#>woods

[monster-mash-m]

Soaked

Yandere!Merman x chubby!gn!reader

Cw: possessiveness, yandere behavior, almost drowning, breeding, biting, dead fish, weird merman dick, marking.

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A merman noticed a human drowning, how’d this poor creature get stranded in the middle of the ocean. Awh! Look at their little legs flailing in a panic as they try to stay afloat. How cute… Soon too much water filled your lungs and exhaustion stiffened your lungs as your body gave out in the thrashing waves. The male swims closer in a sense of curiosity, not out of good will. His silky arms wrapped around your torso, gods you were so cold. He tutted as you lay limply in his arms, keeping your head above water as he swims you to his little hideaway, a cove only he knew of. You were just too cute to let drown!

You woke up with a burning feeling in your chest and a pounding in your head, sitting up like lightning and coughing out sea water with a pained expression. As you grasp at the sandy floor- sandy floor? You look around. What? All you remember was that you were on a boat with your family, next thing you know, you fell overboard and the waves were just too aerated so you couldn’t swim. Now… you’re here, in a cave, with glowing moss and crystals. Along with glowing plankton in the pool that leads out to the sea. You would’ve been in awe if you weren’t freaking out and mortified to notice you were only in your torn up shirt and underwear.

“Such a skittish creature…” I low voice called out from beside you. A man, well no a merman. You soaked in his appearance trying to accept the fact that mermaids and such were real in such a short span of time, “look at you, shaking all scared, just like a sea pup that’s lost its mother..” he hummed fondly. The fondness however was laced in condescension.

“W-where am I? Who are you?” You glare at the merman and shuffle away defensively. Wincing at your aching joints. He simply grins “You’re in my very own cove, little human, and as for me? Well I’m your rescuer.” He hummed out. Lifting himself out the water to sit on the sandy floor “I brought you some food, fresh from the hunt.” He threw a headless fish at you, how thoughtful. You grimace and look at the fish you just about managed to catch in your marred hands. “I…” you look awkwardly at him.

“I can’t eat raw meat, I mean I can technically… I just don’t think I could get this down without a fight…” you frown. He huffed and crossed his arms “you humans are so fussy.” He nodded his head over to a pile of random human stuff. “There might be something in there to cook your fish.” He said with an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. “Oh… thanks.” You smile awkwardly and crawl over to the pile and look for anything… flammable.

Soon you find a rusty lighter, giving it a few experimental clicks, it lights up. And so do the eyes of the merman, watching you intently. You then see some dried out drift wood and placed it away from the pile of human stuff. Setting it alight. Then you place the fish on the burning wood, it was’t a high quality meal, but at least it would be more edible… hopefully.

Soon the fish was properly cooked and you started to pick at it and look at him “Why did you save me?” You asked hesitantly. He just gave you a wide sharp toothed grin “I thought you were a cute little thing so I swept you up and brought you someplace safe.” That made you sputter. “Oh I see…”

“Well… after this, could you return me to mainland?” You ask reasonably.

“No” he responded bluntly and immediately. “I found you, I keep you.” He said as if he was stating the obvious. Your brows quickly furrow “that’s not how it works… you can’t just keep me here-“ he shakes his head “oh but I can, I saw you flinging around like a panicked mackerel out there, I know you’re not a strong swimmer little human.” He hummed in an amused tone. Your heart sank. “I don’t think you could escape here without my help, and I’ve been awfully lonely, especially since it’s mating season…” he said the last part with a purr from deep in his throat.

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Oh, no. Or maybe oh yes? You couldn’t tell what you felt right now. A hot fish man is insinuating he wants to breed you, but he also seems like he’s not going to let you go. Hm…. Well if you can’t beat ‘em join em! You glare at him with precaution “I’m not sure what you’re implying…” you say with faux obliviousness. He smirks as a wet hand grabs your ankle yanking you towards him. His hands immediately landing on your plump hips. “Mmm, you’re quite warm human…” he practically purred again. “I’m implying that I want you as my mate…” he said lowly as his hands trail down your big squishy thighs, giving them a squeeze “I won’t care if you bare my young or not, I’ll breed you regardless…” his grin only widens.

Your breath hitches at his words, and his hands that seem to be far too eager to be on you. “So go on.. tell me you’re mine… let me claim the treasure I found in the sea hmm?” He asked though it sounded much more like a demand. Although despite his eagerness to stuff himself in you, his words held no malice despite his creepy demeanor, it looks like he was stalling his movements, ready to get off of you if you said no. But you didn’t. Instead you look him up and down and think ‘I’ve done worse’.

Slowly you sigh and look back at his face “you… can mate with me..” you look away awkwardly after saying so. Oh and that was all the confirmation he needed before his cold lips started attacking your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel his sharp teeth graze against your neck before biting down rather harshly, making you gasp out. He snickered into your skin as he lapped up the bruising skin “Gonna look so pretty decorated in my marks, no one will dare touch you, everyone will know you’re mine…” he growled possessively.

That’s when you felt something wet and slimy bulge out of the slit on his tail, pressing against your inner thigh. “That was quick…” you gasp out as you feel him rut against you, his cool scales feeling rather soothing as his tail ran up and down your legs as he nudged his needy cock against your clothed sex, “ugh…” he gritted out “I need to be in you, turn over on your front right now human…” he growled out and flipped you over with ease.

You gasp, slightly winded as his slippery cock immediately pressed against your ass as he continued his rutting “going to stuff you full just like a good mate….” He huffed out and moved your underwear to the side. He impatiently spat on his hand, rubbing his spit in on his fingers. Not a second any longer and he was already stretching your hole out. Making you bite your lip and suppress a startled moan. He chuckled lowly “that’s it, taking my fingers like a good mate…” you only let out as small moan as he continued to work you open so you can take his cock.

After what he felt was an eternity, he was satisfied with how stretched out you were. Immediately angling his pretty blue dick against your entrance. His hands dug into your plush hips “mmmh, humans are much softer than any sea person… so supple and squishy… perfect…” he growled as he rambled into your ear. His cock slowly entering. Your tight hole clenching eagerly around his slimy cock as he bottoms out in you. He groaned out loudly as he ducked his head into your neck and began to mark you more.

Soon he was completely inside, his slit pressed up against your ass. He was big… the unusual shape filling you in all the places you never knew you needed. Your back arches as he began to move his hips slowly “fuck so tight for me human..” he gritted out. His long hair tickling your back with every slow thrust. His sharp claw like nails digging into your fat. “I can’t hold back dear treasure… must fill you to the brim with my seed…”

And with that his hips began to hump into you at a feverish pace, lewd squelches and fwops echoed throughout the cave as he continued to use your tight hole like it was his new favorite toy. Soon enough you felt a knot in your stomach built up. He grunted “I’m close…” it seems he had the same build up as well. His thrusts became more erratic and clumsy as he fucked into your sloppy hole in desperation,

A mix between a hiss and a moan left his lips as his warm thick cum gushed into you, giving you no time to react as your orgasm hit you in waves. The merman continued rutting into you to ride out his orgasm, milking every last drop for you.

Once you both came down from your highs, he pulled out, a soft pop followed. Turning you back on your back as you breathe heavily. He looked at you with desire and that same unsettling smile that strangely turned you on. He panted heavily as he moved a few strands of hair that clung to your forehead out of the way. “You’re mine forever now… little human… we mated, you’re mine for life…” he whispered with a cocky smirk,

“I’ll make sure I’ll keep you well fed and squishy for me.” He said in satisfaction as he continued to let his hands explore and squeeze your body. You don’t know how you’re gonna cope with a clingy merman for the rest of your life….

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Whoop whoop whoop! Mermen! Kinda hit right?!

[notapradagurl7]

The Return.

Black Fem! Reader x Unique!husband.

Summary: After six months of his recovery from the brutal beating from his brother, Ronnie and finally getting everything back, the first thing Unique does is return home to you. You almost couldn't believe it but your husband was alive.

A/N: Here’s something cute about Unique, enjoy! ❤️ don’t forget to reblog, comment and like to support, remember don’t be afraid to send in a request they’re always open.

Warnings: angst, praise, rough sex, biting, spanking, consensual intimacy, use of AAVE, mention of violence, established marriage, hair pulling.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@cocooned-butterfly @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @henneseyhoe

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @siqueth @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @jazziejax @ranikyani @naj-ay444

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani @luckydaye777 @foxybrownsugababe @caashmoneynae

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Southside, Jamaica Queens. ‘93

His snow-white polished Beamer gently rolled onto the driveway of your house, with his deep brown eyes locked onto the familiar beige interior of it, the small windows covered by black curtains spanned across it, and small green bushes cornered the sides of the house.

Beloved memories of you and him remained in his mind, choosing to keep them as close as possible.

He killed the engine, the low rumble fading into an unsettling silence as he reached for the door handle. Outside, Unique stepped out cautiously, a tight grip around his emotions in the forceful slam of the door.

There he was in the flesh, Kadeem “Unique” Mathis. The man came from the dead, the man took over the corners of Queens. Asserting his control over the streets, putting the fear back in people who looked his way, or even walked the same street as him.

The soles of his beige timberlands clicked sharply against the uneven cobblestones, each step echoing into the night as he made his way toward the front door of the black lumber, its dark facade looming like a shadow.

Unique paused before the door, drawing in a shaky breath that felt heavy in his lungs. He exhaled softly, feeling the anxiety creeping around him like a tightening fog, his mind a frantic whirlpool of anxious thoughts.

His thoughts, distorted and fragmented, raced to piece together the chaotic reality surrounding him. He focused, forcing himself to latch onto the crucial details of the moment, and despite the turmoil, he found clarity.

He had severed Raquel’s connect to her drug supply, dismantling the very foundation of her business. The gravity of his actions settled heavily upon him and in the heart of Queens, intertwining with the sharpness of his thoughts.

His hand reached out, and hovering over the doorknob.

Why was he so nervous?

Unique suffered a brutal beating from his brother, Ronnie who bashed his head in with a steel pipe. After that, Unique crawled himself out of the woods, and called Early Tyler to save him that looming night.

The scars were still on the right of his head, but he didn't let it break him. Unique wanted to those scars to be a reminder of how resilient he was, and how he fought to survive.

But still, Unique wished a thousand times for it to only be him to kill Ronnie instead of Kanan, to be the one to end the madness on his own.

Ever since that night, Unique made it his mission to recover, and worked his way up. Ronnie was dead, and his enemy Raquel was still fighting hard and strong to get her spot back.

For the first time, Unique was nervous about revealing himself to you. He imagined the scenario in his head so many times, knowing that you would cry, possibly scream as if you saw a ghost. Or you would just hug him.

Words couldn't even explain how much he missed your presence, your laugh, your smile and everything else about you.

He missed you so much.

Without hesitation, he knocked on the door twice. He heard the footsteps approaching the door, Unique exhaled softly, relishing to still feel the oxygen in his lungs.

“Who the fuck is it—” You yelled but the moment you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, the man you thought you’d lost forever. He sported a black and red

Unique stood there, looking just as handsome as ever, with that charming smirk playing on his lips, those familiar top-row gold grills glistened, but the wear of battle lingered in his eyes.

“What’s up Y/N?” he breathed, his voice low and rough, the sound washing over you like a warm wave.

“Kadeem? Baby, is that really you?” You stepped back, disbelief coloring your voice.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. I'm home,” He took a step forward, and the way his eyes locked onto yours made your heart race.

You stepped aside, as he walked inside the house and he closed the door behind himself, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The scent of lavender and peppermint filled his nostrils.

Unique sported a red and black satin bomber jacket, underneath a crisp white tee shirt that hugged his toned chest. His dark pants tapered down to the fresh white sneakers, you could see the gleam of gold chains layered around his neck and his right ear was adorned with a gold hoop earring.

You noticed the way his hair was freshly styled, the curls cropped close but still showing off the texture.

“Home?” You whispered, shaking your head, tears falling from your eyes. Your husband wiped your tears away.

“Damn right I am, missed you like crazy, baby girl,” he said, a playful glint in his gaze.

You didn’t waste a second; you flung yourself into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you. “I thought I lost you for good, the police told me that your body was gone,” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly, as if you were afraid he would disappear again.

“Never, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, and I promise I’m here to stay. You know that?” Unique murmured into your locs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and lips.

You pulled back to look into his eyes, the scars on his head made your eyes flick toward it. “Ronnie did this to you? I heard he was dead but you look different…I mean, the scars…”

“Yeah, they remind me of where I been, but Ronnie ain’t break me,” he said, brushing your fingers over the scar on his head.

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride for the man in front of you. “I’m just glad you’re alive, Unique. I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he said, his voice softening. “Now, come here.” He pulled you close again, holding you tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

“Let’s get you something to eat, I made dinner, but you can get some sleep and you must be tired,” you replied, trying to regain your composure.

“I ain’t tired, but I’m hungry for you,” he teased, a mischievous smirk on his face. “But I’ll take your love too, that’s my favorite dish.”

You laughed, a light sound that felt foreign after all the worry and dread of the past months. “You always know how to lighten the mood, huh?”

“Only for you, baby. I got time today and I got a lotta love to give, and I’m ready to show you just how much I love you,” he smirked, he leaned closer.

You felt your cheeks heat up, the emotion in the room shifting filled the air. “Unique. I want you.”

“Good,” he smirked, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

He leaned down, smashing your lips. You melted into his lips by kissing him back, your hands gripped his arms as he deepened the kiss, pouring all of his pent-up longing into that moment.

“Damn, I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming your waist, pulling you closer.

“Can I ask you something Kadeem?”

He nodded in response, waiting for you to speak. “Of course you can, beautiful,” he said. You exhaled before looking up at his eyes, your hand rested against his cheek.

“Were you giving me money in my mailbox in those past months?”

“Yes, it was me. I wanted to provide you while I was layin’ low, it killed me that I wasn't there for you, Y/N,” Unique confessed to you.

“I knew that I wasn't losin’ my mind, because I knew that it wasn't Raquel sending me that shit, it was you, baby,” You smirked with light chuckle.

“Baby,” you breathed, feeling the heat between you. “You have no idea how scared I was. I couldn’t—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, placing a finger over your lips. “Ain’t no need to dwell on the past, baby. We here now, and I’m makin’ sure you know how much I love you.”

With quickness, he swept you off your feet, carrying you into the room, the door slamming shut behind you. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kicked off his boots, the warmth of his body against yours.

“Now, let’s make up for lost time, yeah?” he said, setting you down on the bed. His lips ghosting over yours, peppering kisses along your lips.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you replied, pulling him down for another kiss, taking off your clothes as he did the same.

The two of you were laid against each other naked, he hovered you and your melanated skin was kissed tenderly as he gently spread your legs apart. He looked down at you, and kissed you again but it was passionately.

With a gentle thrust, he filled you up completely and you moaned wildly, you immediately broke the kiss as he began thrusting at a faster pace, Unique still remembered how you liked it in the bedroom with him, the thickness of his dick pulsed inside you. He felt so good, “Oh..fuck!” you mewled, nails scratching at his back.

Burying his face into the warmth of your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin. Leaving hickeys in his path, Unique wanted you to feel every inch of him as if it was the first time, not the last time. “I missed you so fuckin’ much, I'm sorry, I love you,” he groaned, pulling away to look away.

“Kadeem, don't be sorry…i love you too,” You gasped sharply, your nails digging into his shoulder. Unique brought his body closer to yours to feel more of that heat, each thrust made your body quiver and twitch.

Your wetness created a pool in his lap. “Damn girl,” he grunted lowly, reaching out for your breasts and fondling them, It felt like a dream come true to him, to be finally reunited with you.

The bed creaked underneath both of you adding to the intensity of the sound of your ass clapping against his thighs, “So fucking..good,” You panted, eyelids closing shut, the cold metal of his rings made your nipples erect, and you let out a unrecognizable moan.

