voice. 

Tilting your head, you were amused at the sight. “Why don’t I bring you back to my place? We can get you washed up and fed, maybe even learn your name?” 

Dick liked the idea of that, a smile forming on his face as he quickly nodded his head. 

Moving to step forward, Dick’s legs went out from under him. Darting forward, you were able to catch him before he hit the ground. 

“You okay?” 

Dick nodded, with a smile as he held onto you to steady himself ignoring the loud thumping of his heart. 

Taking your time, you walked back to your castle together making sure he didn’t take another tumble. All efforts were wasted when a rather large man rushed past the both of you, effectively knocking your friend to the floor. 

“Hey!” you snapped. “Watch where you’re going asshole!” 

What you didn’t notice was the way Dick stared up at you, watching as you muttered under your breath to help him up. “That guy was a real dick.” 

Suddenly his head shot up, moving out of your hold to help him up as his hands waved wildly in the air pointing to himself. Of all things, why did that get a reaction from him?

“Woah,” you chuckled. “Slow down, I can’t understand when you are waving all over.” 

“Start slow.” 

You watched as he took a deep breath before pointing at himself.

“You,” 

He nodded, then moved his hand in the air as if he was writing something. 

“You write? That’s pretty cool, I'm more of an adventurer myself but I–” You stopped, seeing him shake his head. Okay, maybe that wasn’t it.

Pointing to himself again, you nodded and watched him write in the air once again. If he wasn’t saying that he was a writer, what was he writing? 

“You–, Your name?” 

You chuckled as he nodded quickly. “Your name! Did I say it?” 

Again, he nodded, then pointed in the direction the man from earlier had run. 

“I said it on the beach? No, you would’ve reacted then. Did I say it just now?” 

There was another nod. 

Thinking back, you couldn’t come up with anything that could be a name other than…

“Are– are you trying to tell me your name is Dick?” 

Dick beamed, nodding happily. 

“You’re really telling me that your parents named you Dick? You must’ve had a rough childhood.” you chuckled. 

Dick didn’t care, you knew his name. That was the most important thing to him at that moment.

“Well, Dick.” You smiled, “Let’s get you home and washed up. I heard the chef is making something delicious tonight.” 

At the mention of food, Dick’s stomach began to rumble as you helped him to his feet. “Sounds like someone is hungry.” 

Dick’s face grew hot as it turned the lightest shade of pink. 

It didn’t take much longer to get Dick to the castle. It was so much easier now that you knew his name, instead of saying ‘Hey you!’ all the time, you could actually use his name. 

Upon arrival, your best friend and companion Donna Troy ran down the steps with a concerned look on her face. “Y/N, what happened?” 

“Found this guy stranded on the beach, he can’t talk let alone walk.” 

Donna gave him a once over and a look of pity crossed her face before she smiled and helped you guide him up the steps. “Well, I’m sure Roy or Kyle wouldn’t mind helping him out. They need something to do anyway.” 

Dick gave you an apprehensive look at their names, as if he was asking you to not leave his side. 

“Don’t worry Dick, they are great people and my best friends. You can trust them.” 

He seemed to relax at that as you and Donna led him in the massive doors, a look of wonder crossing his face. 

The ceiling was so tall, and Dick had never seen so much sunlight coming through like that before. The light shone on the floor in different colors from the window, matching up to the design above.

“You’ve never seen a stained glass window before?” 

Dick shook his head. 

“Well,” you chuckled. “There are plenty of those and more to see.” 

“Y/N, when I said you need to stop bringing home strays, this was included.” 

You turned on your heel to see Roy coming down the stairs, looking at the scene in front of him. Being your oldest friend, Roy knew you better than most. He was there for you through the passing of your parents, and through the coronation of the new Queen that’s due to happen within a few months. 

“You said stray dogs, you didn’t say anything about stray men.” 

“I hope you know how creepy that sounds,” he laughed, coming to a stop. Looking him over, Roy realized that Kyle wasn’t kidding when he said you were walking up the path with what looked to be a drowned rat personified.

“I’m going to assume he is staying for dinner,”

“Yes,” you nodded. “And for however long after he needs to get back on his feet.” 

Grabbing your arms, Donna huffed. “I need to talk to you, in private.” she hissed. 

Glancing back, you looked at Roy. “Could you and Kyle help him get cleaned up and dressed for dinner? I need to take care of something.” 

