#water drop gemstone

[femmesbijoux]

Natural Gemstones Water Drop Necklace Jewelry

#sterling silver necklaces #handmade nekclace #necklaces #necklace for women #water drop gemstone #silver necklace #silver chain necklace #oxidized necklaces #gemstone jewelry #gift for her #silver jewelry #jewellery #wedding necklaces #birthday gifts #christmas gifts #handcrafted #statement necklaces #rainbow moonstone #moonstone necklace #turquoise necklace #moonstone jewelry #turquoise jewelry #larimar necklace #larimar gemstone #larimar jewelry #blue stone necklace #black onyx necklace #black onyx jewelry #black stone necklace #teardrop necklace

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eleven

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None. Gwyn and Y/n bond over books. Azriel and Y/n get even closer — this had me kicking my feet and screaming internally and externally

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Rhysand’s training sessions always started with him sliding over ten objects: a book, a piece of jewelry, an article of clothing — anything he could find with meaning for you to discern.

“This one is Mor’s.” You held the red satin box in your hands. Two months ago you would have only been able to tell him who it belonged to. Maybe nothing at all. The meaning held by the object was weak. The jewelry too new. Unworn. But now you could harness your power with more precision, like you’d finally been handed an image of the puzzle you were trying to complete so you knew what to look for. “You bought it two months ago at Cizero’s as a Winter Solstice gift.” 

“And what is it exactly?” 

The box was still closed. 

You pushed your power forward, imagining light slipping in through the seam of the box. An image flashed in your mind. It was blurry, but held onto its form long enough for you to make it out. 

“Drop earrings. Rubies,” you said with a straight back before dropping the box into Rhysand’s open palm.

He smirked and clicked it open. Gold banded rubies hung from the backing like bloody tears, each drop separated by a diamond that flashed brighter than the stars in the ever darkening sky. 

You dared to smile, staring at the jewelry with a level of satisfaction you hadn’t felt since being handed top marks as an apprentice. 

“Very nicely done.” 

The box disappeared back into his desk beside a glimmering gemstone the size of your fist wrapped in tissue paper. 

It’s probably for Amren. You thought to yourself. Azriel told you she loved shiny things and hoarded her treasures like a crow. Hence why she’d yet to return from Summer with Varian. 

You moved on to the next portion of your exercises. With a feather light touch, Rhysand laid his hands on your palms, your wrists, your forearm, your shoulders. He moved up and down your body, waiting a minute for you to control yourself before touching the next flash of exposed skin. It was still difficult to completely contain your power, but you were getting better at moving it around your body. When he reached for your hands, you slid the magic up to your chest. When he reached for your knees, it moved down to your ankles. It was a delicate dance, like the curling of ocean water away from the shore or the splitting of a river around a stone. 

You did what you could to experience the touches with a clinical detachment and Rhysand did as well. He was careful. He stopped the moment you let out a gasp of surprise at the feeling of warm skin pressed against your own and there wasn’t an ounce of judgement written in his beautiful features when you trembled beneath his touch. 

“Take your time,” he said encouragingly.

For him, touch was a necessary part of life. He always had an arm slung over Cassian’s shoulders or wrapped around Feyre’s waist. He fell asleep with his mate pressed against him and he walked around the River House with Nyx on his shoulders and Velaria curled up in his arms. But there were also mornings when he’d wake up in a cold sweat, the feeling of Amarantha’s red-tipped nails dragging down his chest like she wanted to take more from him than just his body. Those were the days Feyre knew to give him his space. 

“Take all the time that you need.”

Rhys stepped away. You steadied your breath and took time to record your progress in the journal you kept close by. Although there was no true way to quantify your learning, your Day Court training never left you and you wrote down what little could be put into words — for posterity’s sake. Then maybe the next Clairvoyant the Mother willed into existence would have an easier time navigating this than you. 

Gwyn found you squirreled away in your usual reading room, back bowed over a flurry of books and note pages like a reed in the wind. You reached for the mug on the desk only to find it disappointingly empty. Unlike the River House, the Library did not fuel your caffeine addiction with reckless abandon. 

She floated over, abandoning the cart of books she’d been tasked with returning that night. Her legs were throbbing from the split squats Cassian had coached her through that evening, and she was desperate for a break. 

“Some light reading, I see?” she teased, sinking into the seat across from you. 

You looked up, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. It took a few moments for Gwyn’s shape to come into focus. 

“What?” The word slurred coming out of your mouth.

She tapped the ever growing pile of papers beside you. Your manuscript: 120 hand-written pages and counting. When the book became too frustrating to handle, you abandoned it in exchange for another productive task. Even if the 120 pages you’d reproduced were utter garbage.

You groaned, forehead slamming against the wood with a clatter. Thoughts of white blood cells, lymphatic vessels, and innate and acquired immunity knotted in your brain like the world’s worst game of cat’s cradle.

Gwyn would have found it amusing if she didn’t know just how much time you spent within the mountain. You’d effectively been adopted by the priestesses. Lurking here and there like a cat coming in from the cold. And you were just as disapproving as a stray. Gwyn would often catch you among the stacks, mumbling about the disorganization and how you couldn’t work in such paltry conditions. 

“Cauldron boil me, I’m sorry for asking.” Gwyn raised her hands in surrender. 

You let out a great, heaving sigh. “It’s not you.” 

“Oh I know it’s not me. You look like you’ve been dragged through a gutter.” 

You blinked wearily at the lovely priestess.

“A very clean, well-managed gutter.” She grinned. Her skin shone, reflecting the pale, fuzzy moonlight that filtered through the window above and doused the library in a silver sheen. 

“Thank you, Gwyn.” 

“Anytime.” She drummed her nails against the table, the beat of it almost sending you to sleep. “How long have you been here today?” she asked with concern.

“I don’t know. What time is it?”

“After midnight.” 

“Oh.” 

“How long?” Gwyn repeated and you dragged a hand down your face. 

“Seven hours? Give or take?” Your stomach growled. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

Gwyn grabbed you by the end of your robes, tugging you up several floors and down an unfamiliar hallway until you stopped in front of a teal-blue tapestry. Selkies, sirens, and water nymphs dove in and out of rippling waters highlighted by iridescent beads. She flung it to the side and pressed her hand against the bare stone. The slab sank into the wall and then slid open to reveal a cream-colored room adorned with bundles of babies' breath. 

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to the neatly made bed. You swayed dangerously on your feet. 

“I’m really fine. I didn’t mean to bother you.” 

“Sit. Down.” She cut you with a lethal gaze Nesta would be proud of. 

You snapped your mouth shut, shuffled across the carpeted floor, and sank into the queen-sized bed. You played with the ties of your robe wrapping them around your finger, then unwrapping them, then wrapping them again.

King Tiberion, third of the Nachmanian line, born Aschieron Cambria Nostrus Tiberion Dalgna to Effel Taul and foreign-born…

Found dead at a young three-hundred-and-ninety-two years of age at the hands of her brother. Spell cleaver or not, Ingrid…

Something like a lock and a key. Magic that’s perfectly complementary might be afforded the unique ability to seal… and break… gods I’m tired… 

There have only been seven recorded Shadowsingers in history: Lovania Vallant born 895 in the age of Alders (see ref. 18992HBG Carstairs), Gherald Dashiv born 1459 in the age of — 

Gwyn snapped her fingers in front of you, pulling your mind out of the hurricane of thoughts. You were a strange creature. You spoke little, moved about the Library as quiet as a mouse, and you had an interesting habit of running your fingers along every book on the shelf. Back and forth, back and forth you’d run along before jerking to a stop like one of the books had caught you at the end of a fishing lure. 

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” you repeated. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Some would say that’s a good thing. It would make me incredibly trustworthy, at least when it comes to responding to things. I’d be terrible at keeping secrets, unless I was very careful about how I went about things. You know how it is. With the things.” 

Gwyn huffed with silent laughter and opened one of the cabinets in her small, makeshift kitchen. “Eat.” She commanded again and you were too slow to catch the sleeve of biscuits she tossed in your direction. It bounced off your forehead and landed in your lap. “I’ll be right back with something more substantial.” 

The door shut with a puff of air and you were left to chew on the chocolate and orange biscuits in silence. 

Gwyn’s room faced the city and you saw the lamplights burning through the windows that had been cut into the mountain rock, mimicking the stars that twinkled overhead like salt poured onto black glass. 

Cream satin sheets caught the moonlight until it glowed and you had the sudden urge to tip back and fall into oblivion. You could work for a long while, so long as you didn’t sit still long enough for the exhaustion to catch up to you — which you were doing now. 

You shoved another biscuit in your mouth, now almost halfway through the sleeve. It helped settle the hollowness in your stomach so you could pick yourself up and move over to the bookshelf. 

Bodice ripper, bodice ripper, murder mystery, bodice ripper, romantic comedy, found family adventure, spy thriller, bod—

Your face went red. Damn.

The priestess chose that moment to return to her room carrying a tray laden with bread, orange slices, and a thick mushroom stew leftover from dinner. She froze, pale cheeks turning a dusty rose as you silently pushed the book back onto the shelf. 

“Dragon-born? Really?” You shoved a burning spoonful of stew in your mouth and drowned the stale crust of bread, waiting for it to get sufficiently soggy enough you could chew it.

Gwyn groaned and buried her face in her pillows. “It was a phase.”

“Must have been a very long phase. You have the whole series and I know it took her thirty years to write them all.” 

Her head shot up. “How do you know?” 

“I read the first book.”

You sat up straighter, back pressed up against the closet that housed her daily robes, ceremonial garb, training gear, and Valkyrie armour. 

“So how can you judge me?!” 

“It makes no anatomical sense, Gwyn!” You threw your hands up in the air. “She’s four feet shorter than him. He’d sooner tear her in half before giving her any pleasure, and I’m not talking about his claws.”

The priestess scoffed. “Have some imagination, Y/n.” 

You huffed and pulled out a notebook from your ample pockets. You both spent the next thirty minutes going through hastily drawn sketches that would have disappointed Feyre to no end testing out your imaginative capabilities. Gwyn couldn’t stop smiling at you as you moved your hands through the air with animated fervor. Half of what you said didn’t make sense, but she would blame it on your sleep deprivation. 

You had Gwyn in stitches. The female hung off the bed, red-brown hair brushing the ground as she gasped for breath. You looked like you were sitting on the ceiling, black robes pooled around your knees like shadows. 

That sobered Gwyn up a bit. It was a real shame she liked you as much as she did. It made it harder for her to stay mad at Azriel.

And as if you read her mind, you asked, “Why don’t you come around to the River House?”

“What?” She wasn’t laughing anymore. 

“Why don’t you come to the River House?” You asked again. “You’re close friends with Nesta. You’re part of the Inner Circle. You have a guest room there, but I haven’t seen you at the house.” 

“Do you even spend enough time at the River House to know?”

“Yes.” 

Gwyn sighed and straightened up, folding her legs neatly beneath her on the bed. “Some… Some things happened a couple years ago. I won’t bore you with the details and I don’t know if I even have the right to tell you everything, but it’s colored the way the Inner Circle works now.”

“The details are the most important part,” you murmured, “I wish I had more details. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a stranger in that house.”

“You’re not a stranger,” Gwyn reassured you. “Is that why you spend so much time here?” she asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Yes and no. It feels closer to home here. Even if your lack of organization has made my job ten times more difficult. I don’t see why you haven’t adopted any kind of classification system. It’s a small library. It would be very easy to implement.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Gods, you were tired. The feeling came and went in waves. “I shouldn’t complain though, everyone has been incredibly kind and welcoming. Especially Azriel.” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers fluttering against your shoulders. You tucked your chin into your elbows and tried not to think about that glorious night of sleep with only Azriel and his shadows. Waking up with his chest rising and falling on the floor beside you.

You were falling for him and you knew it. Gods did you know it. Or maybe you could convince yourself you weren’t falling yet, but it was a steady march to the cliff’s edge and you weren’t stopping anytime soon.

Gwyn felt her heart stutter. “Oh? He’s usually so… quiet and… reserved.”

You thought about it for a long while. 

“I don’t think he’s nearly as quiet as everyone believes him to be,” you said thoughtfully, “I think he just speaks in his own way.” 

 You were right about Godswood and The Gallows. 

The letter arrived on your desk early in the morning. 

The Bookkeeper, Taunum Hyst, was found trying to burn books in the western greenwoods along with some texts from Argot’s. He fought back against the guards sent to retrieve him, but he didn’t know what he was doing. Even now he’s confused and adamant that the last three weeks have been a blur. There’s a daemati at work here. Someone other than Henna. Rhysand knows, if he hasn’t already told you.

I’ve sent a translated folktale in old Bauldish and Common, and another in Demnyon along with the others you asked for. They might be worth looking into to help with the book. I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Night Court. Happy hunting and stay safe. 

~ Helion 

You were right. 

You dropped the letter, hands coming up to your mouth as you took in a deep, shaky breath. You knew Taunum Hyst. You could picture his salt-grey braids and coal-black skin. He’d helped perform the funeral rites for your mother. Hell he’d managed to make you laugh that terrible day. 

 Your stomach turned. If there truly was another daemati left in the Day Court that could help explain the killings. Either the Librarians could have died trying to keep the knowledge in their minds safe, or the daemati had made them kill themselves before moving onto their next victim. You didn’t know which was more tragic. 

The clock rang eleven bells and you hastily folded up the paper, dropping it into the box along with the rest of your father’s letters.  

“I think this might be the first time you’ve ever been late,” Rhysand said with an amused smirk. He leaned against the doorway to his office, ankles crossed over one another. Did that male ever stand normally? 

“It is the first time.”

“Of course you would know that.” 

You smirked, pushing open the door to find—

“Azriel?” 

The Shadowsinger stood with his hands neatly folded behind his back. “Y/n?”

“Cassian!” The Lord of Bloodshed leapt in front of his brother, arms spread wide. “I’m also here. Nesta couldn’t make it with Valkyrie training.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes with affection. She reached for Rhysand’s hand without thinking and he accepted with barely a glance. They were two magnets, always pulled towards one another in space.

“What’s going on?” You glanced back and forth between them all. It had always been just you and Rhysand during these lessons. 

“I thought it would be good to start practicing with other people when it comes to physical touch,” Rhysand explained. Azriel’s nostrils flared. “You’re getting comfortable with me, which I’m happy about. But I want you to get comfortable with everyone else too.” 

You told me you wanted another debrief about the Mortal Lands. Azriel was loath to admit that just the thought of touching your hand was making his heart race like a schoolboy. 

And I do. Rhysand said rather smugly, as if he already knew Azriel was freaking out inside. But I also know you wouldn’t have agreed to this if I asked you ahead of time. It’s amusing to see you like this, brother. Have you forgotten how to touch a female? His violet eyes glittered with mischief.

Azriel swallowed, eyes trained on you as you mulled over Rhysand’s comment and nodded. You wanted to be comfortable too. Comfortable in your body. Comfortable with other people touching you.   

You thought of what it might feel like to have Azriel’s hand tucked beneath your chin, not just his shadows, and shivered. 

Azriel nearly choked when you started undoing the ties of your robes. The gold embroidered fabric slipped off your shoulders in a soft hush that had Azriel going rigid. You wore traditional Night Court fashion beneath your Librarian robes — a tight black shirt revealed the gentle curves of your arms, the cut of your collarbones against your chest, the thin band of flesh around your stomach; a breezy skirt with slits cut into the sides that revealed flashes of your thighs with every movement you made. 

Feyre, Rhysand, and Cassian all shared looks, nearly bursting out laughing at the way Azriel’s shadows were in flight around him. A swarm of bees buzzing and murmuring about how beautiful you looked. 

Azriel had seen many fae in his time in various states of undress. He’d seen males and females in the Court of Nightmares parade about in scraps of silk and lace. He’d taken countless lovers to bed. Bodies were something he knew well. Something he knew intimately. But he had never felt so flustered as he did looking at you like this. He thought his heart might just burst in his chest.

Cassian elbowed Azriel in the ribs when you weren’t looking and one of Azriel’s shadows looped around his ponytail and pulled. 

“Ow.” Cassian rubbed the back of his head with a grin. “Rude.”

You felt rather ridiculous standing in the center of the room with your arms and legs stretched out to the side. 

“Right arm,” Rhysand called out. 

Cassian bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, fists held loose by his sides with the lightness of a male a quarter of his size.

You squinted. Is he… is he about to punch me? 

Cassian read the alarm on your face and grinned, hitting you with a tap gentler than rainfall. 

You snorted, but felt nothing. Perfect.

You had to be grateful for Cassian’s light-heartedness. He had the worry melting off your shoulders. With every limb that Rhys called out, Cassian would do a little dance before punching you or kicking you. At one point he even faked a blow to your face, spinning up to you before leaping into the air and shooting out his right leg. You didn’t flinch as his boot swung an inch away from your face. You could smell the rubber soles of his boots. 

“You missed,” you teased. 

Cassian pouted, turning around to walk back to the wall now that he was finished with his piece. Azriel looked ready to tear his head off his body. 

You’re lucky you missed. Azriel’s eyes screamed across the room. You’d be a dead man if you hurt her.

Cassian winked and blew him a kiss.

Feyre was next. You practiced brushing against her like you would do in a crowded street complete with the obligatory fumbling of apologies. 

“Oh good heavens.” Feyre fanned her face like the old, upper-class women in her village used to do and laid on that sickly sweet accent they all had. “I’m so dreadfully sorry.” — They never were. 

She shook your hand and touched your shoulders and looped her arm around your waist. That was the part that had you worried. You slid your power away from every inch of your skin, wrapped it up like a secret, and held it deepin your chest. 

“Good.” Rhysand smiled and Cassian punched the air. 

You breathed deeply and gave a small bow like you’d just finished a performance. But there was still one person you were meant to touch today, and they made you the most nervous of all.

Azriel stepped forward, a picture of calm. Inside, he was raging like a storm. He kept his hands firmly grasped behind his back, wings pressed so tightly he felt his shoulders start to ache. 

You took a step forward as well, tilting your head back to look at him. You felt the grip on your power falter when he held out his hand palm up like he was asking you for a dance. Months ago at the Summer Solstice ball you’d been approached by a number of males hoping for a song with their hands at your waist and at your shoulder. The prospect of that kind of touch had terrified you then, and it still terrified you now but for different reasons. Because this time, you wanted it. 

You wanted him.

You gently slid your hand into his, feeling the scars roll beneath your soft skin like the mountains that surrounded Velaris. Your breath caught in your throat, but before Azriel could rip his hand away you held on and squeezed reassuringly. 

You’d read hundreds, if not thousands, of romance novels in your time. You’d consumed them with a ravenous hunger, surviving on them when real touch felt like a hopeless dream and the loneliness became too much to bear. And in nearly every single one of them, the first touch between lovers was described as an explosion of color. A dangerous shaking of the world down to its foundations. A cataclysmic event. 

But you were surprised to find that they were wrong. They were all wrong. Azriel wasn’t destroying anything. He was mending. 

It felt like a re-centering. The shifting of a leaning tower so it stood upright again. 

A blissful silence. 

Azriel cradled your hand in his, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles. He couldn’t help what he did next, couldn’t have stopped himself even if Helion stood at his back with murder in his eyes. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your hand with such reverence, such tenderness, that you swore your heart was glowing in your chest.

“Why don’t you try a hug, Y/n?” Rhysand suggested when Azriel had straightened. “If you want.” 

You looked down at your feet where shadows swarmed, and then up at Azriel.

“What do you say, Y/n?” Azriel murmured softly. His words were for you and you only. “Where would you have me touch you?” His hazel eyes caught the light before scattering into a thousand brilliant colors. 

Wordlessly you ran your fingers down his arms, tracing the shape of the muscle beneath the leather. You held his hands and gently led them up to your waist, gasping when he made contact. His warm fingers brushed the exposed skin of your waist before sliding around to your back. 

You balanced on the tips of your toes, looping your arms around his neck before resting your face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He smelled like leather and the mountains. Wind and rain and nightfall coalescing into something so uniquely him you could pick him out in a room of thousands with your eyes closed.

It started out as a loose, misshapen thing, your hands and his arms searching for the right grip to hold your bodies together. But once you found it, you were lost.

Azriel wrapped his arms around your back and waist, hands splayed out like he was absorbing you into him. And you were no better. You buried your face in his neck, lips pressed up against the curve of his throat so you could feel the rhythmic rush of blood through his veins. 

He refused to be the first to let go. The roof could cave in. The floor could drop out from beneath your feet. He would not let you go. 

Your tears started out slow, coupled by ragged, shallow breaths. 

“I’ve got you, Y/n,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve got you.”

How long had it been since you’d been held like this? A hundred years? Two hundred? You thought you’d learned to live without it, but now that it was yours you didn’t think you’d ever, ever be able to give it up. You were at the cliff’s edge now and without an ounce of hesitation you flung yourself over and into the abyss.