He fisted your locs in his hand and pulled you back in a sloppy kiss, deepening the kiss again as you responded by tangling your tongue with his, “Good girl,” he murmured against your lips, thrusting more forcefully.

The way your pussy made his dick disappear ever so perfectly elicited low groans from him, He continued to thrust into you forcefully causing your essence to pour out, each stroke fast and filled with passion. “Look at you, that pussy cummin’ already?” he teased, His hand wrapped around your neck, forcing you to look at him, grinning evilly at your reaction.

He loved the way you responded to him, the way your hips moved in rhythm with his. Unique had missed this—missed you—more than he could ever put into words. His hand delivered a rough smack onto your ass, “Y-yes! I'm cumming!”

You felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling beneath him, your essence pouring onto his dick as you cried out his name. Unique followed suit, his warm cun spilling into you as he groaned your name. He kissed the side of your face, before he kissed your lips again.

“Damn, baby,” he panted, collapsing onto the bed beside you, both of you gasping for breath. You turned to face him, a soft smile gracing your lips as you traced the outline of his jaw with your fingers. “I missed you.”

Unique turned to you, his eyes softening as he pulled you close. “I missed you too.”

“I don’t want to ever lose you again, Unique. Promise me you’ll always come back to me,” you murmured, your heart aching at the thought of being separated again.

“I promise, baby,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with sincerity.

As you nestled into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the pain of losing him was finally gone, he was here. “Now, let’s get some sleep, and in the morning,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, feeling safe and content as you drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man you loved. He brought the blanket close to your bodies before falling asleep next to you.

————-

[magnuficentwo]

Anyway I ❤️ characters who experience such monstrous amounts of trauma in such short spans of time that they genuinely don't realize they were traumatized by it. They had to deal with so much shit at once that after its done, it doesn't even occur to them how much it left an impact. Their actions are clearly influenced by the events, they have the scars to prove it all, but they're just SO focused on protecting the little else they have left that they don't even care to notice. Something about having to be the strong resilient one for those who are hurting and can't sefend themselves, all the while ignoring your own gaping wounds, to ensure they don't suffer as you once did... a shield that protects from the incoming blow, unaware of its dents and rotting wood...a sword that's been broken yet still swings with only the desire to keep its aggressors away from their wielder.... good good shit

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf (I)

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 2,305

CW: angst? depression, religious imagery, not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | prologue | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my Original characters

Winterfell was a truly beautiful place, it spanned acres of land, and at its centre stood the gods woods. The gods woods were truly the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You were lucky that your rooms, in a tower touching the clouds, faced out onto the woods. Allowing the view to be one you woke up to day and night.

Though it was the only view you saw, as you rarely left your rooms, rarely ate, and said even fewer words and grew a cold exterior.

You at first were visited often by both Creagan and Sara. Though the visits and constant nickering had caused an outburst from you, anger you had never once felt or shown spilling through. You had demanded space. And Cregan had listened, Sara had not.

Sara tried everything in you to leave your room, but her attempts feel on deaf ears

Until today.

You often stood watching out of your window, though it had the spectacular view of looking out onto the gods woods, you could rarely see anyone between the endless trees.

That was until you saw him.

He stood kneeled before the heart tree, deep in thought and prayer. He seemed so peaceful, as if the woods were the one place he could find the peace and quiet he deserved.

A smile graced your face as a memory brushed your mind.

You had been at Winterfell less than a week before you had the chance to see the gods’ woods. Cregan had taken you there himself, he seemed like an egar puppy when you had asked to see it, standing up from his seat and instantly taking your hand, nearly running down the halls as you made your way to the entrance.

A calming breeze had hit your face as you entered the woods, the feeling of the hot springs between your feet, instantly warming your whole body. The woods were covered in a soft layer of snow, the floor almost entirely untouched as it seemed the only footsteps were that of your own and Cregan’s.

You walked for a time, walking through thick layers of untouched trees, before you finally reached the centre, and the heart tree stood in all its glory.

With red trees and white bark, it allowed the faces carved so naturally in it to appear so clearly, they seemed to watch your every move, and as Cregan knelt before the trees, you swear you saw there faces move and there mouths moving to answer whatever prays Cregan was saying.

It was a funny feeling, never before had you felt the presence of the gods, never in the sept or before a septon. But here, in a natural place, land untouched and no alters erected to honour said gods, you felt them. A calming presence but also the fear of complete superiority over you. They seemed to welcome you, enough so that you yourself moved forward and knelt before the tree. You did not pray as you felt no need to, and the gods did not demand it of you, they simply welcomed you and made you feel there warmth. You closed your eyes beside Cregan, basking in there presence, and when you opened your eyes, you came face to face with a smiling Cregan.

“It is beautiful is it not?” he asked

“Spectacular” you replied, “ I have never felt or seen anything like this…the gods woods at the red keep is a mockery to this”

He smiled softly “it is an experience that is hard to explain, is it not?”

You nodded, moving to stand, “do you spend much time here?”

“as much time as I can with my duties”

You nodded, “a shame, I feel as if I never want to leave”

He laughed softly “then perhaps you shouldn’t”

Looking back on it apart of you is glad the rest of your life will be spent here, with the gods woods as you view, and had the circumstances been better you were sure you would love Cregan by now, be happily married even.

Instead you haunted the halls, depressed and yet to marry. Speaking little to no words, eating little, and spending your days writing endless letters to your only surviving brother Aegon, and you sisters Baela and Rhaena. You missed them so dearly and yet you could not bare the thought of seeing them.

It had been months, they had moved on, there letters expressing happy lives, contenting in the life they now had. And you, you had simply stopped time and lived in and endless loop.

You dressed quickly and stormed out of your rooms. You didn’t know where you were going, but it seemed your feet had made up their mind as before you knew it you were striding into the gods woods, startling Cregan from his thoughts.

He said you name Softley, moving to stand “you’re here?” he asked in a question, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“i-“ you started, through your mind when blank, a trait not new to you, but this time you seemed scared to speak, the last time you had truly spoken your mind, was when you watched your mother burn and that only ended in screams. You did not speak one word for moons after that and only after did you speak sweet lies, painting the yourself to be the picture of love and loyalty, and now all you wanted was to speak the truth, to say the words breaking you from the inside out, and yet all you could say was “I’m sorry”.

“what?” he asked softly, “what are you sorry for?”

“for months I have ignored your and Saras efforts to help me, taking your kindness for granted and giving you nothing in return-“

“its okay” he interrupted kindly, “I only wanted to help you, I never expected anything in return”

“except to marry me” you replied, it was the truth, a clear point in the alliance struck between the north and your mother.

“I am in no rush to marry” he moved towards you, “you have been- we have been through so much, I am sure the lords of the north will understand waiting however long you need”

But that wasn’t the case, you both knew it. In fact just the other day Sara, in one of her efforts to annoy into speaking, had stated how the lords were in uproar of your lack of a union, House Bolton at the for front of the complaints.

Once you longed for the days you and he would marry, though things between you then had turned sweet and shy, you craved the days he would marry you.

The first time you saw him you were in awe of him. He towered over you, his face cold and blank, but his eyes held a warmth to them. He welcomed you formally, though it lacked warmth. You both knew why you were there and yet all you could do was stare at him. Tracing the outline of his face with your eyes. Wondering how his hair might feel between your fingers.

You had smiled shyly at him as he walked you through the halls though neither of you spoke until you reached his solar.

“I have come on the behest of my mother, Queen Rhaenyra of house Targaryen” your proclaimed, stating your mothers name and title proudly.

“queen?” he had hummed.

“yes, King Viserys sadly passed in his sleep” you spoke with sadness lacing your voice, “my mother has requested me to remind you of your of your fathers Oath”

“the north remembers, princess, and there is no Stark who forgets his oath.” He looked at you quizzically then “though I must ask why you have been sent here, has the north caused mistrust with he crown?”

“no, my lord, it is quite the opposite” you had shook you head, “my uncle has usurped the iron throne, naming himself King Aegon II, I have only come to show the north the crown lies with the rightful heir, my mother”

He had nodded, “then I must ask if it is war you ask of us, princess”

“for know all I ask is your loyalty, we do not crave war, but if it comes to it we ask for the north support” you had remembered then that your mother had given you a script, she knew of your nerves, how you often stuttered, something that had never happened with Cregan, despite it being common even when you were only surrounded by family.

“you have my loyalty, but o shall need terms if it is war that is to come” you had nodded, kindly, agreeing.

Politics had never been an interest of yours, and yet the hours on hours you had spent talking treaties and alliances, not once did you wish to leave, in fact it seemed both of you had dragged it on for as long as you could, neither wanting to leave the others company.

You had accompanied each others every meal, even if no words were spoken, and only kind looks exchanged.

You had felt the warmth and welcoming feeling you lacked at first, and you had hoped that after your return to Dragonstone and the declaration of your betrothal with Cregan, the feeling would stay.

And despite a part of you wanting to feel cold and alone in the north, you had not once felt that way, and as Cregan looked at you now you realised that Winterfell had felt like home ever since you had first arrived, and the only coldness you raved was the one you felt in your heart, the one that you feared Cregan would melt.

 “that’s not true” you sad softly, replying to his statement on the lords agreeing with his decision to wait to marry. “it will be near to a year since my arrival soon enough, my brother even writes that we soon must wed” you moved towards him now, you bodies now only a breath away from each other “I…as much as I miss them, I must move on with life and we must marry” you spoke it sternly, why the realisation of you sisters being happy and content made you want to move on was unclear, you knew you would never stop mourning them, but you didn’t want to mourn what could have been with Cregan.

You had liked him so much at first, always blushing in his presence, even more so once Jace had noticed and pushed the two of you together, though you had both used him as a shield to your fancy of the other, making things turn even shyer between the two of you.

You had been happy with he match, and so had he, with shy smiles and longing in your gazes as the news was announced.

You wanted to marry him, not just for duty, and not just to sate your old self, but as Cregan smiled at you, gaze deep with care, you realised that perhaps the only happiness you would find would be with him.

He nodded, “sara spoke to you?” you nodded “ah, very well, but only if you are sure.

You smiled, reaching for his hand, “I need to marry you Cregan, it is my duty” you saw a slight drop in his smile at the word duty, so you continued, “as well as my desire”, his gaze grew heated, a heat you were a stranger too.

“very well, I will not deny my own…desire to marry you, princess, I have long admired you” he coughed awkwardly “it was me who asked your mother for your hand, after all”

You gasped slightly, “really? I had no idea.”

He laughed softly, “Of course, I had hoped my intentions were clear during our stay at Winterfell, I never left you alone”

“I never would have thought-“

“you have encompassed my every thought since I first laid eyes on you” he caressed your hand in his as his tone turned serious, “seeing you in pain these past months, has caused me agony, I am glad you wish to wed me soon, and I can only hope this is the start to the end of your tournament”

“I believe that marrying you is the only way I will be able to end it” you confided in him.

You had had nightmares non stop, your memories on repeat. Fire and blood, your house words and yet they were the very thing that brought you torment. The faces of your brothers, Jace and Luke lying dead at the bottom of the sea. Of Joffrey being torn to shreds, your mother burning. And of Viserys, sweet Viserys she dreamt of him to be alive, only to return home in anger at being abandoned by her and Aegon. The thought had filled her with dread. And fear for Aegon had the same dreams, and dreams like those were said to come true in your family. Your torment was of what had already happened, and the knowledge you could never change it, so the sudden need to pull yourself from the endless misery all from Cregan kneeling before the hearts tree confused you apart of you wondered if Cregan had been praying for your happiness for you torment to find a release, and the gods had answered.

You hoped they had, for you had no nightmares, only dreamless sleep after the day in the gods woods.

You had started to dine with Cregan for dinner, and Sara to break your fast.

Though your rooms were still the place you stuck to, Cregan’s and Saras demands for you to leave your chambers were answered, with walks and hours spent in the library or gods woods.

All as going well for you, until a letter from Aegon came.

Viserys was alive.

Taglist

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to be added to taglist

[nsharks]

part twenty-four preview

"What do you call a cow with no legs?"

Blue's lips twitch at the broken silence. She slowly raises her head at you, brow knitted. "What?"

"Ground beef."

She snorts, shaking her head, and you think you catch Nereida smile beside her. "That's stupid."

"Do you have a better one?"

"I've got one," Nereida chimes. "What did the ocean say to the beach?"

Blue sighs. "I know this one. Ghost said it before. Nothing—it just waved."

She smiles apologetically. "Sorry, that's all I've got."

You wrack brain for another, but then the quiet fills in again. You lean your forehead against the window and watch the world pass. Moss-tucked cars, sprawling hills. Blue rests her chin back in her hands, then perks up a minute later. "Woah. What is that?"

You crane your neck. A dilapidated theme park erects from the grass on the other side of the road. A small rollercoaster track, dull red carousel, even what looks like a mini golf course. It looks creepy to you, but she seems intrigued.

"Ghost, I have to pee. Can we stop here?"

"None of that stuff works now, and you're not going through any of it."

"I just want to look, that's all."

"I do need to stretch my legs a little," Nereida adds.

Ghost slows down and pulls over. Your legs feel wobbly when you first step out—it's only been two hours but you haven't had to sit in a car for years. The sign spanning the theme park entrance reads Kettering Kastle. That means he will take the interchange towards Cambridge soon. If there are no more stops, you'll be at the coastline by sundown. 

"Ari, did you ever go to one of these?" Blue quips.

Ari fails to answer—he hops down from the truck bed and rushes to the nearest bush, sick to his stomach.

Kyle gets to his feet. "It gets pretty bumpy in the back. He'll be fine."

You wince, feeling guilty you've let a kid get the worst seat. "I'll switch with him."

"You don't have to."

"No, it's fine. He can probably entertain Blue better than I can."

Blue relieves herself behind some dogwood. Ghost and Price go over the map together again. Your attention isn't on the old rides, but rather, a large tree you spot by the road. Hickory. You're pretty sure. Paul once told you it's great for making arrows, a softer hardwood. Pliable but strong. This excites you. Your sheath is only half-filled. You unzip your bag and reach for a knife, the serrated one you found back at the base. 

Gingerly, you saw off a few mid-sized branches that should be easy to whittle into arrows with your smoother knife. 

"Having fun there?" Kyle crosses his arms behind you, brow ticked. "First I'm seeing you smile... and it's while you cut a tree."

"This is good wood," you defend, continuing your ministrations. 

"How are you doing?" he asks idly.

You snap off the fourth stick, feeling satisfied. 

You blow a piece of hair off your face.

How are you doing?

Questions like that annoy you.

"Great. Thrilled. Beautiful scenery," you wave a hand around, "So I can't complain."

A dimple pops. "That's the spirit." His eyes unthinkingly trail over you, landing on the knife in your hand. His stare lingers, narrowing. "That yours?"

"Hm?" You hold it up. "Oh, yeah, I found it."

"May I see it for a sec?"

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

it's still agatha and her river

mama, I'm sorry I got upset. mama I'm sorry we're both starving tonight. I promise I'll do better tomorrow.

a six year old taking responsibility and apologizing for his mother's shortcomings.

agatha looks down at her precious little boy's pleading face

and she smiles at him, and nicky gives her a big relieved grin.

evanora is not stealing this moment. she did her worst to fuck with agatha's brain chemistry, but in one fundamental thing she failed: agatha is capable of loving her kid. despite all her other shortcomings, she will never blame nicky for her own faults.

she does a cute little dance for him, and this is what they do, isn't it? he's too small to explain his big feelings and she is too scared, and so they sing to each other and hope the love is understood anyway.

see how he touches the brooch? if only she could have loved nicky in vacuum, without any of the emotional baggage. but he is only the last link in a long chain of witches, pain and and tears and blood that made him what he is. agatha cannot escape her identity and legacy no matter how much she tries, and she couldn't protect nicky from it either.

the last time she sees nicky alive he's smiling adoringly at her. this is the boy she can't face in the afterlife, because her own guilt is so strong she's convinced he will hate her.

nicky dies peacefully in his mother's arms. his soul wakes up and sees rio waiting for him.

that some good cinema dear lord

rio waves at nicky. he doesn't know her (when who will return?) but he still trusts her implicity - she's been around him his whole short life, in the woods, in the water, in his lungs.

and - the bit that destroyed us all - rio makes nicky go to agatha one last time. go kiss your mama goodbye.

light and dark, growth and decay, here and beyond.

remember when alice died and the camera turned upside down? it stops halfway here. agatha has been affected so profoundly by nicky's death that she can never let herself go back to the land of the living, but she's also too scared to follow rio to the other side. she's stuck in the middle, consumed by the impossible dream of bringing nicky back, never allowing herself to find peace and companionship again. in love with death, but running away from it.