Letting out a playful sigh, Roy nodded. “Sure, I don’t mind helping.” Wrapping his arm around Dick’s Roy let him up the stairs and to the right where one of the empty wings of the castle was. Once the two of them were out of sight, Donna dragged you off to one of the nearby rooms.

“Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?” 

Kudos to Donna for holding in her disdain for as long as she did. 

“Donna, you don’t understand,”

“What don’t I understand? You brought home a random stranger, who looks like he has never walked a day in his life.” 

Crossing your arms, you pursed your lips. “He needed help, what was I supposed to do? Let him starve and die of heat stroke on the beach?” 

“No! Of course not I–” 

“Then what was I supposed to do?” 

Donna sighed. “I just wish you would have told one of us first, you never know who’s out there waiting at the beach waiting to steal a pretty girl away.” 

“Aww, you think I’m pretty.” 

There was an audible thump as Donna hit the back of your head. “Will you get serious for once?” 

“I am serious! You didn’t see him out there, the poor guy can’t talk and can barely get around. If I left him, it would’ve eaten me alive.” 

Letting out a sigh, Donna dropped her head. “I know, and that’s one of my favorite things about you. Just promise me you’ll be more careful?” 

Giving your friend a lopsided smile, you didn’t miss the way she rolled her eyes at you. “All right, get out of here and go get ready for dinner.” 

Grinning like an idiot, you took off running to your sweet to wash up and get changed. Since there was going to be a guest for dinner, maybe it was time to dress up a bit. Normally you would wear your basic clothes, but for some reason you wanted to make a good impression. 

Calling one of your hand maidens, Tara, she quickly helped you into a floor length, ocean-blue, chiffon dress. You weren’t sure why you wanted this dress specifically, but the color spoke to you. 

Once your hair was styled, with not a single strand out of place, Terra smiled. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Tara watched as you spun in the mirror, admiring how you looked in the dress. “You wouldn’t by chance be dressing up for our guest, would you?” 

“Don’t be silly Tara, I dressed up because I wanted to.” 

Tara made a face at your back, she knew exactly why. You’d been acting a little antsy since you got back from the beach, almost as if you wanted to be somewhere else and Tara had a good guess as to where. 

“Y/N, you and I both know that you don’t just ‘dress up because you want to’.” Folding one of the blankets, she watched you. “It has to do with that stray you brought home, doesn’t it.” 

“Dick is not a stray,” you huffed. “He is someone who needed help, and I gave it to him.” 

“Not even with the way he looks at you, as if you were the one who molded the world into existence?” 

You turned to look at her with a stern face, “My personal affairs are not of your concern.” you snapped. “Now, if you’re quite finished I have dinner to eat.” 

Walking out the room, you stormed past her and down the stairs missing her snide comments. 

“They are when you get a creature like that to fall in love with you.” 

Once you were down the stairs, there was a low whistle. You turned to see Roy was waiting for you, giving a look with his brow raised. 

“Since when do you clean up this good?” 

“Why is my appearance suddenly everyone’s concern?” 

Roy grinned, poking your forehead. “It’s not every day a stud like that walks through our doors, with you on his arm.” 

“You know I can still kick your ass in this dress and heels?” 

“You know I love women who do?” 

Before you could give him a retort, Roy was shoved out of your view by Donna who looked very unimpressed with his antics. “I doubt they love you as much,” 

Hiding your snickers, you watched as Roy stumbled and gave his friend a glare. “You’re a real bully today, Donna. Who hurt you?” 

“Go look in the mirror.” 

There was snickering coming from the stairs, looking up you saw Kyle and Victor leading Dick down the stairs. Dick was dressed in black slacks, with a white button-up, rolled to his elbows. His hair was still a disheveled mess, but much cleaner as it hung in his face framing it nicely. You tried not to let your eyes linger, but Dick looked breathtaking in formal wear. 

You were so busy looking, you didn't see the four pairs of eyes watching the two of you intently. 

Clearing your throat, you brushed off your dress before making your way to him. Dick’s eyes widened at the sight of you, in the same shade of blue his tail was. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. The way the dress fit your figure, and the chiffon sleeves and low cut neckline had him going a light shade of pink. 

“I hope you’re hungry, Chef Garfield has cooked us up a wonderful meal I hear.” 

Dick nodded happily, feeling Alfred poke his head out the pocket in his pants. Watching as you offered him an arm, Dick couldn’t fight the smile as he took it walking as you led him to the dining room. 