With Azriel, controlling your powers didn’t seem like such a difficult thing. Later that evening when you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, you realized you hadn’t been thinking of control at all.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all... THEY FINALLY TOUCHED EACH OTHER! And not only that, BUT HE KISSED HER HAND!!! And! They fucking HUGGED!!!!

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slow burn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

[archaeologicalnews]

Stockpile of 2,000-year-old gemstones found in Roman bathhouse drain

Archaeologists recently uncovered a stockpile of 2,000-year-old glittering gemstones clogging the drain of a Roman bathhouse near Hadrian's Wall in Carlisle, England.

The 30 engraved, semi-precious stones — known as intaglios — likely dropped out of the ring settings worn by bathers who took to the waters sometime during the second and third centuries A.D., The Guardian reported.

"It's incredible," Frank Giecco, the archaeologist who led the excavation, told The Guardian. "It's caught everyone's imagination. They were just falling out of people's rings who were using the baths. They were set with a vegetable glue and, in the hot and sweaty bathhouse, they fell out of the ring settings." Read more.

#archaeology #gemstones #archeology #england #bath house #intaglios

[hotyanderedaddies]

Hello mate

Would you ever be interested in writing something for a yandere Pirate x (navy) Admiral male reader?

Yandere Pirate Boards Your Ship for His Treasure

[Yandere! Pirate x GN! Admiral! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You're an admiral on one of the Navy's most prestigious ships, and you were on a mission to deliver some precious cargo back to your country. Said cargo was traded goods, including gold and precious gemstones.

Word had gotten out regarding what your ship would be transporting, hence, your crew was on high alert for any pirates that might try to come and take it.

You were at the wheel of the ship when the bell from the lookout post started to ring. "Pirates!" the lookout shouted, altering you to the potential danger.

You grabbed your binoculars and tried to look out over the water for a sign of any pirate ship, but the thick fog helped to shield the lingering threat. Unfortunately, once the fog cleared enough for you to see, it was too late.

The pirate ship was dangerously close, enough for the pirate crew to start tossing ropes on board to your ship, some of them hopping on board to start attacking.

But that wasn't what made your heart drop.

You vaguely recognized the name on the side of the pirate ship: The Blackheart.

It was the ship belonging to one of the most infamous pirates on the Seven Seas, a dangerous pirate who went by the moniker "Daddy", and who was always successful when it came to taking whatever he wanted.

"Fuck," you spat under your breath.

The commotion happened so quickly that you didn't even have time to grab your weapon and help defend your ship, until the door to the steering room was kicked open and in walked Daddy.

The tall pirate had a joyful expression on his face, and he smiled widely as he looked over at you.

"Well, well," he said with a chuckle, "if it isn't Admiral Y/N. You know, I've been following your ship quite a while now, and I wasn't sure I'd get the chance to board. But as fate would have it, here I am."

"Yeah, here you are," you spat, "now leave!"

You tried to grab your sword, but Daddy was a lot faster than you, and he snatched it out from your reach.

"Not so fast, Darling," he laughed. "You see, I'm not goin' nowhere without my treasure." He crossed his strong arms in front of himself and waited, expectantly

From the opened door, you could see Daddy's crew rallying yours on the deck, having easily defeated them. They were starting to tie them up and you began to fear the worst.

Of course you had a mission, but you believed that your true duty was ensure your crew members' safety as opposed to some gold coins and shiny rocks.

"Fine," you relented, your shoulders falling. "Just let my crew go."

Daddy puffed out his chest with pride and stalked closer to you, completely towering over you with his intimidating bulk. "Oh?" he teased. "Are you givin' up already, Admiral?"

You scowled, avoiding his eyes.

"Just take your treasure and go," you muttered, clenching your fists angrily.

"Gladly," Daddy exclaimed.

Daddy stalked even closer to you and quickly tossed you over his broad shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

"W-wait!" you cried out, confused. "What?"

"Don't act so surprised, my treasure," Daddy chuckled as he carried you out of the steering room and over to the edge of your ship. With one mighty leap, he brought you onto his ship, and stalked over to the room on the deck that was without a doubt the captain's quarters.

Daddy kicked this door open too, revealing a tiny room with a double-sized bed. There was a singular nightstand beside the bed and on it was... a small picture frame with a picture of you in it.

You looked up at the pirate with confusion written all over your face.

Daddy only chuckled in response, closing the door shut behind you two.

"Oh, Darling," Daddy said in his deep voice, "I've been following you across the seas for a long time now. I've been so desperate to get my treasure, and now that I finally have it, I'm never letting it go..."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere daddy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend #asks #pirate #yandere pirate #pirate x you #pirate x reader #yandere pirate x reader #admiral reader

[focalove]

Aventurine is a busy person, that is for sure. But has anyone wondered what he does in his free time?

You have, to say the least.

For you, Aventurine gambles in his scarce free time. Finding every good opportunity possible. And take them in if he finds it is beneficial for him.

You swore that you will never understand his thrill about gambling, just what is so good about it? What if he loses and loses everything? You can never understand it but only watch the situation unfold for itself.

Maybe it's the thrill? No, the rewards? Perhaps. But isn't there a better way to earn cash rather than spend time in the casino? He might go strip broke one day because of it.

Now your thoughts wandered off again, what does he use his pile of money for?

At first, the answer was like clear water. He uses it to pay off his bodyguards pay check, his clothes, taxes maybe, body essentials and etc. But what else?

You were in deep thought by now. You think and think and start fidgeting with your necklace subconsciously. It's not long afterwards that you realized you were fidgeting with the necklace.

Then a sudden thought occurred — the necklace. It was a gift from Aventurine.

"So? Do you like it? Bought it just for you y'know.." you remembered the conversation vividly. It was a gold necklace with a citrine gemstone carved to a shape of a flower

"Mhm, I do like it. Just how much was this?" You asked as you looked at the gemstone. It was pretty, and high quality. It's not the type of necklace that gets wrecked in less than a week.

"50.000 credits."

"What."

You remembered his smirk and laughed at your reaction when your face dropped from happy go lucky to serious and frowning mode. And you even remembered how lightly he took it.

That wasn't the first time he ever did that. He buys many high-priced items for you oftenly, especially when both of you are just starting out.

Promptly you've noticed how he always puts his attention towards you through his gifts. To think about you even when you're not there.

Maybe, his free time really is gambling.

So that the rewards that he won from gambling, he can give it to you.

Because, his favorite free time, is thinking about you.

✧ XTRA : ffs this is so cheesy n full of crack for no fkin reason :sob::sob: rya died making this + this my debut post ayyy

#aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine fluff #aventurine hsr #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #honkai star rail #star rail #penacony #hsr #divs by cafekitsune

[twoidiotwriters1]

Gems ✨ (Sanji, Zoro and Ace)

A/N: If you want this with more characters, comment.

You have a fascination for rocks, stones, and gemstones. It’s been your hobby since you were a kid, but the real deal of it it’s to find one with the same tone as your loved one’s eyes. How would they react to this? 

Sanji

“Wait, maybe this one—no, maybe this—no!” You pout making Sanji chuckle. “Don’t laugh, it’s not fair.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” he smiles and returns to cut the vegetables. 

You sigh. “That’s the worst part! It’s not your fault,” You cross your arms. “It’s not your fault for having such beautiful blue eyes that I can't find in a stone.” 

“I’ll take the compliment.” 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “It’s just,” you let out a groan and walk to his side. “Sanji,” you call him and he leaves the knife on the table. He’s surprised at the closeness, but you grab his face and make him lean to you.  

“How the hell am I gonna find a colour as this ice shade of blue that is warm at the same time? This fucking blue that changes with light like a pure diamond. It’s so frustrating to look at your eyes because I want to admire them every minute! Your eyes are pure blue, like the all blue, my all blue, Sanji.” Your eyes tear and you pout again, then you leave Sanji’s face to hug him by the waist. 

By instinct, he hugs you too, but his mind’s a blur. Sanji, the one and only lover cook, the man that always flirts with any woman (now just with you) the one that always knows how to embellish his words now paralyzed after your beautiful speech. 

 He keeps silent, so quiet that you don’t even hear his breath, so you step away to look at him with worry. “Sanji?” 

“N-no one has ever… told me such beautiful things… in my life,” he says still in a trance as his cheeks tint in a pinky shade. 

You gasp. “Are you… blushing?” You notice with wide eyes. “Did I make you blush?” 

He shakes his head, coming back to reality and he realizes his cheeks feel warm. He laughs embarrassed. “How could I not if the most amazing woman that I love says those words?” he grabs you by the waist. 

“I feel powerful,” you joke. 

“Love,” he grabs your chin. “You have all the power over me, you must know that,” he softly kisses you. “I loved how you described my eyes, it made yours bright as well.” 

You frown. “I’m still frustrated.” 

He chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll find it soon, sweetheart,” he kisses you again, taking his time to embrace the feeling of pure luck of having a girlfriend who can make these little details something extraordinary. 

** 

Zoro

“Zoro!” He groans as he drops the weights. “Zoro! Zoro!” Your voice increases as you approach the crow’s nest. 

“What?” He asks in an exhausted breath when he sees you enter. He walks to grab his bottle of water and then sits down on the floor, back against the wall. 

You run giggling and you sit next to him, crossing your legs. “I found it!” You squeal as you raise your hand and show him the gemstone. 

“A rock?” He raises a brow. 

“No,” you sing, “it’s not just a rock.” You roll your eyes. 

“What is it, then?” He asks annoyed. 

You smile again and lean to put the stone beside Zoro’s right eye “This is a gemstone the same shade as your pretty eyes— And!” You move it to his hair. “Has tints of green like your hair!” 

Zoro’s body tenses when you get closer, but he tries to pay attention to your words instead. He frowns. “What?” 

“Yeah!” You giggle returning to your place. “I’ve spent a month looking for it.” 

He’s lost. 

“Why?” He let out a chuckle and your smile faded.  

You stare at him feeling your cheeks burn as you play with the stone in your hands. “I-I like your eye colour, and I thought… I mean—I could find it in a gemstone,” your voice and head are low as you speak. “Because it’s a different kind of—you know what?” You raise your head and tensely smile. “Maybe it was a bad idea,” You panic and try to stand up, but Zoro stops you grabbing your hand. You look at him confused.  

“It wasn’t,” he didn't mean to make you feel bad, he genuinely didn’t understand, but as you told him a little, now he feels… odd. “Can I see it?” He blushes.  

Your smile returns. “Sure!” You say giving him the stone. 

He looks and your heart pounds in excitement. 

“Uh—Can I… Can I keep it for a while?” He asks shyly. 

You raise your brows. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s your eye after all,” you giggle. 

“You’re so weird sometimes,” he smirks. 

The next day you’re showing Luffy some of your new stones till Sanji calls everybody to eat. Your captain disappears in a heartbeat while you take your time to store your stones. 

“Hey!” Zoro sits next to you leaning his arms against his knees.  

“Hi!” You smile. Then he sighs and seems like he’s debating inside his head. “What’s wrong?” You tilt your head. 

He blushes hard. “I cut the stone that you gave me.” 

“Oh,” you frown. “I—I mean, it’s yours, you can do what—” 

“Here,” he interrupts you touching his left ear. You follow his hand and gasp loudly. He's always used his three iconic golden earrings, but now, behind the last one, there’s a piece of the gemstone. 

You can’t close your mouth keeping your eyes on the jewelry, then you slowly and carefully touch it. 

“You like it?” He smirks looking at you. His eyes show playfulness, you could cry right there. 

“I love it!” You throw yourself to kiss him, and he catches you grabbing your waist. “You’re so sweet,” you coo close to his face. 

“No, I'm not,” he frowns. 

“Such a good boyfriend,” you insist. 

“Stop it,” he laughs. 

“And you look hot.” 

“That’s what I like,” he kisses you. 

** 

Ace

“Ace!” 

“I didn’t do it!” He says by reflex making you giggle. 

“Hands up! Star still,” you joke but he obeys anyway. You put your new stone beside his eye. 

“Are you gonna take out my eye to sell it?” He asks. 

You frown. “Why would I sell just one eye?” You back off. 

He shrugs. “I never know your plans. I mean, I bet they’ll give you something, it's Fire Fist’s eye.” He says with a cocky smile. 

“They want all of you, not just your eye—that’s not why—” You shake your head. “Never mind, look,” You raise your hand to show him the rock and he quickly takes it. 

He knows about your love for rocks, and he always waits for you to explain the rock’s story. He loves how excited you get. “Awesome! What are you gonna tell me about this little guy?” He closes one eye to look at the details. 

You blush. “It’s uh, it’s a special one.” 

“Why?” He asks still distracted. 

“It’s… it’s the same colour as your eyes.”  

He tilts his head. “Really?” He looks around him. “Wait, I need a mirror,” he stands up and runs inside de ship. He comes back a few minutes later with a piece of mirror in his hand. He raises it and puts the rock beside his eye again. “Wait,” he frowns, “it also has a little red. My eyes are red?” 

You giggle at his confused face. “No, you don’t have red in your eyes. That’s because it’s made of lava, it’s like it has fire in it… like you.” 

He lowers his hands to fully look at you. he stays in silence for a minute, then smiles wide. “It’s amazing! How did you find it?” He asks excitedly. 

Your chest feels warm and your heart pounds hard against it. Not many people appreciate your love of gems, so you can't help but get a little teary-eyed as you share this with your boyfriend. 

“It took me months, but it was worth it,” you smile. 

“It’s cool—but why did you want to look for a stone the same colour as my eyes?” 

“Uh,” you flush. “’Cuz I like your eyes, dummy.” 

He smirks, and he opens his mouth to tease you, but then, an idea comes to his mind. “I got an idea, can I?” He says like a little kid pointing to the stone. 

You frown . His ideas can get a little… unexpected. “With—with the gemstone?” He nods. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Great!” He says, lighting up his finger with a fire flame and cutting the stone in half with just one movement. You look at it in shock. 

“What!? Why? Ace?” 

“It’s all right, sweetheart, trust the process.”  

He kneels and unties both of his boot’s laces and then he wraps the stone in them several times. “Ta-da!” He says showing you an improvised kind of necklace. You grab it while he does the same with his half. 

“Let me help ya’,” he walks and puts the stone around your neck. “Ha! Now I always have an eye on you!” He laughs at his joke. You touch your stone and look at his moving against his bare chest. “Bad joke, I know but… are you okay, angel?” He asks with worry. 

Your best answer is to jump into his arms and hug him tight. He quickly catches you by your waist. “I love you, Ace,” you whisper with the biggest smile on your face. 

He chuckles. “I love you too.” 

#twoidiots writing #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #rorona zoro #one piece zoro #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader

[bby-deerling]

Valentines day dating headcanons for Law, Zoro, Kid, Killer and Sabo? 💖💖💖

i ended up just doing law, zoro, and kid if that's alright with you!

valentine's day

ft. zoro, kid, law, suggestive content || masterlist

zoro

he isn't the greatest at remembering dates, and it likely slips his mind that valentine's day is nearing until the day of or day before. he doesn't particularly feel one way or the other about the holiday, but once he remembers it's around the corner, he feels a particular need to do something special for you not just for the sake of it, but also so he can rub it in sanji's face.

zoro has a habit of collecting wildflowers for you on his walks, though there's a select few tiny buds that he's given to robin to press, with an intention to have usopp help him make a gift for you; he meant to save it for your birthday, but once he remembers valentine's day exists, it seems as good a time as any to give it to you.

he's nonchalant as he drops the gold pendant in your palm—at the bottom of a thin, gold chain is a small circular frame with one of the pressed flowers secured and preserved in the center. your face lights up, immediately recognizing the flower from one of your strolls through an island; the way you beam at him with gratitude melts his heart so much that he doesn't even grumble when you plant a kiss on his cheek in plain view of the rest of the crew.

kid

this ruthless pirate is actually very excited for valentine's day. he loves to use his devil fruit to assist in crafting unique gifts for you, and he loves to go all out for valentine's day. through trial and error he figures out how to make jewelry and is specific with his plundering plans to secure your favorite gemstones to use in the pieces he creates.

he has killer make a romantic dinner for two, and almost incurs your wrath when he invites his friend to join you out of a force of habit. while you take your time with the meal, he scarfs his down, nearly vibrating with anticipation as he waits to give you the presents he's made you.

a proud, triumphant grin is on his face as you unwrap your gifts, in awe as you praise the quality of his craftsmanship. though he's rough and jagged around the edges, kid loves you to a fault, and loves to make sure everyone else knows it by a single glance at the handmade pendant hanging around your neck—and by the ridiculous amount of hickeys he leaves on you later than night.

law

trafalgar law hates valentine's day. he sees it as a silly commercial excuse to encourage worthless spending, and will grumble outwardly every time someone mentions the holiday nearing, to the point where it gets obnoxious.

however, though he sees it as just another day, he knows receiving affection is important for you, and he figures it's as good a day as any to treat you to a nice date. he will jump through mental hoops to justify his course of action despite his distaste for valentine's day, but deep down, he simply wants to show you how much he appreciates you.

if you're currently on land, he'll take you to a restaurant, but if the polar tang is submerged, he'll do his best to cook a nice meal for the two of you. good, decent food is hard to come by after weeks spent eating mostly easy, nonperishable meals underwater, so a well-prepared dinner is a mouth-watering prospect for both of you. afterwards, he insists on giving you a massage, telling you that you've been working too hard lately, but the flimsy excuse falls apart since he just can't keep those tattooed hands to himself. ;)

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #law x you #zoro x you

[arcielee]

Ours never knew peace.

Summary: On the morning of the Great Tourney of Harrenhal, Lyanna Stark's granddam visits to give her an heirloom, a necklace with a sapphire stone... Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 7600 Warnings: Third POV and first POV, AFAB, mentions of infidelity, graphic violence, character deaths, and there is a hyperlink for the smut, so mind those warnings too. Author’s Note:  I definitely played with the timeline of the Dance of the Dragons a lot to fit with the narrative. Also, the idea is the bloodline stems from Cregan Stark's sister, which is why Lyanna's granddam is still kicking. Also, this was not beta read, please feel free to DM me any mistakes you may find 💜 A huge thank you to my Tumblr kindred spirits: to @aegonx for this inspiring gifset, and to my darling @itbmojojoejo for these perfect dividers 🦝💜 Also, to Hozier. I started writing this in June and had not touched it until I started listening to Unreal Unearth. The title for this and the smutty one-shot are from the song Francesca.

“I have a gift for you, my dear.”

Lyanna was leaning against the ornate balustrade and watching how the sun rose above Gods Eye. She drank in the sight of how the rays danced against the blue-green gemstone surface, shimmering with the rippling waves that met with the shoreline and towards the center where the Isle of Faces jutted upwards; she saw the weirwoods shift lazily with the breeze, its red foliage breaking away and littering the laketop, like drops of blood.

She pulled her eyes away to see her granddam standing in her room, poised with her walking cane; a handmaiden was in tow, carrying a wooden box that had once been intricately carved into, though its detailing was now worn with age. 

Her granddamn was the matriarch of House Stark and the only mother figure she had ever known as hers passed away when she was very young, leaving Lyanna with her father and three brothers: Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen. Though she originally had come from a noble house in Oldcastle, she had been proud to don the grays and whites of House Stark, dignified in such a way it seemed that she was born into and not just married. 

Her reputation was notorious and though some would consider her shrewd, Lyanna knew her granddam had a sharp mind and wit, an undeniable ability to see beyond the façades of court with her storm colored eyes; she was gallant, devoted to her husband until his last breath and remained in Winterfell after, her devotion extending to the North. 

“This is my home,” she had explained as if it was the simplest thing. “Always.” 

Time now showed itself in silver streaks, a bold contrast with her dark hair that had been meticulously combed and knotted at the base of her neck, showing the severity that lined her features. This look alone had the other handmaidens–who before had been aimlessly flitting around her room, coaxing Lyanna to ready for the day’s events–quickly excuse themselves, allowing her a moment alone with her granddaughter.  

“Set it there,” and the remaining handmaiden jumped to command, placing the wooden box on the vanity before following after the others. 

There was the click of her cane with her sure steps, one hand resting on the gilded handles and the other coming to place on the edge of the wooden box, its brass hinges groaning in response to her opening it. Placed against the velvet inlay was a necklace of a peculiar silver that did not shine, but seemed to permeate a strength despite its delicate, celtic chains interwoven with one another; its pendant, a sapphire stone no larger than a silver pence, was nestled in the same style, curled around to hold it in place. 

Only the stone gleamed, just like the water’s surface–alluring, calling, but she kept her hand at her side. “It is beautiful,” Lyanna acknowledged. 

“It is reforged Valyrian steel,” her granddam continued, and she was pleased to see how her eyes widened with a reverence for the rare medium. “This is a heirloom that has been passed down, once belonging to your thrice over granddam. It is something for you to wear today.” 