(people never seem to make crack and humor vids for episode 9, isn't that curious? when it's soooo fun and lighthearted!)

well ain't that just brutal

I have always known

This Road is cruel and wild

I bury my own heart

Here with you, my child

(I think those are lavender flowers? I'm not 100% sure)

coolcoolcoolcoolcool. that's fine. I'm absolutely fine.

BARRIERS UP right away. even if she looks like a mess. especially because she looks like a mess. she's not showing weakness in front of anyone, she's protecting her grief like a jealous goblin, and since she cannot run, she straightens her dress and gets ready to fight. the option to ask for help and comfort doesn't even cross her mind.

her eyes still full of tears / agatha gets another wonderful, awful idea.

we've seen this so many times, haven't we? the real agatha disappears behind the character she plays. the agatha we've seen from the very start, since the moment she walked into wanda's living room, has been a lie. very few people have ever seen a hint of the poor bruised heart she hides inside, and only to rio and (to some extent) nicky she has ever opened up.

how can someone go from total heartbreak to planning murder in the span of two minutes? well, you can if you are agatha harkness and have never learned one healthy coping mechanism in your life. and I'm sure she's already rationalizing it as something like "if I get powerful enough I can bring nicky back." but the truth is, she just wants to get drunk on magic and murder and stop feeling so horrible. she's running away, like usual. she's planning to kill witches in front of the grave of the very kid who begged her not to, and she's using his song to do it. as if that's not gonna haunt her or anything.

(it really gets me how agatha's smiles are so different from kathryn's. agatha never smiles with her eyes, except when she's with nicky.)

agatha's diabolical scam is so stupid if you think about, definitely worthy of the clown she has become. just pretend the Road didn't open and then annoy people into attacking you! better than using a literal child as bait, I guess.

here she absorbs a yellow coven, and yep, it does look like covens are all supposed to be the same color?

the bodies from the agnes of westview opening.

orange coven in the late 1800s. I really like that dress and hat on her

blue coven in the 1920s, and another cunty outfit

I know you guys like the 90s look, but it makes me laugh how hard she was trying for that Craft vibe. and we don't see the beams color here.

and finally, our girls. (I miss you all so muchhhhh)

what do you know! looks like a door has appeared! (sharonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!)

from fuck has my karma caught up with me to well well well, looks like we have another little maximoff on our hands

and speaking of little maximoffs and giant assholes...

go to episode 9 part 5

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

A Sting in the Way You Kiss Me

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written, raunchy smut, Dom/sub dynamic, p in v, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), prostate stimulation

Summary: You and Daryl take the next step in your relationship. And it’s a big step.

A/N: Lawd, this took forever! I’m not 100% happy with it but happy enough to call it complete. I think I like Sub!Daryl. I’m sleepy now so I’ll proofread and fix errors tomorrow.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Daryl Dixon made you feel powerful. 

Given his nature, you could never be sure if it was intentional. From day one at the quarry, he was rude, standoffish, and vulgar. You found him difficult to tolerate, but hey, you didn’t get to choose the people with which you had survived an apocalypse. It was a random twist of fate that had brought you all together. Better to just make the best of it. 

So, you did. You made it a priority to get to know everyone in your group, saving the Dixons for last. Merle, you quickly surmised as a lost cause. Women, to him, were meek and fruitless, destined to die without a big strong man to ensure they were protected, fed, and bred like cattle to repopulate the earth. 

You found Daryl to be a tad more reserved. He only offered his opinion—usually loudly and to include several swears—when the conversation revolved around an important topic that would directly affect him or his brother. He otherwise attempted very hard to keep to himself. So when you began to follow him around, he naturally bucked against the idea. Still, you saw potential there and persevered. 

You took an interest in the things he was doing, namely hunting and trapping. He was a skilled tracker and a marksman with his crossbow. You started small, asking how the weapon worked. He had been skeptical and scrutinized you for sincerity, all with a glower in the span of five minutes. It was only uphill from there. 

When Daryl began to teach you his trades, he made sure you learned by doing. His only praise for getting something right was usually a curt nod and a “that’ll do.” By giving you weapons, having you track a buck that would feed the group for days, spear a fish, and skin and clean your own kills, he had put power in your hands. He had single-handedly molded you into a force that could survive in the new world. 

When it came to walkers, Daryl somehow knew things that others didn’t. “S’gotta be the brain! Don’t ya’ll know nothin’?!” You knew. Thanks to him. You had spent a lot of time in the woods, the perfect place to learn how to take down the undead. It was virtually impossible for them to sneak up on you. Too many ways to make noise if you weren’t actively trying to be silent. Once again, a weapon had been placed in your hand and you were thrown to the wolves…erm…walkers. The difference between this and hunting, you noticed, was that Daryl was never too far away with his own weapon ready. He knew how to make you feel independent without wagering your safety. 

The months and tragedies continued to pass slowly, each profound in their own way. Surviving was top priority and to continue to do so as time marched on became more and more of a victory. You lost people and homes, each leaving a mark on your soul that would never be erased, chipping away at your humanity bit by bit. Surprisingly, it was Daryl who kept you grounded. 

By the time you arrived in Alexandria, things between you and the archer had evolved into something just short of a romantic relationship. You had been sharing space with him for months now, falling asleep warm in his arms every night. You would show him affection in front of your friends and, though he scowled and grumbled, he accepted it. Kisses alternated between slow and passionate and long and needy, each accompanied by intimate touches that never seemed to go far enough. 

Today, you had been helping him with the bike Aaron had gifted him to keep him busy. He had shown you back at the prison how to make repairs, along with the correct name and function of each part. He was sitting beside you while you both diagnosed what could be causing the thing to sputter and die randomly. Your eyes were drawn to his muscles when he would tighten a bolt, and more than once, you had caught his gaze roaming up the length of your bare legs until he reached the hem of your shorts and quickly looked away. 

It was becoming a problem. An absolute dilemma that was resulting in a pulsing, wet need between your thighs. You chose to ignore it and focus your energy on the task at hand. Daryl, however, decided that he needed the wrench that just happened to currently reside between your lower thighs. When he reached for it, you were unprepared and reacted instinctively. You smacked the back of his hand before you even realized you had moved. He pulled back the limb with surprising quickness, wide blue eyes zeroing in on the red welt that began to form just below his knuckles. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you grabbed his hand to inspect it yourself. He let you pull it closer even though it meant he had to lean forward awkwardly. Your fingers brushed over the irritated flesh and before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to the mark you had left. A chance look from under your lashes showed he still wore the wide eyes, but the brilliant blue was merely a thin ring around his dilated pupils. 

‘Oh.’ Could it really be? You had honestly thought Daryl just wasn’t into sex since the world ended. He had never made a move, never given you any indication that he was waiting for you to make one. Sure, your make-out sessions would get pretty heated, but honestly, things were always too hectic or dangerous for anything more. Maybe, just maybe, now that your family was safe behind the walls here…

You knew Daryl had lovers in the past. It was a topic of conversation once during a night watch before the prison had fallen. Your head was on his shoulder as you recounted — in more detail than he had liked, if his growls and grunts had been anything to go by — your average-size list. When it had been his turn, he hadn’t been as forthcoming as you but you at least surmised that he knew his way around a pussy if ever the opportunity presented itself. 

On a whim, you flipped his hand and let your lips whisper over his wrist next, drawing up your legs to sit on your knees. He still didn’t stop you while you moved up his arm with hot, open-mouthed kisses and kitten licks. Eventually, you needed to skip over his clothed shoulder (for now) and his neck became your next target. He leaned back slightly when you threw a leg over both of his to straddle him, unleashing an onslaught of attention over his carotid pulse. His breath hitched, his palms hovering over your hips but seemingly not yet willing to touch you. You would use that to your advantage at some point. 

Salt, smoke, and earth were mingling on your tongue. “I like how you taste.” You whispered in his ear, smiling against his skin when you felt him shiver. You leaned back to bring your face in front of his, fingers grabbing his chin when he started to look away. “I think we need to go to your room.” He swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing. 

You stood straight up from where you were on his lap, leaving your feet on either side of his hips and the apex of your thighs directly in front of his face. Once again, he tried to look away. “Don’t.” You ordered before you thought better of it. To your surprise, he stopped short and turned back, even as he scowled from being bossed around. ‘Oh.’ The things he told you without saying a word. “Don’t keep me waiting, Dixon.” You stepped back and then over, swaying your hips more deliberately than usual as you exited the garage. 

You didn’t turn to see if he would follow. If you were reading him right, he would. 

And you were about to have the time of your life. 

Entering the home you, Daryl, and Carol shared, you passed the staircase that led up to your room and stepped into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. You probably had a good ten minutes before Daryl would stop pacing the front porch and actually come inside. 

Descending the stairs from the kitchen, you opened the basement door and flipped the light switch. Even though you had separate rooms, you spent more time in his room than your own. The things you used most were down there. You slept there. Nothing was really going to change if this happened, right?

Pursing your lips, you shook the thoughts away and placed the water on the nightstand, twisting the switch on the small bedside lamp. After you turned off the overhead light, satisfied with the subtle glow left behind, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pausing just before you were going to lift it over your head. No. You’d stay dressed for now. Your boots came off, along with your socks, and you sat on the edge of the mattress and waited. Sure enough, after a little less than ten minutes, you heard the slow, heavy footfalls descending the stairs. 

He must have needed another moment because there was a silent span of about fifteen seconds before the door slowly opened and Daryl entered, already gnawing on his thumbnail. 

“Hi.” You beamed, crossing your legs and leaning back. The bowman nodded minutely, looking so adorably uncomfortable that you came close to calling the whole thing off. You did need to ensure this is what he wanted. If it wasn’t, you could live without it. You had him and he would always be enough. 

When he closed the door and didn’t take another step, you rose to your feet and walked toward him, adding that extra sway to your hips. It was a pleasure in and of itself to watch him watching you. When you were close enough, you started by pushing the open vest off his shoulders, smiling when he dropped his hand from his mouth to let the garment fall from his arms to the floor. 

“Daryl.” You purred his name, and his eyes found yours instantly. “I need you to answer some things for me, and I need you to use words.” You worked at the buttons of his shirt agonizingly slow. “Can you do that for me?” He nodded. You shook your head and tutted. “Words, Dixon.”

“Yeah.” He answered immediately in a quiet tone. 

“Do you want me?” A button came free. 

“Yeah.”

“Do you know that I want you?” Another. 

“Yeah.”

“Will you let me be in control tonight?” Your fingers paused when he hesitated. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah.” He may have hesitated but his answer sounded certain. 

You smiled. “I’m going to give you a safe word. If at any time, you’re uncomfortable or you need or even just want me to stop, do you promise me you will say that word?” Another button opened. You had zero intention of going very far, but it would never hurt to establish rules when you wanted so badly to play with him. And he was letting you. You feared getting carried away in the heat of the moment, and his safety and comfort were the most important thing in the world to you. 

Daryl inhaled sharply and nodded, following quickly with a mumbled “yeah.”

“And if at any time, you can’t speak and want me to stop, will you double tap somewhere on my body to let me know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good boy.” You felt his sharp inhale beneath your fingers while you finished with the buttons, opening the shirt but not removing it. You could see a few of his scars like this. Not wanting him to grow self-conscious, you stepped into him, tracing one with a gentle fingertip only to follow with your lips. “You’re beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?” Daryl shook his head. “Daryl.” 

“No.” He whispered. 

“Well, you are.” You let your finger continue upward to stroke his jaw before abruptly turning away. “First thing’s first.” When you reached the bed, you turned back to him. “The safe word is chupacabra.” A flicker of annoyance was immediate in his eyes. “Say it.” Your tone remained no-nonsense.

“Safe word’s chupacabra.” He drawled, trying not to sneer. 

“And what do you do if you need to stop and you can’t speak?” 

“Tap on ya twice.” The archer replied almost immediately. 

You cocked a brow at him. “Good. I need you to understand that I will never be upset or disappointed if you need things to stop. Ever.”

“Alright.”

You smiled at him fondly. “Good. Now, come over here and undress me.” There was that hesitation again as his eyes raked over your body, pausing at every curve just long enough to let you know he was appreciating what he saw. Finally, he stepped toward you. Once he had reached you, he again paused. You let him. He had touched every part of you before through your clothes. This was the first time he would see you bare.

After a few moments, he reached for the bottom of your shirt while you raised your arms above your head. The garment was pulled from you and tossed aside. Your bra wasn’t anything special. Something you had grabbed on a run a few months back; white and at least one cup size too small. You decided to do this part for him, unfastening the clasp at your back and removing the thing yourself. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, his gaze lingering on the newly exposed skin. Men and boobs, a tale as old as time. 

“Shorts.” You stated simply, a smirk firmly plastered on your face when he snapped out his daze and met your eyes. There was a slight tremble to his hands as he reached for the button, his eyes narrowed. You watched him and he watched what he was doing. Button open, he dragged down the zipper, and his eyes flickered up to yours. You gave him a nod. 

His thick fingers dipped inside the waistband at both hips, but just as he started to pull, you interjected. “Panties, too.” You heard the shaky inhale as he adjusted his hold to grip your underwear as well, lowering to one knee as he pulled both garments down your legs. They were quickly shed and kicked to the side and your hand found the top of his head when he made to stand. “I think I like you there.”

Daryl tilted back his head to see you, taking the hint and lowering his other leg so he was fully kneeled. 

“Good boy.” You breathed, feeling a pulse between your legs. You had wanted to do a few other things with him before really jumping into the fun bits but your needy cunt simply would not be denied. The mattress dipped as you sat in front of him, spreading your legs in an obscene display just to gauge his reaction. The blush that crept across his cheeks should have been adorable but only served to stoke your arousal. “Come here, Daryl.” A few feet separated the two of you, so it was only natural for him to assume you wanted him to stand. 

That isn’t what you wanted at all. 

“I didn’t say get up.” 

The archer paused halfway. The look he sent you had you wondering if this was where he would end this game. He’d say ‘fuck this’ and do things his way, pounding into you until you were red and sore and screaming his name through your release. The thought was appealing. 

You arched a brow when he lowered back to his knees, a quiet curse on his lips. Would he do it? The minute he leaned forward to place one palm against the floor, you thought you might cum then and there. Daryl Dixon was crawling toward you because you told him to.  

He stopped just short of your spread knees, one of your legs coming up to rest on his shoulder. He looked over at it but quickly turned back to you. 

“Closer.” As soon as you could, you started digging your heel into his back, urging him onward until his warm breath was wafting over your core. You bit your lip, reminding yourself of the role you were playing. Your first instinct was to beg him to touch you. No, not tonight. He’d have his turn. The thought of Daryl taking charge sent another sharp pang of arousal straight to your center, your cunt clenching around nothing. The way his eyes left your face and focused on the wet mess between your legs confirmed that he had noticed. You had to reel this in if you wanted to continue. Clearing your throat, you placed your other leg across his other shoulder. “I can’t decide if I want to feel your mouth on me or those fingers inside of me.”