Entering the large hall, you led Dick to the end where you sat, and gave him the seat next to you. The meal was already laid out, on covered silver platters with Garfield standing by with a proud look on his face. 

“Come on in, come on in.” he beamed. “Geez, when Vic said you found a random guy he wasn’t kidding!” 

“Gar, is now really the time?” 

He just shrugged with a grin, “When is it not the time?” he countered.

Rolling your eyes, you took your seat along with everyone else. Roy was sat to your right, and Dick was at your left instead of Donna for tonight. “What did you make us tonight?” 

“Well, I know how you all are partial to seafood,” he started. You swore you saw Dick’s face pale. “So I made the exact opposite, and cooked up a fresh quinoa salad complete with tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, olive, pine nuts, and chickpeas. All topped with some feta cheese and olive oil.” 

Dick let out a breath, relief washing through him. For a minute there he thought he was going to eat fish, or worse. 

Everyone was served within a few minutes, and idle chatter flowed through the room with Dick listening to and hanging on every word you said. You were currently retelling the story of the day you met Roy, when his family came down from their kingdom to visit your parents. 

Dick rested his chin on his hand as he watched, smiling at the way you waved your arms telling about when the two of you got caught riding the horses through the ballroom, before shoving Roy off his seat when he made a snide comment. 

How he longed to tell you the stories of him and his childhood, when each sibling was adopted, the first time he rode a seahorse, when Tim thought it was a good idea to tie his fin to the back of a manta ray and let it carry him with it, to “see how it felt to be one of them.”, the day Jason came back from the dead, the day Damian was brought to them by his mother, the day Stephanie became someone he both trusted and feared; Dick had so much history. It killed him not being able to share it with you. 

Roy glanced out of the corner of his eye, the way Dick was watching you. A grin formed on his face. “Y/N, why don’t you tell your new friend the story of how you met Kyle?” 

“Why would I tell him that? I’m embarrassed enough just knowing you.” 

“Aww, but you love me.” he teased.

“Like a vampire loves garlic.” 

Dick was really confused now. Vampires? Garlic? What were those, and what did they have to do with Roy and Kyle?

You spared him a glance, and saw the curious look on his face which instantly made you melt. Dropping your head with a sigh, you conceded. “Alright.” 

Dick moved closer, ready to hear the story. 

“It was after I met Roy, he told me he was coming to visit with his friend. This was before my parents died and they came to stay here with me,” You started. “But, I didn’t know who this friend of his was, didn’t even know his name.” 

Everyone seemed to be silent, listening intently to the story they all knew by this point. 

“Anyway, I was a teenager at the time and I come down the steps to see this random guy standing there as if he was waiting for something. We get to talking, get each other’s names and um, well–” you stopped suddenly, feeling your face heat up at the memory. 

Tilting his head, Dick wanted you to go on ready to hear the rest of the story. 

Roy being the stellar best friend he was, grinned like a hyena. “What’s wrong Y/N, can’t remember how the story ends?” he teased. 

“Harper I swear, if you keep talking I will–” 

“What Y/N is leaving out is that not even an hour later, I caught the two of them alone in a closet with their tongues down each other’s throats.” 

Dick’s ears went pink right as you stood from your seat and grabbed Roy by the collar and drug him out of the dining hall. Ignoring the looks from everyone, you pulled him into the foyer and shut the door behind you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss. “Why did you bring that up?” 

When he didn’t answer, you punched his arm. “Answer me dammit,” 

Rubbing the spot you punched, Roy only chuckled. “You clearly didn’t see the way he was clinging to every word you said. I wanted to get a gist of how smitten Dick already is for you.” 

Your anger was bubbling, ready to maim the red headed idiot in front of you. 

“So that gives you the right? I don’t care how anyone looks at me, what I care about is you sharing personal information without asking me first.” you snapped. 

Roy chewed his lip and dropped his head with a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

Feeling a little less angry, you crossed your arms. “It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” 

After another twenty minutes or so, dinner was over and everyone was retiring to their rooms for the night. Hanging back, you waved to your friends as the disappeared before walking Dick back to his room. 

“Sorry about what happened with Roy, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” 

Dick only smiled, and shook his head to tell you it was okay.

Giving him a smile back, you clasped your hands behind you as you walked together. “So, what do you think of the palace so far?” 