Lyanna remained rooted, only a wistful sigh in response. “This is my duty in life now, to be adorned in gems and silks and rare silvers, just to be shown off at this event.” 

“It is our lot in life, yes,” her tone cut through the self-wallow. “Lord Whent wants nothing more than to parade the money he poured into this cursed castle, to show off his simple-minded daughter to the highest bid. The queen of love and beauty,” and her laugh was sharp, “only her brothers would defend that nepotist title!” 

Lyanna felt her lips curl; she loved her granddam, dearly, especially when she was unabashed with her bold opinions. Her eyes fell back to the necklace. “Love and beauty,” Lyanna murmured. “No man has want for a clever wife.” 

It was her turn to sigh. “This can be true, but some are fortunate with their matches.” 

“Robert has no want for a clever wife,” Lyanna continued as if she had not spoken. “He wants something docile and pretty at his side while he wags his cock at every set of tits in Westeros.” She could see how the inside sagged with the weight of the necklace and a bundle of parchment that was tucked beneath, hidden in the folds of the fabric. 

Her granddam plucked the paper bundled together with string and then moved back towards one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. “My dear girl, love is always unexpected. Perhaps in time, despite the faults you each share,” she gave a knowing look as Lyanna moved back towards the bed, “you, hopefully, may have a gradual love and respect grow between.” 

“He is already convinced it is love,” she sat back on the mattress, sinking against the goose feather pillows piled at the head. “But it is with this idea of me. He does not know me, who I am truly or what it is that drives me…” her eyes were drawn again to the box, opened still, and to the glint of the sapphire. “How did this come to our possession anyway?” 

“It was a gift,” her granddam scoffed, untying the string and smoothing the letters on her lap. 

Lyanna closed her eyes a moment, her own smile playing at her lips. “Yes,” her tone forced, “but who would have gifted this to her to begin with?” 

Her granddam hummed, now her turn to smile. “How clever of you to ask, sweet girl,” but she did not answer Lyanna. “I saw how you are blossoming into a lovely young woman, especially after last night’s banquet,” and she saw that her granddaughter grinned, cheeky. “Ancestry has its weight with House Stark, and I thought now is the time to gift this necklace, just as your grandsire gifted it to me, and how it was given to your mother, who listened to me read this, years ago,” and she gestured to the letters.  

Lyanna reached for the pillows, fluffing them and sinking back into them, her arms folding behind to hold her head upright. “I would never deny my granddam of my company,” she teased.

“Yes, how kind of you,” her tongue wet her lips, her eyes flitting over the first page. “Now shut up and let my old eyes read.” 

And so she began.

It was the unmartyred act of my mother to bring me into the world. My father was a proud man, an honorable man who would never blame me, but I could see how he would wilt in my presence; perhaps it was that I reminded him of her as I grew, reminded him of the cost of her life so I may live instead. My brother, Cregan, kept his grief quiet, though it clouded his storm-gray eyes with this pain, this hurt that shadowed behind his irises. 

With the unsaid, I know my existence haunted my father, Lord Rickon Stark, the Warden of the North, to his grave. It was only then that Cregan truly recognized me with our sorrow now shared, as well as the burden as our uncle Bennard was quick to come to Winterfell, bringing his shrewd wife and his sons, our wretched cousins. 

I could only watch from the shadows with how Cregan fought to stay afloat with the smothering regency brought with them; our uncle was cunning, wishing to isolate my brother, which was why it was decided for me to be sent away to King’s Landing. It was under the promised lady-in-waiting for Princess Helaena Targaryen, though its true intention was for me to marry a Targaryen prince, for the opportunity to have a Stark within the royal inner circle and a direct line to the Iron Throne. 

Cregan hugged me farewell, the whispered promise that he would write, and I was ushered into the carriage, cramped with my trunks, and my aunt Margaret, with her wardrobe and endless idylls of how I would lure King Aegon II. 

I reminded her that King Viserys was not dead, and of the crowned Princess Rhaenyra. She bristled with her response: “No woman will ever rule the Seven Kingdoms.” She embellished this, and her inane plans to make me a princess; I had just turned ten and three with the soured taste of her words the further south we traveled. 

We arrived at the capital almost two months later, coming as the last of the daylight disappeared in the horizon, with the full moon and stars already glowing in response. I wished to sleep, but was forced to bathe, to be soaked in a gilded tub with rose petals that floated on the surface while hands flitted over combing and scrubbing and cleaning every bit of me, all while my aunt hovered with her critiques. 

The next day was our debut luncheon, allowing my formal introduction to the House of the Dragon. My aunt was peevish that the king did not join, we still met with the queen and Lord Hand, who introduced Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena. 

It was said that Prince Daeron was away in Oldtown and Prince Aemond would not attend either, but did not speak more of it. 

The prince and the princess held their old blood features, the shades of purple in their gazes and the gold-silver of their hair, a contrast to their mother’s auburn and her dark eyes that were watchful and worrisome. 

Prince Aegon already had an exhaustion lining his face, with shadows that stretched beneath his lilac eyes, something heavy for someone only two years older than myself. In time I would learn that his shoulders sagged with the forced Hightower expectation placed, and its accompanying slow suffocation. The prince responded to it as well as any adolescent with unwanted responsibility: to rebel. 

The princess–who we learned, to the woe of my aunt–was his betrothed, but that day she also became my savior, in a sense. Though she carried her own burdens, something deeply rooted within the ichor of Old Valyria that surged her veins, her company was enjoyable, nonetheless. 

I enjoyed my time spent with the princess, learning of her fascination with entomology, with a favoritism that stemmed towards arachnids; though I found it unsettling, I still knew it was better company than my aunt. I was devoted to the task to fill mason jars with dirt, leaves, sticks to create little habitats for her ever growing collection, and it became our daily ritual to walk the gardens of the Red Keep, always in search of more to add or to release others who dutifully served their time in their glass confines. 

One thing I noted was her utterances, her singsong riddles on repeat. “Be mindful,” she said with a hum one afternoon.

“Of what, princess?”

“A song of ice and fire,” her eyes were glassy, sorrowful. “It is a tragedy, again and again…” 

My evenings were held captive by my aunt and her ever growing determination to force her way into the royal social circles; her daily mantra to remind me of the two remaining Targaryen princes, how I need my focus to be on snaring one of them. 

I knew that Prince Daeron was a child and away in Oldtown, which left the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond, who I thought peculiar and quiet. He was isolated the first six months after we arrived, and I heard the whispered incident at Diftmark that had involved the crowned princess and her bastard sons; I also learned how it ended with the loss of his eye, but that was not learned until Princess Helaena brought me to visit with her brother. 

“It would be good for him,” and her lilac eyes sparkled. 

He was sullen, but rightfully so; he was still bandaged and refused the milk of the poppy, though I knew he was hurting, his anguish was vicariously heard with the roars of his dragon, Vhagar, whose bellows rattled the entire capital, leaving the inhabitants uneasy. 

Eventually, Prince Aemond healed enough to leave his room, though the queen was still adamant he not venture outside of the Keep. I watched him, a dragon caged, stalking the corridors, a dark passing in search of confrontation, his unbridled want for vengeance and his inability to see it through; a tormented unrest, an unruly anger from the injustice of what happened that fateful night at Driftmark.  

I had been present for over a year and would inevitably have the misfortune to cross his warpath, alone, without my shield of his sister. It was a foreboding presence that drained the air, a palpable anger that hung heavy, and I flinched, perched by the window, curled up with Ten Thousand Ships. 

“What are you doing here?” He spat. 

I remember how his anger darkened his features shown, but the rest was still hidden beneath bandages wrapped around his silver head. “Reading,” was all I dared reply, refusing to look away from the pages as if the very tale of Nymeria held me captive. 

“They educate the women in the North?”

His words were mocking and this is when I pulled my eyes away to meet with his one uncovered. “The North does not only teach their women how to read, but how to fight as well, my prince,” my tongue had a life of its own I could not control, sneering his title in return.

Her granddam paused a moment, peering over the edge to see how Lyanna had shifted; she was now closer towards the foot of the bed, curled up with one of the pillows, her eyes glowing with admiration. 

“My great-great-great granddam was fearless,” Lyanna concluded.

She chuckled in response. “It is a trait in Stark women, that is for certain,” she clucked her tongue. “Stark men also search for strong women to survive the winters. Maybe another day I will tell you about your great-great-great aunt Alysanne Blackwood.” 

Her eyes shone. “I would like that very much.” 

And then, her granddam continued. 

I would learn that Prince Aemond was just lonely; allowed out of his quarters, his mar was forever isolating with how the castled treated him with kid gloves, like an open wound that never healed despite the jagged red of new flesh mended, cutting from his brow to his cheek and peeking beneath the eyepatch he took to wearing. Though he would never apologize for that day in the library, the next time I found him within the walls I saw he was lost in the pages of Winter’s Kings, or the Legends and Lineages of the Starks of Winterfell. 

I could only assume it was all the apology that could be expected of a dragon prince. 

Our friendship was something predetermined by the gods, or this was what Princess Helaena wholeheartedly believed; for a time, we were a trio of lonely souls akin and knitted together until the princess inevitably became pregnant with the twins. And then, there was the subtle change of our dynamic with the seasons passed, an initial wariness that settled in the edges of his features that only softened whenever I took his hand and pulled him forward. 

Perhaps he believed that I would abandon him for his sister’s company, which would be expected of her lady-in-waiting. But I did not. 

Instead I indulged the prince and his company, and we became inseparable; whether we visited with his sister, playing with the little prince and princess, while Helaena budding with a third, or going to the courtyards to train under Ser Criston’s watchful eye and my aunt’s apparent disdain. It was then that the evenings became our own and spent in the library of the Keep; it was here that Aemond dared remove his eyepatch, the sapphire stone that showed brilliant from his scarred socket. 

The first time, I stepped closer so his nervous exhale fanned my cheeks; I could see the plumes of pinks to his features, my fingers ghosting his jawline as I attempted his ancient tongue. “Gevie.” 

Beautiful. 

Prince Aemond was respectful, always, but he was also fearless with me, allowing the same sense of freedom in return, to speak my mind as I always had. But I faltered with what I truly wished to say: that the years crafted him beautiful as any Targaryen prince, with sharp edges chiseled from marble stone, his lips that curled with a perpetual smirk as he voiced his peculiar insight which always led to a good natured battlement between us, leaving me flushed. 

And then the day came that he took my hand, that his palm now enveloped my own. 

It was the familiar touch now paired with a feeling, a fluttering in the pit of my stomach that I could not place, though writing these words allows a clearer perspective with the retrospect: that I was falling in love with him. 

My aunt grew more insufferable with the passing days, though I expected as much with the letters I exchanged with Cregan. I knew his every action in Winterfell, what he was learning, of his sweetheart Lady Arra Norrey, my new nephew, but mostly of how our uncle continued to tighten his hold. My brother was a wolf, restless, and spoke that his hour was coming; and meanwhile, I continued to play my role, a simpleminded girl from the North. 

My aunt tsked. “He will never see you as more than a plaything,” as if this was a cruel fate. In truth I was still so unaware of what was growing within the confines of my heart, but I knew that I only wished to remind at his side, devoted, present, always. 

So when Aemond asked that I finally become acquainted with Vhagar, I went. I remembered how my hand fit within his as he pulled me to follow his steps, moving through the ingresses that weaved with the castle walls. We broke out to follow the coastline, a crisp salt air and the clouds covering the sun, heavy with the threat of rain, but Aemond promised we would rise above them. 

I followed his long steps until we came to where Vhagar waited for her rider, diligent, alert. 

Dragons are magnificent creatures, and I swear them sentient with the bond I saw between Aemond and the she-dragon. Fear trickled my spine, but Aemond held onto my hand and I tightened in response to the massive eyes that focused on us, her pupils constricting in query. Aemond held up his other hand, the honey spill of his soothing voice of his old tongue to coax her and allow me to climb aback. 

I then felt the gaze of Aemond and refused to allow my fear to root me, moving to take the bottom rung of the rope ladder; he was pleased, a hum, the slight curl of his lips, and followed behind me with his promise that he would not let me fall. At the top, he pushed past to settle into the saddle, then reached to pull me behind and I settled against his backside. 

“Just hold onto me,” he murmured, bringing my arms around his slender waist. 

This moment I was adamantly aware that he was no longer that sullen child that sneered within his gilded cage, but against my hold that Aemond was solid, lithe, and so warm with a woodsy musk mixed with smoke against his skin. 

Pressed against, I was able to feel his low baritone command Vhagar, followed by her jolted steps forward, the beating of her wings to take flight. To feel this power beneath you is indescribable; I could not help my scream, my laughter from the exhilaration that that spate my veins; I dared not close my eyes, tears streaming, and I peered to marvel at how small the capital seemed beneath, how large the shadow we cast overhead. 

It was a newfound euphoria, and I felt my cheeks burn from the crisp air above the gray clouds, but I also knew it was from my close proximity to Aemond. I held onto him as we soared out over Blackwater Bay, and sighed from the touch of his gloved hand, from the heat that permeated through the leather when he placed it over my own. 

And I knew then that I never wished to let him go. 

He eventually brought Vhagar back to land onto the grassy knolls outside the city; the afternoon was growing late but there was still enough light to return. Aemond warned that my legs would be shaky and again he moved first, again with the promise he would not let me fall. 

I still trembled when he set me on the ground, his large palms kept their hold on my waist and my hands rested on his broad shoulders. My eyes were wide admiring the beauty of his mussed, silver braid, his cheeks lined with his dimples with his pursed grin. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Enjoy myself?” I was incredulous, I was a mess; windswept and blooming red, a grinning fool with tear-streaked cheeks, “Aemond, you showed me the heavens.” And a boldness pressed me onto my toes, my lips against his. 

It was my first kiss; it was a heartbeat’s length, it was everything, and when I pulled back, I fell solid to the earth, my soles grounded back on that gassy knoll. I looked up into his bicolored gaze, the lavender of one eye and the gleam of sapphire for the other that stared back. 

Aemond was unreadable in that moment, and I felt my blood surge from my heart and pour into my face; the quiet that settled between us the same length of the years I had spent in King’s Landing, a choking regret that burned in my throat with the thought that I had ruined everything built between us. 

Then he kissed me back. 

And I felt alive once more with the touch of his arm that curled around my waist, how his other hand followed the curve of my spine, tangling into my hair and holding me to capture my mouth. His lips were warm and soft and his tongue clever in a way that drew the very breath from my lungs. I melted against him, my fingertips soft to follow the sharp contours of his jaw, trailing his neck and grasping his collar to bring him even closer.

We only parted for air; the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his riding leathers, the crimson on his cheeks with his quiet confession, something he held close to his heart.

“For how long?” I breathed

And he thought for a moment. “Always.” 

To take his hand now was finding a piece that I did not know was missing from me; our fingers interlaced in a way that felt akin as if I held my own hand, though I knew it was him from the warmth of his skin, from the fire in his blood. By now the tendrils of dusk began to curl over the city, its amber hues bold against the blues and purples of the coming nightfall, but we continued our leisure pace back, Aemond and I. 

We were greeted by the gold cloaks at the gates and they escorted us back, and though he did not let go, I saw that it was no longer Aemond who held my hand but the second son of King Viserys, a Targaryen prince. He was stoic, but this time I could tell the other emotions that flittered beneath, his uncertainty of what awaited, but above that was his determination. 

We finally came to the barbican of the Keep where we were greeted by his queen mother, my aunt, and several White Cloaks. 

Relief washed over the queen while my aunt raged, lifting her skirts to meet us in the courtyard, her nails biting with her grip on my arm and pulling me back; the rushed spill of her words, “I cannot believe this unseemly behavior of a lady, unchaperoned with a prince! We are leaving this moment–”

I tried to twist away but she held on still, a madwoman. Aemond moved after, quick, and his anger burning from him and his long legs moved to block her path. “She will not be leaving.”

The finality of his words, the barrier his form created halted her at once and I felt my heart between my teeth. “My prince,” she stammered in response. “We must leave this very moment! We have imposed on your hospitality far too long as it is, and when my lord husband hears of her behaviors–” 

But she was unaware that Cregan and I wrote, dutifully; he shared his life within the walls of Winterfell, as well as his growing concern with the regency our uncle imposed still. She also did not know the newest letter I had received, how my brother was now the proper Warden of the North and our uncle imprisoned; my aunt paled with my words and it was commanded for her to be taken away. She did not leave quietly, her wails echoed and I watched impassively, knowing her every action was a self-serving and a selfish ploy for power for herself, her husband, for those wretched cousin kin in the North. 

And I knew I would not miss any of them. 

Ever the diplomat, the queen stepped forward with her congratulations for my brother, her condolences for the betrayal within our family, her practiced concern for my well being and its shift to confusion that knitted between her brows when she saw how I smiled at her son. She offered my escort back to Winterfell, but I was quick to decline as I knew I could not leave Aemond. 

I saw the understanding began to roll over, and she then asked her son if he loved me. Aemond responded, “I believe I always have, mother,” and I knew I loved him in return. 

It was decided that the ceremony would be held in the Royal Sept, and chaperoned until, though Aemond stole a moment to gift me this very necklace. I could feel the power of Old Valyria thrum from the metal, adoring how it was woven around the sapphire stone; he told me it was a piece kept from the same stone fitted for his eye.  

I lifted my hair and turned my back towards him, my skin prickling from his touch to clasp the necklace around my throat. 

He hummed. “Gevie.” 

Only a week later, and the service seemed surreal. I felt his warmth that held to the robe he brought around my shoulders, the touch of my palm on top of his large hand kept me grounded while the Septon wrapped the ribbon around; shy glances shared, me to Aemond and seeing his gaze on the sapphire stone beneath my collarbone. The muted words called for a kiss and I burned when Aemond captured my mouth with his own. 

The celebration after was an intimate meal with the king, who was a man withering away beneath a gilded mark, the queen, his siblings, and the Lord Hand, who seemed pleased with the idea of solidifying a truce with the North. 

But I could not think of politics this night, not with the subtle touches from Aemond, a warmth that curled in my lower abdomen when he inevitably took my hand, his low voice that tickled against my ear. “Come with me, my sweet wife,” as we walked towards his quarters.

Her granddam stopped abruptly, flushed. “Well, you understand what is implied.”

“Understand what?” Lyanna quirked her brow. 

It was a pregnant pause that allowed her eyes steel onto her granddaughter, and Lyanna returned her gaze with a cheeky, taunting grin. 

“It would serve you well to not agitate your elders.” 

“What a bore I would be if I was just another docile woman of nobility?” Lyanna countered, gleefully. “Granddam, Robert has bastards and I am no fool, I do not believe his immaculate conception claims…” 

“Yes, you are very bright,” she huffed. “Now hush up and let me read.” 

Our marital bliss that followed left me in a haze; Aemond was not one for public displays of affection and how I craved his subtle touches, his lingering hand that would have me blushing furiously in response. He would only hum, his perpetual smirk that played on his lips with my every visceral response to him. 

I wrote to Cregan and informed him of our union; he was quick to respond with his congratulations, as well as his newfound concerns, asking if it was true that the crowned princess had sired bastards with the intention to make them her heirs without ownership of her actions. 

“Our father was honorable until his last breath,” he wrote, “I would not besmirch his memory or our house, our legacy, for an oath made for bastard-born heirs to the Iron Throne.”

This was a topic I had already discussed in length with Aemond, even before we had even kissed. I was aware of his scar and its cause, and I knew of the old blood and the features lacking when it came to his nephews, something made apparent for the claimant hearings of Dirftmark, as well as the cruel response of Prince Daemon when a lord spoke out loud what the court was thinking. 

I answered my brother truthfully, knowing full well that this would sway the North behind Prince Aegon II.

And then King Viserys met his inevitable demise; the small council moved quick to announce that his final words were that he wished his firstborn son to take the crown. Aegon panicked, but my husband and Ser Criston fetched him, washed him, fed him, but also comforted him. 

It would be Ser Criston who coaxed him to the coronation, to be the one to place the crown of steel and rubies on top of his silver head, announcing: “King Viserys is dead, long live King Aegon!”

My husband would be sent to Storm’s End to negotiate a betrothal for his brother, Daeron, to one of the Four Storms. It resulted in tragedy, or vengeance on who spoke the narrative. The room stilled with Aemond’s words, the unspoken terror in the queen’s large, brown eyes, the shock that lined the severe features of the Lord Hand, but it was his brother, King Aegon wearing the Conqueror’s Crown who spoke that Aemond had shown the true blood of a dragon. 

But in the quiet quarters we shared, Aemond lamented the loss of life, the war it started, a guilt that weighed heavily, and once more I saw the sorrowful prince when I first came to King’s Landing. 

“There will be repercussions for my actions,” he rasped, unable to meet with my eyes. “I have ruined my namesake, and I have cursed our family…” 

“War seemed inevitable,” I began slowly, my hands careful to hold his jaw, to bring his gaze to my own. “And with it comes rash decisions, with impossible choices to be made…I trust it was not intentional, but even if it was, cursed or not, I am still yours, husband.” A soft kiss to seal my words. “Always.” 