You tapped your chin, feigning deep thought. You had every intention of utilizing both of those delicious options. Dropping your hand, you rested back on your elbows. “Let’s see how good you are with your tongue first.” Daryl gave you a look that would have melted your panties clean off had you still been wearing them. Goddamn, he was handsome, even more so when he was showing some confidence. 

Before your mask had a chance to slip, you felt his fingers spread you open but dare not venture between your lips. Blue orbs stayed on you when he leaned in and pressed his tongue flat against you, dragging it from opening to clit before pulling back to repeat it. The second drag ended with the tip swirling around your bundle of nerves. Sparks of pleasure jolted from where he touched you. You could feel it coursing through your veins like lightning, burrowing deep in your lower belly. 

He paid special attention to your clit, taking his sweet time alternating between flicks and swirls of his tongue to gentle sucking to grazing his teeth over it with just enough pressure to make your head fall back and your fingers tangle in his hair. Then he moved down, lapping at your opening with the same attentiveness, the wet slurps and appreciative hums pulling the knot inside you tight. When he dipped his tongue inside, pumping in, out, in and then wiggling it against your inner walls, you were already close to orgasm, panting and pulling against his scalp helplessly. 

He was moving back toward your clit and you knew if he made contact, you would spiral. Not a satisfaction you were ready to relinquish to him. “Stop!” You ordered breathlessly. He almost didn’t, the brat. His breath hit hard against the sensitive nub but he didn’t touch it. “I want your fingers inside me.” You kept your head back, staring at the ceiling. “Nowhere else.” Your climax had receded but it wouldn’t take much to call it back. 

You never had a problem cumming from penetration only, but it took time and effort. It would give you a moment of reprieve to gather yourself and draw this out a little longer. 

Or would it? 

You were wet enough for his middle finger to easily slip inside, the feeling of your walls pulling him in further earning a drawn out moan from somewhere deep in your chest. You raised your head to look down the length of your body. Thank whatever deity that Daryl was watching his digit move in and out of you instead of meeting your eyes. He felt so fucking good. 

Your legs pulled toward you, leaving your ankles balancing on his shoulders and your thighs opening further. You couldn’t fucking help it. “Another.” You demanded and he immediately obliged, drawing his finger nearly all the way out so that his index finger could join the onslaught. “Mmm, so good,” You praised. Your hips began to roll in time with the slow thrusts of his hand, the hot coil that was low in your belly getting tighter and tighter. 

The sounds that filled the room were a testament to just how soaked you were, and they were only becoming more prominent. It was no longer about how long you could keep this up. Your body ached for release, your mind too clouded in a euphoric fog to care. 

“Make me cum.” You looked down again and his eyes met yours as he lowered his head, drawing your clit into his mouth. He sucked the swollen bundle and flicked it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers curling each time they pushed inside of you and tapped that sweet, soft spot that had your toes beginning to curl. 

“Yes, yes, right there. Don’t stop!” And he didn’t. He increased his efforts, humming around your clit. “I’m gonna cum!” You had no more than uttered the words when the coil inside you snapped and released wave after wave of intense pleasure; a wildfire of sensation burning through you while you cried out his name and pinned him against you with your thighs. Daryl didn’t let up, collecting all you offered as your cunt pulsed around his fingers. 

“Shit,” you murmured, your body going limp. Fingers carded through the archer’s hair while he pulled free from within you. He directed the digits toward his lips. “Let me.” The command came out breathless and shaky, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Daryl appeared almost sad that he was losing that last taste of you, but he did as he was told and leaned forward to press his fingertips to your bottom lip. You sucked both digits into your mouth, your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Goddamn.” 

Your eyes peeled open to find the bowman watching you intently, those blue pools brimming with desire. You smirked and made a show out of opening your mouth and letting your tongue sweep across his skin, gathering every drop of your nectar. The man looked as if he was going to jump your bones. He was trembling from restraint, among other things, you were quite sure. With a hum, you pulled your mouth away. 

“Stand up.” The authoritative tone was back now that you were focused on a new goal. Daryl blinked, arousal replaced with irritation. His scowl deepened but once again, he obeyed. Rising up onto your elbows, you watched him stand, flexing his fingers at his sides. Using the ball of your foot, you pressed into his groin, against his obvious desire. The archer hissed through his teeth but he dared not move. 

“Take off your clothes, Daryl.”

A smile crept across your face at how quickly he began following that command. His shirt was shrugged off in seconds and you couldn’t even be sure when his boots and socks had been removed, but you pressed your foot into him again when he reached for his belt. He stopped with a grunt. 

“Slower.”

If looks could kill, you’d soon be a walker. His hair blew away from his eyes with each hard exhale through his nose. Once again, you wondered if this was where your fun would end. And once again, he surprised you and began to follow your instructions. Your foot fell away once he had worked the belt loose and popped open the button. Your eyes tracked the downfall of the zipper, only barely concealing your excitement. 

His pants fell first and the regret of not demanding he remove those and his boxer- briefs simultaneously was immediate. Though his underwear left very little to the imagination in his current state. You met his eyes for a moment and raised a brow to urge him onward. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, Dixon.” You teased. Moving up onto your knees at the edge of the mattress, you barely waited until the last garment was kicked aside before your hands were on him. You wanted this experience to be positive for him, and while you had so, so much planned for him tonight, taking a moment to just appreciate how stunning he was wouldn’t hurt. Your lips found the skin just above his clavicle, sucking gently. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” You whispered before dragging your tongue up the length of his neck to his jaw. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real. And you’re mine.” Your hand wrapped around his cock just as your mouth pressed against his, allowing you to swallow the delicious whimper he offered at the new contact. You kept your grip loose, pumping him at a tortuously slow pace. His mouth fell open and gave you the opportunity to delve inside with your tongue, tangling it with his when he responded to the advance. His breath between the intricate dances of your mouths had begun to pick up, an excellent moment for you to pull away completely. Your cunt clenched in response to the whine he emitted. “Be a good boy and sit down for me.”

Daryl moved a little more slowly now, almost cautiously, watching you when you crawled up to the top of the bed to grab both of your pillows. Your feet met the floor just as he sat down. You circled around to stand in front of him, lifting your foot and wedging it between his knees. “Open up, pretty boy.” The archer snorted quietly as he complied. The pillows fell between his feet with a quiet sound, and then your knees dropped onto them. You wiggled a bit to get comfortable and looked up to find him watching with his head tilted and a dark brow arched. “What? I’m shorter than you.” 

His mouth formed a silent “oh” and he nodded. The adorable moment almost had you forgetting your role, but you were able to rein in your adoration just before the giggle could bubble up. To bring things back into perspective for him, you raised your hand and whispered the tip of your finger along the vein winding up the underside of his cock. There was a choked off sound, his hands balling into fists on his thighs. You splayed open the fingers of the same hand across his chest and gave a gentle push. 

“Lie back.” 

There was a deep, steadying breath and then he did as you ordered. Your fingers laced through his on both hands and moved them to the mattress, out of your way but still within sight. 

“These stay here.” You commanded without a single centimeter of room for argument. You felt him shifting and just knew he was nodding. “Words, baby boy.” You chose that exact moment to wrap your soft palm around the base of his dick. 

“Yes.” He finally answered in a rush of breath. You weren’t certain if he was responding to your words or your touch but decided to forego clarification. He wasn’t going to last long, so you were ready to play with him through that first release. Then your needy cunt could finally get its fill of him. 

“So good for me.” You purred. You pushed yourself away from sitting on your heels, bringing you just where you wanted to be. You released him quickly, rewarded instantly with him rising onto his elbows to see what was happening. The urge to reprimand was forced down. This was your first time with him and his first time allowing this. If he felt better watching, you’d let him. 

For now. 

Palm open, you dragged your tongue from wrist to fingertip, your lustful gaze never leaving his face. The way he watched you sent a surge of wetness dripping from your core. God, you couldn’t wait to fuck him. First thing was first, though. Your hand met his cock again, warm and wet and stroking from base to tip, a twist, and back down. He couldn’t watch you after all. You nearly laughed when he collapsed back onto the mattress with a groan. 

Movement in your peripheral had you looking to find his hands returning to where you had placed them. He must have realized he had moved them when he sat up. As a reward, you pumped him a bit faster. When you saw his chest heaving but heard nothing more than the harsh breaths, you found yourself pouting before remembering the power you had. 

“You’re so quiet, baby. Don’t you wanna let me know that it feels good?” 

He didn’t respond at first, and you wondered briefly if pushing him would be the right thing when he was such a quiet person to begin with. He had taken a lot of shit from you already and this just might be the straw that broke the camel’s back. So, you just moved on with your delectable torture. 

Your pace slowed significantly. There was no time for him to investigate, though. Your lips were immediately wrapping around his tip, sucking lightly and lapping at the opening to gather the sweet little drops of pre-cum. Oh, were you rewarded for that move. 

His fists white-knuckled the sheets, a guttural moan working its way past his lips. It was the absolute sexiest sound you had ever heard in your life. You closed your own eyes in restraint, almost cumming on the spot. You had to keep moving. Sudden pauses might have him second guessing what he had just done and you most certainly did not want that. He needed to make that noise. Often. 

Swirling your tongue around the tip, you pulled him back into the warm cavern of your mouth. This time, your hand slid down the length of him, followed by your lips. He pressed against the back of your throat and had you cursing your gag reflex when you couldn’t hold him there long. It didn’t matter to him, apparently. The simple move had his back arching and his cock twitching against your tongue as you dragged your way back up. 

You bobbed your head several more times, delighted in the way he began to writhe and twist the sheets in his fists. You gave him no warning and pulled off with a wet ‘pop’. There was that whine again that had your nethers pulsing. 

“Look at me.” You ordered with an authoritative edge to your tone. Daryl lifted his head, still panting through parted lips. “I want to try something. I hope it will make you feel good. But I need you to know that if it doesn’t, you can stop me. Remember what I said. I won’t be upset. Okay?” 

He nodded but followed it with a breathless “okay.”

“Such a good boy.” You kissed the weeping tip of his cock, parting your lips to pull him back into your warm wetness. With your hand and mouth stroking him at a steady pace, you knew he was ready to fall apart within moments. His cock began to twitch every few heartbeats. His breathing was uneven and shallow. He was a complete mess and you couldn’t seem to get enough. 

You used your other hand to cup his balls, not remaining there long. They were a marker so you could find just the right spot. Starting at the base of his scrotum, you applied gentle but firm pressure, dragging the pads of your middle and index finger back and forth to massage his perineum, stimulating his prostate from the outside. Every ‘ah, ah, ah’ he fed you in response to the new sensation was a sound straight to your pussy. He definitely liked what you were doing.  

Once again, however, your greedy little cunt couldn’t be ignored, begging to be stretched and filled. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard, your mouth squeezing him all the way up and off. Your tongue slithered out to break the string of saliva that stretched from your lips to the head of his dick. “Mmm, I think that’s enough of that, pretty boy.” 

“Y/N.” He whined, keeping his hands right where you had placed them. 

“You’ve been so good for me, baby. Move to the middle of the bed.” He complied in eager yet jerky movements, lust blown eyes on your every move as you followed him up. You stopped with your hot center hovering over his groin. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of me and you.” You lowered, grinding against and soaking his cock with your slick. “I want you inside of me. Would you like that?”

“Yeah.” Daryl reached for you but thought better of it and put his hands back on the mattress. 

“Look at you. Wanting your hands on me so badly.” You moaned as the tip of him slid over your clit, providing the friction you so desperately craved. “But waiting for permission. Would you beg for it? To be inside me?” 

His lips pressed into a thin line. Had you found the limit to how far you could push him? You drove your hips down harder, shifting back and forth, and he pressed his head into the pillow with a hiss. 

“Beg me for it. Beg me because I want it just as badly as you do, but you have to be a good boy.” His heart thudded wildly beneath your palm as you caressed the muscular plane of his chest, his muscles twitching and contracting when you scraped your nails over his abdomen. “Beg and I’ll let you touch me.” You dipped toward him, letting your hard nipples touch his heated skin while your lips sucked at the hollow of his throat. “I want to feel you moving inside me, filling me up, Daryl. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Y-yeah.”

You sat up, going completely still. “Then beg.”

You watched as the defiance left his eyes, replaced by pure, unadulterated need. His fingers flexed in the disheveled sheets, his jaw clenching and ticking with how hard he ground his teeth. You smiled as desire beat out pride. 

“Fuck, please, Y/N. Wanna touch ya. Wanna—wanna fuck ya. Need ya bad!” His expression morphed into something akin to desperation. “Please!”

“You can touch me.” 

He didn’t wait, large hands grabbing your hips; spreading his fingers as he dragged calloused palms up your sides to cup your breasts. You couldn’t help the hitch in your breath when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. 

“Wanna be inside ya.” He breathed, one hand traveling upward from the swell of your chest. For a moment, you thought he might wrap it around your throat. The thought of him choking you was delicious, sending a warm gush of arousal from your cunt to coat his groin. He groaned and pushed his hips up into you. 

“No.” You breathed. “Be good for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

“M’good—let me fuck ya. Please, Y/N.”

You hummed, more than satisfied, bending forward to drag your tongue from his chin to his lips. He opened eagerly, his own dipping into your mouth to taste you with abandon. You reached between your bodies, keeping your mouths connected, and positioned him at your entrance.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Every syllable was spoken against his mouth, your cunt stretching around him inch by inch, drawing him into your fluttering, wet walls while you swallowed his desperate groans and panting breaths. “Fuck. You feel so good.” You made sure to move slowly, inch by agonizing inch, taking several heartbeats before you had taken all of him. 

“God, Y/N.”

“I know, baby.” You were so full, stretched nearly to the point of painful but longing to feel him moving within you. He wouldn’t last long, but you wouldn’t either. You lifted your hips, feeling the drag along your insides in such a way that you needed to bite back a cry. “Oh, god, Daryl.” 

His hands settled in a bruising grip on your waist but he didn’t try to move you. You had promised to take care of him and he was letting you. But you couldn’t take it anymore. You began to ride him in earnest, bouncing above him with your head thrown back. 

“Goddamn!” He keened through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed shut. 

“So—so good.” You felt the heat twisting low in your belly, pooling toward your clit while he throbbed within you. “Touch me, Daryl. I wanna cum with you.” His hands squeezed your hips before he brought one of them to where he was splitting you open, sucking in a sharp breath when his fingertips brushed his cock slipping inside you. He barely had the coherence to drag through your slick up to your clit, but the moment the rough pad of his finger pressed against you, you saw stars. 

“M’gonna,” he panted, “gonna cum.”

“Me too.” You leaned forward, shifting into a brutal grind against his pelvis. “Fuck, Daryl!” The logical part of your brain screamed for you to move off of him, that you couldn’t risk him cumming inside you but you were both too far gone. 

Your vision whited out just as you heard him shout your name, his finger pressing against your clit harder than you were sure he meant to, but it was just what you needed: that perfect amount of pain to send you toppling over the edge with him. You barely registered the warmth flooding into you with each pulse of his cock. Or the way his hips jerked up while his hand squeezed your hip so tightly that his fingertips turned white. 

When you could see, could breathe again, his arms were around you and holding you against him while he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Oh my god.” You whispered against his collarbone. You were both covered in sweat, trembling. He was still inside you, drained and softening, when his arms fell away to the mattress. You sat up with a great deal of difficulty, your thighs burning from exertion and your cunt deliciously sore. You’d be feeling this for at least a day or two, and the thought was exhilarating. 

You lifted your leg to move away, feeling the mixture of you and him begin to drip out of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Obviously, he didn’t either, his eyes tracking you until you curled into his side. Sated and tired, you smiled and reached up to brush the damp strands of hair off his forehead, watching his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. 

“I’m gonna get something to clean us up, okay? And then we’re gonna drink some water. Then you can go to sleep.” When he didn’t answer, you turned his head to face you with a gentle touch against his jaw. “Are you okay?” Daryl took a deep breath, almost as if he had forgotten to breathe before it. “Use your words, baby.” You kept your tone soft, no longer playing a role. It was just you and Daryl now.  