At your question, Dick’s face lit up as he waved is hands around mouthing words you couldn’t understand. Seeing him so excited made you giggle, Dick stopping seeing that you were laughing at him with a blush on his cheeks. 

“We really need to find a better way to communicate.” 

Dick held his hand out, and wrote something in the air. 

“That is a good point, we could always write to communicate.” you smiled. 

Dick only grinned. 

Stopping outside his door, you rocked on your heels as Dick looked around at his surroundings. 

“So…” you trailed off, rubbing the back of your neck. “I wanted to see if you’d like a tour of the kingdom tomorrow?” 

Dick nodded vigorously, a bright smile on his face. 

“Great! I’ll be sure that Roy or Kyle leave some casual clothes for you tomorrow.” 

Unable to hide his excitement, Dick grinned like a fool in love. Which he was. 

He loved the way you looked in the dress, the color suiting you well. Not to mention he was excited to spend the day with you tomorrow. 

“Get some sleep then,” you answered. “We have a long day ahead of us.” 

Surprised he could nod even more than before, Dick smiled and kissed your cheek before bouncing into his room. 

Reaching a hand up, you touched the spot he kissed feeling your face heat up. How was he so cute and adorable? Walking back to your room, Tara was there to help you out of the dress before you slipped into a nightgown. 

“Tara, make sure my coach is ready to go for tomorrow please. I plan on taking Dick out on the town,” 

“Yes ma’am,” she responded, before lowering the flame on the lamp on your bedside table. “Will you need anything else?” 

You shook your head. “No thank you, have a good night.” you smiled before climbing into the bed. 

Tara nodded, exiting your room and shutting the door behind her. 

Walking to her own room, Tara locked the door behind her and walked to her vanity and sat on the stool. Checking the time, Tara tapped her foot. He was supposed to make contact within the next ten minutes, so she could give him an update. 

No sooner did the thought finish in her head, did the mirror in front of her swirl around and Slade appeared on it. 

“What’s the news kid? Did our merprince find his princess?” 

Tara huffed, “Oh he found her alright, and she is absolutely smitten.” 

Slade made an unimpressed noise, “You know, the only way for this deal of ours to follow through is if you hold up your end of it.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Tara hissed, “It’s kind of hard when everyone is forsaken castle can see the googly-eyes they’re making at each other.” 

“So, give them a reason to not. Lie, steal, cheat, do whatever the hell you can to stop them from falling in love. It’s your life on the line here, not mine sweetheart.” 

“I know,” she growled. “Who’d have thought that eternal servitude to you would be such a pain in the ass?” 

“I did.” 

Tara rolled her eyes, “They’re going into town tomorrow for a tour. I’ll sabotage it the best I can, but I might need some help.” 

Slade tapped his chin, his features illuminated by the lime green emanating from his cauldron. Looking around, he smiled once he found what he was looking for. Grabbing a blue bottle from a shelf, Slade held it up for her to see. 

“See this? Just a few drops will ensure their trip does not go to plan.” 

Tara reached through the mirror and took it, the bottle was lighter than she thought it would be. “What am I supposed to do with it?” 

“A few drops in their drink should suffice,” he answered. “Remember Tara, don’t let them fall in love.” 

Tara nodded, watching as the mirror swirled again before she was met with her reflection. Looking at the bottle again, Tara let out a sigh. It seemed she had a job to do. 

Taglist: @bluejay-the-geek @offendedfishnoises @niggxrette @restwellsoon @urlocalpari

#THIS TOOK ME OVER AN HOUR TO FUCKING POST BECAUSE THE DAMN WEBSITE BOGGED MY LAPTOP DOWN SO BAD IT MOVED AT A SNAILS PACE. #YOU ASSHOLES BETTER READ THIS OR I WILL SCREAM. #costly affairs #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson fic #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson reader insert #nightwing reader insert #nightwing fic #nightwing fanfic #nightwing fanfiction #dc comics #the little mermaid #mermaid au #merman au

[sophieswundergarten]

Does anybody want to hear about my 100% fabricated Cannonball backstory?

So, imagine this kid. Maybe he's got parents, maybe he doesn't. I think he probably lost his family at a young age and was sent to live with a great aunt/uncle who has a huge house and doesn't really mind if he runs around on his own all day.

At age seven, he gets his hands on a copy of Treasure Island it becomes he favourite book. He reads it cover to cover in three days, staying up as late as he can and reading under the sheets until he falls asleep and wakes up with his face on the still-open book.