War and its bloodshed was rampant in Westeros, and my brother wrote they would travel South when winter ended to help King Aegon with his rightful claim. I feared for the delay, for what would follow Storm’s End, and how it seemingly unleashed the Rogue Prince. 

Hired men with the monikers Blood and Cheese came in the night, and I knew them to be sent for me, as one repeated, “An eye for an eye, a son for son,” but followed with his slow realization, “she is not a son,” before his sword was drawn and struck Prince Jaehaerys. 

The screams of Helaena resounded against the cobblestone; Aemond found us covered in blood, his rage and his grief conflicting on his angular features. The king cried for vengeance for his firstborn son, to search for these men and place their heads on spikes; the kingdom was repulsed by the murder of the princeling, a martyr made with his blood spilled. 

Aegon’s bloodlust made for rash decisions and the battle of Rook’s Rest; though one dragon and its rider slain, its cost was the king crippled in a way that he was not fit to rule. So Aemond stepped forward to take the title Prince Regent and the Protector of the Realm, a natural role that was suited for the second son. 

The Rogue Prince struck against the Riverlands, torching until ash remained. In response, the now Prince Regent and Ser Criston left to claim Harrenhal. 

I was told to wait, to remain at the side of our grieving queen, my sister by all accounts; I watched over sweet Helaena, coaxing her to eat, washing her, sitting alongside her in the haunting silence of the quarters that somehow still echoed her screams from that fateful night. We were often left alone, as the maesters and the dowager queen never left King Aegon’s side, and I remained with her until I received the latest letter from Aemond. 

Harrenhal had been dispelled of every Strong traitor to the crown, and he spoke of a witch he wished me to meet, that I was to leave King’s Landing and be by his side, as the gods ordained. 

A quick kiss to the silver head of Helaena and I left the castle, careful to retrace our steps that led to the coast and I continued until I was back on the grassy knolls from what felt like a lifetime ago. I waited the skies until I felt the rumbled call of Vhagar in the distance, gleeful when she finally landed and watched my prince descend to envelope me in his arms, his whispered adoration, “My love, my sweet wife.” 

We returned to Harrenhal to meet with the witch he spared, a hushed reverence when he told me of her abilities. “She sees much and more.” 

I could see she was hardened by life, but her expression was kind when she greeted us; her eyes roamed around, watchful, looking through to my bones and only then did I understand what my husband meant. 

At supper, we sat around the table, along with Ser Criston, and her eyes watched the flicker of candlelight, the flames licking her irises, before she spoke: “Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

Aemond finished chewing before he asked her. “And I am which?”

Alys’ eyes were black, her painted lips curled and framed around her pearl teeth. “To be the greatness, you must end the madness,” was all that she offered, and then, “the Rogue Prince is coming.” 

Ser Criston looked uneasy, but it was a silent understanding in regards to her statement, something that pressed heavily on us both. King Aegon could only have a true chance to rule the realm if his sister lost the power she had with her husband, the Rogue Prince; it was known that he was unruly, untamed, but loyal to a fault, and willing to see it through to its brutal end. 

That night, we fell back into an intimate embrace, cherishing the feeling of skin to skin–

Her granddam was crimson. “Oh, my, I believe I should skip this as well–”

She watched her granddam a moment, the intrusive thought to take the letters for her own readthrough, but it was muted by a growing sadness that began to settle in the edges of her sharp features. Lyanna knew well the history of the Dance of the Dragons, something scrawled on scrolls and tomes, its tragedy saved in ink and tucked away.

And still, she had to know this truth.  

“Please,” and her voice was soft. “Please, continue.” 

And granddam did. 

It was the 22nd day of the 5th moon and we waited on the shores of Gods Eye, myself, Aemond, and the witch. Ser Criston rode North to meet with my brother, and we remained, waiting. 

It had been a vision for Alys, something sinister; it was no surprise when the wyrm screeched its arrival, circling above, wary of Vhagar, before finally landing. Prince Daemon had an arrogance with his dismount, with his walk towards us. 

There was a symmetry as they squared towards one another; the Rogue Prince was cloaked with the past and my Aemond embodied the future, the true hope for House Targaryen. My husband faced him, unflinching, his brow furrowed with his ever present determination, while Daemon rolled his eyes over the each of us, sucking his teeth. 

Aemond broke the silence. “You were a fool to come alone.”

“Were I not alone, you would not have come,” Daemon was amused. 

But it did not deter my dragon. “Yet you are, and here I am,” he sighed. “You have lived too long, nuncle.”

“On that much we agree.”

The prince retreated to his wyrm and Aemond looked to me, his eye pleading, the glassy lavender that bore through my skin, and the gleam of sapphire for the other. He then dipped forward to kiss me and the tears pearling in the corners of my eyes spilled onto my cheeks at the taste of him, the touch of him; I knew I could never imagine anyone else. Those words stilled on my tongue, how I wanted him to beg to stay with me, but I also knew that he must. 

“Do not say it,” my voice broke, hushed against our kiss swollen lips. “Just come back to me.” 

His two fingers pressed against the sapphire pendant I wore, before leaning forward to press his lips to my hairline, and then he climbed aback Vhagar, his lithe body quick to mount. I remained on the sand with the witch at my side, and we watched these winged beasts rise above us. 

Dragons are truly magnificent, but they are also equally deadly. I trusted Vhagar was loyal to Aemond, but also knew it matched by the bond shared between Prince Daemon and his wyrm. It was said that Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, and I believed this as I watched them on dragonback, circling above the massive lake. Their roars vibrated through to our bones, the snapping of the jaws like cracks of lighting and their flames that singed the threads of my gown from my place on the shore. 

My eyes did not leave, and I asked Alys. “Will he live?” 

She was quiet for a moment. “The memory of him will live on,” and I felt her hand reach and touch my stomach. 

And all I could do was hold onto my pendant with prayers to the old golds, to the new gods for mercy for my husband, whose child I carried. 

They did not listen.

It was a clash of scale and bone, something that reverberated to Harrenhal and rattled the castle walls that still stood. The wyrm’s screams were cut short as the massive maw of Vhagar clamped onto its neck, and its talons flailed and cut deep into the old dragon’s underside. Blood rained onto the lake and I watched, struck with mortification at the dull glint of Valyrian armor, the flash raise of Dark Sister, and I knew it was over. 

I remained on the shore as the waves created from the fall of dead dragons crashed against the sand, a blood foam that flooded and wet my skirts. I remained still as the sun tucked beneath the horizon, until I heard the call of the witch. 

“My lady, the wolves have arrived.” 

This would be the shift of power needed for King Aegon II; the Rogue Prince was dead and his men fell to the sword under the command of my brother and Ser Criston. Cregan was shocked to see me and I was stoic still, dumbstruck with my grief that did not feel real; we returned to King’s Landing with the Northern army, quick to dethrone Rhaenyra and place her in the cells with the company of all the lords who supported her. 

King Aegon was scarred cruelly with a gimp to his steps, but he made his way to the Iron Throne, his crown of rubies and steel, and greeted his mother and the queen. This joyous moment died as I was tasked to share the news of the death of Aemond, of my husband and father of my unborn child; we cried our heartbreak, but I had no tears left. 

This pivotal moment would be known as the Hour of the Wolf by our history. It will speak of the heroism of Prince Aemond and what he sacrificed to kill the Rogue Prince, of how my brother descended onto the capital with a vengeance and helped return the throne to its rightful heir. The casualties of war included the bastard princes, as well as both sons of the king. 

When King Aegon learned that Prince Daeron the Daring met his fatal end, he decided mercy on the remaining Targaryen princelings, Aegon III and Viserys II, with his solemn vow to raise them as his own, as his heirs to the Iron Throne. 

Cregan served as Lord Hand through my pregnancy, for the birth of my darling Lysara with a patch of silver that showed against her dark curls and her eyes the same as her father’s, lavender. My brother had also been widowed but met the Lady Alysanna Blackwood, a woman I admired fiercely, and Lysara was smitten with, and was thrilled when I learned I could call her sister. 

It was then Cregan asked to be relieved so he could return to the North, to his son, and I asked to go with him. My time in King’s Landing was over, with every stone haunted with presence of Aemond; I already swore I would never marry again, would not dare have another set of hands touch and taint the memory of his hands against my body, his touch forever etched onto my skin and seeded into the marrow of my bones. 

Aemond would return to me at night, a silver dream, my body thrumming with the warmth of his touch, his gentle kiss, the low murmur of his voice, but it always ended the same: my realization when my hands pressed to his chest and felt no heartbeat.

That I would never feel it again.

The pain of losing him has not dimmed nor diminished with time, but I do not mind it as it serves as my reminder that he was real, and that the love we shared was real. 

As the witch predicted, Aemond also still lived within Lysara who was solemn, brilliant, and as determined and stubborn as he had been. I made sure to do an annual trip to King’s Landing, allowing her to meet her granddam, her royal family, and so that my daughter could learn that her blood not only held that of the Andals, the first men, but also of the fire that licks within her veins. 

Which is also why I write this, along with the gift of the necklace. It holds legacy, but also the reminder of the words Queen Helaena spoke to me when we were girls, something said a lifetime ago and before I could comprehend the weight of them. 

There is something in the blood of House Stark that calls out to these dragons, perhaps an ancient power of the old gods or a kindred spirit, the disparate bond of ice and fire, a clash that is brilliant, violent, and tragic, always. 

As she once said: a song of ice and fire, it is a tragedy, again and again…

It ended with a finality that rested against her chest. This was a tragic history of the crown, something already written with facts and dates, but this was a personal storying stemming from the blood of Stark woman, and only now did Lyanna begin to understand how the stories remained so vivid, so detailed despite its years of retelling. 

But also…

“What does this mean for me?” Her voice was soft, an almost childlike naivety to her tone. “I am already engaged to Robert Baratheon.”

Her granddam watched her, a tight lipped smile in response as her mind returned to the feast of last night, to the looks shyly exchanged between her granddaughter and the crowned prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, as he played his harp for her. It left her unsettled with a hunch, an inkling about this interaction. 

Instead she agreed. “You are right,” and she sighed. “Let me help you get dressed for the tourney.” 

The new Harranhal swelled with the life for the festivities, with the kingdoms’ best sent in response of Lord Whent’s invites; the new cobblestone seemed bright against the darkened foundation that still held, its ghosts trapped still and trampled underfoot by the crowds as the seats filled, the echoing chattered excitement that vibrated. 

It dimmed with a hushed reverence to see Prince Rhaegar Targaryen entering the field on his steed; his lavender eyes scanned the masses, an intent to spot one soul in particular, and she unknowingly called to him with her sweet smile, by the glint of the sapphire that rested against her chest. 

There's not one thing that I would change.

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x stark!reader #tragic romance #inspired by hozier #ours never knew peace #rhaegar targaryen #lyanna stark #rhaegar x lyanna

[wordtotherose]

Sending Jay ahead was the right thing to do. It was.

But every minute on his own now is worse and worse and worse. It feels like the sun is setting quicker than he's moving, the shadows of the village getting darker and not really any bigger as they travel. Out there, past the small village, rocks the rowboat they arrived in, and further still the dipping sun over the water he and Gillion call home. 

Puddle is going as fast as they can, Chip knows this, recognises the signs of an animal pushing themself further than their limits allow. Chip and Puddle. Racing down an empty road with urgency pumping their hearts and, at least for Chip, a screaming void in his head blocking all cohesive thought. The bracelet on his wrist is useless so far from its counterpart but Chip strains regardless to make sure he notices the very second he's close enough to make out the familiar presence of Gillion's mind nestled next to his. 

Jay is barely a shadow in the sky when he sees her dip back towards land, still a distance from the village and her mother and Gillion Gillion Gillion. His breath scratches in his throat as he watches, waiting to check that she lands on her feet and keeps going, that, despite no shot ringing out, she hasn't been shot down. But no. Of course not. She's moving. Not even a stumble. Her hair is catching the fading light and the idea that they might still be too late is sickening, enough for his stomach to drop and his hands to shake. With every second they aren't there, every moment the spell isn't being done, Gillion is fading. Gillion is dying. Alone. Without either of them. With a stranger he was so desperate to still look his best in front of upon meeting, a stranger who doesn't know him!

May won't thread new braids into his hair in comfort like Jay does. May won't kiss his cheeks like Chip does every night before sleeping just to make the triton smile and stop his constant motion for a heartbeat. She won't know he doesn't like his hand held by anyone but his closest friends, Chip or Jay or Caspian. Will she work out that he needs to be kept damp? That he's more likely to drink if she offers water with salt mixed in? He needs to drink. Needs his strength. 

Jay is flying again, in short bursts now as she tries to make the most of her energy. An angel in the sky. He has to fight back the tide of self-disgust he feels for having no true part in helping here. She'd have gotten the gemstones without him. Maybe even been quicker about it.

Puddle slips on a loose rock and Chip slides, clawing his way back up to being steady on the raccoon's back. Of all the bloody minded things for Gillion to do with the last of his magic, to turn a perfectly suited horse into a raccoon just because they were Jay's favourite. Because he wants to make them smile even when he's dying.

Chips shakes his head and focuses on the flare of Jay's orange hair until she vanishes between the buildings.

***

It's hard. The bed he's on, he means, and it isn't swaying with the bone deep sense of home innate to the waves he's always in or on.

Land? Where were they heading last? 

Why is everything so blurry? So dark?

Continue Reading on AO3 or under the break...

He twists towards the side, hoping to turn over and find Chip or Jay nearby to ask his questions to. 

Something stops him short. Tight resistance around wrists he cannot shift and legs he cannot feel and a chest he doesn't recognise the shape and agony of. 

Where? 

Kind words, a gentle but firm voice. Unfamiliar. Unknown. Where's Chip? Where's Jay? 

Pretzel?

Oh. There. 

Pretzel. In his hair, above his head. He can't hear her chirruping purring sound but he can feel it, vaguely. Half removed from the idea of sensation entirely. 

He thinks he manages to convince his body to say something, a hand touches his own and he flinches away. It retreats and settles on his shoulder instead, over his wetsuit. 

The flinch hurt. 

The voice is starting to sound urgent. 

It's dark. 

And the world isn't swaying.

And his friends aren't here. Maybe it's a nightmare. Maybe he just has to grit his teeth and wake up eventually. 

***

The streets are more full than normal, what with the Den being closed for business for the night. Jay dips and throws herself round corners and shortcuts with the surety of being home. People are calling greetings to her, making friendly jabs at her frantic pace. 

She ignores every last one of them. There's no time to worry about good impressions, no spare seconds to feel anxious about being nice. They'll forgive her. Most of them watched her grow up, after all.

She's not sure she can stand for Gillion to die in her home. Not sure how to reconcile the loss with what this place has always been, what she wants it to always be. 

But if she doesn't get these stupid gems there soon, before the sun sets fully probably, knowing their portentously shitty luck, well. Then she won't have a choice about it all. 

The world will be new again, without Gillion. 

It's a world she doesn't want to wake to.

***

They're dead. 

That's the truth of it, that's the burning in his chest, the cause of the vice around his heart. That's why Pretzel is so upset somewhere above him, petting him like he's the one injured. He is, he supposes, if they're both dead. 

What's left for him, what is destiny worth if he can't use it to protect them?

They died in his arms. Under his hands. With their eyes looking up into his for help, for rescue. He let them down. He let them die. 

So maybe he just needs to wake up. 

Or does he?

Which world is real?

Didn't he wake up earlier? With the knife? The ice knife? 

He needs water. Needs to make another. Needs to check. Jay will just heal him if it's real-

If it's real then Jay is dead. 

Fuck. 

Someone is talking to him still. Have they always been? A woman. Talking. Asking him questions, it's in the lilt of her tone, she expects an answer.

He tries to shape a name, a question in return. 

"Chip?" 

He doesn't hear an answer so he tries again, screaming through the pain of grief; he never wanted to meet grief like this. Not with them. 

"Jay?"

There's a gurgling sound and he fears it may have been him. There's movement. A shaking. A rocking but not the sea. Like a body coughing and bending up only to fall back with the effort. Like when Chip was having his nightmares and couldn't stop, couldn't think, couldn't understand. Chip…

Dead. 

They're both dead. 

Right. 

Ice knife.

Wake up. 

Or are they... 

...if they're....then…

***

Chip falls off of Puddle into the dust of the street just as they pass the first home. His knees scrape and the pain is so far away, locked up in a chest in the back of his head for later. The trousers he loves, that Ollie has embroidered silly little sea birds onto the cuffs of under Drey’s patient tutelage, they're maybe ripped. His skin is maybe split and bleeding, the palm of one hand is for sure, blood smearing sticky and wet on his forehead as he pushes his hair out of his eyes, fixes his coat so he can breathe to run.

Puddle collapses into an exhausted lump and Chip would feel bad if he had any time. 

As it is, he's scrambling to his feet, checking the bracelet is still on his wrist, and is bolting to the Eagle's Den with only a shout of apology over his shoulder to the creature. 

People out are slow moving, glorying in what, to them, is the tail end of a beautiful sunset and the start of a warm, sparklingly starlit night. They are not best pleased when he pushes past them, gasping out more apologies that he knows they won't hear as he rushes past, leaping onto and over boxes outside homes and fences separating gardens and growing plots. He doesn't stop. Cannot stop. 

The cresting wave of another's thoughts alongside his own hits hard, nearly knocking him off his feet again, absolutely punching the air from his already tight lungs. He's delirious still, jumping from one half formed idea to the next, remembering and imagining and percieving everything altogether in one muddled mess. It sort of hurts to try to look at too closely but it's still so faint that Chip doesn't dare take his focus away. Gillion can't hear him in return, he knows that, but this way he can know if Jay is there, if the spell is being done.

Only...nothing. Gillion is so far gone, slowing and slurring even in his mind...no…

Chip hops the last fence in his way and pushes through the burning in his lungs, the closed door ahead taunting him. Tempting him. Teasing with what little good he'll even be able to do in this situation when he does get there. 

Gillion's thoughts vanish in one silent drop three steps away from the door.

Continue Reading on AO3...

#my writing #fanfic #jrwi #jrwi gillion #jrwi fnc #jrwi fish and chips #fnc #jrwi chip #jrwi jay #jay ferin #gillion tidestrider #ao3 #just roll with it #jrwi riptide

[muffinsin]

What if G!P female s/o punishes the dimi sister and uses a collar and leash on them.

And mabye female s/o uses them as a personal cumdump?

Had a vague idea.

Anyway I love your works, take good care of yourself and drink enough water🖤

-🇳🇱 Dutch anon

First of all I’m super glad you enjoy my works! Thank you, also this should probably be a reminder for everyone reading this to drink and eat haha!

I’d love to hear that idea!👀

Let’s get into this delicious one! ;)) I’ll probably split this one in 3 parts even! Starting here with Bela’s!

Cassandra’s will be linked here once it’s up,

Daniela’s will be linked here

Masterlist

She’s blushing to hard, it’s overtaking her cheeks and the tip of her ears. The normally well behaving blonde bites her lip as she kneels obediently on all fours for you, thighs pushed together as you attach a collar around her neck.

“Miss-“, she quietens immediately when you glance at her.

She knows she isn’t supposed to talk now, not unless spoken to, she just can’t help it! She gulps, feeling the collar tightly around her. It makes her blush even harder.

Her eyes press shut in embarrassment when she is leashed too, a beautiful, red leash that reminds her of the gemstone at her necklace. “Good, I see you’re starting to behave again”, you speak calmly. She squirms.

She didn’t know why she acted out today, grinding against you and insisting she gets off even when you were busy. When she just grabbed your hand greedily and pushed you down to ride you…

Not that you had minded, but nonetheless it was naughty of the supposedly well behaved blonde.

She gasps when you tug the leash and she is pulled against where you’re sitting, her face smudged against the hinge between your legs. You grip her chin gently, but forcefully enough to make her face you.

“Would you like to know what I learned today, Bela?”

She gulps, and nods. “Yes, Miss”, she answers obediently, yet she’s already fighting the urge to grind against your leg again.

She feels so dirty with the leash on her, and she loves it.

“I learned what a little brat you can be when you don’t get your way”, you coo. She gasps, her mouth dropping open when her jaw is squeezed even slightly. Her face is burning as you laugh. “I’ve also realized what a little slut you can be”

She bites her lip to stifle a whimper.

Another tug of the leash has her back against your crotch again. You pet her hair as her face is pushed against your bulge.

You’re painfully hard after the day you’ve had with your Blondie. Leashing her certainly didn’t help your nearly painfully erect cock.

“I mean really, Bela, you were humping me like a little slut in heat every chance you got”, you teased, hands undoing your belt already. Her thighs are pressed together so hard. She does her best at holding back pleas and whimpers, reminding herself not to talk unless talked to today.