“Yeah, m’okay.” He gave you the smallest lopsided smile and you knew he was still floating in that space between reality and euphoria, absolutely fucked out. You couldn’t stifle your chuckle. 

“Alright, just stay awake for just a few more minutes.” You patted his chest and then climbed out of bed to fetch a damp cloth. Daryl struggled but he managed to stay awake. He was silent as you worked, wiping away the mess on both your bodies. The sheets would need washed but that was not a problem you’d solve tonight. “Okay, baby, just drink some water for me and we can go to sleep.” If he had any objections to the pet name being used outside of sex, he didn’t voice them.

It took him a moment and a bit of struggling but he managed to rise up onto one arm, letting you tilt the water bottle to his lips for a few long swallows. Then he collapsed back onto the mattress. You drained the bottle and placed it on the bedside table, climbing out of bed one last time to fetch your pillows. The archer was out by the time you returned only a few short seconds later. 

You grabbed the duvet and pulled it up over both your bodies before curling into his side, smiling when he unconsciously pulled you closer and pressed a sleepy kiss against your forehead. He was done for then, breathing deep and even, sound asleep. 

You watched him until your own eyes could no longer stay open, a muttered “goodnight, pretty boy” before you fell asleep to the thoughts of next time, when he’d be in charge. 

[misseviehyde]

SHADOWS

My ex-boyfriend James is sooooo fucking weak and pathetic. I hate and despise him with every part of my soul. He is everything that is wrong with men these days. Indecisive, overly sensitive, small and pathetic. What a fucking loser.

His twin brother Jason by comparison is a God. He is the man I now desire. Once I despised and hated Jason, but now he is everything I seek in a man. Tall, strong, rich, dominant... he makes me so fucking wet. My new boyfriend is a total Alpha. The longer I stay around him the more feminine I feel. I love what he does to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how this all started...

Once I was the nerdiest girl at school. It seems insane to say it now, given how popular I am, but there was a time when I couldn't name six fashion designers or contour my makeup or suck off three boys at once in the cheerleaders locker room. I was a fucking loser.

Terrible skin, flat chested, nerdy glasses and goofy teeth. No. I was once plain little Melanie. I even had ginger hair. No wonder everyone bullied me. Popular rich bitch Madison didn't even exist. I was a fucking nobody.

My life consisted of science fairs, anime and role-playing games. Not the fun role playing games where you dress as a sexy school girl and get railed by a hot guy... no... the loser ones where you pretend to be an elf.

To my shame I was even into LARPIng. Live action role play. Each Friday night, me, James, Jason and our other buddies would go into the local woods to play.

We would run around the woods pretending to be on adventures. Fuckkkk it was so pathetic, I feel a major ick just thinking about it.

Jason wasn't the God he would later become at this point. He and James basically looked the same. I don't know why I had chosen James as my boyfriend. I guess he was slightly more confident and had asked me out first. He and Jason basically looked and acted the same though. Many people couldn't even tell them apart. Even me sometimes.

Then Jason found the shadow and everything changed.

As part of our role playing experience we sometimes brought props along and Jason had found this creepy looking glass bottle in a charity shop. It was opaque and stoppered with a wax cork. Perhaps it held a liquid of some kind? Sometimes it looked like there was something dark swirling inside, but it was kind of hard to tell.

We needed a prop to represent an evil demon that was trapped in a bottle so Jason had brought out the bottle.

As usual the group had split up. It was dark now and I was on my own. I had on my favourite druid costume (ughhh so fucking fugly) and I was creeping through the woods under the moonlight.

Suddenly I saw Jason through a gap in the trees. He was on his own too and carrying the bottle. I headed towards him, he hadn't seen me... in fact he wasn't really paying proper attention to his surroundings, which is maybe why he suddenly tripped over a tree root.

The bottle span from his hands and smashed against the ground with a musical tinkle.

I had a perfect view of everything. Jason was lit by the moonlight, his scrawny body shivering and his eyes wide with fear as a rolling mass of black shadows erupted from the smashed bottle and flowed towards him.

I wanted to scream but my voice had left me and I could only put my hands to my mouth like a parody of some dumb anime girl as the shadows flowed into Jason. Black smoke forced its way down his throat, into his nose. It wrapped and enveloped him, melting and merging into his body.

Then it was gone.

But the scene was not over.

Jason let out a cry, or maybe it was a moan. I watched in horrified fascination (and now I'm happy to admit a little bit or arousal) as I watched him change. Jason... my God... was being born.

Muscles rippled and swelled under his skin, causing his shirt to rip and his fantasy style breeches to bulge. He tore his top off to reveal a rippling six back and toned muscles as his skin flowed like wax and he changed and transformed. He grew taller and bigger, more handsome too as his face became more masculine and his hair cut more stylish.

Grunting and grinning Jason ripped off his pathetic role playing costume and stretched confidently. He was entirely naked now and I gasped in arousal as I saw his magnificent ass and his perfect cock. As I watched it was growing. Ten inches of thick white meat now hung between his huge thighs and I almost salivated as I beheld his perfect manly body.

Jason confidently stretched his body, clearly enjoying how it felt. He grinned perfect white teeth and his eyes, once mild and nerdy shone with ambition and dark desire. He clicked his fingers and there was a wisp of smoke as a stylish black shirt and designer jeans encased his new perfect body. He now looked like a male super model and he strode off through the woods chuckling, leaving me breathing heavily and wondering if I was losing my mind.

***

I ran through the woods. Back then I was ungainly and lacking athletic ability. Whereas now I hit the gym daily and can bend into nearly any position (especially when fucking) I was a fucking loser, so I made quite the noise as I crashed through the trees.

James and the others soon found me and I garbled what I'd seen, but they all thought I was still role playing.

"Babe, it's a cool story, but one detail that doesn't work. My stuck up bullying brother doesn't play with us. He thinks we're losers."

I gawped at James. I thought he was joking at first, but as we spoke it became clear he was serious. The shadow had changed Jason, but it also seemed to have changed everyone's memories of him.

I had no idea why I hadn't been affected. perhaps because I had witnessed his transformation directly or something.

James and the others couldn't understand why I was so upset and worried. The shadow had looked evil and I was worried my boyfriends brother was now under the control of something wicked. I decided I'd have to confront Jason directly and see if I could aid him, so I told the others I felt sick and left to go immediately to James and Jason's house.

James started after me, but I quickly lost him in the woods. I didn't want him to see what had happened to his brother. I was sure I could find a way to save Jason.

Haha, what a fucking idealistic moron I used to be.

***

I arrived at Jason's to find the house had changed. There was now a pickup parked at the front and the house was larger and clearly more expensive. Entering the house I found it was better decorated and I nearly had a heart attack as I entered the kitchen to find Jame's Mom and Dad.

Michael, the Dad was now a handsome looking business man wearing an expensive suit. Linda, James Mom had transformed from a homesy kind Mom into a haughty and beautiful MILF. She looked stunning!

Neither of them paid me much attention, they clearly recognised me as James girlfriend. The sneer and look of disgust Linda gave me left me cold. I can't blame her. Linda is now a major icon to me and we are the BEST of friends. She loves me like a daughter and I've learned so much about manipulating and using men from her. But back then I was a dork dating her loser son James.

But that was soon about to change.

I found Jason in a room I'd never seen before. A personal gym.

He was stripped to the waist, his muscles rippling as he pumped iron. He turned and grinned at me as I entered.

"Well well well. My brothers dork girlfriend? What the hell do you want Melanie?"

"I saw everything Jason. I saw that weird shadow enter you. We have to get it out of you. What have you done to your Mom and Dad? This isn't right."

Jason grinned. "Ahhhh. So you saw it? So you remember the old me? Haha you have no idea Melanie. No idea how good this feels. The shadow within me hungers for power and pleasure. It serves no other purpose but to give me what I want. It can change things, people too. Anything that falls under my shadow can be twisted to serve my whim. I am a fucking God now."

I watched nervously as black shadows seemed to spread around Jason as he spoke. The air rippled with potential and a cold numb feeling spread through my body and my soul. Jason grinned as the light seemed to be sucked out of the room and I was drowning in darkness.

"You could be so much more Melanie. You're such a fucking dork, just like my pathetic brother. I always wanted you to be MY girlfriend and now I have this power you can join me. I won't force you, I want you to join me willingly. A taste of this power and I think you'll want more."

I gasped falling to my knees as the shadows surrounded me. All the warmth and kindness and love inside me was suddenly numbed. It was like the shadow was feeding on my positive emotions... perhaps it was.

The dark shadows enveloped and wrapped my nerdy body. Tempting whispers invaded my mind and I felt Jason's presence beating down on me and willing me to give in. The shadow wanted to change and corrupt me, but it would only do so if I wanted it to. Jason hadn't lied.

I don't know if you've ever been offered something so fucking delicious and perfect that even if it came at the cost of your soul you'd jump at the chance... but when that moment finally arrives, it's pretty hard not to succumb.

I'd seen what the shadow had done to Jason. It had turned him into the perfect example of masculine perfection. It could probably do the same for me, but make me the ultimate girl. All I had to do was let it in and surrender to the darkness.

I'd seen girls in magazines, on TV, on teenage drama programs. I'd always wondered how it would feel to be a Queen Bee... a head cheerleader type. What must it be like to be so pretty you can get whatever you want? How would it feel to be a bitch?

"Yes... change me," I groaned. "But only a little... I just want to be a little prettier."

I gasped as my body suddenly ached and I felt the shadows begin to change me. I ripped my dorky glasses off and felt my brace snap as I spat out the metal to leave perfect white teeth. My red hair turned a sexy black and my pale spotty skin tanned as my body toned.

It felt so fucking good.

"Don't you want more Melanie? Don't you want to become a real fucking bitch? If it feels this good to go a little of the way, why not let the shadows take you all the way?"

Jason had a point. The more I transformed the more I wanted to transform. As I felt myself become more popular and beautiful, the further I found I wanted to go.

"Yessss mmmmore," I gasped feeling the shadows pour down my throat and into my body. I could feel Jason in my mind now, his fingers manipulating my pleasure receptors and his thoughts becoming my own.

"That's right Melanie. You don't want to be a dweeb anymore. You want to go all the way. You want to be a fucking bitch. Say it."

I shuddered as delicious throbs of pleasure pulsed through my body. "I... mmmmmh, ohhh yes, I want to be a bitch."

"That's right Melanie. Let's picture a girl. Let's call her Madison. She's everything you want to be isn't she? Thin, pretty, bratty and spoiled. She's the kind of girl that has a new outfit every day, that all the other girls bow down to. I want you imagine how hot she looks. Nice tits, a toned body, ultra-feminine body language. So different to the dork you are. Are you picturing her?"

I was picturing her. I was thinking of every mean bad girl and bitch I had ever know in real life or in the movies. I was picturing Madison and boy was she fucking hot.

"Now say it. Say you want to be Madison. You want to be the bullying popular Alpha girl."

My pussy was wet, my already partially transformed body felt so good. I needed more... I needed the shadows to corrupt me completely.

"Yessss I want to be Madison."

I screamed and orgasmed as I said it, feeling the shadows flowing into me and destroying Melanie forever. All the kind gentle nice parts of me were consumed and the shadows pumped me full of evil, mean bratty thoughts.

Melanie died in that instant and I... Madison... took control.

Long bitchy nails shot out from my fingers. My face became meaner and even prettier, soft pouty lips curving into a bratty grin. My clothing became designer, my handbag expensive and my personality became that of a spoiled rich bitch.

Reality rippled and changed. Only Jason and I would remember the old me. It was as if Melanie had never existed and only I had been born.

The shadows withdrew, but they left their mark. I was a fucking evil bitch now, devoid of mercy. I only cared about myself... oh and Jason of course.

"How do you feel baby?" he grinned, towering over me in his Adonis body.

"I feel amazing baby," I grinned. "In fact I want to thank you for being the best boyfriend ever."

I giggled and sank eagerly to my knees. My long nails looked so hawt as I unzipped Jason's fly and his huge ten inch dick flopped out.

Moaning I began to pump and suck his cock. This was who and what I worshipped now. Jason had taken me from that loser James.

"Yesssss, good girl," grunted Jason as he put his hands gently on my head and pushed me deeper onto his cock. "You're my slutty bitch now and I have everything I ever wanted."

I just gagged and gargled happily, I fucking loved my man's big cock.

I couldn't wait for him to cum. I needed to taste it...

***

And so that is how I ascended from being a fucking pathetic loser into a Goddess myself. Jason is the Master of the Shadow and so long as he holds that power I am his willing accomplice.

Soon after the transformation James came home. He no longer remembered I had ever been his girl, but that didn't stop me and Jason fucking loudly next door and laughing about the little simp jerking off in his room next door.

I felt so evil and perfect. Being Madison was like a perpetual state of orgasm. The meaner and nastier I was, the better it all felt.

Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if James had smashed that bottle instead of Jason? Perhaps he would be the Alpha stud with the delicious bitchy girlfriend.

But it was just idle speculation. The shadows answered to Jason...

And I answered only to the shadows now.

THE END

[11queensupreme11]

How would Poseidon react to Atlantis being destroyed because his counterpart chose to side with Percy? How would he react to PJO!Poseidon having many children AND a wife(that is not Percy) and how mean they treat his daughter?

How would the gods and humans react to Hera erasing Percy’s memories? I feel like ROR!Hera would be trembling in fear of Poseidon killing her as revenge for what her counterpart did. How would they react to the difference between Jason and Percy situations like Jason woke up in a bus with a girlfriend and a friend but Percy woke up in the woods having to fight monsters the second she opened her eyes.