There's a small stream on the edge of the property, and he spends every day down there, studying the water currents and watching the different kinds of leaves drift down it. Once he steals an entire package of toothpicks and takes an afternoon holed up in his room making as perfect a model of a ship he can.

After that, his guardians begin to take notice. He receives model kits and books on the history of sailing and every space second of his is devoted to knot-tying. He always keeps a slender piece of rope in his pocket, and it becomes a soothing habit for him to tie and untie it, often without looking, or under his desk to avoid attention when he's at school.

He doesn't get along with the other children very well, though not for lack of trying. They just aren't interested in hearing him list each part of a sailing ship or debating the merit of a sloop versus a schooner. So, he spends most of his free periods reading and sketching and closing his eyes and imagining what it would be like to feel the wind on his face.

What he does excel at is history, especially navy battles. He loves the strategy and the careful planning and the weighing of pros and cons and it delights him whenever the topic in class turns to maritime warfar.

As soon as school lets out he runs the whole way home, back up the hill to the empty old house that has far too many rooms full of stagnant air. He relishes the feeling of the breeze through his hair, seeking out storms and studying the sky to catalogue weather patterns.

All he wants is to be free. To be free of the small-minded people, and the children at his school that regard him strangely, to be free of the same streets and the same sights and the same people who seem content to never set foot anywhere but the dirt they and their family had grown out of.

He comes home full of tales of distant lands and the people and cultures there and dreams of the smell of the sea.

As soon as he turns thirteen, lying awake as the clock strikes midnight as he is taunted by the sound of waves crashing still echoing from his dreams, he decides he's had enough.

He packs a bag, just the necessities (And his well-worn copy of Treasure Island), and leaves a note on the breakfast table.

Then he sets out, following the path to the sea that he'd charted in his mind hundreds of times, chasing the faint cries of seagulls.

He finds a ship, even in the early morning light he can recognise the different classes of each vessel in the harbor. He slips aboard, hiding himself away behind some crates below deck, exhausted from his journey but feeling a thrill of exhilaration as the gentle rocking sends him into the most peaceful sleep of his life.

He figured he'd sleep here so he could find the first crew member aboard in a few hours and beg for a position on the ship, but when he wakes to the afternoon sunlight slanting down into the hold, he knows instantly that this is not the tender rocking of a boat moored not ten feet from the dock. These are the waves only found when one is really truly at sea.

And, despite himself, he can't help but be excited.

Cautiously emerging, he sees a flurry of motion that sparks something in him he hasn't felt in years. He makes note of each task being done, hoping his expertise (Academic though it is) will prove a good bargaining chip with the captain.

He knows exactly where the captain's quarters would be on a ship of this size, and carefully makes his way to the door, knocking hesitantly before hearing an invite to enter.

He is greeted with a slightly shabby but nonetheless friendly looking man, studying a map on his desk. He looks up in surprise at the sight of an unaccounted for child on his ship, but quickly masks it with a professional look.

The boy is too smart for that, though, and he's seen that look shared between teachers before they gently but firmly tell him that while impressive, his report on why a field trip to the marina would be beneficial is of course ridiculous.

Silent tears start dripping down his cheeks, as he lays out his whole story for the captain and begs for even the smallest position on his ship. He won't even ask to be paid, all he needs is to be on the ocean. He's been longing for it all his life, and now that he's finally experienced it the siren song will surely drive him mad if he's deposited back in that horrible landlocked schoolhouse.

The captain is slightly taken aback by this, but his first instinct is to give the boy a hug. He tells him that they will have to dock soon, and then he will be having a very frank discussion with the child's guardians, but he sees no reason why he shouldn't be able to take up an apprenticeship with them.

And, as Cannonball heaves a sigh into the captain's shoulder, he recognizes that feeling that's been calling out to him for so long, the one that immediately slid into place in his heart. The feeling of coming home

#DO I KNOW IF NOLAND WOULD BE CAPTAINING A NON-NAVY BOAT AT THIS POINT IN TIME? #NO #DO I CARE? #N O P E #the mysterious benedict society #mbs #cannonball mbs #captain noland #phil noland #Also I know Treasure Island isn't really a sailing ship book as much as it's a pirate book #But it's the book that actually made me think I might want to try being on a boat #I love that book so dearly #My anxiety brain says we're never ever getting on a ship in a million years #But Cannonball's not me :)