Instead, she eagerly wraps her lips around you once you pull down your garments and your cock springs free, slapping against her cheek. You groan, the hand in her hair pushing her down some more and making her throat you properly. She’s gagging slightly, her throat tight around her.

“Good brat, we’re going to see if you can keep this good behavior up, little one”

She squirms already, hands on the floor in front of her, her breast pushed together by her arms as she sucks you off eagerly.

She hums and moans around you, but otherwise is still and behaves.

“Mghmm!”, she shrieks, although it is muffled by your cock, when the leash is tugged and she is completely against you, your leg between her thighs yet again. Another tug of the leash has her look up at you through long, teary eyelashes.

“You’re going to be a good girl, won’t you Bela?”, you coo. She moans, nodding eagerly. “And you’re going to stay still for me? No grinding your little pussy on me unless I tell you to, isn’t that right?”

She whimpers, hips shaking as if with an effort to stay still.

“Mghm, ‘es”, she agrees after another tug of the leash. Your cock rests within her mouth.

“Good girl, my good little slut”, you coo. She blushes again, and you feel the warmth when you cup her cheek. “You see, when my little girl starts behaving like a whore, she must get fucked like one”, you explain. Her eyes are wide, her thighs automatically try to press together again, yet this proves to be impossible with your leg between hers.

“Mghmm!”, she groans, whimpering as you push her face harder against you and keep a tight grip on the leash. She bobs her head, tears forming at her eyes quickly, as she breathes through her nose. Due to the leash, she couldn’t take you out her mouth even if she wanted to.

Bela squeezes her eyes shut, trying not to grind on you. Her clit is aching and she yearns for the pleasure you can provide her with.

Her thighs clench around your leg and she immediately needs to use all her willpower to stop herself from grinding. She’s soaked and needy, and you’re pressed up right against her! It’s truly unfair!

She moans around your cock, getting needier and needier by the second. Her mouth works wonders on her, and her throat feels even tighter with the thick collar around it.

Her tongue slides alongside you, her fingertips press against the floor. She wants nothing more but to raise her hips a little, she knows she would slide right against you and it would give her the pleasure she wants to dear.

Eventually, the needy blonde can’t stop herself anymore. She doesn’t even notice it, either.

You raise an eyebrow as she grinds against you yet again despite her clear instructions, moaning loudly and shivering, her hands holding tightly onto your knees.

Bela shrieks and gags when the leash is pulled forwards completely, making her take you down her throat entirely. She gags, tears forming at her eyes as she gags, before they drip down her pink, warm cheeks.

She feels you stroke along her cheek, chuckling a little at the stretched open lips. She whimpers helplessly. “I give you such a simple command, little one”, you coo. Her eyes widen, at last her hips stop thrusting. She didn’t even notice, and now looks up at you pitifully, begging for forgiveness even as your cock is deep inside her throat, choking her slightly.

“No, sweet girl”, you coo. She moans at the praise, her hips bucking. She whimpers again when you tug on the leash even more and she gags on your cock. Her hands squeeze you, but you don’t let up.

“It seems like you just don’t want to behave today, Bela”, you coo. She attempts to shake her head, denying this, but can’t with her mouth filled with your cock. “Mghmmm mhnoo!”, she attempts to argue instead. She squirms when her hair is patted and you tsk at her.

“My silly little girl, has no one taught you not to talk with your mouth full?”

She feels so hot, she barely manages to stop herself from bucking her hips up again.

“Now, as I was saying: you simply don’t seem to want to behave today, Bela…what a shame, truly”, you coo. She whimpers around your cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. She looks so sweet, so helpless and needy with her mouth full of your cock and the leash and collar sitting snug at her throat.

“Or maybe, you’re just too slutty and just can’t help yourself”, you argue. Bela blushes at this and stays quiet.

You laugh at her, patting her hair and sliding your thumb across her chin. The poor thing is drooling already.

“Very well, little one. If you decide to behave like a little slut, that isn’t a problem, Bela”

She gasps for breath when you finally let her up for some again, gagging and moaning then the cock slips out her mouth.

She is only granted a moment before being pushed back on you, taking you down her throat again as the leash tugged.

“If you’re not my good girl, you’re going to be my slut. My precious little cumdump. Would you like that, sweetheart? To be pumped full of my cum, Bela?”

She moans loudly. “Mghmmm! MHMMM! Mhmmmmmmnm!”, she shrieks, head trapped due to your tight grip on the leash’s end when your hips thrust up. She’s made to deepthroat you once again.

“Let’s start with shooting some down your pretty, tight throat”, you groan. You’re painfully close already.

“Mhmmm! Hmnmgm!”

Bela whimpers pathetically around your cock, gagging and shrieking as her throat is fucked. She feels you grip her hair. “Let me catch you trying to talk without permission one more time, and I will personally make sure you will only use that pretty mouth for my pleasure for days”, you warn.

Her eyes are wide, the sensitive woman so close. She’d cover her mouth, but can’t do so with you inside of it.

Instead, she whimpers, closing her eyes slowly and opening them again. She gags beautifully for you. She’s close too, but you know the brat can’t get off without pleasure being delivered onto her. A wicked idea crosses your mind.

Bela shrieks when you rub your leg against her clit, moaning and whimpering helplessly. Her sensitive little clit is sore and wet, and she feels so needy from having you rub up against the little bud.

She’s so close, and yet knows not to beg without permission. Instead, teary, bright golden eyes find yours. She whimpers when you push her down harder, your cock hitting the back of her throat.

She whimpers louder, and groans when you push your leg harder between hers. “Yes, yes, you can cum, slutty girl, after me”, you groan.

Bela works twice as hard, sucking and humming and moaning around you, licking you and cupping your balls as she is used by you.

It doesn’t take you long at all to cum. Your head is thrown back and you tug the leash harshly, pulling her head down and flush against your lap as you shoot rope after rope of cum down her throat. She moans and screams, her own orgasm taking over her. You smirk tiredly, knowing you’re by far not done with your little brat.

Bela chokes for breath for a moment when you slip out of her warm and wet mouth, drool sliding down her lips as she pants. You get up and remove your garments properly, then chuckle as you pull your arm and the leashed woman is dragged along.

“On your back, I want to see your pretty clit when I play with my slutty girl”

She whimpers, residing the urge to talk. She obeys and climbs the bed, her bare form laying on the bed, her front facing you.

Bela gasps when you let go of the leash and it slaps against her stomach and thighs. “Good, we’re getting somewhere I see”

She bites her lip when you walk to her drawer, blushing as you rummage through the many toys hidden within. Eventually, you pull out a vibrator and a pair of clamps. She tenses at the sight of them, blushing bright red.

“Now, must I bring a gag, or will you behave, Bela?” She gulps. “I’ll behave, Miss”, she promises with an innocent smile.

Lastly, you pull thick, red rope from the drawer.

She watches you set them all on the bed, her wrists being tied first, tightly and with proper knots, her arms raised above her as you tie the other end of the rope to the bed. She’s completely vulnerable for you, naked and needy, tied and with her legs spread.

“You look positively ravishing like this, little one”, you whisper. She squirms, whimpering and pushing her thighs together.

Next, the clamps are put on her. She squirms and whimpers at the pain and pleasure inflicted on her sensitive little nipples. You untangle the leash, then rest it next to her.

And lastly, the vibrator wand. She bites her lip at the sight, eyes betraying her want.

You don’t plan on denying her.

“I believe I will show you the value of waiting and behaving, today, little slut”, you coo. Bela moans when you press the vibrating toy up against her stomach.

“We’re going to make you cum over and over and over again today, slutty girl, until I feel you learned your lesson regarding jumping me for pleasure at every chance”

Bela squirms helplessly, as if trying to escape the vibrator now she knows what it’s capable of and meant for.

“Don’t fret, Bela. I’ll be sure to use you as my personal cum dump when you come for me. We’ll be sure not a single drop is wasted outside your holes today. I bet you’d like that, my little breeding toy”

She feels hazed and lightheaded at the nicknames. Her entire body is still sensitive from her prior orgasm, and both of you know it will merely get worse for the poor brat.

She whimpers when the toy is turned on a low setting, buzzing against her clit as she squirms. You grab another piece of the rope, fixing it around her hips and thighs, until it lays against her sensitive bud even when you don’t hold it. She blushes when you pull her close and begin stroking your cock, watching as she is squirming and moaning. She’s so sensitive, her moans and loud and frequent, but you don’t stop the toy.

You know you can go for less rounds than her, but you’re patient. She writhes beautifully, back arched fast already and tied hands gripping the rope tying them.

She feels you against her, your breasts pushing into hers as you hover above the woman. A gentle finger strokes along her warm cheek, and she opens her eyes. Golden orbs have a haze to them as she loses herself in the pleasure given to her.

“Do you like this, Bela?”, you coo. She gasps loudly when you lower yourself, moaning when your cock brushes against the vibrator and pushes it harder against her.

“Y-Ye-A-AAH! Yes! Yes!”, she answers, her voice high pitched and breathless, just how you like it.

You grab a hold of her breasts, toying with the nipple clamps as she whimpers.

Bela groans when you move downwards and pull her hips to the edge of the bed. “Don’t mind me, cumslut”

Her eyes are wide and she tugs on the rope restraining her when you push yourself back inside of her. She’s completely soaked, tightening around you ever so often. You feel the vibrations of the toy as you’re inside of her and moan at the feeling.

Bela squirms below you, her back arched and legs trembling and spread by you, her hard nipples so sensitive under the powerful nipple clamps.

Her wrists look beautiful restrained in red.

“AAAH! AH! AH!”, she moans with every thrust you make into her, her cunt growing wetter and squeezing you harder the closer she gets. The poor thing is right on the brink of a second orgasm, you can tell, and it excites you.

And so, in mere more thrusts, she is pushed over the edge, screaming and whimpering, tears of overstimulation running down her cheeks when the vibrator merely keeps buzzing against her red and overly sensitive clit, and you not only just keep thrusting, but take advantage of the tight squeeze of her cunt when she comes, and thrust even harder and faster.

She feels you cum inside of her yet again, the warm, wet feeling deep in her womb. You don’t seem to have enough yet, however, instead keep on thrusting your hips, eager to give her another creampie inside her warm cunt.

The poor blonde feels herself be rocked up and down on the bed from your thrusts, breasts bouncing and nipple clamps jiggling, her legs desperately attempting to close from the amount of pleasure given to her.

You tsk at her, simply spreading them wide open for you. “No, no no no, you slutty thing. You’ve wanted pleasure so bad, my precious pet, now you’re going to receive it until I’m done with you”

Your words make her clench around your cock tightly. You groan at the pleasure. You’re close from fucking her soft cunt. You believe you will drag another orgasm from her until you take pity on the overstimulated blonde.

She’s arching her back and turning nearly sideways due to her squirms, gasping when you flip her back on her backside and keep a hand on her hip to prevent her to squirm away. “We’re going to breed you now, cumslut”, you coo. Head head spins.

In one moment she’s on her back, in the other you flip her around and lift her hips, roughly fucking her from behind. The nipple clamps rub up on the bed, as does her face. Her tied hands leave her no way of holding herself up.

“A-AAH! AH!”

She jumps when you smack her ass, the pale flesh turning light pink. Another has her clench around you again. The feeling is heavenly.

You grip her leash tightly, using it to pull her closer with each thrust. Her throat burns from her screams and moans.

Bela squeals when the vibrator is turned up a little more, buzzing fast and intensely against her already sensitive clit. The effect is immediate, her legs shaking and her hips trembling beneath your fingers.

“Mghmmm!”, she moans, biting into the sheets of the bed in a desperate attempt to stay quiet and avoid another punishment for breaking your rule regarding talking.

Another slap to her ass.

She’s positively dripping for you.

You’re close, ready to fill her with cum yet again.

“Now, beg me for an orgasm like a good girl. I know you’re too slutty to deny yourself pleasure, Bela”

She whimpers, tears flowing down her cheeks, yet knows you’re right. She’s so overstimulated it almost hurts, and yet can’t help but beg you for another orgasm.

“Please, Miss, please!”

You laugh, granting her the wish as you yourself cum inside her sweet cunt.

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #🇳🇱 Dutch anon

[femmesbijoux]

Initial Letter V Shape Necklace

#sterling silver necklaces #handmade nekclace #necklaces #necklace for women #water drop gemstone #silver necklace #silver chain necklace #oxidized necklaces #gemstone jewelry #gift for her #silver jewelry #jewellery #wedding necklaces #birthday gifts #christmas gifts #handcrafted #statement necklaces #teardrop necklace #delicate necklace #initial letter necklace #v shape necklace #v silver necklace #alphabet letter necklace

[cosmal]

✿ — omg so!!! I’ve been thinking soo much about drummer!james recently, so maybe drummer!james x shy!reader? maybe him teasing you for staring at him when he comes off stage all sweaty with messy hair and no shirt 😵‍💫 or just whatever u want!! also u can def ignore this if u want okay I’ll shut up now

snare

summary james teases you when he gets off stage.

content drummer!jamespotter x fem!reader

You know how exactly it's gonna go when James gets off stage. You can hear the smug tone in your head. How touchy he's about to be.

They all bid their goodbyes to the audience, who haven't stopped roaring all night, and they exit left. Right where you've hidden yourself to the side of the curtain.

Sirius heads straight for the food table. He always comes off stage looking as pretty as he did when he went on and they all hate him for it because he works just as hard as the other boys. Remus, sweat-stained, panting Remus, heads straight for the water station.

James tucks his sticks in his back pocket and you take out your plugs when you notice he's heading for you instead. He doesn't look as sparkly as he did on stage, illuminated by stage lights and camera phones. Still, he glistens with perspiration, maybe worse than Remus. His curls are worse near his forehead and the back of his neck. He's all red-chested when he sticks his hands out to grab you.

You stick an arm out between you, holding a towel. James doesn't seem too happy about it.

"As if, baby," he scoffs. He takes out his earpiece and it falls over his sticky shoulder.

"You're all wet," you say. You scrunch your nose up and can't help but laugh. He seems genuinely offended.

"You've touched me in worse conditions," he says like it makes any sense. "You love it when I get all sweaty."

You know what he means. You throw the towel at him instead of scolding him. "James."

"Hey," he says, catching the towel. "I know you wanna touch me. I saw you while I was out there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Your voice goes all quiet and squeaky. You wish you still had the towel to hide yourself.

"You couldn't keep your eyes off me. I bet your cheeks hurt from smilin' so much." James is smug as he says it and you despise him for it. You'd anticipated it yet it still makes you flustered.

He's not wrong. You were gushing over him the entire time. You thought you'd hidden yourself pretty well. Because, as the boys say, you distract him while he's on stage. He's dropped his sticks twice looking at you when performing.

"Do you want the towel?" he asks, "You've got a bit of," he points to his chin, "you've got a bit of drool there, baby."

"James!"

James goes for it. He drops the towel and steps forward to wrap you up in his arms. He squeezes you hard and lifts you from the linoleum flooring. You push your face into his sticky chest because he's got you so close and laugh because you can't help it. He's not as bad as you'd expected. Lingering deodorant still sticks to his skin and he still smells like James. A sweaty James.

"There we are," he sighs, sitting you down "Was that so bad?"

"Horrible," you say despite yourself. You smile.

He smacks a kiss against your cheek. Then, you're nose, and forehead, your other cheek. Your giggles build with each one. He does it all over again just to hear you laugh some more.

"You're unbelievable," you pant, trying not to act as affected as you feel. Your heart pounds in your chest. James feels about the same.

"Did I play well out there, baby?" he asks as if you'd ever say no. He plays amazingly every night. You've never told him as such, you like to pretend he can't get any better than he already is.

"You were brilliant." Despite the setting, you smack a kiss to his cheek and ignore the busy sound techs that buzz past. "Insane. That thing you do during Gemstone? With the little snares? I love it."

"The little snares," he parrots. He sounds more lovesick than you did. "I thought I was unbelievable?"

"Yeah," you smile, "Unbelievably great."

You kiss him this time on the lips to shut him up.

#james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter headcanon #james potter drabbles #james potter x fem!reader #james potter one shot #james potter fan fic #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter drabble

[purelyfiction]

Barely Even Over. - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x F!Reader

Word Count: I don’t know, I’ll update this when I’m off mobile

Summary: You’ve never been good with complacency. You’ve nearly broken it off four times with Bradley before, feeling trapped and needing to run. You don’t know why it happens, or why you feel so compelled to escape. This time, you can’t get past it. What had always been passing conversation has been a full production. You’re nearly to the curtain close when the entire thing is derailed by a very agitated pilot on your front porch.

Content Warning: lots of cursing, lots of angst, potential trigger for anxiety

Author’s Note: I’ve been obsessed with this song by Drake Milligan and I couldn’t get this out of my brain. Also!! Rooster content? In 2024? Wow. - unedited, unbeta’ed we die like idiots.

God, you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. The fact that it was almost eleven o’clock at night and someone was pounding at your door was one of the countless reasons you’d put in a transfer request.

The main reason you were leaving stood on the other side of your open door.

Bradley stands, dripping wet from the monsoon that’s raging outside (you’d heard it from the wind and the pelting rain on your window), the most vicious look on his face. You spot the equally soggy piece of paper you’d shoved in his mailbox this morning in his hand.

“You really thought you could just drop this off and bolt out of town without a word?” He shakes the wet mangled letter around, a drop of water flinging to the tip of your nose. When he starts into it, you’re pushing the door shut, regretting not checking the peephole before you tugged the door open. Rooster’s hand grabs the edge of the wood before you can get too far, pushing his body weight into it to keep it ajar.

“Or that I had to hear from Hangman of all people that he saw a moving truck taking your shit?” You turn and enter into the empty apartment, trying to avoid this conversation. That was the point of the letter, the point of no contact the last few hours. You were about five hours from departing San Jose and never coming back. Bradley slams the door shut as he follows you inside.

“Jesus, wake all the neighbors while you’re at it Bradshaw.” You groan, stepping into your bathroom to do a mindless check that everything had been packed. That you weren’t forgetting anything.

“Fuck the neighbors, Gemstone! You were going to just fucking ghost me? Ditch me without a goddamn word?” You can hear the pain singe his voice. A normally smooth and entertained gruff is resentful and burned instead when he speaks to you. He follows you as you move to the kitchen to do one last once over, averting this onslaught as much as you could. “Drop a shitty letter in my mailbox to dump my ass, ignore my texts, decline my calls - not a single word from you! What the fuck??”

“I’m being restationed, Rooster, it’s not-“

“Oh bullshit!! Mav told me the truth! You fucking requested the transfer! You thought you could sneak away without witnessing the storm you’re fucking making! Just dropping all your ties and escaping -“ he huffs and the paper in his hand is crumbled into a wet lump, then slammed at a nearby wall. So much for your security deposit. “You are always looking for an out. For a reason to leave California- the navy- me. As if the last three years were so fuckin’ miserable that you needed to just vanish. Like nothing ever happened.” Bradley is seething with each curse and vent that exists his lungs.

You’ve run out of cabinets to check. Out of options to avoid looking at him. So when you finally do, you see the mustached man shaking slightly from the temperature of the cold water clinging to him via a damp Hawaiian shirt. The way his eyes locked to you with seething hurt, a brokenness you couldn’t comprehend.

He wasn’t supposed to get home from his training in Atlanta until tomorrow. You were supposed to disappear. Jake and his big fucking mouth. Before you can say anything, Bradley turns to face you fully, brows pushing downward as if it would expel the anger out.

“Three years. Fucking three years and you think you can step out like this. Without a word, without giving a rhyme or a reason - leaving in the middle of the night - without a clue you were even considering this?? Buying fucking plane tickets behind my back?? Packing your entire god damn life up without a notion of the feelings of people around you - of your fucking boyfriend? You didn’t think to have the decency to break up with me to my face??” His hand points to the slop against the wall that had been your letter. His notice of termination so to speak. “The fact you couldn’t say it out loud- couldn’t face any of this at the face value means you don’t actually want to do it. You don’t want to do it, you’re just scared. You’re scared of the same surroundings, the same job, the same city, the same house, the same person, Gem. That’s what you are. Always leaving so you don’t get hurt when you get freaked out.” The register of his words is loud, but not nearly as loud as the next round of spitfire.

“If we’re gonna break up you’re gonna do it now! You’re gonna say what you put on that god damn piece of paper to my fucking face! That you never loved me, that you’ve been hanging on to a lie! That you can’t stand to stay in this god forsaken city a single second more! You don’t get to just leave and not see this!!” He points to his expression. “The mad! The angry, the rejection and betrayal! If you’re gonna do it you’re gonna do it to my face!” Finally, finally, Bradley takes a shaking breath, turning away to try to collect himself.

“Bradley, I didn’t want to do this like this for a reason-“ he spins. There are tears rolling down his face.