I just know they would put a bounty on PJO!Hera’s head!!

oh i love this 😭😭

daddyseidon would not care if pjo!atlantis got trashed LMAO 😭😭😭 in his eyes, he sees that the pjo!atlanteans are weak and pathetic. like "it seems to me that this pitiful king decided to rule a kingdom of weaklings 😐🔱" (sorry daddyseidon, but not everyone wants to be a tyrant who terrorizes everyone 24/7 🙄 some prefer to be DECENT)

tho in pjo!poseidon's defense, in my fic, ror!poseidon doesn't just rule a small kingdom, it's a whole ass EMPIRE with multiple kingdoms that spans all the sees/oceans. he also doesn't have oceanus to worry about since the dude's... well... dead 💀. so pjo!poseidon's kingdom is smaller with fewer ppl to defend; hence why pjo!poseidon's presence was necessary to help them

so pjo!poseidon leaving them is... truly awful lmao 😭😭😭 i talked about it in a previous chapter (i think it was "motherhood kicks my ass" but this act pretty much cemented triton's already growing distaste and envy for percy as well as amphitrite's bitterness 💔

like... imagine being in triton's position. you know those manhwas where the MC gets replaced by a younger sibling that shows up and everyone starts to adore them and shove the MC to the side??? yeah, triton's the MC and percy's the star child 😭😭😭😭

cuz seriously.... you've remained loyal to your father for eons. bit your tongue with every affair that hurt your mother, held strong with every bastard child that showed up that COULD'VE taken your spot, but fortunately they never did. then percy shows up, another bastard child, and your father goes above and beyond for her. she insulted him multiple times when she was 12 and your father who WOULD'VE smited her, never did. she's made multiple mistakes, made many enemies. did things that you would never do, but your father continues to love her unconditionally.

and then the war comes. you fight alongside your father.... but then percy calls her daddy for help uwu and your father LEAVES you and your mother to deal with the people literally trying to destroy you and your home 💀💔 their people died, homes were destroyed, their palace was attacked, but that's fine because daddy's little girl wanted his help and that was more important.

like, it becomes VERY clear to you that you will never get your father's love. it will always belong to percy. and it sucks for amphitrite too cuz have you SEEN what happened with her other kids with poseidon? triton is quite literally the only kid he keeps around and even then he is shoved to the side whenever it comes to percy 😭😭 her husband loves his bastard baby more than he ever loved her and their own children together 💔💔💔💔💔

(also damn triton really IS living the tragic manwha heroine life LMAO 😭😭😭)

also omg sorry i rambled, but i got too into the angst to stop MY BAD

BUT ANYWAYS BACK TO YOUR ASK 🤪

i wouldn't really say that triton and amphitrite are mean to percy cuz they only had.... one interaction and it was like.... ten seconds long 💀 but they definitely aren't fond of her for the reasons i stated above! triton is jealous and hurting and amphitrite is bitter, sad, and resigned. regardless tho.... ror!poseidon would hate them 💀 because he's ror!poseidon. amphitrite is the granddaughter of oceanus (in my fic AND in canon pjo) so he automatically hates her because of that. he would see triton as a disappointment and a failure and would hate him for having (very understandable) negative feelings towards his perfect daughter 💀💀

NOW AS FOR THE SWITCHEROO 😭😭😭

hera was so crazy for this tho lmaooo BUT i seriously believe percy had the better end of this. it was bad AT THE START, but like.... percy ends up winning (again). like... think about it.

jason wakes up safe in a school bus with two demigods who have fake mist memories of being close to him (creating an automatic close bond, thus giving him more help). he's also with a satyr. only got attacked once before getting to camp and was taken to camp half-blood straight away.

meanwhile poor percy wakes up in a fucking cave with no shoes on (for some crazy ass reason wtf hera 😭). she's in the wilderness surrounded by man-eating wolves with other kids. if she acts too silly she gets EATEN by said wolves??? goes through grueling training sessions where she had to learn an entirely new way to fight (roman way). survives the wolf house and gets kicked out and told to find her own way to camp. gets attacked MULTIPLE FUCKING TIMES while being lost as fuck. has to carry an old hag over a river, loses her achilles heel that she didn't even know she had, and THEN finally gets to camp 😭

the ror characters are gonna be so fucking pissed cuz wtf??? you put their baby with man-eating wolves? excuse you that's a PRINCESS???? and the fact that she couldn't show "weakness" or risk being eaten, so she couldn't even be a lil silly 💔 AND SHE'S SURROUNDED BY 🤢.... ROMANS???? 🤮 she really got the shitty end of the stick at first 😭😭😭😭😭

BUT I STILL BELIEVE JASON HAD IT WORSE IN A WAY. cuz like.... when he got to camp, ppl were pretty okay with him tbh. and when he came back from his quest they were just like "yeah jason's cool 😃👍"

but percy saves camp jupiter and she's automatically elected as praetor. she's given JASON'S spot. when anthonius comes and tackles her (i'm gonna have him do that instead of a judo flip), the romans were ready to throw down. she became well-liked SUPER fast even after it was revealed that she was greek.

not only that, but camp half-blood literally had search parties looking for her for MONTHS (and in my fic, two years). whereas i think it was only reyna who was desperate to find jason, but couldn't leave cuz she had praetor duties. camp half-blood was flipping america upside down trying to find her while it was crickets for jason 😭

[destourtereaux]

just a little bit of hope - peeta mellark x fem!reader

⤷ summary: with katniss and gale both gone, peeta steps in as an unlikely hunting partner for y/n. ⤷ wc: 2.6k ⤷ requested? yes. see request here. ⤷ follow @lovebirdupdates and turn on notifs to be on my 'taglist'!

⤷ a/n: two things - one, peeta has dimples here, it's just how i imagine him, so please bear with me; two, pretend gale's father is alive please, i didn't think our girl would be able to support two families, no matter how strong she is.

___

The day is horridly warm, exacerbated by a heavy humidity. As you wake, hot air suffocates your surroundings, and the sun glares through the window, hung on a span of blue sky. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, your bare feet find the ground, then immediately retract. The floor is burning hot, baked by the sun. You grit your teeth and force your feet back onto the wood, ignoring the searing heat. You have things to do.

You make a bowl of porridge, watery, but edible. You drink half, and leave the rest for your mother. Your father is off to the mines already, his boots absent. You get dressed, pulling on the prettiest dress you own. You're ready. Or, as ready as one can be. 

Today, there will be no hunting with Katniss and Gale, no trading at the Hob. Today, there is only the reaping.

___

You spot Katniss at the edge of the square, gripping her sister's hand. Your friend looks nothing like she normally does. Gone are the boots and hunting jacket, replaced by a simple blouse tucked into a modest skirt. You nod grimly at her; neither of you feels like smiling.

Gale is over on the other side of the square, across from the stage they've set up. Your eyes meet, and he mouths "good luck".

After a few minutes of the routine announcements, Haymitch is introduced, then Effie. By now, the crowd has settled into an air of grimness, despite the clear blue sky overhead.

You don't hear Effie's jokes, and nobody laughs. She finally stops smiling, looking extremely awkward – you almost feel bad for her. Almost.

Then, she sticks her hand in the ball of names, each carrying a life, and pulls one out. Her smile is back on her face when she announces, "Without further ado, our female tribute is: Katniss Everdeen!"

You freeze, repeating her words in your head as if hoping they'd sound different. Your oldest friend – determined, brave Katniss, given a death sentence.

But Effie doesn't wait. Her next words are just as devastating. "And for our male tribute: Gale Hawthorne! Come on up now, dear, don't be shy."

Peacekeepers erupt through the crowd, grabbing your two best friends in the entire world by the shoulders, and forcing them up to the stage. Katniss whips her head around, looking at you with pleading eyes. You know what she's asking for.

"I'll take care of her, Katniss. I won't let her die. And you can't let yourself die, okay? Promise me. Katniss! Promise me!"

Your last words are hysterical, but ironically, Katniss is not. Having heard your commitment to Prim, she is satisfied. She yanks her arms free of the Peacekeepers and walks by herself, her head held high and her face serene.

You grab Prim's hand. Her whole body is shaking, wracked with sobs. You don't hear Effie's last words, but you know what they are.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

___

It's been two weeks since the reaping which stole your best friends. It's shocking how quickly you fell back into routine, as if nothing has even changed. The only indicator of their absence is an added part of your day: splitting your earnings between your family and Prim's.

There are now double the mouths to feed, so you spend double the hours in the forest hunting. Villagers are sympathetic – that may be the only reason you're all still alive. They love Prim, and they trust you. Everything you hunt manages to be traded.

But still, you're cracking. It's just too much, and you don't know if it'll ever get better. You have no idea what Katniss and Gale are going through right now, and you don't let yourself think of them. It would break your heart.

___

Peeta Mellark has always been observant. His teachers told his parents this, back when he was a child. It's this trait that makes him notice you. The girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, killing herself day after day to provide for not one, but two whole families.

He doesn't understand how no one else sees it. But maybe they do – it's just that no one in District 12 is really in a position to do anything about it. Still, the fact remains that you're close to breaking. You can't keep doing this alone.

Peeta Mellark has never been brave. His mother yells at him, beats him, and he takes it. He has never talked back to teachers, or dared disobey the Peacekeepers. So when he offers to hunt with you, he surprises even himself.

"What?"

"I'm Peeta Mellark. We were in the same class, and my parents run the bakery. I was wondering if I'd be able to hunt with you?"

So you weren't hallucinating. The baker's son – a boy you didn't think could kill a fly – had just asked to hunt with you. Your shock translates into a small laugh, not that anything about the situation is funny, really. Hurt flashes in Peeta's eyes, and you quickly backtrack.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm Y/N L/N, I know who you are. I just didn't think you'd be the hunting type," you explain. Because you're gentle, and kind, and I've never seen you hurt anyone, with your words or physically. But you don't add that last part. 

"I've only ever hunted with Katniss and Gale, you must know them, they were reaped this year." Your voice cracks a bit with those last words, and Peeta acknowledges the fact with a nod. His hand twitches; he wants to pat you on the back, or grip your shoulder, anything to stop the melancholy leaking into your eyes, but he doesn't.

"But you're welcome to join me," you end with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

___

The new partnership starts early the following day. You meet a groggy Peeta near his home, and the two of you begin the walk to the Meadow.

You hear no electrical hum from the fencing, which means it's safe to touch, and you guide Peeta across the boundary which separates the Seam from the forest. This is all illegal, you know, but you're too used to it to even notice. Peeta, on the other hand, feels an exhilarating sense of rebellion as he crosses the barbed wire, following your figure into the woods.

"You've never hunted before, have you?" you probe, although it's more of a confirmation than an actual question.

Peeta nods. "But I'm a quick learner. And I won't get in your way, I promise."

You smile, a genuine one this time. "We'll see about that, Mellark."

Over the next hour, you go over all the traps you had set from the day before, collecting from Katniss and Gale's traps as well. True to his word, Peeta picks it up quickly, and even has a great eye for camouflaging the traps. This becomes his task, using grass and twigs and flowers as his medium, painting a deceptive scene which looks safe and welcoming to the many squirrels and rabbits in these parts.

You also start him on foraging. Only one type of berry is poisonous in the Meadow, and it's easy to identify. You make sure he's clear on which to avoid, and leave him to it, while you head to the hollowed out tree where you've hidden your knives. The familiar sight of Katniss' bow and arrows within the trunk brings a pang in your heart. You leave them nestled within and retrieve only your daggers. You were never a good archer.

Another hour passes, and you return to Peeta with a deer. You're happier than you have been in weeks – this will be enough for almost a week's worth of food. Peeta is not empty-handed either, he has two buckets of progress, one filled with strawberries, the other with raspberries. He gives you a soft smile – he has dimples, you think. He then immediately turns a faint shade of green, having noticed the dead deer. 

You're seized with the desire to laugh, "Why'd you offer to hunt with me if you get queasy from the sight of game?"

He looks at you with an indignant pout, and you can't stop the giggle that tumbles out, then the full on laughter. 

"I'm not like this with all game, just, you know, the larger animals. I can look at dead squirrels just fine – stop laughing!"

Making your way back, within the District, you stop just outside of the fence to split your gatherings.

"Take the squirrels and rabbits, and the bucket of raspberries. I'll keep the deer and trade the strawberries with the mayor," you offer.

"No, you take it all," he crosses the barrier carrying the buckets, and you follow after him, shaking your head.

"I can't, Peeta. That wouldn't be right. This is a fair split."

"I never said I wanted to keep what we hunt. Only that I wanted to hunt with you, Y/N. Take it. I know you need it more than I do. I'll see you next weekend?"

And with that, he pops a strawberry in his mouth, smiling at the sweetness, and walks away.

You're left with your mouth open, unable to process what had just happened.

___

The next morning, you show up at the bakery. His bakery. You earned a few dollars from selling your strawberries to the mayor, and you figure that if Peeta won't take anything, you should buy from him instead.

A few dollars is enough for two loaves of good bread, and so you head to the bread aisle. But your gaze catches on the beautiful cakes on display, decorated with multi-colored icing and swirling script written in melted chocolate.

"I did those," comes a voice from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you see Peeta himself, looking at the cakes with fondness and a bit of pride.

"You did what?"

"The cakes. I decorated them. My mom bakes, but I decorate. I like doing it – it's like painting, just on a different canvas."

"They're really lovely. You have a talent for it," you confirm, "I bet that's why you were so good at hiding traps yesterday. You can see nature's patterns."

He gives you a soft smile in return, and you can see the dimples again. They're adorable, you think. I want to see them every day.

He gives a small cough, looking at you questioningly.

You startle, and blush a deep crimson. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I'm here to buy bread. Two loaves," you say as you lower your head to stare down at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

It's only when you hear a chuckle that you lift your head back up. Peeta's eyes are sparkling, and his dimples are clear as ever.

"I'll give you three."

___

Two months after the reaping, your partnership with Peeta is still going strong. Every Saturday, the two of you head to the woods, and spend half the day fishing, gathering, and hunting. Originally silent company has evolved into true friendship, with witty banter, fleeting touches, and shared smiles.

You have come to know Peeta Mellark. He isn't just the baker's son, the one who decorates cakes and hates seeing dead animals. He's the boy who saved you, when no one even knew that you needed saving. 

Day after day, he has shown up, offering kindness, companionship, and warmth, without expecting anything in return. You care about him more than you thought you could ever care about someone who wasn't family. You care about his messy blond hair, and you care about his broad shoulders. You care about his blue eyes which sparkle when he tells a joke, and his beautiful heart which leads him to give the occasional customer an extra free loaf. Most of all, you care about his dimples, which come out when he smiles at you. You care so much about him, that it scares you.

And Peeta cares about you. He cares about your hands, calloused but nimble, lethal when holding onto your twin daggers. He cares about your face, how it glows when you laugh at his jokes in the woods, but dims a bit when you're back in the district. He cares about your hair, always tied in a ponytail when in the Meadow, but left to flow freely down your shoulders when hunting's over. Most of all, he cares about your smile, which comes out when Prim thanks you week after week for your help, and forces you to take bottles of goat milk and pet Buttercup. He cares so much about you, that it scares him.

___

This hunting day, Peeta comes with news from the Capitol. A few weeks back, he started giving you updates on the Games, after you told him that you couldn't stomach the thought of watching your friends fight to the death.

"Y/N! Good news!" he greets, exiting the bakery. As the two of you begin your walk, he adds, "I'll tell you when we get to the Meadow."

"You're insufferable, Mellark. You can't just hook me like that, and not tell me what it is."

Peeta doesn't answer, so you start walking twice as fast, ushering him toward the edge of the Seam so you could figure out what exactly he wanted to tell you.

Once in the grassy plains of the Meadow, between the forest and the fence, you turn back to the boy, the impatience evident in your face.

"Tell me, Peeta, or I swear I'll –"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, "but it's not really good news, per se. It's just a little bit of hope."

You nod, urging him to continue.

"It's about the Games. About Katniss and Gale."

The last traces of your smile fade. Concern is etched onto your face, and your eyebrows scrunch up, your jaw tightens.

Noticing this, Peeta pulls you in by the waist, so that your head lands on his shoulder. "It's good news, Y/N. Don't look so defeated. They're both still alive, and they're fighting."

"But at least one of them won't be coming back," you whisper into his neck, so quietly you wonder if he even heard. But Peeta always hears you.

"Y/N. That's the news. They could both come back. Caesar Flickerman has just announced that they will be changing the rules this year – allowing two victors of the Games, provided they're tributes from the same district!"

You look up at him in awe. A change to the Games. Katniss and Gale, not one or the other. Both could win. Both could come back.

You choke down a sob, staring at Peeta's brilliant smile and those mesmerizing dimples. And before you can process what you're doing, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a bout of bravery.

Peeta's frozen for a second, before he begins to reciprocate the kiss in earnest. He pulls you in, one hand holding your neck and the other wrapped around your torso, pressing himself impossibly closer. He tastes like icing and strawberries, and you can smell the comforting scent of warm bread.

The kiss ends far too quickly for your liking, and you're suddenly impossibly shy, all bravado gone. You lower your eyes so you won't have to meet his eyes, but realize that you're practically sitting on his lap, having moved there at some point during the kiss. This observation brings a flaming blush onto your cheeks, and you scramble to move away, but you're held in place by Peeta's arms, forming an iron-tight cage around your figure.

He brings a hand to your chin, lifting it up, and kisses you again, more gently this time.

"Don't go all shy on me now, Y/L/N," he teases, and holds the back of his hand against your forehead, as if feeling for a fever. "You're burning up, darling."

"You know damn well that's not a fever–", you start, but you're cut off by his laughter, and once again distracted by those dimples of his. 

Maybe Peeta was right. Maybe there is just a little bit of hope left for you.

___

interested in other works of mine? see my masterlist!

[thetidesthatturn]

Tides of Fire and Gold

Pairing: Pirate OT8, Captain Kim Hongjoong x freader

Warnings: violence, graphic descriptions, eventual sexual content/references, abuse, alcohol use - list is not exhaustive, read at own risk

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

This is a work of fiction and all characters are not based on reality

Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO >>

CHAPTER ONE - THE CAPTURE

The night blazes, storm-churned and ghastly, sea roiling with fury as The Halcyon closes in on it’s target under the cover of darkness. The unforgiving waves are perilous, a far cry from the ideal state for a battle such as this would be. Lightning cracks across the sky, revealing the gleam of cutlasses and the shadows of pirates swinging from ropes onto the enemy deck. The clash is brutal and swift—Captain Hongjoong fights like a man possessed, his movements a dance of deadly precision.

Below deck, you crouch behind crates of stolen gunpowder, clutching a dagger that feels far too light in your trembling hands. This is your first real battle, a true test as a pirate-in-training under the banner of your clan, the Serpent Fang.

The Serpent Fang are feared across the seven seas for their ability to strike without warning or mercy, vanishing without a trace but leaving nothing but chaos and ruin in their wake. Less of a crew and more a cult, bound by ancient oaths and led by a secretive, cruel high Captain known only as The Viper. No one has ever seen their face; rumour has it not even the crew aboard their vessel knows the true identity of the cold being behind the veil of darkness. The rivalry between the crew of the Halcyon and the Serpent Fang runs deep, fuelled by betrayal and a shared history that neither side dares speak aloud.

The metallic scent of blood fills the air, marring every sense. A cold sweat seeps across your body, the shrieks of comrades nearby chilling your very core. You begin to strategise, your mind racing through your memory of the ship, with it’s maze of winding corridors. You still your breath, it’s now or never. Just as you begin to propel yourself forward, your mentor lands in front of you, a gash spanning the width of their throat, spurting mercilessly.

“Run”

You can only watch in horror as the command comes out, gurgled as fresh blood spills from their lips.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Smoke coils thick in the air below deck, lit in flashes by the licks of fire that is steadily engulfing the ship. The creak of scorched wood and the distant clash of steel echo like a dirge. Mingi, the crew’s Master Gunner, moves through the chaos with the strange calm of someone born for it, broad-shouldered, soot-smeared, and carrying the scent of gunpowder like a second skin. His boots crunch over shattered glass and charred rope as he scans the dim hold.

Then – the faintest of movement, so small that only someone with highly trained ears could pick up on.

His eyes flick to a stack of crates, one just slightly out of line. He cocks his head, one hand already lowering to the flintlock at his hip, but he doesn’t draw. Instead, he takes a step closer, his voice low and terrifyingly calm.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” he muses, kneeling beside the crates.

A flash of silver – quick as a blink. You lunge from the shadows, dagger clutched tight, swinging it with all the desperation of someone who knows they’ve already lost.

Mingi doesn’t flinch. He catches your wrist mid-strike, strong fingers closing around it like an iron shackle. His other hand pins your shoulder back, forcing you down. His grin flickers in the firelight, a cat that’s caught a mouse.

“Well, damn,” he says with a low laugh. “Didn’t think they trained pups to bite like that.”

You snarl, spitting in his face, eyes blazing despite the ash streaking your features. Mingi let’s out a bitter laugh, then narrows his eyes. His grip on your hand tightens as he yanks it back, twisting until you’re sure he’s dislocated your elbow. The pain sears through your body, but you’ll be damned if you show him a whisper of weakness.

“Might’ve offered you a quick and painless death, but you’ve just bought yourself a one-way ticket to fucking hell, you little bit—”

“I see I’m interrupting you playing with your prey, Mingi.”

From the smoke, a man appears. It’s as if the sea itself carved him out of shadow and fire. He’s dressed similarly to the man currently twisting your arm out of it’s socket, but the longline tailored black coat with it’s silver embroidery tells you who you are now looking at, the captain. Beneath his coat, he’s clad in a dark crimson waistcoat, layered on top of a black linen shirt with open lacing at the collar, revealing glimpses of inked symbols. A wide leather belt wraps his waist, lined with various daggers, and a worn, golden compass, bearing some kind of emblem carved intricately into it’s casing. His trousers are fitted, tucked into polished boots. His salt and wind tousled hair – half ebony, half ivory, is clipped at the sides and left longer on top.

Looking you up and down with sharp, calculating eyes, he lets out a short puff of air.

“Bring her,” his voice rings out, cold, and decisive.

Mingi smirks, retrieving a pair of steel cuffs from his belt, his grip rough as he yanks your hands behind your back. “Aye, Captain.”

The captain snaps his leather-bound fingers. “I will communicate to the crew, find Jongho and San, take her to the brig. I will be expecting a report from Seonghwa within the hour, once our guest has settled in her quarters, proceed to the cabin for de-brief.”

Defeat settles in your bones, but one thing you know for sure – they may have won this round, but you would not be going down without a fight.

As the storm finally breaks and the defeated ship burns in the distance, you are locked in the brig below decks. Two men had joined Mingi once you had boarded their ship, one taller than the other, but neither reaching the stature of your captor. You had made a mental note to catalogue their names, absorbing every facet of information they had given since your capture. You kept your eyes sharpened, noting every detail of your surroundings as you moved through the levels of the vessel.

“Captains orders are to keep her alive, for now.” Mingi addressed the two other men who you had come to know as San and Jongho, the crew’s Master-at-Arms and Helmsman. They reached the brig, unlocking a holding cell and throwing you inside. As you hit the floor, a bitter laugh bubbled up from your chest, leaving all eyes on you.

“And what, exactly, is so funny?” Mingi raised an eyebrow, his expression cold.

“You’re fucked.” You spit, teeth gritted.

The three men erupt into vicious snarls of laughter, the sound of the deepest pits of hell.

Mingi steps towards you, his hand whipping out to deliver a bone-shattering blow to your face. The sheer force behind it sends your vision spiralling into darkness, the last thing your senses pick up on before you hit the floor is the sound of a voice, rattling like rust-bitten chains in your ears.

“You must be mistaken sweetheart, for it is you who is fucked.”

Tucked near the stern of The Halcyon, The War Cabin serves as both a strategy room and a sanctum. Dimly lit by lanterns swinging with the rhythm of the sea, the room is lined with old maps, some inked in languages long dead, others marked with blood-red symbols and routes known only to the captain and his most trusted. A massive, scarred oak table dominates the centre, its surface carved with navigational charts, battle plans, and notes from past raids.

Shelves bristle with nautical instruments, glass jars of strange artefacts, and ledgers bound in cracked leather. A compass rose is etched into the floor beneath the table—a reminder that every decision made here changes the course of someone’s fate.

Only the senior crew is permitted in The War Cabin, and only when summoned. It is not just a place of strategy – it is where oaths are made, punishments are decided, and secrets too dangerous for the open sea are spoken aloud.

Sat at the head of the table, Captain Hongjoong confers with his First Mate and Quartermaster, receiving a thorough report of the raid completed.

Seonghwa stands at the edge of the table, posture rigid, every word clipped and precise. A line of soot runs along his jaw, but his uniform remains immaculate.

“Captain. Crew accounted for – no casualties, but we have minor wounded. Our efforts prove successful, executing the breach cleanly by boarding before the enemy had time to fully man the upper deck.”

He gestures to the weathered map at the centre of the table, red ink marking the path of the Halcyon, curving like a predator around the flank of the rival vessel.

“We struck port side under cover of the storm. Gunner Mingi’s barrage disabled their aft cannon array within the first volley. San led the charge over the rail with minimal resistance until we reached below deck.”

He pauses, glancing at the captain, then down at the smaller scroll in his hand.

“Cargo hold yielded standard loot: iron, silks, minor trade spices. But no gold. No sign of the Isle’s seal, either.”

He slides over a parchment listing the inventory. At the bottom, one line has been hastily added: ‘Prisoner – female, approx. 18-21. Serpent Fang insignia. Combat capable.’

“The most interesting find was her.”

Seonghwa’s eyes flick to Hongjoong. Not judgmental – just watchful.

“She was not listed on the manifest. Likely being groomed for rank. Possibly a blood heir. She fought, but not like the trained ones – they have been hiding her. Training her. For what purpose, I cannot say.”

A beat of silence. Then, flatly:

“They scuttled their own ship after we left. That was not standard retreat. That was cleanup.”

He steps back, folding his hands behind his back.

“Conclusion: The Serpent Fang was not protecting cargo. They were protecting her.”

A moment passes. Outside, the storm eases, but in The War Cabin, tension only thickens. Seonghwa lifts his gaze to the captain once more.

“Orders, sir?”

Hongjoong twirls a dagger between his fingers, his steely yet unwavering gazed fixed solely on the parchment before him.

“Why do you suppose I brought her upon the Halcyon, Quartermaster?

Seonghwa hesitates for a beat, then folds his arms neatly across his chest. “It is unlikely for you to keep captors unless you see value in them. But as for your exact reasoning, I cannot be sure, Captain.”

It was true, this was out of character for the captain. He had expected the usual order, for her death. Quick, clean. Just another loose thread from the Serpent Fang cut short. But this time was different. Seonghwa knew Hongjoong, better than anyone. This was not just strategy, it was not even curiosity. The flicker in Hongjoong’s eyes, one that only the Quartermaster would ever be savvy enough to notice, spoke a thousand words. Not instinct – no, this was intuition that tasted like prophecy.

Hongjoong leaned back in his seat, the same expression etched onto his stoic features. She was the missing piece of the puzzle; he was sure of it.

“Thank you, Quartermaster. The rest of the crew should be arriving momentarily, please brief them. I have something to tend to.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Darkness weighs heavy in the ship’s underbelly, thick with the scent of salt, rust, and rotting wood. Chains creak gently with the sway of the sea, and somewhere nearby, water drips rhythmically – a cold, ceaseless reminder of the depths pressing in on all sides.

A splash.

Then a sharp inhale.

You jolt awake as a bucket of freezing seawater crashes over you, dragging you back from the black void of unconsciousness. Your limbs are sluggish, clothes soaked and clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The stone floor beneath you is as cold as the grimy water that just baptised you back into awareness.

You cough hard, blinking against the stinging salt, then slowly push yourself upright, wrists chained but not tightly. Your fingers are numb. Your head pounds, the metallic taste of your own blood overwhelming your senses. The last thing you remember is lunging at a giant with laughing eyes – and then, nothing.

Then you hear it. Boots. Measured. Controlled. Approaching.

You look up, and there he is.

The captain.

He stands just beyond the bars of your cell, flanked by shadows and the faint flicker of lantern-light. No guards. No weapons drawn. Just him. Coat still damp from rain, dark eyes steady, unreadable. He’s not smiling. But he isn’t scowling, either.

He studies you like a riddle – one he has half-solved, but refuses to guess until he is sure.

“You’re not what I expected to find in the belly of a Serpent Fang ship,” he says calmly, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel.

You glare, shivering but defiant. “Then you should’ve left me to drown with the rest.”

A corner of his mouth twitches, not quite amusement, not quite irritance. “And miss this wonderful conversation we are about to have? That would have been a tragedy.”

He steps closer, fingers brushing the iron bars. You bare your teeth.

“Name.”

“Go to hell.”

He chuckles – quiet, almost to himself. “Already been. The decor was familiar.” He crouches slightly, bringing himself to your eye level through the bars. His gaze sharpens, and something shifts in his tone – just a shade colder.

“I’ll ask you again. Name.”

“Go. To. Hell”

“The Serpent Fang tried to erase you. They burned their ship to the waterline. That was not to cover cargo. That was to cover you.”

You don’t flinch. But your throat tightens ever so slightly.

He sees it.

“I don’t know what you are yet,” the captain says, voice like a whisper against the sea’s endless growl. “A spy. A sacrifice. A mistake they were desperate to bury. But I know you are valuable. And if you are valuable to them, then you are useful to me.”

He rises, turning to leave, the echo of his boots already fading.

“But remember this,” he calls back over his shoulder, “if you want to survive aboard The Halcyon, you’ll have to decide who you hate more: them… or me.”

The brig door closes with a low, ominous click. You’re left alone once more – soaked, shaking, and for the first time, you aren’t sure how to navigate a way forward.

The candlelight dances wildly across the maps and relics scattered across the war table, casting jagged shadows over the faces of The Halcyon’s senior crew. Following the Quartermaster’s briefing, the room is silent for a heartbeat – too silent.

Then

SLAM

Mingi’s palm crashes down onto the old oak table, rattling compass tools and ink pots. His eyes blaze, the heat in him not just from frustration, but from the underlying fear no one wants to name.

“If she’s not talking,” he growls, voice rough and low, “why is she not dead yet?”

The room shifts, breath held collectively.

San looks up from where he’s been sharpening his blade, gaze honed but unreadable. Wooyoung, the crew’s Infiltration Specialist, straightens from his casual lean in the corner, coin paused mid-flip. Jongho narrows his eyes but says nothing yet. Yunho, the loyal Boatswain, frowns, jaw tense.

But Seonghwa doesn’t flinch. His voice is even as ever.

“Because corpses do not give answers. And neither does fear – not when it is the only thing they’ve ever known.”

Mingi scoffs. “We’ve broken tougher ones. Fang-blooded or not, she’s just a runt with a dagger and too much pride. If she’s stalling, she’s buying time – for them. You know they’re coming.”

Seonghwa tilts his head slightly. “And that’s exactly why she is worth more alive. If they’re coming, they’re coming for her. Let them.”

Yeosang, the Navigator, finally speaks, calm but edged with warning.

“If you kill the bait, the trap is worthless.”

Another tense silence.

Then, from a quiet corner of the room, veiled in shadows, Hongjoong stalks forward.

Slowly. Deliberately.

His eyes meet Mingi’s – calm, but unmistakably cold.

“Because I said so.”

Mingi opens his mouth, then shuts it, swallowing whatever fire he has left. “When… when did-”

Hongjoong rests his hands lightly on the table. “She is not just a message. She is a map. Maybe not to treasure, but to them. And we don’t slit the throat of a map just because it hasn’t led us anywhere yet.”

He glances around the room, voice lowering.

“If the Serpent Fang wants her badly enough to burn their own down to ash, then whatever she is…” He pauses, his gaze dark. “…she is more dangerous than we can imagine. And I would rather have her here, under my eye, than out there, used against us.”

He steps back.

“Dismissed.”

The crew hesitates, then slowly files out – most silently. Mingi lingers for a moment longer, jaw clenched, before storming out.

Seonghwa stays behind, catching Hongjoong’s eye.

“You are gambling with the whole ship.”

Hongjoong doesn’t deny it. He just says, quietly, “Only way to win a war no one admits we are in.”

The pair stand silently for a moment, the weight of Hongjoong’s choices settling heavy among them.

“I believe I said you were dismissed, Quartermaster.”

Seonghwa blinks, as if momentarily losing composure, but pulls it back immediately with a curt nod. “Captain.”

Once the door clicks in place, signalling his First Mate’s departure, Hongjoong let’s his mask slip briefly as his hands slide over his face. Speaking to no one but the shadows that lurk in the far corners, he whispers.

“Who are you, girl?”

[serpentface]

Two Wardi 'unicorns', the hippegalga and the scimitar deer. These are distantly related ungulates who both happen to produce a single horn

The hippegalga is a tiny antelope, about the size of a hare. It has a very broad range and can be found across the region and beyond, settling mostly in shrubland, savannah, and wooded areas. Unlike other closely related species (these are basically dik-diks and exist elsewhere in the setting) they form large, loosely structured herds and breed rapidly, commonly producing four offspring at a time.

The horn is a permanent growth, and occurs directly in the center of the skull. It develops in both males and females (though is much smaller in the latter) and serves some practical function in scratching at bark to mark territory (in addition to scent deposits- rubbed directly into scratched bark from the eye gland, and left as piles of dung).

Their horn is worn as an amulet in many parts of the region (either intact or carved into a phallic shape) due to having strong associations with male fertility, as well as apotropaic functions more broadly associated with imagery of genitalia. One Wardi slang word for the penis is derived from this animal's name ('galga').