“Fuck, I love you.” The stinging sensation starts. The familiarly ominous feeling that sinks in and starts to eat at you every time you’ve had this conversation. “You loved me. I know you did. At some point you did, I know you did and you can’t lie to me and say you didn’t.” The hot tears are barely breaking surface tension along your lash line. “Don’t leave me like this, Gems. Don’t- cause I won’t-“ he hovers in his words, “I think I deserve at least a bad goodbye. Not some letter full of lies hit you don’t mean. Some pathetic attempt at closure is better than whatever the fuck this is. This, this, sorry excuse for a break up.” His feet come sinking toward you as he reaches out. You don’t back away.

His hand takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, his other hand coming to wipe your own tears in the hollow room. “I can take hellfire. I can take screaming, shouting, shit, you can hate me if you have to, honey.” It’s so fractured, his voice. Strained from shouting, tainted with emotions he clearly hasn’t come to understand yet, “just… don’t leave me like this. Still so in love with you. Still wanting to see your face when I wake up every day, to curl into you and avoid the world a little longer- still wanting to fix that damn car with you,” you stifle a laugh, despite the gravity of everything, “still completely and utterly adoring you. Don’t leave me loving you. Please, Gems, don’t.”

The two of you grow quiet, Rooster’s hand still clutching to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He pulls you in, lips pressing to your forehead. He stays there as a soft cry that moves through his chest, tears dampening your hair as the two of you stand there in the cruelty of your wake.

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[teshamerkel]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 50]

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AO3 Link

-

Tobias and Nia take the ferry north to the guild, but the river might not be as peaceful as they would hope.

-

When Tobias wakes at sunrise, he has to take a few minutes to settle his thoughts. For once, they’re racing almost as soon as he’s conscious, still tangled up in all of the information Nia dumped on him after her impromptu talk with Giratina yesterday.

As if that situation wasn’t terrifying enough on its own.

No, she also had to come back from her little chat with news of the world ending. And somehow, Nia and Tobias are the ones put in charge of stopping it.

No pressure or anything.

Tobias knows they can’t just ignore it, though. If Giratina is telling the truth—and Tobias is still a bit iffy on that, but can’t find much reason for why he would lie about such a thing, either—then it needs to be fixed. It’s not something he’s willing to take a chance on.

At least they have a plan. Tobias isn’t looking forward to groveling to Will for the assistance Nia is convinced he can give, but he’ll feel better once he loops August and Alistair and some of the other guild ‘mon in on this. See what they know. Someone has to have an idea of where Xerneas’ resting place could be.

But before worrying about all of that, they need to actually make it back to the Lexym Guild. Even taking the ferry, it’ll probably be a couple of days until they reach home. They can think over how to bring all of this to light once they’re back.

Tobias sits up with a groan and goes about his usual process of rolling Nia out of bed. She whines in protest, but he manages to hurry them both out of the inn and into the heart of Shivergleam just as the first rays of dawn start to peek orange-bright through the foggy gray morning.

Shivergleam is strange to see in the light of day. Most Pokemon are either already asleep or heading to bed, and as they pass a grocery store Tobias sees a yawning gourgeist flip their OPEN sign to CLOSED. The ominous, twisted wooden structures around them suddenly look harmless. Almost like a town of whimsical treehouses, some distant cousin to his own home in the Lexym Tree.

Tobias leads Nia across creaky bridges (which are scarier in the day, when he can see just how far down the drop is to fog-capped swamp water) towards where he’s pretty sure the Aqua Jet had docked the night before. It’s not like it’s too big of a town, and Cordelia’s white and orange ferry stands out against the much more modest wooden canoes that the locals own.

The two of them hurry down the steps to the ferry, catching Beck just as he pulls himself out of the swamp. Water runs in rivulets through his thick orange fur and splatters onto the wood as he looks up.

“There you are! Perfect timing. Our other passenger just boarded so we’re ready to go.”

“Who’s the other passenger?” Nia asks.

Beck scratches at his chin. “A sableye. Some kind of researcher? He’s heading to the caves north of the Lexym Guild, near the foot of the mountains.”

Nia perks up at the word researcher. “I wonder if he’d tell us what he researches!”

“Not sure. He was a bit mumbly—real quiet guy.”

Tobias can handle quiet. They don’t need any shenanigans on their trip back north, especially considering they have to be on the water again. Not exactly any fire type’s favorite place to be.

“And they’re back!” A voice crows from up near the captain’s cabin. A blue and yellow maw leans out to peer down at them, teeth bared in an obnoxious grin. “Couldn’t stay away from the beautiful riverfront, could you, Charmander?”

Tobias curls his lip at her in return. While Nia waves and says hi, Tobias boards the ferry and moves to the back deck out of the croconaw’s line of sight.

It’s there he spots their new co-passenger: a spindly, dark purple ghost type with large, unnerving gemstone eyes. As in they literally look like cut gemstones. Creepy. The Pokemon is curled around a backpack and tucked up against the cabin of the ferry, half-hidden in shadows.

Tobias’ gut instinct after last night with Edme (and the general distance of the Shivergleam residents as a whole) is to be wary of their fellow passenger. Not that it would be likely for Edme to send someone after them for information about Giratina or revenge or something, but…

“Tobias, did you—“

Nia stops as she catches up, blinking as she notices the other passenger. It takes her a beat longer than usual, but she does step closer to give the ghost type a nervous smile.

“Hello! You must be the researcher Beck mentioned, right? I’m Nia and this is Tobias. I thought we should introduce ourselves since we’ll be traveling together for a few days!”

The sableye curls in a bit more at the greeting, but does quietly say, “H-Hello. Carnelian. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!”

Carnelian gives a jerky nod. Not rude, but clearly anxious and maybe not used to socializing.

They take a few steps away to give him some space. As the crew finishes preparations, Nia looks to Tobias, probably waiting for him to head back down to the boiler room with Ignatius.

Tough luck. After last night he’s not letting his danger-prone partner out of sight quite yet. He waves her off, gesturing for her to sit wherever she’s planning to sit so he can figure out where he’s settling for the morning.

Nia frowns, catching on. “You can really go inside if you’d like.”

Tobias rolls his eyes and takes the initiative, plopping down against the ferry’s middle, as far as he can from Carnelian. “I’ll go in if I want to.”

Nia doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t argue as the ferry starts up. Tobias hears Beck and Nori leap overboard with a quiet splash. Ignatius must’ve already descended into the boiler room to get the steam engine running. Which only leaves—

Caspian comes plap plap plap-ing around the corner. The little quaxly is clearly full of energy despite the early hour. He waves happily to Nia and Tobias before scampering from one side of the deck to the other to make sure that everything is in place and properly tied down. Tobias still isn’t sure if the kid is actually responsible for that part of the routine, or if the crew just gave him a “job” to help him feel useful.

Regardless, as Nia and Tobias watch, Cas runs to and fro before deeming the ship worthy. He leans through the railing to wave down at the river, and Tobias hears a quiet splash as Beck swims around to the front of the ferry to give Cordelia the all-clear. Within a minute, they’re moving slowly across the swamp, through the narrow channel leading back to the Lilycap River.

In the light of day, the swampy environment just looks…peaceful. Inviting, even, if you don’t mind water.

Carnelian doesn’t seem too keen to chat, so Nia sighs and lays back across the deck. “…I should probably practice my aura.”

Tobias raises a brow. It’s not unusual for Nia to practice her aura abilities, but it is unusual for her to jump to that option immediately, especially this early in the morning. She must be thinking about what Giratina said. Tobias has the itch to train too, knowing what they’re up against.

“Aura?”

Cas has moved to their side. The quaxly tilts his head at Nia.

Nia sits up. “Oh. Um, it’s sort of like….a specific set of moves I can use as a riolu. Everyone has aura, but I can use it for attacks and sensing things and reading someone's energy.”

Cas’ brow furrows. “‘Reading?’ Like a book? How do you do that for energy?”

“Well…aura is sort of like each pers—each Pokemon’s, um. Life energy, I guess? And everyone’s is unique! Like a fingerprint. I can look at them and know more about someone’s character and personality.”

“Could you read mine?!” Cas asks, confusion dropping in exchange for sheer excitement.

Nia looks torn between amusement and discomfort. “I-I mean. I could? But it’s sort of…personal. I see a lot about who you are. Some Pokemon find it kind of…invasive.”

“I don’t mind!” Cas insists, plopping down and scooting closer with all the reckless excitement of the child he is. “Please? It sounds neat! And I’m not big enough to help out with anything else right now so I have time.”

After another moment of hesitation, Nia huffs a laugh. She relaxes and holds out a paw. “All right. Could I have your wing for a minute?”

Cas complies, and Nia closes her eyes. Bright blue energy outlines her body, and the appendages at either side of her head lift as she concentrates her aura.

Tobias watches this process with vague curiosity. While he’s been adamant from the start that Nia not read his aura, the process doesn’t seem quite as awful to him as it once did. Not if Nia’s the one looking at his soul, at least. He would still rather she not, a little uncomfortable with what she might find, but the thought doesn’t send anxiety rushing through him, either.

Plus, she already glimpsed it down in the mines. Red. He’s red, apparently. Whatever that means.

“You’re sort of a bright pinkish-purple,” Nia says. “Almost fuchsia.”

Cas, who had been nervously staring at Nia, perks up. “That sounds pretty!”

Nia smiles, eyes still closed. “It is pretty. It’s like…the reflected colors in a bubble. Fun and light. Or…coral? Supportive. Tougher than it looks.”

Caspian looks like he’s feeling self-conscious but isn’t sure if he should be. “So is fuchsia…good?”

Nia releases the quaxly’s wing and smiles. “Well, I sure like it!”

Caspian looks down, feathers fluffing with pleased embarrassment.

“A lot of water metaphors this time,” Tobias notes, amused.

Nia shrugs with a smile. "Just felt right."

“Is that because I'm a water type?" Cas asks. "Do all types have the same color aura?”

“No, as far as I can tell your type doesn’t actually matter,” Nia says. “I’m sort of a turquoise blue, but I’m a fighting type. And I know another water type who’s green.”

“Oh.” Cas looks up thoughtfully. “I wonder what color Delia is.”

Tobias snorts. He can’t imagine Cordelia feeling comfortable letting Nia look at her soul. She seems like the fiercely private type—not that he has any room to talk.

Nia shrugs. “Could be anything, really.”

Cas mulls that over, leaning to the side and trying to peer around the tall cabin of the ferry as if he could actually see Cordelia at the wheel, let alone into her soul.

“Your aura control is really solid now,” Tobias comments.

Nia's tail wags a bit. “Thank you! I still feel like I have a long way to go, but I’m getting better. I’ve been practicing a lot!”

Tobias knows, considering he’s been around for most of her practicing.

“You going to show Val the new aura radar trick you figured out in the mines?"

“Yeah! I just hope I can recreate it when I talk to her.”

Cas tunes back into the conversation, chirping, “So what all can you do with aura?”

Nia gives Tobias a wink before forming a short staff of aura and giving it a twirl.

Cas gasps. “That’s so cool!”

“You have any cool tricks?” Tobias asks the little water type.

“I can’t do anything like that, but Auntie has been working with me on a lot of other moves and stuff. Here, watch this!”

The quaxly hops to his feet and spurts a weak water gun attack out over the railing to splatter harmlessly into the river channel.

Nia claps, and Tobias makes a suitably impressed face.

“I don’t have much else, though. I’ve mostly been working on, uh, status moves,” Cas says, sitting down. “Auntie’s a primarina, so she’s really good with that sort of thing. And she says that I shouldn’t be in the middle of serious fights at my age anyways.”

“Status moves, huh,” Nia echoes, idly twisting her aura baton through her fingers.

Tobias knows that look. She must be thinking about which ones she could use herself. He nudges her. “You ever gonna try learning work up? It’s a normal type move.”

Nia’s eyes widen. “I forgot about that one! What does that do again? Raises attack, right?”

“And special attack.”

Nia’s brow furrows. “Great. So now all I have to do is just…learn it.”

“Is it a TM?” Cas asks.

Nia blinks, first at the water type and then at Tobias.

Tobias barely bites back a rude remark. “No, it’s not a trained move for you. Should be learned naturally.”

Cas turns a confused look onto Nia.

“I…have trouble learning new moves,” Nia explains, sheepish. “Learning moves naturally. It doesn’t come to me as easy as it should.”

“That’s all right!” Cas says, surprisingly genuine. “I struggle sometimes with the moves Auntie and Delia teach me, but eventually I figure ‘em out! Usually I just gotta figure out how to form ‘em.”

Nia tilts her head. “How to form them?”

“Yeah!” Cas nods. “Like how a water gun is all about focusing my power in my belly, where my water sac is, but for disarming voice I try to push my energy into my lungs and throat.”

“Oh! Right.” Nia watches Cas with a quiet intensity as the klinklang turn inside her head. “How…how would you try using a move like work up? Where your whole body gets stronger? I was thinking that I would just need to spread my aura—my energy throughout my body, but that doesn’t seem to work.”

Cas glances at Tobias, as if unsure of why Nia is looking to a twelve year old of all ‘mon for guidance. But then he speaks up, “Well…does it feel like you’re giving your muscles any kind of boost when you do that?”

Nia closes her eyes for a moment, as if testing it out, and frowns. “…No. it feels like it’s just leaving my body without doing anything.”

“Oh, I used to do something like that!” Cas says, clearly thrilled to be able to help. “It's probably ‘cause you’re just pushing your energy out, away from your body. Auntie said you just waste it when you do that.”

Nia groans, head landing in her paws. “Great.”

“She told me that instead of pushing your energy away from you, you have to, um…how’d she put it? You have to use your energy like a river.”

“A river?” Tobias asks, doubtful.

Cas nods. “Yeah! Like, channel your energy through your body in one big loop instead of outward, starting at your shoulders then down to your feet and back up. She said that keeping it moving is what makes the power.”

Nia’s eyes widen as she straightens up. “Like a water wheel. If the energy is the water, then keeping it in a constant river loop keeps it contained in your body—“

“Instead of just pushing it away from yourself and wasting it,” Tobias realizes.

Nia grins. “Of course! Oh, that makes so much sense. Thank you, Cas! I’ll try that.”

Cas fluffs again, happy but shy. Once Tobias asks him about his aunt who taught him that, he starts chattering again, clearly super proud of the primarina.

As he does, Tobias glances at their sableye travel-buddy, who is still hunched over in the shade of the boat’s middle. Then Tobias lets himself fall back to the warming deck and closes his eyes, pillowing his head with his arms to listen.

While he might not be fond of boat travel, there isn’t much else to do over the next couple days aside from plan and do what little training they can. Might as well chat with Cas and relax while they can.

—————————————————————————————————

Over the next day and a half, Tobias’ fear of leaving Nia alone dies down, allowing him to retreat to the warm isolation of the boiler room when the river starts to become too much. He still doesn’t stay with Ignatius as much as he did on their first trip, though.

He feels the need to keep an eye on Nia, worried about where her head is at. It’s just like the period after her illness, when she would space out and drown in her own thoughts. Sometimes Tobias catches a sheen of tears in her eyes too, like she’s just barely holding it together. Tobias doesn’t know if it’s the fear and pressure of the mission dropped onto their shoulders, or if she’s worried about being able to return to the human world.

Either way, he can tell that she’s…off.

Tobias doesn’t know how to ask her if she wants to talk about it. He feels hot embarrassment burn at his face and close his throat any time he considers it. Instead, he opts to just stay close.

Not that Tobias is much better, between his own fear regarding their world-saving mission and…well.

He’s thinking about Team Zenith again.

It starts with the crobat—Asra or Vesper or whatever his name was at the end. Tobias still hates him, still feels loathing sit cold and heavy like a ball of steel in his chest. He hates the crobat more now that he knows the coward got to live a happy life with his family after what he did to Tobias’ own.

Even if his mate was right and the crobat regretted what he was a part of. Even if Tobias recalls in scattered memories that the crobat didn’t do much more than corral them, he still didn’t stop Dismas or Sulien either. Instead, he let them kill Tobias’ family then ran away.

At least he’s dead now. Tobias should probably feel bad for the quiet satisfaction that thought brings, but he doesn’t.

Instead, Tobias thinks about Dismas and Sulien. The pangoro and arcanine presumably still out there, living their own lives. Do they regret it? Have they had their own families too? Tobias doesn’t remember much about the pangoro aside from flashes of black and white fur, snarling and grappling with his mother, before the arcanine pinned Tobias down and took up the entirety of his vision.

Tobias can only think of what happened to him in pieces before forcing himself to focus again on the world around him, digging his claws into the wood of the boat and looking out over the river. His heart pounds and a chill rises over his skin. He feels his head go light.

Funny enough, the end of the world is somehow a less terrifying thing to focus on. Tobias and Nia haven’t talked about it much since learning of it, seeing as they already have their vague plan and nothing to do until they get back to the Lexym Guild anyways. Tobias doesn’t think talking about it in circles would help.

So they both stay quiet.

Beck catches on quickly to their distracted thoughts and somber mood. The floatzel doesn’t ask, but Tobias notices how he checks in with them when he can, recruiting Cas to buoy the atmosphere. Beck talks to them about the river and the crew’s travels, clearly working hard at making Nia smile. Normally, Tobias would find something like that annoying, but Beck isn’t overbearing about it.

Tobias does find their sableye co-passenger—well. Not annoying, per se, but off-putting. He keeps entirely to himself, occasionally digging through his backpack to write in a little notebook, and Tobias can’t help how suspicious he is of what the little ‘mon writes so fervently.

The last time they trusted a ghost Nia got yanked into the distortion world against her will. Tobias doesn’t think anyone could blame him for a little caution. Well, anyone but Nia apparently. The third time she catches Tobias glancing warily at Carnelian, she pulls him aside to ask him what’s up.

“Weren’t you the one who said ghost types get unfairly discriminated against all the time?” She whispers.

“I’m not doing that!” Tobias hisses.

Nia gives him an unconvinced look.

“He’s just…weird.”

Nia huffs a laugh. “Just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean he’s weird. Maybe he’s anxious because he’s not used to being away from Shivergleam.”

Tobias sighs, rubbing at his face. Is he being suspicious for no good reason? Would he be less suspicious if the passenger was just as weird but not a ghost type?

…Probably, some small, ashamed part of him admits.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Just…on edge.”

“I get it.”

From that point on, Tobias does his best to just ignore the sableye lurking around the ship. Even when they stop to eat in the evening and the sableye mysteriously vanishes.

“Probably finding his own food,” Ignatius explains once he notices Tobias looking around.

“Ah, right. Sableye eat rocks or something, right?” Cordelia says through a mouthful of the stew they’d cooked up.

“Rocks?” Cas echoes, eyes wide.

“Gems,” Nori corrects quietly. “Crystals and minerals.”

“Eh, same difference,” Cordelia dismisses.

The second day of travel dawns as calm as the first. The river is still flooded, rushing by at unsettling speeds, frothy and impossible to see through, but Nori and Beck manage to navigate the rough waters with ease, and Cordelia’s hands are steady at the wheel.

Even the weather is decent. Slightly cloudy and overcast, but no longer pounding rain like it was on the way into Shivergleam. It’s even warm enough for the deck to heat under Tobias’ scales and lull him into a nap while Nia practices her aura.

It’s not until early afternoon that something goes amiss.

Their first sign of danger is Carnelian, scuttling to his feet and looking around. The little Pokemon is fidgety, but something about the abrupt gesture speaks of panic.

Tobias and Nia snap into ready positions themselves a moment after, looking around. Cas, who had been perched on a crate nearby and watching the river, looks nervously between the three of them.

“Carnelian?” Nia asks, quiet. “Did you notice something?”

Carnelian opens his mouth, only for an unfamiliar shout from the front of the boat to snag their attention. It’s more feminine than Beck’s deep voice, and it takes Tobias a moment to realize that it’s Nori. The golduck who has been nearly silent the entire time they’ve known her.

That can’t be good.

Nori is calling something up to Cordelia, who Tobias can vaguely hear cursing in the captain’s quarters. The boat swings suddenly to the side, as if trying to slow to a sudden stop. Nia and Tobias stumble and grab onto the railing, and Caspian falls into Tobias’ side. Carnelian yelps and goes sliding across the deck.

A second later, Tobias feels what Carnelian and Nori must’ve noticed first. A tingling against his skin, in his limbs. Something uncomfortable and off, hard to pin down but familiar enough by now.

A mystery dungeon.

Nia, probably still unable to sense it due to her fighting type nature, frowns at his paling face. “What?”

“Mystery dungeon,” he grits, trying to determine how close it is. If he can feel it in the air, it must be dangerously close.

Cordelia finally manages to ease the boat against the muddy bank of the riverside. It shudders to a stop, and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief.

Cordelia leaves the cabin and rushes around the corner, eyes honing in on Caspian and relaxing once she catches sight of him. Then she glances around. “Everyone all right back here?”

They all nod. A moment later, Beck and Nori leap out of the river with a splash and thud on deck.