They experience hunting pressure for their horns, and their meat is regarded as a delicacy, but most populations are stable. They adapt well to densely populated and developed areas, breeding prolifically in ecosystems depleted of predators. A large, stable population exists in the city of Wardin. These particular animals are semi-tame and frequently fed by humans, and are socially protected from hunting (believed to be living good luck charms and just SO charismatic and cute). Their only real day-to-day threats are the city's (much less beloved) population of feral dogs.

---

The scimitar deer is the only native deer to the region, and exist in two major, isolated populations (remnants of a wider population from when woodland and savannah spanned across most of the region's north). One population exists in the wooded regions of Greathill in the northwest, and a larger population in the oak forests to the northeast (and beyond).

Their singular antler is shed seasonally and grows bigger, longer, and more curled with age. The antler grows asymmetrically on one side of the head (usually the left), though this is only slightly off-center on the skull and does not significantly impede balance (outside of old bucks with very large antlers). Some bucks grow a set of two antlers as a mutation (with one side being substantially smaller than the other) but this appears to be unattractive to females and such animals breed at a decreased frequency.

Bucks in rut may clash antlers by interlocking them at the fork, but these battles are low intensity- their antlers are relatively fragile and not well suited to prolonged shoving matches. The antler is a visual display first and foremost. A buck will show off to does and intimidate rivals by tossing and bowing his head at an angle to display its size and length.

In Greathill, traditions widely hold that these animals are supernatural in nature and herded like cattle by the mountain's 'wildman' fae-folk. They often appear in folktales as prized, magical herds, with stories centering on great raids of the deer as the ultimate and most valuable livestock (being immune to disease, able to be milked like cattle, ridden like khait, and capable of plowing fields with great speed).

[blackcrowing]

Important Facts about Samhain from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Pronunciation

SOW-in or SOW-een ~NOT~ Sam-han, Sam-win etc.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Samhain on Oct 31-Nov 1, however some may choose to celebrate on Gregorian Nov 13-14 as this would match the Julian dates of Oct 31-Nov 1. Some also believe that it was a three day festival spanning Oct 31- Nov 2 on which Nov 2 is specifically devoted to ancestral veneration, but there is no specific evidence of this, only possible extrapolation from more modern practices.

Following the Celtic method of days beginning at sunset, regardless of the specific dates you choose to celebrate on your festivities should begin at sunset and end at sunset.

Importance in the Mythos

Ná Morrighan has a strong connection to this time of year thanks to the story of Cath Dédenach Maige Tuired (The Last Battle of Mag Tuired) in which she is found depicted as the ‘Washing Woman’ (sometimes washing herself in the river and other times washing the bloodied armor of the soldiers that would die that day), on the eve of the battle which is also Samhain. The Dagda approaches her and couples with her (creating the ‘Bed of the Couples’ along the bank of river and granting Dagda her blessing in the battle to come). This encounter seems to over emphasize the liminality of the encounter by taking place during the changing of the year and with the couple each standing with ‘one foot on either bank’ of the river.

She and her sisters (Badb and Macha) then use various forms of magic to rain destruction on their enemies (in the form of fire and blood). After the day is won Morrighan speaks a prophecy that describes what is taken by some to be the end of days and others to be the events which will later lead to the Ulster Cycle.

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land. It rests beneath the bowl of the bright sky. The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking, offering strength to each There it lies, the splendour of the land. The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking. It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter. It protects and armours us, a spear upon a shield Here we can make for ourselves strong places, the fist holding the shield Here we can build safe places, our spear-bristling enclosures. This is where we will turn the earth. This is where we will stay. And here will our children live to the third of three generations Here there will be a forest point of field fences The horn counting of many cows And the encircling of many fields There will be sheltering trees So fodderful of beech mast that the trees themselves will be weary with the weight. In this land will come abundance bringing: Wealth for our children Every boy a warrior, Every watch dog, warrior-fierce The wood of every tree, spear-worthy The fire from every stone a molten spear-stream Every stone a firm foundation Every field full of cows Every cow calf-fertile Our land shall be rich with banks in birdsong Grey deer before Spring And fruitful Autumns The plain shall be thronged from the hills to the shore. Full and fertile. And as time runs its sharp and shadowy journey, this shall be true. This shall be the story of the land and its people We shall have peace beneath the heavens. Forever

(based on the translation by Isolde Carmody)

It is also mentioned in Echtra Cormaic that on this festival every seven years the high king would host a feast, it was at this time new laws could be enacted. (but it seems that individual Tuathas or possibly kings of the individual providence may have done this for their territories at Lughnasadh).

It seems to be a time considered especially susceptible to (or of) great change as it is the time which the Tuatha de Danann win victory over the Formorians and take control of Ireland, the invasion of Ulster takes place at this time in Táin bo Cúailnge, in Aislinge Óengusa Óengus and his bride-to-be are changed from bird to human and eventually he claims kingship of Brú na Bóinne at this time of year.

Celebration Traditions

Samhain is the beginning of the “dark half” of the year and is widely regarded as the Insular Celtic equivalent of the New Year. The “dark half” of the year was a time for story telling, in fact in this half of the year after dark is considered the only acceptable time to tell stories from the mythological and Ulster cycle (the Fenian cycle being assumed to be no older than the 12th century based on linguistic dating). Traditionally anything that had not been harvested or gathered by the time of this festival was to be left, as it now belonged to the Fae (in some areas specifically the Púca).

This was also an important time for warding off ill luck in the coming year. Large bonfires would be built and as the cattle were driven back into the community from the pastures they would be walked between these bonfires as a method of purification (the reverse custom of Bealtaine where the livestock were walked between the fires on their way out to the summer pastures). Assumed ritualistic slaughter of some of the herd would follow (though this perhaps had the more practical purpose of thinning the herd before the winter and creating enough food for the feasting). In some areas the ashes from these fires would be worn, thrown or spread as a further way to ward off evil.

Homes would be ritualistically protected from the Aos Sí (Fae or ‘Spirits’) through methods such as offerings of food (generally leaving some of the feasting outside for them), carving turnips with scary faces to warn them off (we now tend to do this with gourds), and smoke cleansing the home (in Scottish saining) traditionally with juniper, but perhaps rowan or birch might be an acceptable alternative. It is likely these would be part of the components used in Samhain bonfires as well, for the same reason.

Lastly based on later traditions as well as links in the mythology this is a time where divination practices or those with the ‘second sight’ were regarded to be especially potent.

Art Credit @morpheus-ravenna

My Kofi

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[fanaticsnail]

The Marine's Mistake

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 1,700+ (just a small little drabble for me!!)

Warnings: Clean-shaven Mihawk, lots of flirting, mentions of drinking.

@feral-artistry requested this a while ago, and I finally had enough in me to pump out this little drabble. I can easily see myself adding to this little relationship down the line, but for now it's all short, sweet and innocent.

Hushed whispers travelled along the rotund dining table in the dimly-lit tavern. Hands shielding lips, narrowed eyes, the smallest tilt of chins spread like the trickle of seawater through a crack in the ship’s hull to litter the hallway with the salty liquid.

“What do you think happened?” a red-headed marine uttered to her comrade beside her, eyes widening the longer her sights were held to the table in the centre of the tavern.

“He wouldn’t have shaved it,” another shook their head, raising the cool glass of bitter beer to their lips. A small foam line falling to their top lip as they pulled the glass back to utter: “it’s a part of his look, right? It wouldn’t be intentional.”

“Perhaps it was an accident,” a blonde, tall cadet uttered with a curt nod, “cannon fire, a blast or something.”

“I don’t think he’d be close enough to the end of a cannon for that to happen,” a smaller, pink-haired cadet offered in response as he adjusted his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You sat at the corner of the table, not quite following the conversation falling amongst your peers of marines. This was the third transfer you’d been a part of in the span of a month: the latest ship needing to utilise your skills as a hand-to-hand combat specialist to better the skills of the marines.

Vice-Admiral Garp and his marine cadets were in the early stages of building rapport with you, you only truly interacting with your peers and subordinates while running drills or swapping over watch shifts so far. This venture in land for the replenishment of supplies and to fix up any chipped wood for the ship was truly your first opportunity to really get to know your new crew on a deeper level.

You looked down at the end of your pint-glass, the slosh of the final dregs of the beaded liquid swaying as you held your gaze firmly to it.

“Marines,” you addressed your peers, bringing the attention of your drinking companions over to you, “I’m getting another round,” you rose to your feet, pushing your wooden bar-stool back beneath the table below, “speak now if you’d like another, I think it’s my turn this time?”

A chorus of a resounding “yes!” fell to your ears, prompting a small giggle rise in your chest. The “yes!” gained the attention of the rest of the small dining room, prompting you to lower your palm to the floor with a playful “shh”, the laugh falling as you began taking orders.

“I’m assuming all ales then?” you asked as your laughter diminished, “I should just get a jug, at this stage.”

“Yes to the jug!” the red-head began to chant, a broad smile displayed openly on her lips.

“Aye!” the marine beside her confirmed with a similar amount of enthusiasm.

Another giggle fell from your lips as you turned to make your way to the wooden bar, the barkeeper meeting your gaze with a nod in your approach. As you stood your torso up against the bar with a handful of berry clutched in your hand, your eyes travelled to the body which began their own approach to the bar.

The gentleman was adorning an open, cream-coloured silk shirt, frills embellishing the low collar with a crossed draw-string revealing the crevasses of his muscular chest. Dark and loose curls framed his face, angular and strong arches of his jaw and cheek bones comparable to carved marble. His yellow eyes beneath his long, dark eyelashes held an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

He was breathtaking. Your eyes travelled to his dark, leather pants held by a woven belt with a large, brass buckle. Trailing your eyes back up, you found your gaze met by the gentleman you were shamelessly undressing with your eyes; a warmth rising to your cheeks under the knowledge that you were found out.

“Marine,” he offered in a bored tone as he drew his body beside yours at the bar.

“Beautiful,” you challenged him, a small smirk rising to your lips. He arched his brow upwards in response, his intense frown no longer present atop his handsome features. He hummed, leaning his elbows against the wooden bar and flicking out his index and middle finger to gain the attention of the bartender.

“What are we drinking, gorgeous?” you asked him, turning your shoulders to offer him your full attention.

“We?” he scoffed, yellow eyes trailing over your face as his shaven chin pointed towards your own, “I am not buying you a drink, Marine.”

He turned back towards the bar, completely ignoring your presence beside him as he focussed on trailing the bartender with his eyes.

“I never suggested such a thing, charming,” you taunted him, your index finger trailing the benchtop beside him slowly; drawing his gaze to your digits. He arched his brow upwards, intrigue gracing his honey-coloured eyes briefly. The bartender finally gracing the both of you with his presence, brushing down the benchtop with a tea-towel and smiling broadly.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, placing his white and blue tea-towel over his shoulder and leaning against the counter.

“Three jugs of ale for the table in the corner,” you smiled, turning again to the man beside you, “and add his drinks to my tab, along with two more of what he’s having.”

The dark-haired man snapped his face back towards you, eyes wide at your boldness. His eyes narrowed at you, training over your playful expression.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he uttered in a low tone.

“None in the slightest,” you shrugged, your bottom lip falling into a small pout, “but I sure would like to.”

The man was taken aback, his eyes widening before a small smirk grew itself against his lips.

“A bottle of Sangiovese,” he tilted his chin back at the bartender, “and two glasses.”

You scrunched your nose upwards in delight, drawing out the berry to cover your tab and handing it over to the bartender. You turned to face your torso to the room, your elbows finding the bar behind you as you arched your back outwards in your leaning.

“Sangiovese?” you questioned the mysterious man beside you, “you in the mood for something more on the tart and sour side, handsome?”

“There you are again with the pet-names, Marine,” he taunted you with a small purr in his tone, prompting a warm flush to once again draw over your face. You broke away your eye contact with him and looked to the table of your peers; who seemed to have widening eyes and the colour drained from their faces. You shook your head a little, brows furrowing in question as they witnessed a waitress bring over their jugs of ale.

“And here I was thinking my poor mood would travel back home with me, after that meeting,” he uttered under his breath as the bartender came back with a decanted bottle of sangiovese and two crystal wine-glasses.

“What was that?” you asked him, turning your gaze back towards the gentleman who currently captivated you with his mysterious aura.

“Indeed, sweetheart,” he leant his body over yours, towering you beneath his intimidating aura, “something tart that I can roll over my palate with subtle spice is what the current mood of the hour calls for.”

Instead of backing away and cowering beneath his towered stoop, you instead arched your back upwards further and lulled your head to the side with your jaw revealed to him. He hummed down at you, reaching behind you both to collect the glasses and the decanter within his wide fingertips.

“You are intriguing,” he praised you in a deep rumbly whisper, his lips falling dangerously close to your own as he retrieved the objects behind you, “allow me to escort you outside to continue this delicious conversation over the wine you graciously paid for, that is-.”

You tilted your head, awaiting for him to continue his sentence. He turned his head to look to your commanding officer, Bogard and Vice-Admiral Garp, with his brow arched upwards. His lips curled up into a smirk, you watching how truly beautiful his smile grew to become.

“That is…-?” you trailed in question for him to continue, drawing your right hand up to his cheek. You utilised your index finger and thumb to collect his smooth chin and draw his attention back to you. Upon slowly sweeping the room before drawing his attention back towards you.

“That is, if you’re completely ‘off-duty’ for the rest of the evening,” his lips grew into a soft, playful grin. Oh, how gorgeous.

“A whole evening with a gorgeous stranger?” you questioned him, releasing his chin from your fingers and opting to caress his cheek, “and here I thought we were just sharing wine. Honey, you spoil me.”

A small rumbly growl released itself from within his chest to almost purr at you. He withdrew from his stoop, turning with the collected decanter and glasses within his right hand and turning to offer you the crook of his left elbow to escort you out of the tavern.

“You truly have no idea who I am?” he chuckled at you as he led you from the tavern doors, the room falling almost silent amongst the gasps and whispers from your peers.

“Should I, beautiful?” you asked him giving his bicep a small squeeze as you praised him. He sighed with a small chuckle, drawing his forehead in to press against your own briefly as he allowed the doors of the tavern to swing shut behind him.

The sunset hovering over the sea was a welcome sight, the warmth of the day falling on your skin and welcoming it into the romantic atmosphere you had both found yourselves in for the evening.

Dracule Mihawk was going to enjoy this unbridled and flirtatious attention for as long as you would allow yourself to play along with him. It had been a while since his aura of intimidation had been shed from his body, and even longer still since he was the one being approached at a bar rather than himself finding someone to toy with. He simply can’t wait for the pin to drop against the floor and you realise you are literally dancing with death.

And it was all thanks to a horrible prank performed by the chop-chop devil-fruit user. The devil-fruit user who was currently pinned against the hull of his ship by harsh chains of sea-stone as punishment fitting the crime. Perhaps he should even thank the infamous clown-captain for his idiocy, but for now: the promise of wine and a beautiful, flirtatious companion for the evening awaits. How Mihawk adored this attention.

[fab-bladesmith]

Claidheamh dà làimh dhubh

A Black Claymore, in the West Highland style, second half of the XVIth century.

Inspired by a variety of surviving examples, this one shows the classic features of the type, with quadrifoils at the end of the downturned quillions of strong rhombic section, fileworked central langets, hollow pommel and top finial. The swelling on the grip is inspired by the sword kept at the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow and is leather over wood - most grips visible in such swords nowadays are modern replacements.

Fittings are mild steel, oil-blacked.

The engraved blade is spring steel, made after the various examples of German productions.

See Tony Willis, "the Scottish Two-Handed Sword", Bulletin of the American Society of Arms Collectors 120, pp. 35-69.

Overall length is 1405 mm, blade is 1020 mm long and 45 mm wide, and shy of 5.4 mm thick at its base.

Cross span is 145 mm.

Weight is 1809 grams, point of balance 17 cm from the cross.

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