“Everyone okay?” Beck echoes. “Where’s Natius?”

Right on cue, the door to the inner cabin swings open and Ignatius stomps out on-deck. “By Moltres’ flames, what is going on out here?”

The crew relaxes seeing their last missing member in good shape.

“Got a bit too close to a mystery dungeon,” Cordelia sighs, rubbing a clawed hand down her snout. “Nori caught it in time.”

Tobias is glad she did. Even now the tingling is strong, still blaring alarms in the back of his mind that danger is nearby. Tobias looks at Nori. The golduck is staring out into the forest, ruby eyes narrowed.

“U-Um,” Carnelian pipes up, voice high and nervous. Everyone turns to him, surprised to hear the sableye speak.

He shrinks, but glances at Nori, claws twiddling anxiously. “M-Miss Nori, I could be incorrect, but do you still..?”

Nori’s beak flattens out into a grim expression. She nods. “Something’s wrong.”

Tobias exchanges an uneasy glance with Nia.

There’s a tense moment of silence, save for the loud rush of the river. Tobias’ heart pounds as he swears the tingling feeling gets stronger, somehow. His head feels fuzzy, which is strange. He didn’t hit it or anything.

Tobias sees the moment Nori figures it out. “The dungeon is still forming. Right on top of us.”

Oh. Oh no.

Cordelia, who had crouched to pick up Cas, stares at her crewmate.

“W-Wait—it’s still forming?” Nia asks, glancing out at the forest. “Here? Right now? But if that happens—“

“We’ll turn feral,” Ignatius sighs, sounding almost resigned. He puffs out a cloud of smoke. “No telling what’ll happen after that.”

Tobias feels his blood chill, goosebumps rising on his skin. Now that he knows what’s happening, he can consciously recognize how slow and clumsy his thoughts suddenly feel. Like his mind is trying to wade through thick, sticky sap. If the mystery dungeon forms on top of them, they’ll turn feral until it clears again, which could be weeks. And in the meantime they’ll be mindless beasts. If one of them gets hurt, then—

Cas whimpers, burying his head in Cordelia’s stomach. Everyone else looks quietly terrified, eyes down and hands balled into fists.

“C-Can’t we do something?” Nia presses. “Can we outrun it?”

Beck shakes his head. “‘Fraid not. I’ve heard musings, but…”

“Musings?” Tobias asks.

“Unsubstantiated musings,” Nori says.

“I don’t care if they’re substantiated or not!” Tobias snarls. “If you’ve got an idea then say it!”

“Safeguard,” Beck says. “Heard a rumor ‘bout it. But unless one of you has safeguard in your arsenal, we ain’t got no way to protect ourselves even if it would work.”

There's a heavy moment of silence. Then—

Nia’s head whips up. “Protect. Would protect work?”

The crew blinks slowly at Nia, as if trying to process her words. Tobias hears Carnelian let out a animalistic whine of fear.

Nori is the first one to shake out of it enough to speak. “I don’t—“

“Do it!” Tobias growls.

Nia throws out her paws, and her aura snaps into being around them, surrounding the group in a thin dome of blue energy. Immediately, Tobias feels his sluggish thoughts clear, like the first breath of fresh air after a stuffy nose. He realizes he’d been hunched over in a crouch, and straightens up.

Everyone else snaps out of the creeping effect of the dungeon too, standing taller as their eyes clear. Cordelia almost seems to be ashamed about succumbing to the effect, and focuses on murmuring reassurances to Cas. Beck lifts his chin to look up at the protect bubble in awe. Nori is rubbing her forehead, wincing, while Carnelian whimpers and cowers closer to Nia.

Ignatius simply says, “Huh. I’ll be.”

Tobias relates. He kind of can’t believe that worked. It’s…unheard of, to get firsthand experience from Seekers or researchers who were caught in a forming mystery dungeon and able to ward it off. He didn’t know it was possible for a move to save them from such a thing.

“It worked,” Tobias breathes, relieved.

“Why did it work?” Cordelia asks, frowning and looking to Nori. “And why haven’t I heard about these rumors?”

Nori, still rubbing tenderly at the red gem on her forehead, shrugs. “Beck and I heard a rumor earlier this year. About someone using safeguard and escaping from a forming mystery dungeon unscathed. We didn’t think it was true.”

Safeguard…so that means—

“You saying Pokemon going feral is nothin’ more than a status condition?” Cordelia asks, squinting.

Nori shakes her head. “It has to be more than that. But it might work in a…similar way. A form of confusion. If so, it makes some amount of sense that it could be stopped by a strong safeguard.”

“Or a strong protect, apparently,” Beck says. “We’re real lucky you were here, Nia.”

Nia smiles, but Tobias can see the beginning of strain in her expression, in the way she doesn’t respond. She used her protect in the mines at Fort Asra, but Tobias doesn’t think she’s ever made a shield this large. It’s going to drain her quickly, even if she has been practicing with her aura.

“However it worked, we've bought ourselves a few more minutes of sanity,” Tobias says. “But now what? We’re still stuck in the middle of it and Nia can’t keep this up forever.”

Nia’s mouth twists unhappily, but she doesn’t argue.

“Could we move the boat?” Cas suggests quietly.

Cordelia shakes her head. “‘Fraid not. We would need the whole crew at their stations for that, and we’d be too far apart to protect everyone.”

“C-Could we send a distress signal?” Carnelian pipes up, voice shaking. He glances at Tobias and Nia. “To the guild.”

Oh. Right. Tobias feels a little angry that he didn’t think of that himself. He hurriedly reaches into their satchel to grab one of their badges. Then he frowns.

“No go. Too far out.”

Carnelian shrinks back into himself.

“Okay,” Tobias says, running a hand back and over his head. Think, Tobias. They aren’t technically on a mission right now, but they are Seekers. It’s their duty to protect the crew and make sure they’re safe. And Nia is busy as is, so he has to take the lead.

“Moves,” he says. “Or items. Does anyone have anything that might help? Something to stop confusion or get us out of here. Safeguard, protect, uh…fly, teleport. An escape orb?”

“Aren’t you the Seeker?” Ignatius huffs. “You should have the items.”

Tobias shoots the torkoal a nasty look. “Any helpful suggestions?”

Each Pokemon grows quiet, then shakes their head. All except Cordelia, who is looking down at the top of Cas' feathery blue head with a furrow to her brow.

Tobias stares at her, expectant.

She glares back at him, but relents. “We…might have something.”

Then she detaches the teary quaxly from her front, kneeling down to meet his eyes.

“Hey, bro?”

Cas sniffs. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember that move Auntie’s been working on with you? The one with the pink misty stuff?”

Caspian’s brow furrows. He tilts his head. “Misty train?”

Cordelia chuckles, but it’s strained. “Misty terrain, yeah. Can you do me a favor? D’you think you could try to use that?”

Tobias frowns. Misty terrain? The move sounds vaguely familiar, but…

The aura shield around them flickers. Weakens and thins and grows more transparent for just a moment as Nia growls. Tobias, concerned, steps closer and presses his arm against hers.

“A big burst of it, yeah,” Cordelia says, encouraging. “Enough to fill this whole bubble!”

Caspian glances around at everyone’s eyes on him. “W-Would it help?”

“Honestly, bite? Not sure. But it might. And we gotta try something.”

Cas falls silent, looking down at his feet.

Tobias glances at Nori. “Misty terrain?”

The golduck hums, gaze flicking between Cordelia and Cas. “Similar to safeguard. If he can use it, then we might be safe while the dungeon finishes forming.”

Tobias tries not to cling to that hope. He doesn’t want to put that kind of pressure onto a kid. But as he watches, Cordelia braces her hands on Cas’ small shoulders and gives him a squeeze before stepping back.

“All right, Cas. Give it a go. Just like Auntie showed ya.”

Everyone stills as Cas close his eyes. After a moment, he bobs his head—one, two, three, four. His little webbed foot taps along to an unseen beat. Nia, at Tobias’ side, is breathing hard as she continues to hold the protect.

Then Cas starts a little dance, surprisingly rhythmic. His feet tap and arc across the wood, his wings twisting and turning. Before Tobias can question what the heck he’s doing, he spins.

A cloud of pink energy bursts out from him in a wave. Tobias throws up his arms, and when he lowers them the air in their little bubble is…sparkly, the wood beneath their feet tinted with a shifting pink fog.

“Did it work?” Nia asks, voice tight.

Caspian, panting, looks between Nori and Cordelia.

Nori says, “No way to tell.”

Tobias grows colder. “So we have to just…”

“Try it,” Beck sighs. “Well? Do we want to rip the bandage off quick?”

“Awful casual about it,” Tobias growls.

Beck shrugs, though Tobias catches the concerned look he gives Nia.

Tobias sighs.

“Nia,” He says. “Drop the protect.”

She cracks open an eye, unsure.

“You can’t keep this up forever. Either it worked or it didn’t.”

Nia is clearly uncomfortable with that sentiment, but Tobias can see the way her arms tremble. How her ears fight to pin back with the strain.

“Nia,” he says, sharper.

She lets go with a gasp. The blue around them vanishes, leaving the open air of the river and the forest on either side. As Nia pants, Tobias holds his own breath.

The pink mist plays across the ground around them in a circle. It doesn’t dissipate, hovering around their feet like a protective presence.

Tobias glances at the others and can see the same nervous caution on their faces. But as the seconds pass, Tobias counting each beat until one minute passes, then two…he doesn’t feel that same fuzzy confusion return to slow his thoughts like tar.

“Did it work?” Ignatius asks, hushed. “Or did the dungeon already finish forming?”

Nori shakes her head, pointing out into the trees.

Tobias follows her gesture, feeling his skin crawl. The forest looks…restless. Trees roll in waves as the landscape shifts. Like the earth below them is a great waking beast. Even the boat tilts and groans, as if it too is being pulled into the distortion of the mystery dungeon.

Loud, sharp cries echo from the forest: Pokemon who weren’t as lucky as them. Pokemon caught up in the dungeon's haze. Within their circle of pink mist, however, their minds seem untouched.

Everyone releases a collective breath.

Cordelia whoops, scooping Cas up and spinning him in a tight hug. She’s yelling about how she knew he could do it and that he kicks tail. The quaxly giggles, a little teary-eyed.

Tobias finally relaxes, sinking down to the deck next to Nia. She laughs, tired and relieved as she bumps her head into Tobias’ shoulder.

“G’job, little ember,” Ignatius says to Cas. Then he turns to Nori. “How long will this hold?”

“Long enough, hopefully,” Nori says. “Eventually the dungeon will settle. All we can do is sit and wait for it to finish.”

Since Nori is keeping a watchful eye on their environment, Tobias allows himself to take a moment to breathe. He can’t make himself relax entirely, but he can’t do much at the moment either. He looks around at their companions.

Ignatius and Cordelia are murmuring to each other quietly. Cas looks exhausted by his big burst of energy, and leans heavily against Cordelia so she can scritch at his feathers. Carnelian is curled into a nervous ball around his bag, plucking at the backpack's cloth with his claws. He has scooted closer to Nia, as if soothed by her presence. Beck seems to be lost in thought, until Tobias notices how the floatzel glances at the edge of their protective circle. Ah. Keeping an eye on the misty terrain, then. Good.

Nia, finally having caught her breath, turns to sit against Tobias. He leans back as well so they’re spine to spine and tries to reign in his nerves. They need to stay calm and hope that the dungeon finishes forming before Cas’ attack wears off. Then…he supposes they’ll need to fight their way out of the dungeon.

He and Nia need to be ready to lead them when that time comes. They’re young, but they likely still have the most experience with navigating through situations like this.

“Huh,” Nia says, almost too quiet to hear.

“What?”

“Oh. I was just thinking that it makes sense. What Nori said, about the dungeon causing something similar to confusion.”

“Why’s that?” Tobias asks, tilting his chin back to look at the side of her head.

“Well…” her voice lowers. “If what Giratina said is true, then the borders of the rift are made up of aura. Of…life energy. And moves also come from our own life energy, our own aura. So I guess it just makes sense to me that damage in the border could…confuse the world in the same way Pokemon get confused by like, a confuse ray or something.”

Tobias snorts, remembering what Nia told him after her last breakthrough with aura. “Avery is going to lose their mind when you tell them that.”

Nia laughs. “I know.”

The group starts up a quiet conversation while they wait for the dungeon to finish forming, everyone likely trying to avoid thinking too hard about whether or not Cas’ misty terrain will hold. Tobias eyes the changing surroundings as they talk.

The forest almost seems alive, closing in tighter and tighter to form the mystery dungeons' trademark “rooms” and “hallways.” The trees shift and twist, weaving together with loud cracks that make Carnelian, Cas and Nia flinch. Weedy grasses and muddy banks rise higher into sharp inclines, boxing them slowly into a long corridor. It’s unnerving to watch happen, as if some invisible giant is ignoring the laws of reality and molding the world around them, stretching trees out like putty and raising the earth like sandcastles.

Slowly, the movements settle. The open air of the wide river has been contained to something much smaller, partially blocking out the overcast sky. An uneasy quiet descends on the forest, and Tobias isn’t sure why it feels this unnatural until he hears Cas murmur something about the river.

That’s it. The loud roar of the river is just…gone.

“I believe it’s finished,” Nori finally says.

Everyone stands tall to try peering over the lip of the boat and into the corridor they’re now trapped in. The “walls” of the hallway are unnaturally steep banks of mud, smooth river stones, and long grasses, with tree roots twisted throughout here and there. Tobias thinks he can see rivulets of water trickling down them, and hears the gentle burble of running water that can’t compare to the roar of the river.

The rivulets bleed into the “floor” of the hallway, which is covered in a sheen of water, as if it has become its own modest stream. Tobias feels his heart drop at the sight and squints, trying to look past the bright reflection of the sky to see if the water is deep or just surface-level. He has no idea how they’re going to fight their way out if the dungeon is covered in deep water. Just walking through a floor of the stuff would burn Tobias’ feet raw.

Nori is the first one to move. She exchanges a look with Beck, then calmly walks out of the protective circle. Tobias' heart jumps. Cordelia makes a sound of alarm and darts after the golduck, but Beck steps in her path.

“Beck, if you don’t move that waterlogged orange pelt—“

“Someone has to test it, and Nori is the most sensitive of us to psychic fields. She knows what she’s doing.”

Cordelia’s eyes flick past him to Nori. She grits her teeth and watches the golduck take a few more steps to the railing of the boat before turning to look at them, crossing her arms to wait.

“Give her a few minutes,” Ignatius says. “If she feels fine after that, we should be safe to move.”

After a moment, Cordelia returns to Cas' side. But she keeps her eyes trained on the golduck to watch for any signs of her being affected.

Luckily, Nori calmly stays in place, looking out over the corridor. After a few minutes, she pushes off and walks back into the protective circle of the misty terrain.

“I believe it’s safe.”

“Clearly,” Cordelia snorts. Then her voice hardens. “Don’t do that again. Captain’s orders.”

Nori nods, as if she didn’t just deliberately make a decision knowing Cordelia would object.

Cordelia grunts. Then she turns to look around at the rest of her crew and their passengers. “Well, Cas and the riolu saved our tails, but we still gotta get out of here. We ready to fight?”

“We’re not going to fight unless we have to,” Tobias counters, crossing his arms. The crew members look at him, surprised.

“And what makes you think you’re calling the shots here, kid?”

“Because Nia and I are Seekers, remember? Unless you’re secretly dungeon divers yourselves, we’re the most familiar with navigating places like this.”

“You suggesting you two lead us through this mess?” Ignatius asks, incredulous.

Tobias nods.

“Can you fight?” Cordelia challenges.

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Of course we can fight. But we should avoid ferals when possible because we have a giant group and an unknowably deep dungeon—we have to conserve our energy where we can.”

“He has a point,” Nori says.

Beck's tails twist worriedly, like a propellor. “This is unfamiliar territory you two aren’t used to. You sure you're up to this?”

Tobias snorts. “Every dungeon is unfamiliar territory. You wouldn’t be any more used to it than we are.”

Beck frowns, conceding the point but not looking happy about it.

“I would like to keep an eye on Cas,” Cordelia admits. Then, more of an order than a question, “What’s your team rank?”

“U-Um. D, right?” Nia says, glancing at Tobias.

Tobias winces, then hurries to add, “We’ve only been Seekers for a couple of months.”

“Awful proud for such shiny new recruits,” Ignatius mutters.

Tobias opens his mouth to snap something at the torkoal, only for Nia to stop him with a gentle paw on his arm.

“I know we’re young,” Nia says. “And we haven't been doing this long. But we’ve already been through…a lot. We’re stronger than we look.”

“And we’re the Seekers,” Tobias stresses. “Even if you can battle, this is different than a spar between two sane Pokemon. Let us lead.”

“We can clear a path for you,” Nia adds. “If it turns out that we can’t handle it, you guys can step in.”

The air is still heavy with uncertainty.

Tobias is irked that this is suddenly an issue at all when they face dangerous missions every day, but he knows Nia’s calmer approach is more likely to prove their point about them being mature enough to handle this, so he keeps his mouth shut.

The crew exchange looks with one another. Nori seems to surprisingly be on their side. She stares her crew mates down, apparently firm in her decision. After a moment, Ignatius grumbles something about young startups, but backs down. Cordelia, after a long and wordless exchange of expressions with Nori, nods once.

Beck is the only adult crew member who hasn’t agreed.

“What? What’s the problem?”

The floatzel sighs. “…Nothing. Just getting old and letting my instincts as a dad win out over my instincts as a crewmate.”

Oh. He’s…worried about them? He shouldn’t be. They just got the fate of the world dumped on their shoulders. They can handle a little mystery dungeon.

“We can handle it, Beck,” Nia says, echoing his thoughts. Her voice is firm but not unkind. She gives him a smile. “I know you’re worried, but this is kind of our job.”

Glancing around and realizing that no one else shares his concerns, Beck caves. “All right. Just…let me know if you two need help, all right? These old bones can still fight if need be.”

“Deal!”

The group cautiously moves out of the protective effect of Cas’ circle and to the edge of the boat. Beck insists on going down first, “Just to check how deep it is,” before slipping overboard. Tobias frowns when Beck goes entirely underwater, confirming that the path is too deep to walk through. The floatzel surfaces, glancing around to make sure nothing is about to attack before waving up at them.

Cordelia smirks at Tobias. “You sure you still want to lead, flame?”

Tobias, on completely stupid impulse, glares at her before hopping over the edge of the boat. Beck barks a startled sound but manages to catch him on his chest.

Tobias pushes roughly at the paws on his arms. “Let me go! I’m fine.”

“You can’t be implying you’re going to swim through this.”

“I said we’ll lead and I meant it!”

Beck tightens his hold. Tobias could break free, but he doesn’t want to hurt the stupid old ‘mon.

“Just…let me give you a lift through the water,” Beck says, meeting Tobias’ eyes. “In return, I won’t fret about you two leading us.”

“Or you could just let me go and not fret anyways.”

Beck’s gives him a look that feels too fatherly to be comfortable. As if to say he has the patience to wait out Tobias’ stupidity.

Tobias growls. “…Fine.”

Beck releases him, and Tobias sits up on the floatzel’s stomach. The water type is long and flat, admittedly perfect for ferrying passengers.

Nori slips over the boat next, into the gentle current with a quiet splash. Then Cordelia and Cas. After that, Cordelia yells up at the boat until Ignatius stops hollering about dying on solid ground where sane fire types belong. Then the torkoal tumbles over the edge in his shell for Nori to catch and hike carefully onto her back.

Finally, Carnelian peers over the edge, shaking visibly even from here. Nia is clearly trying to soothe the sableye, but whatever she says must work, because he eventually hauls himself over the side of the boat with jerky movements. Nia climbs out after him, watching the sableye’s feet and murmuring reassurances.

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Nia, watch your own paws!”

It’s a clumsy effort, but the two of them manage to slide down the boat in fits and starts. Beck drifts closer and Tobias holds onto the boat so the floatzel can roll over onto his belly. Then all three of them climb atop his wet back—Tobias in front, with Nia and Carnelian behind.

“Everyone good?” Cordelia calls. She’s treading water easily, Cas perched on her back.

Irritation gnaws at Tobias as the croconaw takes charge, but he nods.

“Keep an eye out for ferals,” Cordelia adds. She swims forward to take the lead, but hesitates and glances at the quaxly over her shoulder, clearly not wanting him to be in the first line of defense.

Tobias takes their chance. He gives the thick orange fur below him two pats, before anyone else can try to take point. Beck hesitates, but eventually obeys, moving forward to lead the group down the corridor with a near-silent lap of water.

Aside from the gentle rush of the stream, the air is silent. It feels even more tense now that they’re in the dungeon proper.

Tobias leans back to murmur to Nia, “I’ll keep an eye on the water since I have sharper eyes. You take above.”

Nia nods.

Their group drifts down the corridor and around the corner. Halfway down the next hallway, the terrain slopes up to grassy, muddy land before dipping back into the water again. Looks like they’ll be traversing a dungeon of streams and islands.

Lovely.

When they reach land, Nia and Tobias slip off Beck's back to stand on their own feet. The ground underfoot is damp and sticky with mud between smooth river stones and long patches of lush grass. Tobias tries not to let his distaste with the damp environment show as he takes lead, Nia right behind him.

So far no ferals, but Tobias can see Nia’s ears twisting and turning to catch distant sounds out of the corner of his eye.

“What kind of Pokemon do you think we’ll run into here?” Nia whispers.

Beck answers from right behind them. “It’ll be the Pokemon who live near the river, right? So water types for sure. Otherwise, likely grass and bug. Normal. Some dark types.”

Tobias flicks his tail. Most of those types shouldn’t be an issue, but the water types could be a pain for him. He’ll have to watch out for them.

Once they reach the stream on the other side, the group wordlessly moves back into their previous formation. Tobias grudgingly climbs atop Beck’s back in front of Nia as they wait for Carnelian to scramble on behind them. The floatzel slips into the water, and Tobias hears Cordelia and Nori follow behind.

They don’t run into their first feral until they reach the next patch of land, luckily in the same room as the stairs. The staircase sits eerily in the corner of the room, cutting off into nothingness six or seven steps up. They’re made of wood like Cordelia’s boat, with chipping paint to match.

The feral standing in their way is a thwackey nearly twice their size. It screeches with blank white eyes when it sees them, then launches at their group with sharp fangs bared.

Tobias and Nia rush forward to intercept. Nia is faster, and ducks low to kick out a leg and topple the grass type into the dirt. Tobias takes the opportunity to engulf it in a cloud of embers. The thwackey screeches and skitters back on four legs.

Nia hesitates on her follow-up attack, probably caught up in her own head again. Not that Tobias can blame her this time—it’s hard to think that this thwackey was probably a regular Pokemon living their life just an hour ago, and now—

Not thinking about it.

The thwackey wipes embers out of its eyes and goes at Nia with fists swinging. Nia creates a staff of aura and blocks the attack with a grunt. Tobias takes the opening while it’s turned away to breathe a plume of fire onto his hands. Then he darts forward to slash at the thwackey’s back with heated claws. 1-2-3-4—

The thwackey cries out, stumbling. Before Nia and Tobias can attack again, the feral spins and crashes off through the foliage, down one of the dungeon's hallways.

Tobias huffs out a breath, snuffing his fire down to smoke. He glances at Nia to make sure she isn’t injured, then back at the rest of their crew.

Beck is blinking at them, halfway into a battle stance and clearly surprised. Cas' eyes are starry, and even Cordelia looks a bit impressed with them.

“Not bad,” the Croconaw says. “Guess you two are a bit tougher than you look.”

Tobias rolls his eyes despite the warmth spreading in his chest. “Yeah, yeah. Everyone just hold hands already so we can go to the next floor.”

Cordelia looks sour once he repeats the command and she realizes he’s serious. Only the explanation that they might lose each other warping to the next floor makes her acquiesce.

Tobias climbs the stairs first, Nia right behind him. When Tobias reaches the top creaky step, his stomach turns with vertigo and their surroundings shift. In a blink, they’ve warped to a location that is eerily similar but distinctly different in its layout.

Unfortunately, they also warp to a room that is almost entirely covered in water. Tobias lets out an embarrassing yelp as he falls under with a splash. The gentle current feels freezing against his hot skin, and the immediate wave of prickling pain knocks the breath from his lungs.

A strong arm scoops him up and out of the water before he can thrash for more than a second. In a whirl of movement, Tobias finds himself still drenched but out of the water. He cracks his eyes open, panting hard and shuddering through shocks of pain. His clenched hands hold onto thick, creamy fur.

“Tobias!” Nia coughs, seated atop Beck’s stomach as well and dripping audibly. “Are you all right?”

Tobias wipes his mouth with a shaky hand. Ugh. “Fantastic.”

Nia’s paw lands lightly on his shoulder, but even that touch feels overly sensitive and raw. He jerks away with a hiss and she whispers a string of apologies.

Tobias takes a moment to catch his breath and calm his pounding heart. As the water falls off his body, the painful burn on his skin starts to die down to a more manageable ache. Finally, he looks around.

Beck, lying on his back, is watching Tobias with concern. Nia, sitting next to him on the floatzel’s belly, wears a similar expression. Carnelian is shivering as far away as he can get on their makeshift raft, tipping his backpack to clear it of water.

Nori seems to have caught Ignatius before the torkoal could get similarly dunked. Cas is floating anxiously next to Cordelia in the water. Most everyone’s eyes are on Tobias, so he flushes and forces himself to sit up straight so he can look around.

They’re in a room filled with stream water, the surface finally calming down after their sudden entrance. Two hallways branch off on either side.

“Everyone all right?” Tobias rasps.

Cordelia arches a brow. “You’re asking us?”

Tobias takes that as affirmation and scowls down one hallway, then the other. There really isn’t any rhyme or reason to how he and Nia usually pick directions in dungeons, so he points Beck in the direction of the one he sees grasses poking out of farther down.

“We can wait here a moment for you to catch your breath,” Beck starts.

Tobias shakes his head. “We shouldn’t. It’s best to keep moving in a dungeon or we might get ambushed. I’m fine. Go.”

Beck’s gaze flicks to Nia. The riolu looks like she wants to agree with Beck, but Tobias gives her a hard look so she doesn’t argue.

Finally, Beck swims down the pointed direction. Cordelia and Nori follow quietly behind. When they reach land, Tobias gratefully stumbles onto the marshy ground. His limbs are still a bit shaky and his skin feels tight and uncomfortable, but he’s fine all in all.

A rustle ahead is their only warning before a new, bipedal green Pokemon shambles out of the grass, something oddly rhythmic to its steps. The lilypad atop its head and its bright pink beak tip Tobias off.

“Lombre,” he hisses, he and Nia moving into defensive stances. “Water and grass type.”

The lombre chitters aggressively when it sees them with its milky eyes. It lunges. Nia meets it head-on with a burst of aura, then dances out of range.

The lombre turns on Tobias and sucks in a breath, clearly about to spit out a water type move. Tobias braces to dodge.

They're interrupted by the sound of crashing water, and then a bright blue streak slams into the lombre and sends it rolling into the tall grass. Tobias blinks, stunned, as blue water splatters to the ground and Beck cuts off his aqua jet attack to land on four paws.

Beck glances at Tobias and opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off by a bright green ball of energy as it shoots from the safety of the grass and hits him hard. The floatzel stumbles back into the wall of the dungeon, then slides down to the ground.

“Beck!” Nia calls, distraught.

Nori is already moving to Beck’s side, so Tobias decides she can handle that. He focuses back on the fight with the lombre, only to hear a startled squeak from behind him, near the back of their group.

He looks just in time to see a blue Pokemon—a tirtouga?—spitting attacks at Cordelia and Cas. Cas hides behind Cordelia as she turns on the tirtouga with a snarl.

“I got ‘em!” Nia shouts, using quick attack to flash past Tobias. She leaps out over the water, staff arcing high over her head, and Tobias has a good feeling she’s going to hit her mark.

Tobias turns back to his own fight as a water gun shoots from the grass, narrowly missing him. He growls. If his opponent is hiding, he should just burn the feral's cover to the ground. But lombre are half water type and the grass is probably too wet to catch, so—

Dragon rage it is.

Tobias sucks in a lungful of air and releases it in a stream of purple fire. The flames catch on the damp grass much easier than regular fire would, quickly scaring the lombre out.

Tobias takes his shot amidst the feral’s panic and shoots off another dragon rage. The lombre shrieks under the fresh onslaught. Tobias rushes forward and spins, slamming the feral into the dungeon wall with his tail.

Tobias pants in the ensuing quiet, watching the lombre for a moment to be sure it’s down. Then he looks behind him.

Nia is paddling through the stream back towards land, waterlogged but no worse for wear. Cordelia pulls her out. The little quaxly in her arms is clearly spooked but seems unharmed.

Nia hurries immediately to Beck’s side, kneeling across from Nori. “Is he all right?”

The floatzel groans at the sound of her voice, eyes fluttering open. His gaze is bleary and unfocused.

“Beck?” Nia prompts.

The floatzel closes his eyes, scrunching up his snout. “‘M fine, Hazel. Stop worrying. Where’re the kids?”

Nia stills. She stares at Beck with a stunned expression. “H-Hazel?”

“His mate,”  Nori says, watching the way Beck is blinking back to reality. “I suppose you do sound a bit like her.”

“His mate,” Nia murmurs, frowning. Tobias can tell that this info means something to her. The name Hazel is actually tickling something in the back of his mind, too, though he can't quite pin it down.

Cas escapes Cordelia’s protective hold and scampers to Beck’s side. “Are you okay, Beck?”

Something about the quaxly’s voice seems to clear Beck's mind. The floatzel shakes his head and slowly props himself up on his arms. He gives Cas a shaky smile. "I’m fine, dewdrop.”

“I’ll decide if you’re fine,” Nori says, pushing Beck back down with a webbed hand against his chest. “Follow my finger.”

Beck sighs but patiently follows her instructions as she checks for a concussion. Once she deems him safe to move, Beck climbs to his feet with a groan, using the shifting wall of mud and grasses to stand.

Good. He’s up. That means Tobias can chew him out.

“Beck.”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?!” Tobias snaps. “I told you to stay back and let us handle the fighting!”

Beck winces. “I…was worried about you facing a water type. Especially right after falling in.”

Tobias jerks an angry thumb over his shoulder.

Beck follows the gesture. Smoke is rising from the ashes of the large patch of grass Tobias just burned, purple embers still sparkling. The lombre is knocked out cold to the side.

“Riolu one-hit KO’d a tirtouga, too,” Cordelia laughs, glancing over her own shoulder to the water.

Beck blinks, then barks a laugh. “Well. Suppose I look a bit foolish right now.”

“…What.”

“You two said you could handle yourselves, and it looks like you were right. Sorry for doubting you.”

Nia beams. “That's all right! I know we’re not, uh...all that intimidating.”

"Speak for yourself," Tobias grumbles, rubbing at his face. Unsatisfied anger burns in his belly as all the wind leaves his sails. It doesn’t feel right to go on a tirade if the floatzel just…immediately apologizes. “Whatever. Just…don’t do it again.”

“Not planning to. That knock to the noggin hurt.”

“We should rethink how we travel,” Nori says, her quiet voice heavy enough to cut through their conversation. “If we continue this way, we have to worry about the back half of the group getting ambushed.”

“Yeah,” Nia agrees, frowning.

Tobias and Nia haven’t really taken many escort missions through dungeons—and especially not with a group this large—so they didn’t think about it beforehand, but…

“You’re right. We need a better formation,” Tobias says, crossing his arms. “Who here has experience fighting? Actual fighting, not just friendly spars.”

Nia, ridiculously, raises her paw. Tobias gives her a dry look until she lowers it again.

Cordelia snorts. “I can fight if I have to, but my first priority is keeping an eye on Cas and my crew.”

Tobias nods. “That works. Cas will stay in the middle of the group, so stick with him.”

Cas pouts but doesn’t argue.

“Nori and I are in decent shape, but we aren’t used to fighting often,” Beck says. “As you just saw.”

Ignatius puffs a wisp of smoke. “Hate to say it, but I’m probably as weak as Cas at my age.”

Tobias nods, looking between everyone and calculating. With Nia’s abysmal sense of direction, Tobias needs to be in the front of the group to direct them. But they do need someone to watch their backs, too, and Tobias trusts no one else but Nia for that. The most vulnerable members should be sandwiched in the middle when possible.

“In that case, I’ll take point. Nia, you take back. Cas, Cordelia, Ignatius and, uh…Carnelian. You all need to be in the middle. Beck and Nori, you flank me and Nia.”

“And when we’re in the water?” Beck asks.

Tobias hesitates.

“Well, we can’t do the same formation in the water,” Nia says, half to herself. She jumps when she realizes all eyes have turned to her. “C-Could we swap?  Have Ignatius rides with Tobias and Beck up front and Carnelian and I go to the back with Nori? That way we don’t have to rearrange much when we get to land.”

To Tobias’ surprise, no one questions the idea, seeming to agree with both of their judgment calls.

After checking that Beck is good to go, they form up. Nia takes the rear, giving Tobias a thumbs-up. Nori moves in front of her with a quiet comment that makes her smile. Carnelian shuffles nervously in front of them, clutching his backpack close. Then it’s Cordelia, the croconaw keeping little Cas right in front of her, then Ignatius. Finally, Beck stands right behind Tobias, the floatzel acting as a taller lookout. He gives him a nod, all his previous uncertainty with Tobias’ abilities seemingly gone.

Huh. Tobias feels kind of proud about how well that went. He’s still uneasy about how large of a group they’re leading through, but they’ll just have to try their best and hope they make it out with minimal injuries.

“All right,” Tobias says, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “Let’s go.”

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #pmd seekers of soul #golduck #croconaw #quaxly #charmander #riolu #floatzel #torkoal #sableye #tesha draws #tesha writes

[saltwaterburns]

as our worlds move on, in this shirt, i can be you

summary: he was alone before you and after you. he didn't realize there would ever be an 'after you'

warnings: just sad rambles & stuff i suppose! 😁

pairing: anthony lockwood x gone!reader

a/n: Did el just?? Write angst?? While being an avid angst hater??? Could it be?? Yes. Yes it was. Whipped this baby up in half an hour while doing my bio homework. Ur welcome!!! This was written with a very specific song in mind. The reader isn't necessarily dead? Ghost touched or ghost locked, whatever your heart desires! Some of this text was taken from a tiktok caption i saw in May 😋

"My calendar's stuck on January, the month that you passed, and I haven't changed the sheets on my bed since. But it seems I still somehow find the strength to water the lilies, your lilies, because I know they were your favourite and I can't handle losing another part of you."

He stops scribbling and lets his pen drop to the table, closing his eyes from exhaustion. The hour is late, the silence around him overbearing, but his mind is amiss. His thoughts are like the wild, untameable sea, roaring out again and again and again, come back. Come back, come back, come back.

But you're not coming back. Not when he asks, not even when he asks nicely. Not when he begs, not when he cries. All he's got left of you are memories of fleeting looks, hushed giggles and gentle brushes of hands and lips against each other.

For a moment he thinks he can still smell and feel you. He thinks he can almost imagine your eyes, the mischievous sparkle in them. It's a fleeting moment if anything but it happens, his mind takes him back to when your eyes locked and that's when he realizes everything that's beautiful in the world started with you and the magic you held, the love you sprinkled like pixie dust on everyone you ever met. Then the moment passes quicker than it occurred, and he's left in a world where your touch still lingers, where your fingerprints still exist in the dust adorning his home and where the flowers beside your bed have just begun to wilt. Where the love that you carried has spread further than you could've ever imagined and made new again so many hearts you never broke.

He's left utterly alone in a world where every thing, every sensation and feeling is a constant reminder of you and your loving heart, your gentle and helpful soul, your witty comments and abnormally good rapier skills.

He chuckles at the memory and his gaze trails over the umbrella holder where your rapier, still untouched, resides. The kitchen light reflects back from the shiny blade, the pink gemstones glimmering on the handle.

It's so you. Decorating your rapier, the one thing keeping you safe in a world filled with ghosts with cheap little gems. In your words, the rapier was "plain and freaking ugly," and it's so you that his heart leaps in his chest. He's got this primal urge to tease you, ask if you want to stick some butterfly stickers onto the blade too, but as he turns around to face your chair, the words die in his throat.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing his hands into fists, letting his nails dig crescent shaped marks into his flesh. The pain sobers him up, pushing arising tears back down his tear duct. He refuses to cry.

He refuses to cry because you aren't here to hold him, kiss away the salty tears pouring down his cheeks and muffle the sobs wrecking his body with your lips. You aren't here and it finally dawns upon him. You aren't here and he's alone, just like he was before you.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lucy carlyle #george karim x reader #lucy carlyle x reader #light angst #or heavy angst? #death mention tw #anthony bloody lockwood #lockwood netflix #lockwood x reader #lockwood x y/n #Spotify

[twistedwonderlandfantasies]

(Repost)

Azul Ashengrotto as Your Boyfriend💜🪸🐚🐙💜

fluffy, fem/neutral!reader

(Sorry it ended up so long I could just talk about this smexy man all day) Remember to drink water <3

Azul had heard a lot about the human world, but only ever experienced it when he enrolled at Night Raven College. That being said, he's totally enthralled with human objects. He loves collectables, novelty items, knick-knacks and anything of the sort. His love and fascination with our material goods shows when he gives you the most random things. "Look at this vintage set I found at an auction." "I saw a what's it called? Ah, snow globe. Look, there's a cat inside that looks like Grim, do you like? It's for you." It's a very endearing trait he has which is exclusive only to you. When he goes shopping you're also on his mind and just adores sharing his finds with his love.

Similarly, your own fascination with his world has led Azul to gift you things from the sea. Beautiful pearl necklaces of whatever color you like, conch shells of different sizes and types, endless seashells, rare gemstones found near the waters, magical items, and if you're into antiques, he'll go retrieve lost items from the sea buried within shipwrecks or dropped by people.

Besides the miscellaneous gifts Azul loves buying you clothes. At first it caught you by surprise, but you realized it was apart of his attraction to our things. "In the sea we don't have a need for clothing, but up here you humans can express yourselves in so many ways. So I thought this dress might look rather nice on you, hm?"

He's the same with perfumes. He just loves spoiling you in all the material things he can find that don't exist in the deep blue.

His office literally has all of the gifts you got him spread out in it on shelves and his desk. He constantly thinks of you, even at work, and treasures everything you make/get him, wanting to keep it forever where he can always see and remember you.

One of his favorite activities with you is reading messages in bottles he finds from the ocean. You're always surprised at how many there are, but you both realize it's actually a pretty big hobby among people even today. Old bottles are especially interesting, its contents mostly containing stories of love and tragedies. You help explain to Azul how people up here think and behave when something doesn't make sense to him (which is pretty often considering how contradicting people are). You collect them to avoid polluting the waters but keep them somewhere safe and respectfully.

He absolutely loves taking you into the waters with him. Whether in human or mer-form. If you love to swim then it isn't much of a surprise to have him as your boyfriend, but if you can't swim or are afraid to Azul will teach you how and be the absolute best, sweetest teacher. Bonus if you watch the sunset together while leisurely swimming or sitting on the sand, it's quite romantic, really. Expect the occasional water tag and playing around as Azul just can't help but tease you when he feels so confident in his natural environment. this may or may not end in some more intimate actions.

Ironically, Azul finds your voice mesmerizing. If he catches you singing while you think no one is around, he WILL stay hidden just to continue listening. "You sing like a siren my dear." "Are you sure you aren't the one who's put me under your spell?" He may come up behind you quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist gently in an embrace while taking in the soft smell of your hair. "Please, don't stop now, I do so enjoy listening to you."

While transformation magic from mer-person to human is more commonly done, transforming a person into the latter is more difficult, but not impossible. The first time you decide to transform into a mermaid , it catches Azul by surprise. You really want to immerse yourself into his world and live in the sea for however long. After much consideration you decide to do it. Who would have thought your tail would be so beautiful. The way your hair flows, you glide effortlessly across the waters, the iridescent scales of your tail reflecting in colorful arrays. Maybe you are a siren. Azul can't decide if he loves you more like this or as a human. You're just too beautiful no matter what.

You two swimming across Atlantica is like a dream; so deeply in love. You get to explore so many amazing things and bond with him in ways you never could have imagined. He shows you all of the different kind of fish, corals, you get to swim with dolphins and sharks, visit different mer-cities. Expect Azul to blow you bubble hearts and kisses because he really can be that cute sometimes.

extra fun if the twins tag along.

His skin, like the twins, is also perfectly soft and radiant. Your hands love to be on him. You caress his cheeks, massage him, rub your thumb over his palm while holding hands. You're almost jealous at how good his skin is! Of course Azul is more than willing to return the favors of touch. You two enjoy long cuddles and hugs.

Honestly, Azul is a 100/10 boyfriend and when he isn't destroying unsuspecting people with his contracts he's just infatuated with you beyond description and if he could he would love on you constantly all day everyday. His soft side is ONLY for you, his gentle touches and kisses, his thoughtful words, the teasing, sweet nothings. Sometimes the dichotomy of this man shocks you, but maybe that's one of the reasons you love him so much.

"The sea witch was defeated by the mermaid and human in the end. Some say it was true love which was strong enough to end her, I used to laugh at that thought, now, I'm beginning to understand its true power."

💙💜💚💜💙💚💜💙💚💜💙💚

#azul ashengrotto #night raven college #twst azul #azul x reader #octavinelle #disney twst #disney twisted #disney twist #disney twisted wonderland #twsted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland