#Over Land; Ice; & Sea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cowboybeepboop · 2 months ago

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Sweetness

"I care about you, more than I probably should."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: You finally find out the real reason behind Bob’s protective side.

a/n: I saw Thunderbolts* yesterday, and I’m craving more of Lewis Pullman 😛😩

This team gets on your nerves, whether it’s Hangman’s cocky asshole attitude or Roosters constant issues with Mav. Somehow you’re always getting in the middle of something and you’re tired of these damn pushups.

Bob is your weapons systems officer. He’s sweet and nothing but kind when it comes to you. It’s frustrating, though, because you know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but you don’t need him to stick up for you.

It feels like he pities you, he challenges hangman when he says asshole things, he defends your choices when Mav questions you. He just doesn’t understand that you can speak for yourself.

These dog-fights with Maverick have almost been the death of you. Maybe you’re an overachiever, but you’ve never needed to keep redoing and redoing exercises. It’s never been an issue for you to work in a team, but Hangman refuses to.

“Fuck!” you slam your hand against the dash of the plane, tears building in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you sigh away the anger, letting your head fall back against the seat. Bob tenses in the seat behind you as you land the plane.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” his voice rings out, bringing you back into reality.

“Yep. Let’s just get this over with.” Your tone is more firm than usual, irritation filling your veins as you exit the vehicle.

Hangman begins spewing his usual bullshit, cockiness radiating off him even though you just lost. Bob argues with Hangman in the background as you ignore them, getting ready to get those damn pushups out of the way.

The only thing you need right now is an ice-cold shower and whiskey on the rocks. You’re pulling your uniform off your shoulders while walking toward the bar, Bob is hot on your heels, along with Rooster and FanBoy.

“How’s it goin’?” Bradley wraps an arm around your shoulder, the familiarity of his touch doing little to ease your annoyance. You shift out of his embrace, not wanting to talk to anyone.

Bob and Rooster make eye contact, shrugging as they notice your strange mood. “You got this one, Bob?” he nods in response, following after you once again.

“Y/N?” he settles down next to you at the bar, shifting his weight as you stare down at the counter. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” You ignore him, taking down your drink in one gulp.

“I’m alright, Bob, just.. Annoyed.” you sigh, glancing at him slightly. He nods in response, fingers fumbling with his beer bottle.

“Did-” he begins before you cut him off.

“We were so close, Bob!” your tone is laced with irritation, “We almost got him and then you got, distracted.” You roll your eyes, sliding the glass to the side.

“I know.. I know and I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have needed to do all those pushups because of my-” you glare at him, everything he does just annoys you, he’s so nice even when you don’t deserve it.

“Why do you take the blame for every little thing?” Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you’re hot, irritated, and red hot. “Leave it alone, Bob.” You storm out, admittedly a little childish, but you need the fresh air.

Sitting down on the porch, you breathe in the scent of sea water, the wood creaks under a pair of boots next to you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to do anything to frustrate you.” his tone is the same soft and gentle one per usual. “If I can do anything, say anything, get you anything, please just let me know. I wanna help, we’re a pair, Y/N,” he says, settling down next to you cautiously.

“Bob, you’re annoying me.” You groan, hating the butterflies in your stomach, and his heart drops as he straightens up. Your words sting him a little more than intended, and you see it in his demeanor.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that..” you trail off chewing on your lip while watching him fumble with his hands.” I didn’t mean to, you dont deserve that, it’s just frustrating to have you constantly siding with me, being so nice, and sticking up for me.” you groan.

“I know you mean well, but I can fight my own battles Bob.” you sigh, shifting uncomfortably as you look him over.

Bob looks down at his hands, the sound of his fingers cracking fills the air as he processes your words. He hates your irritation being directed at him, but he knows you’re right. He’s been a little overprotective lately, and you’re feeling chafed by his kindness. It’s not what he wanted.

“It’s just…” Bob pauses, his mind struggling to find the right words. “It’s not about thinking you can’t fight your own battles. I mean, I know you can.” Bob leans back, resting his head against a pole.

“I know we’re a team, but we haven’t worked together like this before, not on a mission this important.” you sigh, resting your face in your hands. "I just wish you wouldn't make me look so weak in front of everyone, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I need pity, Bob." You shut your eyes, taking steadying breaths.

Bob's eyes widen slightly, finally being able to grasp what is going on. He's been treating you like you're fragile, and you're getting fed up. It hits him like a truck, and the guilt instantly seeps into his bones.

"I know... I know, you're strong," he says, the shame evident in his voice. "I don't think you're weak, and I *don't* pity you." Bob's fingers twist together, frustration with himself bubbling up within him.

Bob rubs his face, he’s always had a crush on you, ever since he laid eyes on you. For Bob, you’re not just a talented pilot and a teammate, you’re smart, strong-willed, independent, and absolutely gorgeous.

His protective nature stems from the fact that he cares about you, a little more than he should. He’s scared of losing you, of getting you hurt, and it shows in his overprotectiveness and constant apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Bob, I shouldn’t have held this against you. Hangman is the one who left us to fend for our own. It’s not your fault.” You lean closer to him, brushing your shoulder against his.

Bob's shoulders tense up for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden apology. Your touch, even as simple as your shoulder against his, has his heart beating faster. He relaxes a little, feeling relieved that you're not as irritated with him anymore.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice soft as he relaxes his tense shoulders, he takes a deep breath. "But I still want to apologize for being so overprotective."

“I guess I just don’t understand why you’re so protective when it comes to *me*,” you scan his face, eyes wandering his features. “I know we’re friends outside of work, but.. I just don’t get it.”

Bob's heart leaps into his throat, his mind racing with nerves. This is the moment, the one he’s been scared of for the past few months. He’s always liked you, but he’s kept it to himself because of his shy nature, and he was afraid of ruining your friendship.

He takes a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he fidgets with them."I…uhh" Bob struggles to find the right words, the truth on the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah?" you question, scooting closer to him, basking in the gentle heat of his body.

Bob's heart pounds in his chest, his cheeks heating up from your close proximity. He can smell your perfume, and the closeness makes his knees weak.

"I… I care about you a lot," he manages, his voice shaky, eyes refusing to meet yours. Bob's hands twitch with the nervous energy that courses through him, his fingers clenching into fists and unclenching rhythmically.

"A lot?" Your cheeks turn a slight pink. "In what way, Bob?"

Bob's words get stuck in his throat, his breath hitches as he looks up at you, your eyes burning into his soul. He swallows hard, unable to hold your gaze, but at the same time craving it.

"In every way imaginable," he breathes out, his heart pounding against his ribcage, "I care about you, more than I probably should." This is it, all or nothing, he can't back out now.

You take in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on everything but him as his words echo in your mind.

Bob watches your face, his heart in his throat as he waits for your response. The silence between you both is loud, making him almost sick to his stomach as he waits for your reaction. He’s so desperate to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, but your expression is unreadable.

"Please say something," he mutters softly, his hand twitching to reach out and touch you, but his fear stops him.

You clear your throat, standing up and stretching, and your heart is racing in your chest. Being with Bob, it's what you want, but what if it changes things or makes both of you unable to go on the mission? Your mind is reeling, and you begin to pace.

Bob follows your movements with his gaze, your nervous behavior making his heart ache. He knows he messed up, he should have kept his stupid feelings to himself. Now he's just made everything awkward.

With you moving around so much, unable to sit still, he stands up as well, worry etched across his face. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't-" his voice is trembling as he tries to apologize, but you simply start pacing.

You shake your head, "You don't need to apologize, Bob." Turning back to him, you take a few steps until you're right in front of him again.

Bob stands still, his heart practically beating out of his chest, as you walk closer to him. Your proximity takes his breath away, and he can’t tear his eyes off your face. All he can focus on is your every move, the way your lips are slightly parted, and how your cheeks are tinged pink.

He has to fight the urge to pull you into his arms and hold you close, but the nervousness in his veins keeps him rooted to the spot. "Y/N..” he breathes out, his voice low and unsteady.

"Bob," you whisper, "Please.." Your words, your simple plea, are all it takes for Bob to snap. His brain short-circuits as every thought about consequences and missions leaves his mind, replaced with one sole desire. *You.*

In the blink of an eye, his hands find your waist, and in another, he's pulling you flush against him. His lips crash into yours with a desperate need, as every pent-up feeling, every piece of suppressed desire is unleashed.

Your hands reach up to his face, gripping his face as you pull him closer, desperate for more.

Bob is completely lost in the moment, his hands exploring your waist, your back, your face, trying to touch every inch of you. Your touch ignites something within him, and his kiss deepens as he presses his body against yours.

He pushes you backward until your back hits a wall, his hands gripping your hips as he cages you against the surface, his kiss still feverish, hungry, desperate.

You pull away reluctantly, gasping in a few breaths before speaking. "Bob, we need to go.. I *need* you," you whisper, kissing his face and neck. Bob lets out a soft groan at your words, the feeling of your kisses sending tremors through him, the need in your voice making his knees weak.

"Go... where?" he breathes out, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, afraid that if he lets go of you, you'll disappear. He wants you badly, the mission forgotten in a haze of desire.

"I have a place," you practically moan, enjoying the desperation in his touch. All coherent thoughts leave Bob's mind as your moan is like music to his ears. He practically whimpers against your touch, the need for you nearly overwhelming.

"Lead the way," he mutters, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your neck before reluctantly releasing his grip. Even though he's letting go of you, his hand takes yours, unwilling to lose physical contact.

With your hand in his, Bob follows you to the secluded spot you've chosen, his heart racing in anticipation. The gentle squeeze of your hand reassures him that this is what you want, too. Once you're both inside, the door clicks shut, and the tension in the room thickens.

You turn to face him, the hunger in your eyes matching his own. His hands trace the curve of your waist, pulling you closer as your mouths find each other again in a passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless.

With no more words needed, you both stumble over to the bed, the need for each other overwhelming. Bob gently lays you down, his eyes never leaving yours as he starts to unbutton your shirt. His touch is reverent, his every move filled with a passion that has been building for so long.

You help him, pulling his shirt off over his head, feeling the warmth of his bare skin against yours. As the fabric of your clothes falls away, Bob’s eyes roam over your bare skin, tracing every curve and dip with a hunger that’s been building.

His hands rough yet gentle, his kisses leaving a trail of fire down your neck as he unclasps your bra. The coolness of the air meets your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine. He worships your body, his hands exploring every inch with a passion that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

The feel of his bare chest against yours is electric, his skin smooth and warm as he kisses his way down to your stomach. You gasp as his fingers find their way under the band of your pants, unbuttoning them with trembling hands. The touch of his skin against yours sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch into his touch.

His eyes meet yours, questioning, and when you nod, he pulls your pants down, exposing you to his hungry gaze. His eyes widen with awe, his breath hitching as he takes in the sight of you, fully exposed and desiring him.

His thumb brushes against your inner thigh, sending a rush of heat to your core, making you whimper. His touch is soft yet demanding as he explores you, his eyes never leaving yours, drinking in every reaction you give him.

You're both lost in the moment, the only sound in the room being the ragged breaths and soft moans that escape your lips. Bob leans in, his mouth replacing his fingers, and your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure.

His name becomes a chant on your lips as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your legs wrapping around his head as you pull him deeper into your warmth. The intensity of the moment reaches its peak as Bob's tongue meets your center, his strokes firm and precise.

You moan deeply, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the pleasure builds. He's relentless, his every move calculated to push you closer to the edge. His hands are everywhere, caressing your breasts, teasing your nipples until they're peaked and sensitive.

The sound of your breathy pleas and the wetness of your desire driving him wild. He can't get enough of you, can't get close enough. You're soaking wet for him, and the scent of your arousal fills the air, making him crave you even more. His mouth is a masterpiece of pleasure, teasing and sucking, swirling and flicking, until you're panting his name and your body is tightening around his tongue.

You're close, so close, and just when you think you can't handle it anymore, he slides a finger inside you, the pressure inside you building until it snaps. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, making your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.

You scream out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Bob pulls away, his face flushed and his eyes dark with lust, as he watches the aftershocks of your climax ripple through your body. He quickly removes his pants, his cock standing at full attention. The sight of him sends a fresh wave of heat through you, making you ache for him.

He positions himself over you, and with one swift thrust, he's inside, filling you completely. Your legs wrap around him as he begins to move, his hips pumping in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart.

The feeling is indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain, of need and satisfaction, as he stretches and fills you over and over again. Your eyes lock onto his, and it's as if you're seeing him for the first time, really seeing the depth of his feelings for you, the desire and love that he's been hiding.

The friction is perfect, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with every movement. You rock your hips up to meet his, desperate to get even closer. His hands are everywhere, holding you down, caressing you, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Your bodies move in a dance that's been choreographed by months of tension and unspoken desires. Each stroke is a promise, each touch a declaration of his feelings.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another deep kiss, your tongues tangling as your bodies move together in perfect sync. The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mixing with the desperate moans and gasps that escape both of your mouths. Bob's pace quickens, driven by the passion that fuels him, and you can feel him getting closer to his release.

You're so lost in the sensation that you don't even notice when the second orgasm starts to build, creeping up on you like a thief in the night. It takes you by surprise, stealing your breath away as it crashes over you, making your body tighten around him. Bob groans into your mouth, his release following closely behind, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his warmth.

You collapse onto the bed, your bodies still entwined, hearts racing, and skin slick with sweat. The room is silent except for the sound of your panting breaths, both of you trying to come down from the high of finally giving in to the passion that's been burning between you. The weight of his body on top of yours is comforting, grounding, as you bask in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy.

Bob pulls out gently, collapsing beside you, and you roll over to face him, your eyes searching his for any signs of regret. But all you see is love and satisfaction, mirroring your own emotions. You reach out, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and he smiles at you, the tension of the day forgotten as you both drift into a contented silence, the kind that comes from knowing you've found something real in a world full of danger and uncertainty.

Bob's mind is spinning as he shifts to lie there next to you, completely stunned by the intensity of what just happened. His fingers gently trace patterns on your skin, a soft smile playing on his lips as he takes in the blissful expression on your face. Every nerve ending in his body is buzzing, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through him.

"That was..." he finally manages to breathe out, his voice thick with emotion, "That was amazing." Bob's heart still races, his head reeling from the intensity of the connection between you both.

You nod breathlessly, resting your face on his chest, cuddling close against him.

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paper-mario-wiki · 1 year ago

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hey, wanna know something cool?

a little over a century ago, the polar explorer Ernest Shackleton lost the ship Endurance when attempting to make a land crossing of the antarctic.

soon after, the ship would be crushed by the surrounding ice as it shifted, and it would sink about 10,000 feet to the sea floor.

BUT THEN

2 years ago, national geographic was able to locate the HMS endurance and found it in an incredibly well preserved state!

the leader of the expedition, Mensun Bound, said "This is by far the finest wooden shipwreck I have ever seen. It is upright, well proud of the seabed, intact, and in a brilliant state of preservation."

#image #history #HMS endurance

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liuisi · 9 months ago

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Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: “Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me.

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened? Or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst forth and issued from the womb; when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band; when I fixed My limit for it, and set bars and doors; when I said, ‘This far you may come, but no farther, And here your proud waves must stop!’

Have you commanded the morning since your days began, and caused the dawn to know its place, that it might take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked be shaken out of it? It takes on form like clay under a seal, and stands out like a garment. From the wicked their light is withheld, and the upraised arm is broken.

Have you entered the springs of the sea? Or have you walked in search of the depths? Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth? Tell Me, if you know all this. Where is the way to the dwelling of light? And darkness, where is its place, that you may take it to its territory, that you may know the paths to its home? Do you know it, because you were born then, or because the number of your days is great? Have you entered the treasury of snow, or have you seen the treasury of hail, which I have reserved for the time of trouble, for the day of battle and war? By what way is light diffused, or the east wind scattered over the earth?

Who has divided a channel for the overflowing water, or a path for the thunderbolt, to cause it to rain on a land where there is no one, a wilderness in which there is no man; to satisfy the desolate waste, and cause to spring forth the growth of tender grass? Has the rain a father? Or who has begotten the drops of dew? From whose womb comes the ice? And the frost of heaven, who gives it birth? The waters harden like stone, and the surface of the deep is frozen. Can you bind the cluster of the Pleiades, Or loose the belt of Orion? Can you bring out Mazzaroth in its season? Or can you guide the Great Bear with its cubs? Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you set their dominion over the earth?

Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that an abundance of water may cover you? Can you send out lightnings, that they may go, and say to you, ‘Here we are! ’? Who has put wisdom in the mind? Or who has given understanding to the heart? Who can number the clouds by wisdom? Or who can pour out the bottles of heaven, when the dust hardens in clumps, and the clods cling together? Can you hunt the prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, When they crouch in their dens, or lurk in their lairs to lie in wait? Who provides food for the raven, when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food?'

Job 38:1-41

#julia.txt #edit: 4k job 38 <3 #theres no way im letting my top post have nothing 2 do with God smh

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 month ago

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Dating in a Dream - Floyd Leech

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating? Or rather, dated.

CHARACTERS: Floyd Leech x Reader 🦈🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda, actually an ex-relationship); Kiss

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Floyd’s dream (Eng Server) and a reader with attitude.

WORD COUNT: 3.150 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

This Yuu/Reader has a strong personality because I believe is what fits and makes sense in this dream.

I hope you enjoy 🦈

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / Jamil / (Floyd) / Jade / Azul / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

You, Grim, Silver, Sebek, and Jamil were all holding on to Ortho, so you needed a place to land. But there was no land in sight, just a vast ocean. Jamil froze the seawater into a boat with seats for everyone and Silver formed the oars. You all get on the boat and sit down.

“The sea brings to mind a couple of people.” Jamil says. “And what they have in common is-”

Something slammed into the boat. And again. And again.

“Mraaah! The boat's rockin' and rollin'!” Grim worries. “I'm gonna fall overboard!”

“I'm getting an enormous aether signal reading from under the boat!” Ortho warns. “It's closing in again at high speed!”

“Is it trying to tip the boat over?!” Jamil realizes.

The thing keeps hitting the ice boat violently until it finally capsizes and you all fall into the water. Fortunately, Idia was prepared for that and used technomantic nanomachines to create a kind of giant bubble around each of your bodies.

“Thank goodness!” Silver says. “Now we can fight whatever attacked our boat.”

“Ah! Aether signature reading 10 meters ahead. Estimated length, four meters!” Ortho informs you. “Judging by its size, it must be the creature that knocked over our boat.”

“Four meters? That's pretty big. We'll need to take it down with magic! (Y/N), you get back.” Jamil asks you.

Everyone gets into position, ready to defend themselves from a possible next attack and to attack the creature with magic.... But...

“Nothing's comin'.” Grim says, kind of disappointedly.

“I'm still getting that reading 10 meters ahead...” Ortho reiterates. “But it's not budging at all.”

“If it won't attack, we should attack instead.” Silver says. “Let's close in carefully and...”

Silver is interrupted by an oddly long sigh.

“Boooriiiiin'...” Floyd appears, more apathetic than you've ever seen him or even thought possible. “I was hopin' for some decent excitement... But nah, it's just land peeps...” You see the dreamer's silver bird around his head.

“Floyd?!”

“Mm... You guys know me? People from land kinda blur together for me... Mm... Wait.” He looks at you, without changing his bored expression. “Koebi-chan? Were you takin’ a boat trip or somethin'? Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You recognize (Y/N).” Jamil says, although he found it strange that Floyd apologized to someone without being ironic. “Does that mean you recognize us as well?”

“Mm... Oh, yeah... but whatever. I ain't interested in school or anythin' up on land anymore.”

Silver asks Floyd where Azul and Jade are. The three of them were always together, right? Floyd tells him that the three of them are not a package deal and that the two are probably still on land since Azul's business was going so well.

Jamil asks him if he came back to the sea by himself and Floyd says he was bored as an explanation, that things go great no matter what he does.

“See, I figured there were entertaining people up on land, kinds you wouldn't find under the sea.” Floyd explains. “But they're all so weak. Just a buncha small fry not even worth botherin' with. And they all get suckered by Azul, hook, line, and sinker... He's got so many anemones at this point, he doesn't even need more. We had a second and third Mostro Lounge branch open in no time flat...” he ends with another long sigh.

Besides people getting ‘suckered by Azul’ being concerning, Sebek says that all that sounds like perfect smooth sailing, and asks what exactly is the problem.

Floyd says that all of that was just boring and he got totally checked out. So he left to take a solo trip around the world. He went to the Shaftlands, where he was found by a man who offered him a spot as a model in a fashion show which he accepted because it sounded cool. Then the man offered him an exclusive contract with their brand, which he refused because it would be boring to always wear clothes from the same brand.

After spending all his money in the Shaftlands, he went to the Sunshine Lands to find some part-time gigs. He was immediately hired by a famous restaurant. On the third day of work, he threw together something for a staff meal that the chef totally loved and asked him if they could serve that to customers. Floyd accepted and it was such a huge hit that it had people lining up out the door.

Grim wanted to try it, but Floyd had forgotten the recipe because it was something he simply made depending on what he felt like at the time.

It was turning into a hassle so he quit and went to another country, this time the Scalding Sands. Where he rode a camel through the desert and found the legendary genie's lamp. But he used all three wishes to ask for fresh drinks and food because it was hot and he was hungry.

After that he went to the Sunset Savanna, the Queendom of Roses, and Briar Valley. But once again, everyone was so weak that it was just boring. Sebek protests that it's impossible for someone from the Briar Valley royal family to be weak, but Floyd basically says that he's not stupid enough to just walk into the castle and ask to fight with the royal family.

“So yeah. I got bored of bein' up on land and came back to the sea. Not that it's any less boring here... I saw a disturbance in the water up on the surface so I came to see if somethin' interesting was finally happening... But when I flipped the boat, all I found was my ex and a buncha guys I already know.”

“Y-your EX?!” Everyone asks, including you.

“Huh?” Floyd looks directly at you. “I thought you realized I broke up with you when I dumped you at my parents' house.”

“Wait, you are talking about (Y/N)?” Jamil asks. “You're saying that you dated and then you broke up with them at your parents' house?”

“Yeah. We started datin’ on land and one day they said they would like to visit the Coral Sea and meet my parents. I gave them the potion for them to take on a mer-form and even that got borin’ after a while.”

“What do you mean?” Jamil keeps asking, after all if it were you it would be strange. “What were they like in mer-form?”

“Beautiful.” Floyd says without any emotion in his voice. “Everyone was like ‘Aww, you shrimp tail is sooo adorable!’ And they always have a buncha merfolk fallin’ for them. But Koebi-chan never even looked at them.”

“And isn't that good? For them to be faithful?”

“Well, yeah... but our relationship was so booorin'. We never argued, they were always so nice and kind to me even when I tried to mess with them. That was so annoyin'. They never got mad at me and always did whatever I asked. I realized how borin' they really were after my parents met them, so I told them to take Koebi-chan back home after I left on my solo world trip. I don't even remember why I fell in love with them. Ouch!”

Suddenly Floyd was hit in the chest by a small rock. Everyone turned to you, who was the one who threw it, and you were looking at Floyd furiously.

“You son of a... whatever the stupid fish equivalent is!” You shout at him.

“Fish equivalent?” Floyd looks at you a little surprised. “Was that supposed to be a racial insult, koebi-chan?”

“No, I was just trying to say it in a way that you would understand.” You say smugly.

“Heh? Are you sayin’ I'd be too dumb to understand if you used your own words?” Floyd gave you that mocking smile, and then he looked at you with that scary serious face. “Say what you want if you have the guts.”

“(Y/N), I know this is a complicated situation but-” Jamil tried to calm you down but was interrupted by Grim.

Grim was looking at you like a child seeing one of those rare moments where they see their mother angry and doesn't want to get involved. He convinces everyone to let you handle it.

“If I have the guts?!” You continue. “You were the one who wasn't merman enough to take me back to land and broke up with me properly!”

“Oooohh... now you’re usin’ puns?” He smiles smugly. “After all, you really are more interestin’ single. Heh heh heh!” He laughs for the first time.

“Indeed. Maybe the problem has been you all along.” You smirk.

Floyd gets that frighteningly serious look back when he looks at you.

“Yeah, you heard me.” At this point, you were either serious or you had some sort of plan, or both. “Maybe the problem is you. Maybe no one wants to entertain you. After all... who wants to be around someone so boring that they can't even entertain themselves?”

The others ask you, almost stuttering, if you are sure that irritating him is a good idea, especially seeing the way he was looking at you.

“You have a lotta nerve for such a tiny shrimp.” Floyd says menacingly. “And especially for someone who would drown if I burst their little bubble.” He smirks.

“Do it if you have the guts.” You provoke him.

The others try to warn you to stop, that you could really be in danger, but you don't cower, nor does Floyd. He attacks you, bursting your bubble and taking you away from the others.

“(Y/N)!” Everyone shouts, but none of them can reach you underwater, Floyd is too fast.

When he stops, your cheeks are puffed out to hold your breath, and he's hugging you, not squeezing you.

“What about now? Heh heh heh. You can't talk under water.” He smiles amusedly.

You blow air bubbles in his face, the equivalent of spitting out the water you would have in your mouth if you were on land.

“Aha ha ha, That tickles. You idiot, you're runnin’ out of air.”

But you don't seem worried, even with him holding you down there under the sea. But he was right, you were running out of air. He notices when your expression starts to become less intense.

“Silly little shrimpy.” He says in a surprisingly affectionate tone before swimming quickly toward the surface with you.

When you reach the surface you take a deep breath and Floyd keeps holding you. You call him stupid or idiot one last time and he starts laughing heartily.

“THAT WAS FUN!” He says with that joy that you were already missing. “I'm pretty sure this was our first argument, but for some reason... Me in mer-form facin’ you in your human form underwater is givin’ me a déjà vu.”

“Probably from that time you and Jade tried to stop me and the others from getting to the Atlantica Memorial Museum.” You say.

“Atlantica Memorial Museum? Oh, yeah. ‘Cause of that contract with Azul. You needed to get that school photo. Well, too bad you never got it.”

“Yes, we did! While Leona destroyed Azul's contracts.”

“What? You worked together with Todo-senpai (sea lion)? No way. There's no way we'd lose to a little shrimp like you... Hrgh?!” He remembers the moment in front of the museum when he and Jade had to leave because something was happening with Azul in Octavinelle.

The world begins to distort as he remembers. Because of the headaches, Floyd ends up letting go of you. The others finally catch up to you, Idia takes the opportunity to restore your bubble and you two go back underwater

They saw the world distorting and asked what happened. You tell them that Floyd began to remember when he was defeated by you and the others. They come to the conclusion that in that dream world Floyd was always living a perpetual winning streak. So maybe the formula for waking him up was reminding him of all the times he didn't win.

Silver reminds him of Orientation day, where he saw Floyd on fire flying through the air after hearing an explosion nearby. And the person who did that to him was Riddle. Jamil says that Jade was laughing so loudly it echoed through the whole Mirror Chamber, and Azul was acting like he'd never seen Floyd before in his life. Silver found out what happened from Riddle himself at the Equestrian Club. Floyd suddenly grabbed Riddle's hair and remarked, 'It's red, but it ain't hot.'.

Floyd thought this story was better than his dream and this made the world distort again. So the others continued.

Idia remembered one time Floyd got easily shut down during a joint defensive magic lesson with the juniors. More specifically by Cater, Leona and Malleus after underestimating them. Jamil says that in their practice basketball games, Floyd hardly ever break past him when Jamil is blocking him. And tells about that one time that Floyd snuck into the gym at night because he wanted to practice slam dunks and broke two hoops. The headmage punished him with a week of gym-cleaning duty.

“Dude, what the heck? I sound like an idiot in these stories!” Floyd says. “But hey... That sounds better than bein' able to breeze through anything...”

And finally, you remind him of the conversation you were having earlier and whether he remembered what had happened during midterms.

“Midterms...? Guh... Aaagh!” The world distorts again as he remembers. “Oh yeah... We screwed up big time, and Azul... I shouldn't know any of this, but I do... Where are these memories comin' from?!”

The goopy darkness begins to form around you until it transforms into two figures: Jade and Azul in their mer-forms. These figures created by darkness tried to convince Floyd not to believe you, praising him about being a strong predator and saying that the three of them could have fun together as friends. They were so out of character that they couldn't fool Floyd at all. This angered Floyd so much that he woke up and attacked the fake Jade and Azul himself.

“Floyd, how could you...?” Were the last words of fake Jade.

“I thought... we were... best friends...” Were the last words of fake Azul.

“Tch, you're STILL puttin' words in their mouths.” Floyd says, still beside himself with rage. “I'd better not see your fake faces again, you little minnows.” He started slamming his tail into the sunken ship and smashing it apart.

Someone needed to stop him so you all could talk to him. And Jamil said the best person to do it would be the person he apparently liked enough to dream about dating them. You go over and call out to him, telling him you're glad he's awake.

“Huh? Why're you guys still hoverin' around?” Floyd looks at you furiously. “I'm not in the mood, koebi-chan. I'm REALLY ticked off right now, y'know. Unless you wanna get squeezed and turn into squid ink too.”

“I'm not one of them, Floyd. I'm the real (Y/N).”

“Oh yeah? And how can you prove that?”

You need a moment to think, but then you say something like: “You are a poor unfortunate soul who doesn't even have the courage to break up with an imaginary partner properly.”

Everyone is scared for you.

“Those NPCs are supposed to praise you, and I can only imagine my NPC would say something about true love, but I just insulted you. I'm going against their nature. And if you don't realize that then you're really dumb." You smirk.

The others comment on you having some desire to be killed by Floyd, as he slowly approaches you with an extremely threatening face and posture. He covers you with his shadow and opens his mouth as if he were going to eat you.

“Heh... Heh heh... HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!” Floyd smiles and hugs you tightly. “Yay! That’s my Koebi-chan~!”

He's not hurting you, but you tell him the hug is still too strong. He loosened his hug a little and suddenly he kissed you passionately on the lips. Everyone else is startled, but you return the kiss. Jamil's reflex was to cover Grim's eyes.

It started out as just a kiss, but you returning the kiss made him get in the mood for making out. If you don't stop the kiss, it will be the group clearing their throats behind you doing it.

If you continue to the point where others are clearing their throats as a request for you to stop: You both break the kiss and Floyd looks at them with an extremely smug smile.

“What? I'm not forcin' you to watch... pervs.” Floyd mocks them.

If you are the one who breaks the kiss: Floyd won't move his face too far away from yours and will look at you with a pout.

“Own, why did you stop now?” He asks in an overly seductive, pleading voice. “Is it ‘cause you don't like audience? I can take care of them for you... Koebi-chan~”

You two may have interrupted your kiss, but Floyd didn't want to let go of you for anything. Your only two options were to stay like that, or turn around and have him hug you from behind. Floyd asks what's going on, the others explain that it was a dream and Ortho shows him the explanatory video.

When the video ended, to your surprise, Floyd let go of you. You look at him, confused, and his expression is that... neutral, but serious one.

“What's wrong?” You ask.

“We never dated, did we? When I kissed you, I thought you were the same (Y/N) from my dream.” Yes, he called you by your name. He's silent for a moment to see if you understand what he means, but it seems like he has to continue explaining. “I thought I had your prior consent as your ex, but since we never dated...”

“You are concerned about consent?” Jamil says, doubtfully. “I don't mean to insult you, but I wasn't expecting that from a guy who tries to squeeze everyone who bothers him.”

“Beatin’ up annoyin’ guys is one thing.” Floyd explains, still strangely serious. “And I always do that after a warning. This is different.” His expression becomes threatening. “And none of your business.”

You turn Floyd's attention back to you and tell him that you also like him. You understand and if that is an apology you accept it. And you even reveal how much you actually enjoyed it.

“Hm~ Really~?” Floyd looks at you with a seductive smile and gets closer to you, holding you by the waist once again. “Are you askin’ for more, koebi-chan~?”

“Oh please, not again!” Idia begs. “I can't handle such high levels of PDA!”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

P.S.: Don't question how the air bubble bursts once but doesn't burst again when he hugs and kisses Yuu. This is a fanfic for fanservice purposes only 😝

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Dating in a Dream #Floyd Leech #Floyd Leech x Reader #Floyd x Reader

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muniimyg · 2 months ago

Text

BED CHEM // JJK

♡ extra: manifest that you're oversized

series m.list // taglist unavailable

warnings: smol argument (slight angst), jk and oc ignore each other for a few days,,, smut ! somewhat virgin au... jk guides oc and oc is unsure but curious the entire time !!! very domestic of them :') ,,, jk eats her out, jk lives out a fantasy and face fucks oc, oc tries cowgirl for the first time & jk takes over in the end lol. raw sex, both of them orgasm & get all mushy in the end <3

note: oh my gawd this smut took me so long to write . tmi one of the side effects of my meds is a lower sex drive so i haven't been in the headspace for this ,, i'm so happy i got around to it. obviously it's not perfect or even close to what i envisioned for them ,, but i also think that's what makes them so hehe haha .

enj !

tuesdays are never good.

jungkook decided this a long time ago. tuesdays are always the busiest—the most inconvenient and the longest. worst of all, with all of tuesday’s chaos—it means no you.

that’s what jungkook hates the most.

days without you.

but today is an anomaly.

a breath above water.

a break.

his lab professor extended their assignment deadline. his afternoon class got canceled. shit, jungkook even hit a new personal record at the gym.

not to mention that the weather isn’t miserable. for once, april isn’t pouring rain. instead, the sky is blue and the sunshines almost as brightly as you. currently, he’s on his way to surprise you with a matcha latte from your favorite cafe. which, was difficult for him to do.

“one iced matcha with oat milk and less ice please.”

god, it sounded so insufferable coming from his mouth… but it’s whatever. he’d do anything for you. you two have been together for almost one year and he’s utterly in love with you… he just hasn’t said it yet.

you talked about it every now and then… how your favourite moments with him are the ones where he initiates seeing you. ever since you verbalized that, he’s been keeping a list of random things he could do in his notes app. though it’s a small act, getting you a surprise matcha is on the top of his list.

your class should be ending right about now.

he timed his matcha gesture perfectly.

and it is, because just as he rounds the corner, he sees you walking out of the building. surrounded by a group of people. jungkook snickers under his breath. of course. you’d never just walk out alone like a normal person. you always have an entire entourage.

as everyone disperses, he reaches for his phone.

nerd [11:45AM]: so popular nerd [11:45AM]: u have time for ur bf or what ? yn [11:47AM]: it’s tuesday :( yn [11:48AM]: tuesday takes my handsome man away </3 nerd [11:48AM]: not today. i fought a few dragons, sailed across the 7 seas and crawled my way to u n shit yn [11:49AM]: HAHAHAA yn [11:49AM]: wtf are u on yn [11:49AM]: i’ll call u tn. focus on ur day. miss u :p nerd [11:48AM]: turn around dummy seen

he watches as you put your phone away and stretch your neck, scanning the area for him.

jungkook’s chest swells. but before your eyes land on him, someone else beats him to you. some guy—who jungkook assumes is a classmate—runs up from behind, surprising you.

you let out a playful scream, throwing your arms up as the guy engulfs you in a hug. and then—fucking then—he lifts you off the ground and twirls you around.

right then and there, jungkook feels his blood pressure skyrocket. irritation creeps up his spine, jealousy curling in his chest like a tightening fist. the guy sets you down, and you scan the area again. this time, your eyes find his. you brighten, beaming at him, and then—you point.

to him.

to jungkook.

your boyfriend.

and the guy follows your gaze, lifting a hand in acknowledgment. jungkook barely raises a hand back.

half-assed.

dismissive.

unimpressed.

then, as if his patience wasn’t already paper-thin, the guy pulls you in for another hug before saying goodbye. jungkook rolls his eyes as you do this. just as he shifts his feet to close the distance, you’re already halfway to him.

you tilt your head, pouting.

“hi baby—oh my god. is that for me?”

his gaze flickers to the iced matcha latte in his hand.

then back to you.

before he can answer, you’re already leaning in, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a long sip—right from the drink he’s still holding. he watches as your throat bobs, as you hum in satisfaction, as your fingers brush against his wrist.

without a word, he reaches over, slipping the tote bag off your shoulder and swinging it over his own. it’s muscle memory at this point. second nature, the way he carries your things like they’re his.

you tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he turns at the last second, catching your lips instead. you giggle, and like always, your fingers intertwine with his, your free hand still gripping the matcha latte.

suddenly and then all at once, jungkook can’t help but notice how pretty you are.

just like that, his mood begins to fade.

“how was class?”

“boring.” you frown. “i hate elective classes. they’re so extra for no reason. aren’t they supposed to be gpa boosters? what the heck are they doing assigning me exams and group projects? it’s painful.”

“it may be painful, but that doesn’t give you the excuse to be attempting to sext me during class.”

you glare at him.

“it’s really annoying that you’re a nerd and actually care about my learning.”

“right,” he huffs. “i’m a shitty boyfriend.”

“you are,” you agree easily.

silence follows.

but it’s not uncomfortable.

after a beat, you exhale. “oh, the guy earlier—he’s my first friend from first year. he just transferred, and his transcript has been all over the place. but he just found out his credits got accepted, so he doesn’t have to retake a class. fuck, i’ve been stressing for him all week.”

jungkook glances at you, voice softer now. “you shouldn’t stress over things that aren’t yours to stress about.”

“but he’s my friend. am i not allowed to care—”

“that’s not what i meant,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “you know that.”

you hold his gaze, the fight dying in your throat. you let it go.

“also…” you hesitate. “he invited me to his party on saturday. it’s a costume party.”

jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes. “who throws a costume party in the middle of april?”

“the entire class is going.”

“okay,” jungkook says with a plain tone. “so what?”

“what do you mean so what?” you huff, stopping in your tracks to face him. “what’s with your mood?”

jungkook clenches his jaw. he doesn’t know. today was good—until he saw that guy hug you. “i don’t know,” he exhales. “sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to—”

“forgiven.”

he blinks. “that easy?”

“yes, because you’re coming to the party and you’re dressing up.”

he scoffs. “no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“i don’t do costumes.”

“well, you do now.”

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “babe—”

“don’t babe me.”

“i have a meeting with the dean about the marine conservation club and our potential donners. i’m not going to that stupid party and i was hoping you’d accompany me to my thing.”

you pause.

“you decided that for me?” you ask.

jungkook sighs. “i never said that. i said i was hoping you’d accompany me.”

“but you can decide right off the bat that you aren’t going to my thing because it’s not your crowd and it’s not important to you.”

he stares at you.

you glare at him. “newsflash, jungkook… i don’t give a shit about dolphins, but i do care about you. but there’s no way i’m going to your meeting with the dean to be your arm candy if you’re acting like this over a harmless costume party—”

“that’s hosted by some guy who clearly wants to fuck you.”

his words come out faster than his thoughts to filter them. he knows how you’re going to react. he knows he’s digging himself a grave right now… but a part of him doesn’t care. he’s upset. he should have the right to express his feelings and the reality of the situation.

your mouth falls open.

“what?”

he huffs a humorless laugh. “come on, baby… you really don’t see it?”

“see what?” you furrow your brows.

“he’s into you.”

you stare at him, brows furrowing. “jungkook, he’s my friend.”

“yeah? and how many of your ‘friends’ have tried to get with you? be honest with me… he at least had a thing for you, didn’t he?”

anger rises in your chest. “that’s not fair.”

“what isn’t fair? the truth?”

you gawk at him. “so what, you don’t trust me?”

“of course i trust you.” jungkook exhales sharply, looking away. he’s beyond frustrated at this point… and so are you. “i just don’t trust him.”

“holy shit, jungkook.” you shake your head, throwing your hands up. “it’s just a party. you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

he doesn’t respond, jaw set, eyes fixed on the pavement.

“it’s stupid,” he breathes. “i’m not going. i don’t want you to go either, if i’m being completely honest.”

your face drops.

you don’t mind the honesty… you hate the audacity.

“you know what?” you walk forward and turn to him. with a final defeated breath, you tell him; “text me when you pick me over your stupid dolphins.”

then, just like that, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him standing there, fists clenched at his sides. jungkook watches as you shove the matcha latte into the nearest trash bin and storm off towards the direction of your home.

his feet feel glued to the ground for some reason.

the rational thing to do is run after you, apologize, and make up with you… but instead, he sulks. jungkook turns the other direction, choosing to be a complete idiot.

you don’t text him that night.

you don’t call him the next morning, either.

jungkook doesn’t reach out, but you catch him viewing your stories, and liking your tiktok reposts.

he lingers closely when you hang out with the guys throughout the week. like maybe he’ll say something. like maybe he’ll tap your shoulder and ask if you still want him to come. but he doesn’t.

you bump into him around campus once.

you pass each other—his eyes flick to yours, but you look past him. not out of malice. you just don’t have the energy for his half-hearted apologies or defensive silences. you don’t want him to say sorry because you asked him to. you want him to say sorry because he means it.

when thursday passes with no message, you wonder if he’s really not coming.

you wonder if he’ll just let this linger, like it doesn’t matter.

you go shopping with your friends on friday. pick out a costume that’s just silly enough to make you feel like yourself.

then it’s saturday.

and you still haven’t heard from him.

the party is lame.

you hate to admit it, but maybe jungkook was right. costumes in the middle of spring? it just doesn’t feel right. regardless, you're laughing at a story you’re only half-listening to.

you’re having fun.

you swear.

you’ve been having fun for the past two hours. smiling, mingling, keeping the energy light… but your phone’s screen is a little too smudged from checking it every ten minutes.

no texts.

you open instagram. he watched your story.

you close it again.

you’re mid-sip when someone bumps your side—not too hard, just enough to jostle the drink. you turn instinctively, lips parting to apologize, when you see him.

jungkook.

in his marine conservation blazer, white shirt crisp under the low light. tie loosened, hair pushed back like he’s been running his hand through it all night.

and on his head?

tiger ears.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just stands there beside you like he’s been there the whole time. then he glances down at you, voice low and casual.

“you waiting for your shitty boyfriend to text you?”

you blink at him.

“you’re a tiger.”

he nods. “roar.”

you snort. “do they even roar?”

he rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile. then he shifts, turning to face you properly. his hands find your waist without question, like that’s still his place. like you’re still his.

his voice softens.

“they roar. and they say sorry.”

you look at him.

"sorry," he adds. his brows are furrow just a little, like he means it. like he’s been thinking about it all night. like the headband was his way of saying i miss you in the dumbest way possible.

you reach up, adjust one of the ears so it’s standing upright again.

“well... you look stupid.”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.”

he presses his forehead to yours, sighs quietly. you glance at the headband again, then back at him. he’s fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt, refusing to meet your eyes. for once, jungkook looks nervous.

you soften.

“you didn’t have to come. we would've worked it out regardless.”

“i know,” he says quietly. “and i would’ve been here faster but the dolphins…”

“those damn dolphins,” you laugh.

he joins you.

then, a beat.

then he lifts his gaze, eyes meeting yours for the first time in days.

“i wanted to come,” he confesses. “i want to be wherever you are.”

and just like that, the fight breaks into dust.

you step closer, close enough to touch. your hand brushes his. he doesn’t move, but his pinky curls around yours like muscle memory.

you don’t talk about the argument. you don’t ask if he’s sorry. you don’t need to.

you lean in, voice lower now.

“one dance. and then we go.”

he rolls his eyes, but there’s the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “just one?”

“two.”

“three.”

the door clicks shut behind you.

you kick your shoes off with more force than necessary and drop your bag somewhere near the wall. jungkook follows behind, slower, undoing the top button of his shirt as he steps inside.

the silence isn’t uncomfortable. just thick. waiting to be cut. so here you two are—ripping the bandaid off.

you turn to face him.

“you were a dick.”

he nods. “i know.”

“and jealous. for no reason.”

another nod. “i know that, too.”

you cross your arms. “so?”

“so…” he sighs, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt like he needs something to fidget with. “i got in my head. and then i got mad about being in my head. and then i made it your problem. i'm sorry i said all that. but also, i don't think i'm wrong to feel intimidated by him. he's someone from your past.”

you watch him. you don’t say anything.

he finally meets your gaze.

“i trust you,” he says, voice quieter now. “i do. i just… get scared sometimes. that someone else will be better. smarter. funnier. more patient with me when i’m acting like a five-year-old.”

you blink at him. “you’re not five.”

he snorts under his breath.

“you’re like… seven. max.”

he huffs a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

“i should have considered why it could have made you feel uncomfortable. shit, you gave up tutoring just because for me... although you could have said it in a nicer way, i understand where you were coming from... and not to mention... you’re the smartest person i know,” you say with no hesitation. “i’ve never met a bigger nerd than you. i wouldn't worry about me dumping you for an even bigger nerd. don't think i could handle more nerdology behaviour.”

jungkook cracks a smile.

still, he huffs in frustration and tsks. “i… i just didn’t want to lose you over something dumb. i hate messing things up with you,” he murmurs.

you step toward him, hands slipping under his blazer, palms resting against his chest.

“you aren't messing anything up.”

his hand covers yours. his eyes flick between yours.

“i'm really trying, ___. i swear.”

you nod, smiling sweetly at him. “you did good tonight.”

“the ears?”

“the ears.” you smile. “very charming.”

he leans in slightly, voice lower. “wanna pet me?”

“maybe later.”

jungkook rolls his eyes before dipping his head low. he kisses you for the first time in so long and literally feels his heartache dissolve. you reach over his neck and kiss him with more passion. then, when you pull away, you murmur; “i’m sorry i wasn’t very patient. can you and the dolphins ever forgive me?”

“forgiven.”

kiss.

“that easy?”

kiss.

“you’re too pretty to stay mad at.”

jungkook is laid back against his pillows, hands planted lightly on your thighs like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to grip you tighter yet.

you’re straddling his lap, your fingers curled into the open collar of his shirt, your lips pressed to his like you’re trying to memorize the shape of him again. like you need him to know: i missed you.

his mouth moves under yours—eager, but letting you set the rhythm.

you pull back just a little, your breath shallow. “we were really mad at each other. didn’t even text.”

his eyes open slowly. “yeah,” he murmurs. “i hated it.”

you lean down, kissing the corner of his mouth. “me too.”

before he knows it, your fingers make their way to the buttons of his shirt. you begin to unbutton them, one by one. his breath shakes. this is only the third time you two have ever had sex… the first time you’ve ever initiated it, too. the first few times you two have had sex, it’s always been a little slow and soft. he’s always been sure to make it as easy as possible for you because, in your words, it feels weird.

you like it, of course.

it’s just different. losing your virginity recently to him is a completely new experience. in all honesty, he’s done everything right so far. jungkook is always so gentle and caring. but something about the way you look at him right now tells him that maybe… tonight that isn’t what you want. maybe, you don’t want gentle.

you want him…

hard. messy. hot.

“can you take this off?”

jungkook freezes.

then, his hand slides up your waist, thumb brushing under your shirt. “you’re sure? we don’t have to.”

he wants you to be sure. he wants you to know that sex is always in your control and that you get to have it your way. to finish your way… to start? this is new. it makes him nervous too… but excited more than ever.

your reply is barely a whisper.

“kiss me again.”

and so he does.

slower this time.

deeper.

one hand cups the back of your head, the other squeezing your hip like he’s finally letting himself touch you the way he wants to. the kiss grows hotter, messier—your teeth graze his lip, and he exhales a shaky breath through his nose like he’s barely holding it together.

“fuck,” he whispers. “missed you so much.”

you smile against his mouth. “good.”

jungkook is buried between your legs.

he kisses your thighs slowly, slightly lifting his head up for air. then, he reaches over to your hips and palms them, pressing some pressure. without warning, he dips his head low and begins to eat you out again.

his tongue flickers back and forth, fast and messy. he digs his nose in as he sucks your clit and pulls away. he takes his time, flattening his tongue against your clit. your toes curl, your head throws back, and your stomach tightens as the feeling.

“d-don’t laugh at m-me, okay?” you stutter.

he lifts his head.

“what’s wrong?”

“i… i t-think i might pee,” you pant. “i don’t wanna pee.”

jungkook chuckles, not mocking, just warmly.

“you’re not gonna. promise.”

your eyebrows furrow. “but what if i do? that’s so gross.”

“do you want me to stop?”

you nod.

“sorry.”

jungkook shakes his head and reaches over to kiss your forehead. “don’t apologize. let’s do what you want and what makes you feel good, okay?”

you swallow.

“w-what do you wanna do?” you ask him shyly. jungkook breathes you in, resting hs body on top of yours. like second nature, you wrap your arms around him and hold him close. he trails kisses on your neck as you murmur; “i wanna do something for you too.”

he smiles against your skin.

“we don’t have to do anything,” he tells you honestly. “we can just go to sleep—”

“do you wanna fuck my face?”

his breath hitches.

“uhm…” jungkook shifts and chases your eyes. you stare into his eyes and smile warmly. “w-what?”

you shrug.

“i wanna try it,” you confess. “and you mentioned it once jokingly… why not, right?”

he blinks at you.

before he can register this, you shift and slide lower down the bed. he lifts his body, following your lead and positioning himself. jungkook kneels over you, straddling your chest. his knees are on either side of your body with one hand on the headboard for balance… the other cradles your cheek, thumb swiping your puffy lips.

“if it’s too much—”

“i wanna take it,” you pout. “manifested for you to be oversized. this is me facing my consequence.”

that’s all it takes

as jungkook tilts his head with a playful smirk, he shoves his heavy cock inside your pretty mouth. he shifts his hips forward slowly, sinking himself deeper inside your mouth.

“too deep?” he asks, fingers brushing your hair back.

you shake your head, eyes watery but committed.

shakily, he lets out a deep and wrecked groan. he drags his cock out, bringing the tip to your lips to play with. you swirl your tongue around it, playing with his slit. he inhales sharply before you part your lips for him to thrust himself back in again. jungkook then slides his hand to cup the back of your head, lifting you just a bit for a better angle. the slight move causes you to gag around him.

his stomach sinks.

he pauses instantly.

“you okay?”

you blink twice at him and begin to suck him off. jungkook throws his head back, moving in slow and shallow thrusts. he tests the waters, as the headboard begins to creak.

“god,” he moans. “look at you, baby… taking me so well. i’m so fucking proud of you.”

then, his pace gets a little rougher. his hips roll forward with more intent, but his hand stays gentle on your head. he doesn’t force you to take more. when you moan around him, your nails begin to dig into his thighs.

“shit—baby,” jungkook begins to lose his breath. “say something… gonna cum just like this.”

you pull off for air.

“you can… if you want.”

jungkook hisses. “you can’t say shit like that.”

then, he leans over you, bracing both hands against the headboard now. he cages you in. his abs flex with each thrust, and the view of him above you—eyes wide, flushed chest heaving—is seared into your memory forever.

god, he’s so handsome.

you keep your hands on his thighs, letting him set the pace. he watches you the entire time, making sure you’re doing okay. it backfires, though because all he can notice is how your mouth stretches around him. how your eyebrows furrow and how your eyes flutter shut like you enjoy this.

spoiler: you do enjoy this.

then, he feels his body tighten.

he knows the feeling all too well.

without warning, he pulls himself out and with a groan—drops down to kiss you.

“gonna stop,” he pants. “gotta be inside you when i finish.”

you let out a laugh against his lips. “okay,” you agree. “want you to finish inside me too.”

with that, you feel your legs tremble when he pulls you upright. he kisses you slow and settles back against the pillows. his cock is angry, twitching between his thighs. jungkook pulls you into his lap.

you hesitate a little, as you swing a leg over. your knees rest on either sides of him. his eyes flicker to the way your hands hover above his chest. you look unsure… but also desperate. he can’t fight with that.

“what do you wanna do?” he asks gently, fingers tracing your thighs.

“wanna ride you,” you say shyly. “like cowgirl… b-but—”

“you don’t know how?”

“i’m gonna look stupid.”

he rolls his eyes at you. “not possible.”

jungkook leans in, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “take your time with it. you’re in control. i’ll help you figure it out, okay? do what you want. i’m all yours, baby.”

with that, he lies back as you grab the base of his cock rather awkwardly. you lower yourself down slowly. sinking inch by inch, you gasp.

“sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” he reassures you, as he reaches over and helps you line himself up. “here, like this.”

jungkook holds himself still while you slowly sink down. your hands are planted on his chest, steadying yourself. he groans as he feels your tight pussy clench. his hands grip your hips tightly. you let out a shaky breath in response.

you both pause when once you realize you’ve taken him in fully.

you catch your breath as his hands soothe up and down your sides.

“f-fuck.”

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you nod, taking a deep breath in. “just… big.”

jungkook chuckles, leaning in for a kiss. “your fault.”

you let out a small laugh as he rubs circles on your hips. you adjust, locking eyes with his.

“should i move now?”

he blinks at you. “yeah. try rocking your hips. you don’t have to bounce or anything—just move how you feel.”

you nod and try it.

it’s awkward at first, but his hands guide you. soon enough, you’re rolling your hips against his. the slow grind of your bodies both make you moan. you feel his cock harden inside you, and the sharpness is something you never expected to love so much. it feels so good. jungkook’s head lolls forward, kissing your breasts and then your neck.

he’s breathless.

“that’s it,” he praises. “good girl… you’re so perfect, baby.”

you lean in to kiss him. then, you pick up your pace. you roll your hips forward, grinding and humping him however your body wants to. he’s biting his bottom lip as your movements quicken and you begin to feel tingling in the pit of your stomach. you chase the feeling by riding him harder. soon, you begin to let out breathey moans.

“ohh,” you almost cry. “f-fuck. oh my god…”

“that’s it,” jungkook moans. “shit. just like that.”

you fuck him harder.

jungkook slaps your ass and you let out a whimper. as you two fuck, you begin to feel the pressure of it all weigh in on you. for some reason, as you look at him, you can’t help but pant and want more of this insane feeling.

“look at you,” he hisses. “you’re doing it, baby. fuck. you’re riding me.”

before you know it, you’re whimpering.

your grinding gets lazier but the high is still there. you’re out of breath, sweaty and tired. you’re still moving in his lap, but your thighs are burning. he looks up at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

(he hasn’t)

“you okay?”

you give him a small breathless nod. even before you tell him with words, jungkook pulls himself out and reaches over to you. he checks in you.

“everything okay?”

again, you nod but your rhythm falters. your legs shake a little as you try to lift yourself and sink again. you whimper, frusterated at yourself.

“sorry—”

“hey,” jungkook murmurs, quickly sitting up. he kisses your forehead. “you’re doing so good. nothing to be sorry about.”

“i think my legs are giving out,” you murmur, nuzzling into the side of his neck. “but don’t wanna stop.”

he chuckles, running his hands up and down your back. jungkook kisses your jaw. “lay back for me?”

before you can even answer, he shifts—scooping an arm under your knees and the other behind your back, rolling the both of you with practiced ease until you’re lying against his chest, back to his front.

“this okay?” he asks, lips brushing your ear.

you nod quickly, already breathless as he hooks your thighs over his, keeping you wide open while he stays deep inside you. his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you in tighter, grounding you completely.

he starts to thrust again—slow, deep rolls of his hips that push into you from underneath, the angle making you whimper. your head tilts back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you melt into him, letting him do the work.

jungkook fucks you like this for a while. you focus on your breathing and the feeling of him inside you. all your thoughts and efforts crumble when he places his hand over your pussy and begins to play with your clit.

“j-jungkook… i can’t—”

“you can.”

“i’m gonna—nghhh…. oh my g-god. jungkook!”

your body starts to tremble, back pressed flush against his chest, every nerve ending alive as he keeps grinding into you from beneath.

his arms stay locked around your waist, one hand splayed over your stomach, holding you still while the other toys with your clit—soft, steady strokes that match the rhythm of his hips.

“fuck—” you gasp. “jungkook—i think—i’m gonna—”

“i know, baby,” he whispers, his voice shaky but so sweet. “you’re close, yeah? it’s okay.”

his mouth is right at your ear, so gentle despite how deep he is inside you.

“breathe through it,” he hisses. “i feel your pussy tightening. you’re gonan cum soon and your instict is to hold your breath—don’t. i want you to breathe through it. want you to feel it all, okay? can you be a good girl and do that for me, baby?”

you whimper.

“uh... mhmmm... shit, shit, shit! nghh… i… i’ll try.”

jungkook fucks himself inside you deeper and harder. you hold your breath as you take him in, and then shut your eyes to exhale.

you breathe through your nose, trying to focus on his request.

and when you do—your body curling forward, a desperate whimper falling from your lips—he wraps you tighter in his arms, guiding you through it with slow, grounding thrusts, his hand not leaving your clit until you're twitching and whining from the overstimulation.

you cream his cock.

“you’re so perfect,” he breathes, kissing the side of your neck. “you did so good for me. so fucking good.”

you’re still catching your breath when he carefully lifts you off, laying you back down on the pillows.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing your hair from your face.

you nod, dazed, your skin flushed and glowing. he kisses your forehead.

“gonna finish, yeah?” he whispers. “just wanna be close.”

and then he’s sliding back in—slow and deep—his body over yours, elbows tucked beside your head as he holds himself up just enough to look at you.

“feels so good,” he moans, dropping a kiss to your cheek. “so warm.”

your hands trail up his back, pulling him in. his movements are less frantic now, more like he’s savoring it—each roll of his hips drawn out, every kiss messy and sweet.

“look at me,” he whispers, foreheads touching. “wanna see you when i cum.”

and when he does—hips stuttering, a low groan leaving his throat—you kiss him through it, soft and open-mouthed, your fingers carding through his hair as he falls apart right there, with you.

his whole body trembles, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t leave. just stays wrapped around you, breathing hard, kissing your lips again and again like he doesn’t want to let you go.

just like that, jungkook cums inside you—filling your pussy up with every ounce of himself.

you’re draped over him like a blanket, one leg tossed over his hips, face tucked into the crook of his neck. the room is quiet, save for the low hum of the fan and the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as it evens out.

jungkook's fingers trace lazy shapes along your thigh, slow and thoughtless, like he’s just making sure you’re still there. still his. still real.

beside you, hello kitty stares from the edge of the bed. a little crooked. still wearing the ribbon he tied on her hours ago.

“you think she judged us?” you mumble against his collarbone.

his chest shakes with a quiet laugh.

“she was appalled. horrified, even.”

you snort.

“poor girl didn’t sign up for that.”

“we should apologize.” he suggests. “sorry, kitty.”

you giggle agaisnt his chest. then, you lift your face and say; “next time… i think the tiger ears should stay on.”

he stills, then looks down at you slowly—like you just said something criminal.

“what’s with you and props? if it’s not my glasses, it’s the tiger ears. what’s next? blindfolds and whips?”

“i’m dead serious.”

“oh, i know. that’s the scary part.”

you both dissolve into soft laughter, his fingers still moving along your bare skin. at some point, he tugs hello kitty into the covers, nestling her between your bodies like a little buffer. a witness, maybe. or a silent secret keeper.

your eyes flutter closed soon after. sleep is winning.

but jungkook stays awake a little longer. watches you. breathes you in.

and once he’s sure—sure your breathing is slow and even, sure you won’t catch him in the act—he leans down, presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and whispers against your skin like it’s sacred.

“___?” jungkook whispers, voice low and careful, like he’s scared of waking you.

he shifts a little, just enough to see your face in the soft lamplight. your lashes are fanned out across your cheeks, your lips slightly parted, breath slow and steady.

you don’t answer.

he watches you in silence. listens to the hush of the room and the tiny creak of the mattress as he adjusts his arm under your waist. your leg is still hooked over his hip, and your fingers rest gently on his chest—right over the spot where his heart is beating just a little too fast.

maybe you’re asleep. maybe you’re not.

but he takes the chance anyway.

he turns his head, nose brushing the side of yours. and with a kiss so soft it almost doesn’t land, he presses his mouth to your hairline.

“i’m so in love with you,” he breathes. not even a whisper—more like a confession carried on his last exhale. “i love you.”

you don’t move. don’t speak. don’t flinch or blink.

but your fingers twitch. just slightly.

and then they curl in, sinking into the fabric of his shirt. slow and gentle, like your body coudn’t help but respond before your mind caught up. like your heart heard him first.

jungkook’s eyes flutter close.

he doesn’t say anything else. doesn’t push or ask or even hope. he just sinks a little deeper into the sheets, into you, pulling you closer like maybe, if he holds you tight enough, the moment won’t break.

and you—still quiet, still pretending—feel everything.

the weight of his arm around you.

the warmth of his skin against yours. the truth of what he said lingering in the space between your bodies.

you don’t say it back.

not yet.

but you feel it, too. so, in your head you say it back. drifting to sleep, tangled with the love of your life—

i love you too.

#bts smut #jk fanfic #jk smut #jungkook x yn #jungkook scenario #jungkook boyfriend au #bts boyfriend au #bts fluff #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook uni au #jungkook nerd au #jungkook smut

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lilislegacy · 1 year ago

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zeus: ok, you broke the pact. what’s done is done. just tell me which abilities you gave him, so at least i know what we’re dealing with

poseidon: ...all of them

zeus: ok but from which of your roles? sea god, stormbringer, or earthshaker?

poseidon: ...all of them

zeus:

zeus: you’re not serisouly telling me he has domain over air and land and the sea?

poseidon: er, actually, it’s not just the sea. any water, really. lakes, rivers, ice, plumbing,...potentially bodily fluids...

zeus: you- WHY DID- WHAT WERE YOU-

zeus: *takes a deep breath*

zeus: anything else?

poseidon: *looks at list*

poseidon: er, yes. he immediately heals when he touches water.

zeus: what?

poseidon: well, you know, i figured with all the danger he’ll face, potential child of the prophecy and all, he should be able to automatically regenerate

zeus: that- that’s not even a thing!

poseidon: well...it is now!

zeus:

poseidon:

zeus:

poseidon: he can also speak to horses

zeus: *throws lightning bolt at the wall*

#LOL #suck it zeus #poseidon gave his boy everything he had #he just wanted to give him his best chance 🥺#i just know zeus was pissed over this #overpowered percy #percy jackson #poseidon #zeus #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus

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thewulf · 5 months ago

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Adding One || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request - Hi I love your Paul lahote stories!! I was wondering if you could do one super fluffy where the reader finds out she’s pregnant but is worried how Paul will feel because they’re still young and all the werewolf and vampire stuff is going on at the time!!🩵

A/N: I just love Paul. Thank you for the requests as always! @lunajay33

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k +

TW: Pregnancy

The warm scent of blueberry muffins filled Emily’s kitchen mingling with the faint tang of sea air drifting in through the open window. You were slouched in one of the chairs at her table with your cheek resting in your palm as you watched her move about the kitchen. The quiet hum of her voice as she talked about Sam and the pack was comforting, but it was hard to focus. Your stomach rolled again. That new unease building in the back of your mind.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Emily commented. Her voice cutting through the fog of your thoughts. She glanced at you over her shoulder, her sharp eyes softening when they landed on your face. “Are you feeling okay?”

You forced a smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a stressful few weeks, you know? All the patrols, Jacob imprinting on… that situation. It’s a lot.” You tried brushing her off.

Emily turned back to her muffins, humming as she pulled them from the oven and set them on the counter. “That’s true. It’s been hard on everyone.” She didn’t say anything else for a moment, but you could feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” she asked gently not wanting to push too hard.

Your smile faltered. “Of course. What else would it be?”

Emily walked over and sat across from you. Her expression calm but concerned. “Well, you’ve been tired a lot lately. And you’ve barely eaten today. You won’t even touch my muffins like you always do. I also saw you push your plate away last week at dinner too.” She tilted her head, her tone as light as she could make it. “And I saw you make a face when I started the coffee earlier. You used to love coffee… I haven’t seen you drink a cup in weeks now.”

You stiffened slightly, trying to brush her off with a laugh. “I’m just… off, that’s all. It’s probably just stress or maybe a stomach bug. Nothing to worry about.” That unease grew in the pit of your stomach though.

She didn’t drop it. “Maybe,” she said slowly. Her dark eyes studying you. “But… have you thought it might be something else?”

You blinked at her, frowning. “Something else? Like what?”

She hesitated before she reached across the table to rest her hand on yours. “I don’t want to assume anything, but… you and Paul are together all the time. Could there be… another reason why you’re feeling this way?”

Her words hit you like a freight train and you immediately shook your head. Your voice pitching higher than you intended. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way, Emily. We’re careful! I mean, mostly. But… no. That’s impossible.”

Emily gave you a patient look but didn’t pull her hand away. “I know you’re careful,” she said gently. “But accidents happen. When was the last time you had your period?” She asked the dreaded question… when was it?

The question made your heart lurch, and you froze. “I…” shit, you didn’t know, “I don’t know,” you stammered. “It’s been… I mean, I’m not great at keeping track, but…” Your voice trailed off as your mind began counting backward. The realization hitting you like a bucket of ice water on a freezing winter day. Your chest tightened. Your mouth suddenly ran dry.

Emily leaned forward slightly. Her voice soft but steady. “How long has it been?”

You swallowed hard while staring at her as the truth sank in. “I.... A month? Maybe more?” You guessed as you kept counting further back. No, it was more than a month now. It’d been nearly six weeks.

Emily’s expression didn’t change though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “It might not be what you think,” she said carefully. “But maybe… maybe you should take a test. Just to be sure.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, and you instinctively shook your head again. “I can’t. What if it’s positive? What am I supposed to do? What’s Paul going to say? What about the pack or my parents? Shit! My parents Em!” Your voice cracked, panic bubbling up as the possibility became more real. Pregnant. You couldn’t possibly be pregnant. No, it was just stress. You’d been so stressed lately. Periods were often late when stress was abundant. Yeah, just stress.

Emily squeezed your hand. Her calm presence grounding you. “If it’s positive, you’ll figure it out like you always do. You’re not alone in this, okay? You have me. You have Paul. And you have the while pack. Whatever happens, we’ll all be here for you.” Her voice was low and soothing as it always was. Her reassurance should have been comforting, but your thoughts were spiraling. The only thing you could focus on was the quiet truth settling into the back of your mind. You might really be pregnant. She stood with you still trying to process what was likely true.

Emily slipped out the door after giving you a reassuring smile. Her keys jingling as she walked to the front door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she’d said. “And don’t even think about panicking while I’m gone. Just breathe. I’m going to go buy one from the pharmacy. It won’t be a big deal if someone sees me buying one.” Easier said than done.

You sat stiffly on the edge of the couch with your knee bouncing restlessly as the minutes ticked by. Emily was right. If anyone saw her buying a pregnancy test, they wouldn’t think twice about it. She and Sam were married, in their twenties, and settled. But you? At nineteen, unmarried, and still figuring out your life, the very idea of people finding out sent a wave of nausea through you.

When Emily returned, she came through the door with the same calm efficiency as before. She held a small paper bag like it contained something perfectly ordinary. She set it down on the table while brushing the rain from her hair as she gave you a steady look. “Alright,” she said. Her tone light but firm. “No one saw me. Not that it would’ve mattered. But I figured you’d want to hear that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Thank God. I’d die right here if word got back to my mom. Or the whole reservation.” You peeked through your fingers, your voice dropping to a mutter. “This place is like a fishbowl.”

Emily laughed softly and slid the bag toward you. “Relax. It’s done. Now, the next part is up to you.”

You stared at the bag. Your palms suddenly very disgustingly sweaty. Your heart hammered as you reached out and pulled the slim box from inside, the pink lettering glaring up at you like a warning. “I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy after-school specials,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as you tried to make light of the situation.

Emily gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re not. You’re just figuring out what’s next. Go on. I’ll wait here.” With a long breath you stood and made your way to the bathroom, the box clutched tightly in your hands. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. You sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at the little plastic stick on the counter, its blank screen taunting you.

When your phone buzzed with the timer you’d set, your stomach flipped. You stood slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up the test. Two pink lines.

Positive.

Your knees felt weak as you gripped the counter for support as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you. A strange mix of fear, joy, and uncertainty swirled in your chest, leaving you utterly breathless. You stared at the test for a long moment trying to process what it meant. Your hand drifted to your abdomen as you gulped.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Emily was waiting on the couch. Her face was soft as ever with understanding. She looked up as you stepped into the room, the test still clutched in your hand. “Well?” she asked gently. Her brown eyes searching your face for any sign of what it said.

You held up the test. Your mouth dry. “I guess I’m pregnant,” you said with your voice unsteady. Then in a weak attempt to lighten the mood you added with a shaky laugh, “Stealing Bella’s thunder, huh?” Bella’s pregnancy had been the talk of the pack ever since the group found out what she was carrying. Then the vampire human baby decided to make its appearance after only 28 days. The thought sent a shiver down your spine as you thought of what carrying a werewolf baby would entail.

Emily blinked, then burst into laughter. Her head tilting back as she shook her head. “Oh, you’ve got to stop hanging out with Paul so much. You’re picking up his sense of humor.” She grinned as she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Despite your spinning thoughts her laughter pulled a smile from you. She wrapped you in a warm, steady hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, her voice firm. “Paul loves you so much. More than I ever thought he’d be capable of. You’re not doing this alone.” You clung to her words like a lifeline as tears brimmed in your eyes. You weren’t sad… no, not at all. You were simply overwhelmed as this had not been in your plans. You were going to get married to Paul in a few years and maybe have some kid’s years after that. Not now. But life had a funny way of throwing you completely off. First, being imprinted to a damned werewolf. Now this.

You sat at the kitchen table with the pregnancy test still in your hand. Emily had made you a cup of tea. The warm mug sitting untouched in front of you as your thoughts spiraled. You’d stared at the little pink lines so long now that they were practically burned into your vision. A constant reminder of the new, terrifying reality that had just taken shape.

Emily leaned against the counter, watching you with a mixture of patience and quiet concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked gently.

You let out a shaky breath, placing the test down on the table so gently as if it might explode. “Everything,” you said. Your voice barely above a whisper. “I mean… Paul and I are nineteen. This wasn’t exactly in the plan. What if he’s not ready for this? What if he feels… trapped?” The thought made your stomach churn. You couldn’t shake the image of his face falling when you told him.

Emily frowned, stepping closer and taking the chair across from you. “Yes, you both are young, but you know he’s devoted to you. He’d run through fire for you without thinking twice. That’s the bond. It’s unshakable.”

You nodded slowly, but her reassurance only soothed one layer of your anxiety. “But what about my parents?” you asked. Your voice cracking yet again. “If they find out, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. They’ll say I’m ruining my life. That we’re not ready. And Paul’s parents… What if they think I’m irresponsible or… God forbid, trying to trap him or something?”

Emily shook her head firmly. “No one who knows you would think that. You and Paul have been through so much already and you’ve come out stronger every time. His parents will see that. His parents love you. And as for your parents…” She gave you a small, wry smile. “They’ll probably be shocked at first. Maybe even upset. But they’ll come around. They always do.”

You laughed bitterly, rubbing your temples. “It’s not just them. It’s the pack, too. What are they going to think? There’s so much going on right now. Jacob imprinting on a half-vampire baby, the Cullen drama, all of it. This is the worst time for this to happen. What if they see it as a distraction? What if they resent me for pulling Paul’s attention away?”

Emily reached out grabbing for your hand. “First of all, no one in that pack would resent you. You know how they are. They’re family, even if they don’t always show it the right way. And second, you’re not pulling Paul’s attention away. If anything, this will give him more to fight for. Plus, I think they all like you more than Paul anyway.” She added with a mischievous grin.

Your chest tightened at her words. A mix of hope and fear swirling inside you. “But what if I’m not enough?” you whispered. “What if I can’t handle this? What if I ruin everything?”

Emily’s grip on your hand tightened. Her scarred fingers warm and steady. “You’re more than enough,” she said firmly. “You’re strong and you have so many people who love and adore you. You’re not doing this alone. Paul’s going to be over the moon, you’ll see. And the pack? They’ll probably throw a barbecue to celebrate.”

Despite the storm of emotions swirling in your chest that last comment drew a weak laugh from you. “Yeah, and Embry will probably make a joke about Paul being the first one to ‘start a litter,’” you muttered.

Emily grinned. “Probably. But you’ve got to admit, they’d all step up to make sure you and that baby are safe. It’s what they do.”

You took a shaky sip of tea. The warmth grounding you for a moment. Deep down you knew Emily was right. But the thought of telling Paul, and everyone else, still felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” you murmured while staring down at your tea. “I just hope you’re right.”

Emily smiled softly, giving your hand one last squeeze. “I’m always right,” she teased. Her voice light. “Now, let’s figure out how you’re going to tell Paul. You’ve got this.”

Just as you were going to ask her how in the hell you’d drop this bomb on him the front door opened loudly, followed by the familiar sound of Paul’s laugh, low and warm, rolling through the house. “We’re back!” Quil called out, clearly in a good mood. Jared muttered something about food and within seconds all three of them were in the kitchen rummaging around for snacks.

You sat frozen at the kitchen table gripping your mug of now-cold tea. Your eyes were glued to the wall like it might have answers to the mess of thoughts tangling in your head. Emily shot you a look that practically screamed, you better handle this soon, before helping the hungry wolves to whatever snack she deemed acceptable.

“Hey,” Paul’s voice broke through the fog. You looked up just as he walked over to you. His usual easy grin faltering slightly as he studied your face. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands resting on your knees. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” you asked. Your voice faltering slightly as you tried to sound normal.

“The one that says you’re either about to cry or punch someone.” He tilted his head. His grin returning. “Hopefully not me.”

You forced a laugh but it came out weak and shaky. “I’m fine. Just tired. You know, the usual.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. His sharp instincts both as a wolf and your imprint meant there was no hiding anything from him for long. “Uh-huh. Sure babe. You’re totally not being weird. Not at all.” He teased lightly.

“I am not!” you shot back too quickly. His brows shot up.

“Okay…” He dragged the word out, standing and looking toward the kitchen where Quil and Jared were now arguing over a loaf of bread. Paul glanced back at you. His concern deepening. “Wanna take a walk? Fresh air might feel good.”

You hesitated. Your pulse roaring in your ears. You couldn’t do this here. Not with Jared and Quil’s supernatural hearing and Emily’s knowing looks. “Yeah,” you muttered finally, standing abruptly. “Let’s go.”

Paul smiled softly and walked behind you as you made your way out of the house. He grabbed his jacket and followed you out the door. The crisp air hit your skin, grounding you slightly as you led him down the gravel path toward the edge of the forest. Paul stayed quiet. His hands stuffed in his pockets as he matched your pace. He didn’t push but you could feel his eyes on you. His quiet presence making your nerves churn even more.

When you finally stopped, he turned to face you. His expression soft but cautious. “Alright then,” he said, leaning back against a tree. His arms crossing over his chest. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting… off since we got back. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you better than that love.”

You fidgeted. Your fingers twisting the hem of your sweater as you avoided his gaze. Your stomach was in knots and the words felt stuck in your throat. “Paul, I… I need to tell you something,” you started. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his tone steady but laced with worry. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, you made a strange almost choking sound which made his eyes widen. “Are you okay? It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” he said while stepping closer.

“I’m fine!” you said too quickly yet again. Your voice pitching higher than you wanted. “It’s just… this is… ugh!” You threw your hands up while pacing a few steps before spinning back to face him. “You’re going to freak out.”

Paul blinked slowly. His brows knitting together as a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up before babe. What’s going on?” You just had to tell him. Just do it.

You stopped pacing. Your chest tightening as you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paul’s face went blank, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at you. You felt the blood drain from your face. The panic rising as his lack of reaction stretched on. “Paul?” you whispered. Your voice trembling. “Say something. Please, say something.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly. “You’re serious?” he asked in a silky soft voice like he was trying to make sure he’d heard you right.

You nodded. Your throat tight. “Yeah. I just found out today. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. I wasn’t even sure how I should tell you, because I know we’re young, and everything’s crazy right now, and…”

“Shh,” he said cutting you off gently. He stepped forward completely closing the distance between you. His hands finding your arms as he looked down at you. Those chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “You’re pregnant? We’re… having a baby? Our baby?”

Your heart pounded as you nodded again with tears welling up in your eyes. “Yeah.”

A slow grin spread across his face. It started small but grew until it lit up his whole expression. He laughed softly almost in disbelief and suddenly pulled you into his arms. He held you so tightly you could barely breathe. “You’re serious?” he asked again. His voice muffled against your hair. “We’re having a baby?”

You let out a watery laugh. Your hands clutching at his jacket. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.” You said softly.

Paul pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. I can’t even…” He broke off, shaking his head like he couldn’t find the words. “This is crazy, but it’s… it’s amazing. I’m so happy right now,” He grinned before pulling you in for a kiss, “We’re having a baby!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not scared? Or mad?”

“Of course, I’m scared,” he admitted. His hands moving to cradle your face. “But I’m not mad. Never. You’re my world, and now… now we’re building something together. How could I be anything but happy about that?”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch. “Well, I’m glad one of us is confident. Because I was ready to fake my death and disappear into the woods.”

Paul laughed before kissing your forehead softly. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, babe. And this kid? They’re going to have the best damn parents in the world.” His hand ran over your abdomen gently.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you rested your forehead against his neck. “I hope you’re ready to break the news to the pack, though. I can already hear Embry’s jokes.”

Paul’s grin only widened. A glimmer of excitement sparking in his eyes. “We’ve got to tell them.”

Your stomach dropped, and you blinked at him. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he said. His voice filled with conviction. “Why wouldn’t we? This is huge! It’s amazing! They’re going to be so happy for us.”

“Paul,” you said slowly while trying to reel him back in. “We just found out. Don’t you think we should… I don’t know, let it sink in first? Maybe figure out how we’re going to explain this before we say anything?”

But Paul shook his head. His hands framing your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s nothing to explain, babe. This is good news. They’re family. They’ll support us no matter what. And if anyone has anything negative to say…” His voice dropped slightly. A spark of protectiveness flaring in his tone. “They’ll have to deal with me. But they’re going to be so excited love. So damn excited.”

You hesitated. Your doubts lingering. “It’s not that simple, Paul. What if they think it’s irresponsible? Or too soon?”

He took your hands, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Look, I know things are messy right now. The timing might not be perfect. But then again, when is it ever? What matters is that this is ours. You, me, and this baby. We’re going to be okay because we have each other.” His voice softened and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “I want to celebrate that with the people who care the most about us.”

His sincerity broke through your defenses, and you sighed, nodding reluctantly. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” he said. His smile warm and full of pride. “You’re carrying our baby. How could I not want to shout it from the rooftops?”

A small laugh slipped out despite yourself. You shook your head at his antics. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, you’re the one dealing with the fallout.”

Paul chuckled, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Deal. Now, let’s go tell them.”

As he led you back toward the house, his excitement practically radiating off him, you still felt a twinge of nerves. But the way he held your hand, so steady and unshakable, made you believe that somehow everything would work out.

The moment you and Paul stepped back into the house. Emily’s eyes flicked to the two of you. Her lips curled into the smallest, most knowing smile. Her gaze lingered on Paul who was still vibrating with energy like he could barely contain himself. She exhaled softly, relief washing over her face.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” she asked you, her voice low enough that only you and Paul could hear.

“Of course, I know,” Paul cut in with his grin so wide it was practically smug. “You really think she could keep something like this from me?” His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His hand warm against your side as he glanced down at you. “She tried, though. Gotta give her credit.”

Emily’s smile grew. She stepped closer to squeeze your hand. “I’m glad you told him,” she said simply. Her calm steadiness grounded you in a way nothing else could.

Jared and Quil, however, were still oblivious. Quil frowned at Paul. His sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth. “What’s up with you? You look like you just hit the jackpot.”

“Yeah,” Jared added, leaning back against the counter. “You’ve got that weird, smug thing going on. Like you know something we don’t.”

Paul smirked, his fingers flexing slightly on your waist. “Maybe I do.”

Quil rolled his eyes. “You gonna share with the class, or…?”

Paul leaned against the back of the couch looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Let’s wait until everyone’s here,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Don’t wanna repeat myself.”

Jared groaned. “Dude, seriously? You’re such a…”

“Later,” Paul interrupted. His grin growing wider. Jared muttered something under his breath, but Paul didn’t seem to care. His attention stayed on you. His thumb brushing absently along your hip.

By the time Sam and the rest of the pack arrived the room was buzzing with conversation. The pack had settled in, tired but loud as usual, filling the space with their usual chaos. You could feel your nerves creeping back but Paul’s steady presence beside you kept them at bay.

Once the noise quieted enough for him to speak, Paul cleared his throat. All eyes turned toward him. The sudden intensity of his expression silencing even Quil’s usual chatter.

Emily, sipping her tea, shot Paul a look. Silently daring him to be subtle. But Paul being Paul had no plans for subtlety. He straightened while crossing his arms over his chest as he cleared his throat. “Me and Y/N… we’re not just us anymore. We’re adding one.”

The room went silent. All eyes turning toward him. Jared frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Quil looked at you both, confused. “Wait. Did you get a dog? Please tell me it’s a dog.”

Paul smirked, clearly reveling in the suspense. “Nope. Not a dog.”

Embry tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “A cat? Fish? What?”

Paul chuckled, dragging it out just a little longer. “Think bigger.”

Quil’s eyes narrowed and then he gasped. His mouth dropping open. “Oh my God! You’re moving?! Are you leaving the rez?”

Paul groaned before dragging a hand down his face. “No! Not moving, not a pet, not a damn secret stash of food.” He glanced at you. His grin softening slightly and nodded like it was your moment to take over.

And you couldn’t help it. With all their clueless guesses and Paul’s smug antics a laugh bubbled out of you, warm and uncontrollable. Everyone froze, watching you with the most curious eyes and through your laughter, you managed to blurt, “We’re having a baby!”

The room went completely still for a beat, Jared’s apple frozen mid-air as his jaw dropped. Quil looked between you and Paul. His face blank before he finally sputtered, “Wait… like an actual baby?” Even Sam looked a little shell shocked at that news.

“Yes, Quil,” Paul said dryly though his grin betrayed his pride. “An actual baby. Our baby.”

Jared blinked rapidly then burst out laughing, slapping the counter. “Holy shit. You’re serious? Paul Lahote’s gonna be a dad?”

Quil let out a strangled laugh while running a hand through his hair. “Wow. This poor kid’s gonna have your temper, huh? Better hope they get your patience.” He looked at you with a knowing grin.

Sam, who had entered the room halfway through the chaos, finally stepped forward. His expression calm but full of warmth. “That’s great news,” he said simply while clapping Paul on the shoulder before looking at you. “You’re both going to be amazing parents.”

The pack didn’t hold back after that. Quil and Jared immediately started throwing out ridiculous suggestions for baby names while Embry vowed to make the baby a tiny wolf plushie as a first gift. The teasing was relentless, but it was full of love. It was clear that they were genuinely happy for you both. Your earlier nerves vanishing in an instant at their exuberance.

Hours later when the house had quieted and everyone had left, you and Paul found yourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. You curled up against his side. Your head resting on his chest as his arm draped securely around you.

“You know,” you murmured, smiling faintly, “your announcement was terrible.”

Paul laughed. The sound rumbling through his chest. “Terrible? That was brilliant.”

“You had everyone thinking we got a dog,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I think Quil’s still processing.”

Paul smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Hey, I had to keep them guessing. Besides, you’re the one who cracked under pressure.”

You rolled your eyes but the warmth in his gaze softened your retort. His hand moved to your stomach, resting there gently as he whispered, “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. Your voice steady. “We are.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. His voice low and full of quiet conviction. “It’s gonna be perfect. You, me, and our little one. We’ve got this.”

Paul’s lips brushed against yours, slow and deliberate, grounding you for a fleeting moment. His hand, warm and steady on your stomach, reminded you of the little life you’d just announced to the pack. But the moment his forehead rested against yours the weight of what was coming next crept back in.

Your parents. His parents.

You pulled back slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded. “Paul,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “How are we going to tell them? My mom is going to flip, and not in a good way. And your mom…”

“Hey,” Paul interrupted softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but the steady warmth in his eyes drew you in. His grin was softer now, tempered with something deeper. “We’ll tell them the same way we told the pack, together. And if your mom flips, I’ll handle it. I’ll handle all of it. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve met my mom,” you whispered. Your voice wavering as you tried to find humor in the situation. “She’s going to think this is reckless. She’ll probably yell. A lot.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he tipped your chin up with his knuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then let her yell. I’ll stand there and take it because, at the end of the day, none of that matters. What matters is us and this baby.”

You swallowed hard trying to keep your emotions from bubbling over. “But what if it’s too much? What if they think we’re too young, or not ready, or…”

Paul’s grip on you tightened slightly. His voice cutting through your spiral. “Then I’ll marry you tomorrow,” he said. His tone firm but laced with tenderness. “If that’s what it takes to make them see how serious I am, I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll do it tonight if you want.”

Your breath caught as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I love you. I love this baby. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re my family now. You’ve always been my family and nothing, not your mom, not mine, not anyone, is going to change that.”

The conviction in his voice broke something loose in your chest. The fear and doubt unraveling as his words sank in. You let out a shaky laugh with tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just solve everything by offering to marry me, you know.”

Paul smirked, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Maybe not, but it’s a pretty damn good start, isn’t it?”

You laughed again, softer this time, and leaned into him, letting his steady warmth anchor you. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmured more to yourself than him.

“We already are,” he said, his voice low and sure. “One step at a time. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. You know that love.”

As his arms tightened around you, you felt it, the certainty he carried, the unwavering belief that you could face anything together. It didn’t erase all your fears, but it made them feel a little smaller, a little more manageable.

And for now, and forever that would be enough.

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cuppajj · 25 days ago

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The estranged prince of the Dark Cacao Kingdom has been alone for a long time. In search of peace and freedom, he’s chosen to wander the wilderness and close himself off from a majority of the outside world. Of course, he still heard the news of Cacao’s victory over the licorice sea, which he admired from afar. However, he wouldn’t know of the ultimate fate that would befall his father and the kingdom until he listened through the grapevine once more. Shocked and disturbed by the fate of his homeland, Dark Choco stands at a mental crossroads. Even though he deeply wishes to understand what happened to his father and his kingdom, he is hesitant, apprehensive, and insecure about disrupting his peace to return to the land of ice.

Amidst his internal turmoil, caring for Strawberry Crepe Cookie has taken first priority. After he encounters the terrified child in the woods, he takes them under his wing. He doesn’t know where they want or need to go, nor the true scale of what they had witnessed back home; but in time, the wandering prince will truly learn how much the world around him has changed for the worse—and how much it might need him.

Perhaps then may he be prepared to make a decision. Choco can only avoid his demons for so long—the Beast of Solitude’s shadow continues to loom over him, and one day, the encroaching darkness may come to consume him whole.

#beast ancients au #dark choco cookie #finally a lore post about the de facto deuteragonist </3 #crk #cookie run kingdom #crk au #cookie run kingdom au #cookie run au #strawberry crepe cookie #baau vanilla saga #baau cacao saga

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blissfulflw · 29 days ago

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝐵𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘

Pairing- Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem reader

Genre- Smut, Fluff

Word count- 3718

Warnings- 18+ interactions only, public teasing, rough sex, fingering, creampie, light choking, overstimulation, g!p Jimin, mean Jimin, dom Jimin, sub reader, oral, size kink, NSFW

The first thing you notice when you step into the halls of Kwanga Academy isn’t the marble floors or the gold-plated lockers — it’s the way people move. Like they’re afraid of stepping out of line. Like the air itself is policed.

You don’t belong here.

You knew that the second you got the acceptance email. Scholarship kid. Public school transfer. A nobody in a sea of old money and perfect teeth. You keep your head down and your voice lower.

It works — for a week.

Then she notices you.

Yu Jimin. They call her “Queen Jimin” — not to her face, because she’d hate that. No one dares pretend she needs a crown. She already rules everything.

She’s cruel without lifting a finger, devastatingly beautiful, and always flanked by her three lieutenants:

• Minjeong, cold and clever with a permanent eye-roll.

• Aeri, sharp-tongued and observant, always whispering things into Jimin’s ear.

• Yizhou, the loud, glittering one — deceptively sweet until she isn’t.

They don’t walk through the halls. They stalk.

And somehow, for some reason, their leader’s eyes land on you one morning before homeroom.

You feel it before you see it — that hot prickle of being watched. You look up from your book, and she’s standing there, twenty feet away, one arm hooked around Aeri’s shoulder, her head tilted just slightly as she stares.

Right at you.

You look away.

Mistake.

A chair scrapes loudly in front of you. You flinch, your book slipping halfway off the desk.

“Hi, new girl,” Jimin says, sliding into the seat across from yours like she owns it — because she does.

You blink. “…Hi?”

Her smirk is slow, like she’s already bored. “You don’t talk much.”

You fumble for words. “I—I just don’t know anyone yet.”

“Aw,” she coos, falsely sweet. “Maybe you’re just not very interesting.”

Minjeong snickers behind her. Yizhou leans over your shoulder to glance at your book. “What even is that? Shakespeare?”

You don’t respond. You wish the floor would eat you.

But Jimin leans in closer — enough for you to catch the expensive perfume she wears. Sharp, elegant. Like danger wrapped in silk.

“Here’s the thing,” she whispers, and only you can hear it: “I don’t like girls who hide. It’s creepy.”

Your cheeks burn. You try to look down, but her hand is suddenly on your chin — manicured fingers tilted just enough to make you face her.

“Look at me when I’m talking,” she says, tone low and ice-smooth. “You want to stay invisible? Too late.”

Then she pulls away like nothing happened, brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder.

“See you around, nerd.”

They’re gone before you can breathe again.

You sit frozen, fingers clenched around the edge of your book.

What just happened?

_____

You try to ignore her.

You stop reading in the courtyard and move to the back stairwell between classes. You eat lunch in the library, pretending to study, pretending you’re not afraid of what might happen if she corners you again.

But it doesn’t matter where you go.

She finds you.

It starts small.

Your locker, one morning, is wide open. Your books rearranged. Nothing stolen — but tucked neatly in the middle is a folded note on thick, expensive paper.

Just one word, in perfect handwriting:

Cute.

Your breath catches.

Later, in the library, you reach for a book — and a hand gets there first. Long fingers brush yours. You look up. She’s there.

Yu Jimin.

Glassy eyes, lips barely curved, chewing a piece of gum slowly.

“I liked that quote you underlined in English today,” she murmurs, pulling the book off the shelf. “The one about monsters wearing pretty faces.”

You didn’t even know she was paying attention.

You catch her watching you in class, phone hidden under her desk, angled just right.

Taking pictures.

She doesn’t stop when you notice.

She just grins.

You try to tell yourself she’s just messing with you. Some cruel game. That’s what mean girls do, right? Pick a loser and string them along until they snap?

But there’s something in the way she looks at you — not just amusement.

Possession.

Like she already owns you. Like she’s waiting for you to figure it out.

_____

Friday.

Someone shoves a glittering black envelope into your hand during last period.

No name. Just an address. A party. Tonight.

You’re not invited — you’re summoned.

You don’t want to go.

But you know you will.

_____

That Night

It’s loud.

Music rattles the walls, neon lights flashing in time with your heartbeat. You’re out of place — too sober, too anxious, too alone. But you catch sight of her upstairs, leaning over a balcony, a red solo cup in hand.

She sees you instantly.

Jimin smiles like a cat that’s been waiting all day to play with its food.

She doesn’t wave. She just tilts her head.

Come here.

You don’t remember deciding to climb the stairs, but your legs move anyway.

People part for you. Like they know better than to get between Jimin and her newest game.

You follow her down a hallway. Past closed doors, muffled laughter, the occasional moan.

She opens a door, steps in — doesn’t look back.

You hesitate.

Then enter.

She shuts it behind you.

Locks it.

Turns.

You realize then that you’re not afraid of her hurting you.

You’re afraid of how much you want her to.

_____

The door clicks shut behind you.

Jimin doesn’t speak.

She leans against it, arms crossed, the red solo cup abandoned somewhere in the hallway. Her eyes rake over you, slow and hot, like she’s undressing you with her gaze.

You stand frozen.

The bass thuds below your feet. But in this room, it’s silent — thick with something heavier than noise.

“I was wondering if you’d show,” she says finally, voice low. “I don’t like chasing people. Makes me…aggressive.”

Your mouth goes dry. “I didn’t ask you to—”

“I don’t care what you asked,” she cuts in smoothly, stepping closer. “You don’t get it yet, do you?”

She’s in front of you now. Close. Too close.

“I want you,” she whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “That means I get you.”

You try to back away, but your knees hit the bed.

She follows.

Her hand slides under your chin again — that same arrogant grip from before. She tilts your head up. “You keep running,” she says, tone like silk over steel. “But you want this. I see the way you shake when I touch you.”

You hate that she’s right.

You hate that you’re throbbing already. That her voice alone makes you weak.

Jimin smirks. “Say stop.”

Silence.

She waits.

You don’t say it.

“Good girl,” she breathes, and then she’s on you — lips crushing yours, hot and rough. Her tongue pushes past your lips like she owns your mouth, and maybe she does. You’re too stunned to fight. Too turned on to care.

Her hands are fast — under your shirt, over your bra, squeezing your breast like she’s been imagining it for weeks. You gasp, and she swallows it, grinding her hips into yours.

You feel it then.

Hard.

Strained beneath her jeans. Thick and real.

You freeze.

She feels you tense — pulls back, eyes gleaming with a wicked smile.

“Mm. Didn’t expect that?”

You don’t answer. You’re panting, red-faced, confused and aroused and overwhelmed.

Jimin bites your lower lip gently, then drags her mouth to your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you,” she whispers. “Right here. Right now. And everyone downstairs is going to keep partying while I ruin you.”

You whimper.

She laughs — low and dark. “Oh, now you’re being honest.”

She pushes you back onto the bed.

Your shirt is gone in seconds. Bra too. She doesn’t even pretend to be gentle — her mouth is on your chest, her hands everywhere. You try to cover yourself. She pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other tugging your skirt up.

She grinds into you again — and you moan.

“Feel that?” she pants. “That’s all for you.”

The friction is too much — she’s thick, hard, pressing between your legs like she’s already inside.

“I could take you like this,” she murmurs. “Dry. Fast. You’d cry, wouldn’t you? You’d beg.”

She kisses your throat. Then lower.

“But I want you wet. I want you desperate.”

She slides down your body. Pulls your panties off like she’s unwrapping a present.

And then her mouth is there — hot, slow, devastating.

You moan, thighs trembling, back arching. She doesn’t let go of your wrists.

She eats like she’s starved. Like she wants to taste your soul. You can’t think — you’re just gasps and stuttering breath, broken words, her name falling from your lips like a prayer.

She doesn’t stop until you’re soaked and shaking.

And then — she unbuckles her jeans.

You see it. Thick, flushed, veiny. Her cock, real enough it makes your legs go numb.

She strokes it once. Twice. Eyes locked on you.

“You’re mine now,” she says softly. “Say it.”

You hesitate.

She taps the head of her cock against your entrance.

“Say it,” she repeats, firmer.

“…I’m yours.”

Her smile is dangerous.

And then she thrusts in.

She thrusts in—slow, but deep.

You gasp, nearly choke on it. She’s so big.

It stretches more than you expected, her body pressed flush against yours. Jimin doesn’t move right away. She just leans in, forehead brushing yours, watching every twitch of your face as you try to adjust.

“You feel that?” she whispers. “So tight. You’re barely taking me.”

Your fingers dig into her arms. She’s hot, solid, the smell of her skin — perfume and sweat — making your head spin.

Then she moves.

Not gentle.

A sharp, slow pull and a hard snap of her hips forward that punches the breath out of your lungs. You cry out, and she groans low, voice dark and shaky with restraint.

“Fucking perfect.”

Her pace builds fast. Deep strokes, unrelenting, her hips slamming against yours like she’s trying to bury herself even deeper. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, muffled only by your moans.

She leans up to see it — watches her cock disappear inside you again and again. Her jaw tightens. “You’re taking it so well now. I knew you’d be a good girl underneath all that shy little shit.”

You try to bite back your sounds, try to stay quiet, but she notices. Of course she does.

“No,” she growls. “Let them hear you.”

She grabs your throat — not enough to choke, just enough to make you feel her there, claiming every part of you.

“Moan for me. You’re mine. Let them fucking hear it.”

You cry out when she angles her hips — just right. That spot. Again and again. You’re already close and she knows it.

“That’s it,” she pants, her free hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider. “Come on this cock. Soak it. I want you dripping down my legs.”

You fall apart — back arching, toes curling, your body shaking underneath her. You come hard, clenching around her, and Jimin moans like it’s her own release.

But she doesn’t stop.

She fucks you through it — faster, rougher, chasing her own high. She pulls out just enough to slam back in harder, your walls overstimulated and soaked.

“I should fill you,” she growls against your neck. “Should fuck a mess into you and make you walk home dripping with it.”

Your legs tremble. You’re begging now — you don’t even know for what.

“Shh,” she murmurs. “I know. I know, baby.”

She gives one more brutal thrust — then stills, groaning deep in her throat as she presses all the way in, holding you there, pulsing.

You feel the warmth flood inside.

You didn’t expect her to actually—

You gasp. “Jimin—”

Her hand slides over your mouth.

“I told you,” she says darkly, lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine now.”

You lie there — wrecked.

Legs spread, throat sore, skin flushed. Your clothes are bunched at your waist, Jimin still inside you, her weight braced above you on one arm, eyes burning into yours.

Neither of you speaks for a moment.

Then she pulls out.

Slow. Deliberate.

You hiss at the emptiness, the way your body clenches around nothing now, sore and too sensitive. You expect her to just leave — like she got what she wanted.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Jimin sits back on her knees between your legs and drags her fingers through the mess she made. Her cum dripping from you, slick and warm on her fingertips.

She watches it drip out like it’s art. Then, without a word, she pushes two fingers back in.

You moan weakly, thighs twitching.

“You’re still open,” she murmurs. “So pretty like this. All ruined.”

Her voice is softer now. A little dazed. Like she can’t believe what she’s done — and can’t stop staring at it either.

She leans down again, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. Gentle. Too gentle. It makes your chest ache.

You try to sit up, but she pushes you back down with a firm hand.

“Relax. You’re not going anywhere.”

Her eyes meet yours. Dark. Hungry. Almost…affectionate.

“I should’ve done this the first day,” she says. “Marked you before anyone else got ideas.”

You blink, still catching your breath. “You act like I’m yours to own.”

She smirks. “You are.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Jimin leans in again, brushing her nose along your cheek. “I know enough. You blush when I talk. You flinch when I touch. You melt when I fuck you.”

Her lips ghost over yours. Not a kiss — a warning.

“You want to be owned. Don’t lie.”

You say nothing.

You should hate her.

You should be disgusted, furious, afraid.

But you’re not.

You’re addicted.

She helps you clean up, oddly careful — tugging your skirt back down, finding your shirt, helping you sit up. She doesn’t let anyone see you leave.

Her arm stays around your waist like a leash the entire way downstairs.

And when Minjeong raises an eyebrow, when Yizhou smirks and whispers something to Aeri, Jimin doesn’t speak — she just tightens her hold on you.

Daring them to look too long.

_____

Outside, you stop near the gate. You want to leave. To think. To breathe.

But Jimin steps in front of you, hand on your face again. Her thumb strokes your cheek, almost tender.

“Don’t talk to anyone else next week,” she says calmly. “Don’t look at anyone. Don’t let them look at you.”

You swallow. “Or what?”

She smiles, brushing your lips with hers — a mockery of sweetness.

“I won’t be gentle next time.”

Then she turns and walks back into the party.

Leaving you outside, weak-kneed, heart pounding, the ghost of her mouth still on yours.

You realize something then.

You’re not afraid she’ll do it again.

You’re afraid of how much you want her to.

_____

Kwanga’s cafeteria isn’t a place for food.

It’s a battlefield.

And you usually survive by staying quiet, sitting alone in the back corner, eyes low, avoiding the stares and whispers.

But today — it’s different.

You can feel them watching you the second you walk in.

Especially her.

Yu Jimin sits at the center table like a queen on her throne, legs crossed, iced coffee untouched beside her. Minjeong’s next to her, lazily scrolling her phone. Aeri’s laughing at something Yizhou just whispered — but all of them turn their eyes on you when you pass.

You clutch your tray tighter. Head down. Pretend you don’t see her.

You barely make it two steps past their table before—

A hand grabs your wrist.

You freeze.

And then you’re yanked.

Your tray clatters to the ground — forgotten — as Jimin pulls you into her lap like you’re nothing but a doll. Your knees hit the bench, legs straddling hers before you can think, before you can breathe.

Gasps around the room. Stares. Phones lifted, already recording.

Jimin doesn’t care.

She’s too busy pulling your face down close to hers, one arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other braced on your thigh — high on your thigh.

You try to squirm, red-faced. “Jimin—what are you—”

“Shh,” she murmurs, her voice low enough for only you to hear. “This is mine. I’m showing them.”

Your heart slams in your chest.

“Smile,” she adds, smug. “Or I’ll make you.”

Minjeong watches with that unreadable, amused stare. Yizhou giggles. Aeri leans in closer like she’s studying an art piece.

“You’re so tense,” Jimin purrs, dragging her nails slowly up your thigh. “Should I help you relax? Right here?”

You jolt. “Don’t.”

She tilts her head. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t embarrass me,” you whisper.

She smirks. “Sweetheart, I own you. Being on my lap is the least embarrassing thing I could do to you.”

You bite your lip.

Your body shouldn’t want this — shouldn’t pulse with need when she touches you like this, holds you like this, stares at you like you’re hers.

But you do.

And she knows.

Her fingers shift slightly — just enough to press between your legs. Not hard. Not obvious. But intimate. Enough to make your breath hitch.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you?” she whispers in your ear. “Right here in front of everyone.”

You shut your eyes. Her friends are watching. The whole school is watching.

And Jimin couldn’t look more proud.

You’re hers now.

And she’s never letting go.

Your skin is on fire.

Everyone’s watching. You can feel it — the weight of stares, the buzz of whispers, the sound of a phone clicking a photo from somewhere nearby.

You should pull away.

But instead, your body betrays you.

You tuck your face against Jimin’s neck.

Hide.

Your breath fans against her skin as you bury yourself there, cheek flushed, arms curling instinctively around her shoulders like you need her to shield you.

And for a moment — just a moment — she goes still.

You feel it in the way her hand pauses on your thigh, the way her posture shifts slightly, chest rising against yours in something almost like surprise.

Then her grip tightens.

Not possessive this time — but firm. Like she’s grounding you. Claiming you in a new way.

“Oh?” she breathes, lips brushing your temple. “You’re shy now?”

You don’t answer.

You just nod — tiny, barely noticeable.

Jimin exhales a quiet laugh, but there’s no mockery in it. No cruelty.

Only satisfaction.

And something else.

Something warmer.

She adjusts you slightly in her lap, pulling your legs to one side, your whole body curling against her like you fit there. Like you belong there.

“Look at you,” she murmurs against your ear, voice soft and smug. “Hiding in me like you haven’t been running all week.”

You close your eyes, face still hidden in her neck. Her perfume surrounds you — expensive, heady, familiar now. Your fingers twitch on her jacket sleeve.

“Don’t like them staring,” you whisper.

Her jaw flexes. You feel it against your cheek.

She doesn’t like that.

You’re hers. No one should be allowed to look.

She kisses the side of your head — once. Brief. Gentle.

“They can stare all they want,” she says, low. “Just means they know who you belong to.”

You don’t reply. You just let yourself stay there, pressed against her, melting a little deeper into the twisted warmth she gives — attention and danger all at once.

And Jimin…

She holds you tighter than she ever has before.

_____

The cafeteria buzzes back to life.

Eventually, the whispers fade, and everyone returns to their own drama, gossip, and half-eaten lunches. But you’re still in her lap — curled into her like she’s home, like you’ve finally stopped fighting whatever this is.

No one questions it now.

Because Jimin made it clear.

You’re hers.

She’s still talking to Minjeong and the others like nothing’s changed — like you’re not tucked into her, arms around her neck, your head resting just under her jaw. Her tone is light, a little bored, like she’s forgotten how aggressively she claimed you ten minutes ago.

But her hand never stops moving.

She’s tracing soft, absentminded circles on your bare thigh. Fingertips under your skirt, but it’s not dirty. Not this time. It’s… comfort. It’s hers, and you’re letting her have it.

You barely react when she plucks a grape from her tray and lifts it to your mouth.

“Eat,” she says gently, not even looking at you.

You part your lips without a word.

She feeds you one, then another — all while discussing weekend plans with Aeri, lazily dodging questions about where she disappeared during the party last week. Yizhou laughs and tosses a crumpled napkin at her. Jimin swats it away with a scoff, arm tightening around your waist as she shifts you slightly in her lap.

You don’t resist. You nestle closer.

“God,” Minjeong mutters, sipping her drink. “She’s finally gone full cling.”

“Shut up,” Jimin replies, but she’s smiling.

She dips her fingers into the side of her iced coffee, scoops a bit of whipped cream, and taps it on your lower lip.

You blink at her.

“Lick,” she says.

You obey.

The corner of her mouth lifts just a little.

“You see that?” she says, half-laughing, turning to the girls. “Didn’t even have to say please.”

“Whipped,” Aeri mutters under her breath.

“Obsessed,” Yizhou adds, biting into a cookie.

Jimin rolls her eyes — but her hand comes up and strokes your hair gently, thumb brushing your cheek, her fingers threading lazily through the strands like you’re something fragile she doesn’t want to break yet.

You can feel it now. All of it.

You’re hers. Fully.

But maybe…

Maybe she’s a little bit yours too.

And when the bell rings — loud and shrill — Jimin doesn’t let you move.

She just kisses your temple, smooth and unbothered, like this is routine now.

Like this is where you’ll always be.

461 notes · View notes

slaytheusurper · 21 days ago

Text

⭑ Crashing Waves ⭑

-ˋˏ Masterlist

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Warnings: +18, NSFW , canon targcest, yearning aemond, somewhat innocent reader, male masturbation, wet dreams, making out, grinding, handjob, female masturbation, bathtub sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, aftercare with soft aemond and creampie.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Summary: During your visit in Kings Landing, your uncle's eye cannot leave your body, all tension comes to a head when you interrupt him masturbating while bathing. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Word count: 4.9K

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a golden-pink haze over the scattered buildings of King’s Landing.

The heat of the day, once stifling and sharp, mellowed into a tepid warmth that clung to the stone streets and rooftops.

From the bay, sea winds rolled inland, cool and briny, teasing through the open archways of the Red Keep.

In the high halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, the air held the faint linger of roast meat and summerwine, now grown stale with tension.

It was the hour of the bat, when shadows stretched long and torchlight flickered in golden sconces.

Supper had almost come to a close, mercifully. What should have been a warm family gathering was nothing more than a tightly choreographed farce. Each smile was painted on, every word a cut disguised as civility.

Your jaw still ached from how tightly you'd been clenching it.

King Viserys had sat at the head of the table, trying, desperately, to pretend that all was well. But the rot in the family tree was painfully obvious.

Your mother, seated with the stiffness of a queen forced to endure, barely looked up from her plate.

Across from you sat your uncle, Aemond, so still he might’ve been carved from ice, save for the occasional flick of his eye toward you. You couldn’t have been put in a worse seat.

Forced to face the boy you were taught to hate, now a man.

You didn’t look at him. Not directly. But you felt him. That infuriating calm. That knowing smirk that twitched at the corner of his mouth every time you bit your tongue.

The silent dare in the single eye that always found yours. He sought a fight, any excuse to break you, or your brothers. However, you didn’t.

Determined to stay polite, to please the king. And follow the ladylike, dutiful script your mother had perfectly laid out for you. No, your uncle would not win tonight. It would only give him a reason to hurt your brothers.

Still, every time you met his- eye. Something other than hate lurked beneath the surface.

He had very much become a man, no longer the little boy that hid in the library to avoid his brother and nephews.

You cursed yourself for letting your mind drift, wondering if he had grown the same lust and appetite as his brother. Just as another depraved thought started to form once more, his eye fell on you again.

Uncontrollable butterflies swirled in your belly, you felt entranced underneath his gaze. Heat spreads over your skin like fire. The air becoming too thick to swallow.

Quickly averting your eyes to the full plate in front of you, his gaze did not leave your body.

It would be impossible for him to read your mind, though you felt like he had. Like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if he had such thoughts about you as well. The idea made you blush.

You yourself had grown to become a woman, a princess. Many letters had fallen in your mothers lap, lords across the realm begging for your hand, your Valyrian blood.

Upon your arrival that early afternoon, having been welcomed by your family, and seeing your uncle for the first time after all those years, it was entirely a coincidence that you had chosen a more...mature dress for the evening.

Maybe some part of you felt tempted to entice him, to gain his interest and attention. If you had been successful you could not tell, as such was his stoic and cold demeanour.

Aemond would have never shown you how much you had affected him. How his fingers gripped his cup of wine with such strength, it almost broke under his grasp.

How with every shift in his seat, he could not tear his eyes away from your chest.

Anger rose within him every time you fluttered your innocent eyes at him. You somehow turned the man into a boy again, making him feel flustered and riled up from the smallest movements.

He hated himself for it, all these years he had perfected his training, his mastery over Vhagar, his High Valyrian. In every aspect his mother had finally seen him as perfect.

No one doubted the one-eyed prince any longer.

Even his brother had left him alone, and now here you were. His little niece, ready to ruin everything he had worked so hard on.

With the way your breath hitched when his gaze fell on you, how your lips brushed the cup in your hand when you took a sip.

Every time you leaned forward to pick at your plate, he got a perfect view of your tits.

It all distracted him from his initial plan. He was so eager to get a chance at putting the strong boys in their place, but their big sister had wrecked it all.

Aemond hadn’t felt this relieved in a long time, at last supper was over and everyone was allowed to retire to their chambers. His eyes kept following your form, even when he tried so hard to pull away.

He didn’t like it, didn’t like how you made him feel. Vulnerable. Weak. Restless.

He was glad when you both left the room and parted ways. Aemond headed towards his bedchamber, his own space where nobody could touch him, where nobody looked at him.

It was too early to head out yet, too busy in the streets. His brother too sober.

So he waited, and waited, until he was sure everyone was asleep. And swiftly but quietly disappeared into the darkness of the night.

He had to satiate this hunger inside him, though when he arrived at madam Sylvi’s alcove, nothing she tried relieved him of his yearning.

His niece didn’t fare much better.

Sleep did not come easily.

You tossed and turned beneath the silk sheets, your body restless, your mind unable to quiet.

When slumber finally claimed you, it was not the peaceful kind- it was the kind that teased and tormented. Dreams haunted you, vivid and visceral.

Aemond’s hands, those long, veined hands, touched your skin like they owned it. His smirk, sharp and maddening, tugged at your mind.

His silver hair, like your own, fell across his cheekbones as he leaned closer. You dreamed of his mouth, possessive and greedy against yours, of his breath mixing with yours in the dark.

You woke with a gasp, skin damp with sweat, sheets twisted around your legs. The sky outside your windows had only just begun to lighten, but the rising heat of the summer sun left no room for comfort.

Sleep would not return.

With a sigh, you slipped from the bed and called for your maids. There was no use lingering in your chambers, not when your thoughts were already betraying you.

They dressed you in cool silks, braided your hair, and left you to your own devices.

The Red Keep was still, hushed in the early hour, the courtiers slow to rise. That silence emboldened you.

You mounted your dragon and soared into the skies, chasing the winds and shaking the memory of him from your bones, if only for a little while.

By the time you returned, sweat clung to your back beneath your bodice, but the wildness in your chest had calmed. A tray of fruit and bread awaited you in your chambers, alongside a steaming bath drawn with herbs and rose petals.

You slipped into it gratefully, eyes fluttering shut, Aemond’s face still lingering somewhere behind your lids.

The morning passed quietly, and though the solitude had been welcome at first, by afternoon, it began to press in. You needed distraction, conversation, company, anything to ground you back into the present.

So you wandered into the gardens, where the ladies of court had already taken refuge from the heat. You joined them, half-listening as they prattled on about fabrics and feasts, until the topic turned.

They spoke of you now.

Of how many suitors had come to Dragonstone. Of how each lord had attempted, and failed, to win your favor.

You offered little in return, but the laughter among them grew, amused by your restraint, impressed by your influence.

As the sun began to dip low once more, you were summoned for supper.

Dread curled low in your stomach.

You weren’t sure if you could bear sitting across from Aemond again, not with the memories of your dream still simmering beneath your skin.

The way he had looked at you last night, as though he could see straight through you. As though he wanted to.

You told yourself you didn’t crave his approval.

But you were lying.

You didn’t want his kindness, or his favor. You wanted his attention. His focus. His desire. And after the night you’d spent tangled in arousing dreams, you could no longer pretend otherwise.

What you didn’t know was that elsewhere in the Red Keep, your name was already being whispered in the hallways.

He moved through the halls with practiced grace, his steps measured, until the fluttering whispers of ladies caught his ear. They didn’t see him approaching- at least not until it was too late.

“…they say yet another lord rode to Dragonstone last month. Thought she’d say yes, but she sent him off with barely a word-”

“He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last. She’s turning them all down.”

“She must be waiting for someone better…”

Their giggles turned to stunned silence as Aemond passed them, his lone eye fixed straight ahead. But they had said enough.

His jaw clenched.

It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care.

But he did.

Anger coiled in his gut- jealousy, too, bitter and hot. The idea of those men- weak, simpering lords, daring to think they had a claim to you made his blood run cold.

Yet there was a strange satisfaction as well.

You hadn’t accepted any of them.

He tried to push the thoughts away, bury them beneath cold logic. But the moment he nearly collided with you in the corridor on your way to supper, all sense fled.

You froze for a heartbeat as your eyes locked.

Your breath caught.

His did too.

Without a word, he stepped back and gestured for you to pass first, as etiquette demanded. His head dipped slightly, but his gaze lingered long after you moved by.

When he entered the dining hall, he chose a seat farther from yours this time, perhaps in an effort to compose himself. Distance would quiet the storm inside him, or so he hoped.

But tonight, it was you who stared.

He felt your gaze as surely as if your hands were on him. You tried to be subtle, sipping your wine and lowering your lashes, but he caught you, again and again.

And when he did, your cheeks turned pink.

It filled him with something strange, something powerful.

Desire, yes.

But more than that, confidence.

The ladies of court often stared at him too, but when he met their eyes, they averted theirs in fear. His scar, his silence, his reputation… they saw him as something to avoid.

But you?

You looked at him like you wanted to know what lay beneath the cold.

It made him feel good, desired even.

He wanted to chase that feeling, perhaps he could make you feel good too.

That night, when the doors of his chamber closed behind him. A bath was waiting for him. Though there were no servants.

He preferred to bathe alone, he didn’t need some stupid girls trembling hands to try to wash his hair.

He could do it himself.

Aemond was glad he was alone, for when he had rid himself of his clothes and stepped into the searing bath, his cock began to swell.

A sigh escaped his lips when he let himself fully sink into the water. When he closed his single eye, all he could see was you. Images of you filled his mind, they started off innocent, your smile, your sultry eyes, your silver locks.

Then he thought about how you smelled, how warm your skin would be. But then it turned darker.

He thought about kissing your plump lips, about ripping that stupid dress open and freeing your tits. To suck and nip at them until you whined for him.

Subconsciously, his hand that rested beside him moments before, trailed up his thigh, teasing himself until he softly traced the length of his cock.

A groan left Aemond as his hand wrapped around his shaft, embarrassment crept up on him as he allowed these thoughts of you to drive him to touch himself.

However, all shame left him once he began to tug at the soft skin. The hot water wrapped a cloak of steam around him, the water rippling with each movement of his hand.

A silent moan dragged out of him when he cupped his stones under the water.

Aemond planted his feet on the bottom of the copper bath as his knees rose above the water, his lust clouding his mind when he bucked up his hips in pleasure.

Just these depraved fantasies of you turned him on more than what madam Sylvi tried to do.

His cock ached for release, his skin damp with sweat and water combined. His one eye closed as the pleasure of his own hand consumed him.

As he pumped his cock faster, his lips parted and soft groans left his lips.

Flashes of your bare tits and your wet cunt wrapped around him drove him to the edge of release, precum releasing into the water as Aemond massaged his stones firmer.

His hand and specifically his thumb focusing on his tip until his balls drew tight against his body- he was about to cum when a loud knock pulled him right out of it.

Of course now was the moment someone needed something of him, when he was fucking his fist to the thought of his niece.

Aemond, assuming it was Criston Cole as it usually was, called them in.

“Come.”

He called out from behind the screen that protected his naked body from the door. Though he made no move to get out of the bath to get dressed, his cock was still rock hard. He planned to get Cole out quickly so he could resume his- activities.

He couldn’t see who entered the room, but the soft and graceful footsteps did not match the weight of the armour of Cole. His mother perhaps? What awful timing she would have.

“Uncle?”

Aemond’s heart sank and he froze in the bath, gaze falling on his cock. Of all people to catch him in his depravity, it was her.

“Niece.” He stated, not wanting to tempt her to step beyond the screen. The thin feeble thing that shielded her innocent eyes from his naked frame.

“I did not realise you were... indisposed. Perhaps I’ll come back later-”

He stopped you before you could turn back.

“Perhaps not. Why are you here? What could you possibly need of me at this hour?” His words silenced you for a while. He almost thought you had left.

“In truth... I do not know. It was stupid of me to come here, my apologies. I’ll leave at once.” You said hastily before turning around, you were close to the door until Aemond’s low voice halted your movements once more.

“Wait- Don’t go.” He regretted it the moment the words left his lips.

Still, you obeyed. You turned back towards the screen, waiting to be commanded by him once more.

“Yes?” Your sweet honeyed voice echoed through his chambers.

“Come here.” Aemond called out, his voice raspy with lust.

Your lips parted in shock, you knew he was taking a bath, the steam filling the room gave it away immediately.

“Uncle-” You protested weakly.

“Now.” He ordered, all restraint flew out the window upon hearing you call him that. A reminder of what you were to him, his sweet innocent niece.

He could hear your dull footsteps approach the screen, hesitant, you walked around it. Your breath hitched once your eyes met his. You couldn’t see him...completely, but he was obviously bare.

Aemond’s soft breaths summoned you closer, not too close but close enough to where he could make out your now heavy breaths.

“Come closer.” The words left him before he could even think about it.

Without thinking yourself, your feet pulled you towards his bathing form. You swallowed the nerves in your throat once your eyes ‘accidently’ fell on his hard cock. However you were still out of his reach.

“Gūrogon hen aōha grēza.” Take off your dress.

Aemond was testing you, but when your hands started to undo the laces on the back of your bodice, he held back a groan.

His eyes followed your hands as you undid all the laces and knots that held your dress together.

When you let the loosened dress fall to the floor, your thin undergarments were the only thing still shielding you from your uncle.

He didn’t have to say anything, for your hands were already pulling those off too. Once you were fully naked, shoes and tights forgotten on the stone floor as well, Aemond licked his lips.

His cock throbbed upon seeing your bare body.

“Renigon aōla.” Touch yourself. He groaned, his heavy lidded eyes focusing on your cunt.

You frowned in confusion, touch yourself how? When you made no move, Aemond feared he had gone too far, but once he noticed your confusion, he understood.

“Kesan urnēptre ao, māzigon kesīr.” I will show you, come here.

Your bare feet carried you towards his outstretched hand. Upon placing your hand in his, he rose from the tub, but made no move to get out.

Your eyes flicked nervously to his, Aemond held your gaze as he lowered his head.

Before you could register what he was about to do, his lips pressed against yours. A foreign hunger consumed you as his lips touched yours, you gasped against his mouth.

When you felt his hand on your cheek, still warm and wet from the water, you sighed into the kiss.

But Aemond had no patience for soft loving kisses. His tongue prodded your lips open before licking desperately into your mouth. You moaned, gaining him more access as you let him devour you.

A warm sticky wetness gathered between your thighs, his lips alone spread fire through your body. When he was forced to breathe, you parted.

His eye met yours, and this new look in his eye, unknown to you, made you shudder.

His chest was now heaving, his skin glistening with sweat and his purple eye had turned black with desire. His hand, once on your cheek, made its way down your jaw, towards your breast, giving it a firm squeeze, eliciting a groan from him.

“Fuck.” Aemond sighed, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. If he wasn’t so pent up right now, he would’ve stopped, and saved you both the disgrace, but he couldn’t.

His hand trailed lower, over your belly, stopping right above your cunt.

“Ivestragon nyke jaelā nyke, ivestragon nyke jaelā aōha Kepus.” Tell me you want me, tell me you want your uncle. Aemond whispered lowly.

You nodded, your chest rising with each breath. You closed your eyes, anticipating his touch. When you still didn’t feel him, your eyes snapped open.

“Jaelan naejot rȳbagon vestrā ziry.” I want to hear you say it.

“Kostilus renigon nyke Kepus.” Please touch me uncle. You almost whined- begged for him to touch you, even though it was foreign to you, your cunt ached.

That drove him insane, the way your sweet voice told him you wanted him in your mother tongue, his cock twitched. Two of his fingers darted out to glide between your slick folds, it immediately pulled a moan from you.

Aemond almost gasped upon feeling the wetness between your thighs, he knew you would probably be sensitive- but for you to be this wet already? You must want him as bad as he wants you.

When one of his fingers found your clit, he circled it, drawing more soft gasps and pleads from your lips.

“Sir ao.” Now you.

Aemond used all his restraint to pull back, and lower himself in the bath again.

You almost cried when his fingers left you, but when you saw him lean back in the bath again, his hand starting to stroke teasingly along his cock, your own hand made its way down your body.

Remembering what Aemond had just taught you, you used your own two fingers to repeat what he did. Letting them glide through your folds first, before touching your clit.

Your eyes never left his as you put on a show for him, now understanding what he wants.

Aemond now jerked his cock firmer, trying to almost match your movements. Both of your heavy breaths and moans filled the room, urging you both closer to release.

Your fingers worked faster when Aemond pumped his own cock faster.

Holding each other's gaze, you were the first to come. Your thighs clenched shut with your hand still between them. Your other hand shot up to clamp over your mouth as you cried out Aemond’s name.

Aemond halted his movements and watched with parted lips as your legs trembled. Your first orgasm hitting you hard. Your knees almost buckled underneath you from the sheer force of your pleasure. When your climax ebbed away, you opened your eyes again.

Aemond summoned you back to him. When he was able to reach you, he helped you in the bath. Once you stood over his lap, both feet on either side of him, he helped you lower down onto his lap.

You couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him again, Aemond gasped in surprise as you hungrily moved your lips against his. When you moved a bit too close to his now flushed and angry cock, he groaned into the kiss.

He felt your arms wrap around his neck, his own hands holding onto your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Aemond almost came- just from feeling your cunt press against him.

His cock so sensitive and aching from being denied to cum twice already, but Aemond knew it was worth it.

When he pulled away, his grip on your waist tightened as he used you to grind your cunt on him, moving back and forth until short waves formed in the water.

“Ao sagon ñuhon.” You're mine.

You moaned at his words. Aemond nipped at your neck before aligning his cock up with your hole. His tip first dragged through your folds before he dared nudge his dripping head inside, once he felt your walls clench around him, he paused for a moment.

Aemond looked up at you, it seemed as if you were completely out of this world. Your eyes were closed, face red and damp.

A bruise in your neck from his biting and nipping. Your hair loosely falling over your back, you were a sight for the Gods.

He kissed you fiercely before pulling you fully down, until his entire length was sheathed inside you. You whined against his lips, the stretch and fullness of him overwhelming.

When you came across his chambers this evening, having no plan about what to say to him, you did not quite imagine this.

Aemond was now the one moaning as he tried to buck up into you, the desperation to cum overpowering him.

“Fuck-” He groaned when you parted.

“H-how do I…” You whispered, a slight tremble in your voice.

“Move up and down or just hump- yes- yes- fuck like that-”

You immediately did what you were told, you wanted nothing more in this moment then to make him feel good too, to fuck him as if it was your last night alive. Using all your strength you bounced up and down on his cock.

Aemond’s strangled moans and heavy breaths spurred you on, driving you to fuck him faster, only your knees started to hurt and your thighs started to cramp.

“Uncle- help- please-” You whined as your legs started to give up. Aemond wasted no time in planting his feet on the bottom of the tub and driving his cock up into you.

The sheer force of his thrusts caused the water to spill over the sides of the tub, turning the chamber into a huge mess.

Neither you or Aemond cared, the bliss and satisfaction of each other's bodies was all that mattered.

Aemond thrived off your moans and whimpers, he knew it was all him who caused it, that no other man had ever made you feel like this.

The slapping off skin, you and your uncle’s moans and the slashing of water was sure to be heard outside, your coupling would surely be no secret.

“Fffuckk!” That was the first time Aemond had heard you cuss, and it brought a smile to his lips, spurring him on to fuck you harder.

The way you clenched around him, your moans getting higher, and your breath getting stuck in your throat- he knew you were close, he just had to push you over the edge.

He was surprised he had managed to hold off his own orgasm for this long but he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

While you held onto the sides of the tub, Aemond used one hand to hold you steady while the other sought out your bud, with a steady thumb he managed to get you gushing around him in seconds.

Crying out his name in ecstasy, you came hard around his cock.

Aemond, at this point, had reached his limit. With some final hard thrusts, his balls drew tight against his body, cock twitching as he filled you with his cum.

He released a strangled cry from his throat, letting himself get consumed by his peak.

Once the final spurts of his seed had left his body, he sagged against your shaking form. Heavy breaths were now the only thing that could be heard. The water tepid and finally calm.

What you did not entirely expect was Aemond pulling you flush against him, making you hold him as he melted into you. A satisfied sigh left his lips as his cock softened inside you. Yet he made no move to pull out.

Neither of you wanted to move.

Your limbs were tangled beneath the surface of the water, skin against skin, warmth clinging to every inch of you that had been touched, claimed.

You were both suspended in a moment outside of time, outside of duty, outside of honour. The soft drip of water from the edge of the tub was the only sound, save for your slowing breaths.

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, eyes closed, heart still pounding. His arms had remained tight around you, as though if he let go, even for a second, you might vanish into smoke.

Reality waited just beyond the door, and yet neither of you dared look toward it.

You wanted to stay here forever. In this hazy, sacred silence. In his hold.

You were trying not to think about what it meant, what you'd done. Not because you regretted it, but because the weight of it was too much to bear all at once.

It wasn’t just lust that had driven you into his arms. It was something deeper. Something dangerous.

“I meant it.” Aemond whispered, breaking the silence at last.

Your lashes fluttered. “Hm?”

He turned his face into the crook of your neck. His voice was low, a rumble more than a sound.

“You’re mine.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat down your spine. You could feel the way his jaw tensed against your skin, the possessiveness simmering just beneath the surface.

Not rage, not anger- just wanting.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him.

His violet eye met yours, burning. The sapphire gleamed faintly in the dim candlelight, and for once, there was no mask behind his expression. No cold control. Just him. Raw and open.

You only whispered, “And you’re mine.”

Something shifted in his face.

A crack in his composure, a softening that made your heart twist. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then your lips- slow, reverent.

As though he was trying to memorize every part of you, just in case this moment didn’t last.

But it would. It had to.

His hand found yours beneath the water, threading his fingers between yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I won’t let them take you from me,” he murmured against your lips. “Not now.”

You nodded once, heart thundering in your chest.

You didn’t need promises. You didn’t need sweet words or vows made in the godswood.

You just needed him. The truth in his touch. The honesty in the way he looked at you now, as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

And maybe you were.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x niece reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye

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obeymeluv · 4 months ago

Text

In Your Defense [PT 2 - Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomfiore]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Azul is no stranger to visiting different shops to stay on top of trends. Valentine's Day wasn't something they had in the Coral Sea so this trip was more for the experience than anything. He's taking in the overwhelming but impressive amount of red, pink, and white decorations while trying to look at the other shoppers out of the corner of his eye.

What are they buying? What's most popular?

The holiday seems too brief to plan a full menu, or even to-go specials. Maybe he can do something next year.

There's an emphasis on chocolates and sweets. He's not even eating any of it and his teeth hurt! The small chocolate assortments make more sense than the huge brick of chocolate--dark chocolate?--several Pomfiore students are planning to split between themselves. His stomach hurts at the thought of trying to eat even a third of what they're holding.

In his opinion it's an unimpressive holiday. A marketable one for sure, but unimpressive. Clearly it's meant for the nice, sentimental, mushy people out there.

Not to say there's no one he'd spoil. No one he cares about. Matter of fact, he's got something crunchy in his basket for Floyd! And if it weren't for his mother living underwater, she might like some of these cutesy knickknacks! A set of cookie cutters catch his eye and Azul throws them in his basket without thinking.

Damn hand-brain.

He stares into his own basket, wondering what the justification is. There's a part of his brain saying he doesn't need a reason but he's not an impulsive person. He's a practical person and the practical reason he needs those cookie cutters is to make cookies for the lounge in case any poor soul misses their chance to get something from Sam's!

Yes. Yes, that's it.

He may or may not be trying to tell you he likes you by collecting heart-shaped things. You'll check him out at the register and he'll just keep handing you heart things. Offering his heart over and over.

Not that you'd know. Azul doesn't have the guts to tell you yet. He's got three hearts but no guts.

It's just not the right time, he tells himself. Not the right way.

He puts sprinkles and chocolate stirring spoons into his basket. There's a little mushroom figurine that has white hearts instead of the usual spots. That's for Jade.

Azul weaves between the shelves to get to the refrigerated section, buying a couple of cartons of milk and ice cream. He's not fast but he's stronger than he looks. Aside from the work in his mother's restaurant in the Coral Sea, cooking on land has cultured a lot of muscle in unexpected ways--straining full stockpots, blending quarts of sauces, roasting whole chickens, and hefting huge fish onto the cutting board for portioning. It'll be nothing to carry it all back.

He just doesn't like to do it. And he doesn't like to lose his voice or go completely pink in front of you, but he does. Azul tries to look without looking, charmed by the glittery dangle in your hair and how it brings out the color of your eyes.

Then, he hears it. "How much do you cost?"

It is not enough to beg his pardon. The Seven must also be begged.

A fury whips up inside of him. He's furious that it's just so easy for that lander to chat you up. He's furious that he's not confident enough to do it when he's been drowning in these feelings for weeks. The manager part of his brain kicks in and he becomes furious that you're being accosted on the clock.

SAM WOULD NEVER, BUT WHERE IS HE?! STAFF SHOULD NOT BE MADE TO ENDURE SUCH CONDITIONS!

"Hardly appropriate for the occasion, don't you think?" Azul has stepped in with his signature smooth smile and calm demeanor. He has no cane, hat, or coat at the moment but he knows he makes people uncomfortable without them. There's something about him that makes people nervous. The pecking dread of 'he's human but not totally human' makes them jumpy and very prey-like.

"I-I was just messing around," the guy deflects.

"There's a time and a place. Unfortunately, it's not here and not now. You're interrupting the flow of business and I don't think the other patrons are happy," Azul hums a little as he and the abysmal Casonova look back at all the people in line. They are, in fact, not happy.

"I'll just go." he grabs the change bashfully and doesn't look back.

Azul thanks the person who let him cut in line, half wondering if said person will come back and try to coax a favor out of him. "Thanks, Azul." you smile at him.

"You're most welcome." Azul adjusts his glasses before layering the bags on his arms. You help him with the door. "I'd be happy to treat you to a milkshake. You know, something sweet to make up for whatever THAT was." he gestures to the guy in the distance.

WHY IS HE TALKING? WHY DID HE KEEP TALKING? THE LEGS NEED TO MOVE BUT THEY'RE NOT!

"Sounds great! I'll stop by after my shift."

"Okay," his voice cracks a bit but you don't hear it because the door's already closed. He breaths a sigh of relief.

----

Floyd was sent to pick through the pink and red chaos at Sam's while Jade and Azul redecorated for a Valentine's special at the lounge. It was a last-minute idea inspired by the deluge of advertising. They'd gotten bigger things in town like tablecloths and fancy napkins but smaller treats were lacking. He was tasked with getting melting chocolates and pre-made stuff to balance out the strawberries and fresh groceries they bought.

A big, aggravated sigh passed through his sharp teeth. The line is long and he doesn't really want to do this. Floyd feels his brain shutting off as his looks at heart streamers and silver-and-pink tinsel. At least I won't have to slave over a hot burner all night, Floyd sighs again as he looks at the goods and wonders what would make Azul happy.

The menu will be limited. Each item is heart-shaped, sweet, or both. It honestly just sounds like an excuse to sell people overpriced sugar.

Floyd buys a couple packs of melting chocolates in different colors and some crunchy sour candies for the trouble. Jade sends him a text asking him to grab a couple of cans of whipped cream for the pancakes and crepes. He steps out of line, grabs the cans, and pauses when he hears the guy shoot his shot.

"How much do you cost?"

Really?

Landers are so weird. They don't seem to have any conditions for mating. Why would you entertain this dude when he hasn't shown you he could provide or protect you? Spending money to buy things so he could talk to you isn't the way to provide. Buying your time is no different than those underwater pricks trying to curry his dad's favor with gifts.

It's disingenuous and disgusting.

"I don't see a 'for sale' sign. Can't buy it if it's not advertised." Floyd frowns at the little worm in front of him, sharp teeth poking out beneath his upper lip. "That's how shops work if you didn't know." Floyd laughs.

He was stupid enough to ask you out so he might be too stupid to realize why that pickup line didn't work.

"R-Right." the guy nods, swallowing thickly. Floyd was absently rolling his shoulder, annoyed with how long he'd held the basket. The guy noticed his working muscle and booked it, grabbing most of his change. A coin skipped off the counter, twinkling under the lights. Giggling to himself, Floyd stooped to pocket the change.

"Heya Shrimpy,"

"Hey Floyd," you started scanning the basket of items.

"Ya hungry? It's pretty busy in here."

"A little." you admitted. "But I'll be off soon. I can go back to Ramshackle and make something."

"Nah, come to the Lounge! We're doing specials for groups and couples."

"Does Grim count?" you give a little laugh. Azul lets him in sometimes depending on his attitude. At the very least, he'll let Grim get something to go.

"You get the best deal if you go with me. I'll buy your whole meal." Floyd wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully. His gold eye shines.

"Oh! I like that! I'll bite!"

"A bit early for that but I'll see you there." Floyd knows what he said has confused you. You landers aren't really keen on stuff from the Coral Sea but that's okay. He had a date with you and that's what matters.

----

Jade isn't quite sure what Sam's inventory will hold but he's been tasked with finding interesting things for the Lounge. Pink things, shiny things, profitable things--anything. Azul is convinced it will give him an edge over other places to eat. Never mind the fact that convenience is key and the students don't want to pay for the bus fare or compete with crowds in town.

He peruses the chocolate molds and candy necklaces, amused by the fact you can wear it and eat it. What a novel idea! Sam put a few types of tea on reserve for him and Jade knew they were pretty shades of pink and blue when brewed so that was something. The mer picks up a box of crunchy straw-like things and puts them in the basket. If they don't work as real straws, they can be milkshake accents.

Loaf cakes catch his eye. You could get at least ten slices out of each; top them with a bit of ice cream and you have a cheap but elegant-looking dessert. He puts a few in the basket. Teas considered, Jade is confident in his choices and ready to check out.

"Oya oya? What's this?" Jade's golden eye pierces the spineless lander in front of him. Did his ears deceive him or were you being accosted by unworthiness? "Do repeat yourself. I'm interested."

It sounds like an ask but it's not. It's a demand. A demand for this man to prostrate himself as an apology for his inferiority. For the gall to so much as breathe in your presence.

A punishment for conceiving the notion to approach you, he supposes. A light punishment, all things considered. Jade was capable of far more than some casual embarrassment, after all. His smile was polite but his words were anything but. "Go on. You may not have their full attention but you have mine."

"J-Just forget I said anything, okay?" the guy completely ignores him to whimper to you. He snatches whatever he bought so quick Jade doesn't know what it was.

No matter.

"Hello there," Jade smiles down at you. You definitely fit the holiday theme. Oh! Does that mean he should take you back to the lounge? You're interesting and that fits Azul's criteria.

Yes, he thinks you'd be perfect in the lounge.

"Hi Jade." you pack his items away dutifully. You bag the teas carefully.

Pink and shiny--yes, you must come to the lounge.

"Seeing as you're working for Sam today, I'd love for you to stop by and try these teas. I'm sure he'll appreciate feedback from more than just myself."

"I can make time for tea."

"Perfection."

----

Kalim is admiring the myriad of pinks and reds, bracelets and bangles jingling as he skips into Sam's. Valentine's Day is an interesting holiday. It's practically bursting at the seams with color and he's delighted to know red features heavily. The holiday is practically made to host in Scarabia!

Maybe they could make a red-inspired menu? A red and pink menu? He can't really think of foods that would fit the theme and he'd rather not give Jamil a stomach ache trying all of the chocolate things in here. Kalim trots off to look at the flowers and trinkets, just narrowly avoiding Jamil's stern grab. "Don't run off without me!" Jamil chastises, Kalim giving a half-hearted hum as he analyzed a pair of gold and red earrings.

They weren't cheap but they weren't expensive, either. The price point was fair, Kalim thought. Being who he was, he'd learned to tell the quality of gems and gold from a young age.

Would you like jewelry? He's never seen you wear jewelry. Kalim has bugged Jamil about you a million times, bouncing ideas off of him until he was so frustrated he left the room.

"I think they'd appreciate food more, given their circumstances." Jamil puts the earrings back on the shelf.

"But I always give them food, Jamil! Don't you think they want something different?"

"You're overthinking, Kalim," Jamil taps him in the forehead with a finger. "People are simple. Give them food and attention."

"I would've taken them out on a carpet ride but someone hid my carpet." even when Kalim was trying to cut his red eyes and look peeved, it didn't work. His face was too round and cherubic for it.

"I don't trust that thing," Jamil huffs, guiding him back to the line.

Kalim listens to people talk about plans to split chocolates and call relatives to see what they'd like and a sad pang cuts through him.

Why isn't it that easy for him? He's got more money than people could ever dream of and yet he feels like he's not doing enough for you.

Not that you'd know what he's done for you. He hasn't exactly said he likes you yet. Surely he'd made it obvious with all the invites to Scarabia, right? You hadn't quite caught on to the grocery drops yet but he understands the confusion; Crowley took credit for at least one of those and Kalim was not happy.

"I see an empty-handed Imp!" Sam makes him and Jamil jump. "Are my wares not enough for you, Little One?" he tuts at Kalim's empty hands.

"Oh there's lots of cool stuff!" Kalim promises, smiling brightly. "I just have to be careful about what I eat!"

"What about some roses? Those are popular! They're up there by the register. And we have small fruit arrangements in the refrigerated section, of course."

"Actually, we're just here to deliver an invitation." Jamil redirects Kalim when he seems to be thinking about going to the refrigerated section.

"We could get some festive napkins!" Kalim is leafing through packs of heart designs and colors. Sam seems satisfied. Jamil heaves an irritated sigh as the store owner moves on to his next mark.

Kalim almost drops the napkins when he hears what the guy said to you. It takes Jamil by surprise, too. Jamil starts to panic when Kalim doesn't move; Kalim's outbursts were rare but even rarer were the moments he just froze.

A frozen Kalim means he's contemplating. Dipping his toes into the side of himself he doesn't ever show because it disgusts and disappoints him. The young boy squares his shoulders and raises his head in a way that proves he was raised with etiquette and presence. It's the walk of someone unconcerned because he has so much money that nothing is a problem.

Quick as a flash that cunning, stewing heaviness disappears. Kalim hooks his arm around the guys neck, taking him by surprise. Disarmed by his sunny grin and stunned by his boldness, he stumbles over to a wall of cards. Jamil slithers through the aisles and positions himself just so to listen.

In these rare moments, when Kalim puts on that face, they think alike. Kalim hates these moments because it shows him that people just want money. That they'll trip over themselves for enrichment, compromising morals and anything else as long as the price is right.

But this time it works in his favor.

"Instead of asking how much they cost," the sunniness slowly drains from Kalim's voice, "ask yourself how much it would cost for you to leave them alone. Like, not ask them out again. At all. Ever."

It's the first time someone at NRC realizes Kalim's not all sunshine and rainbows. And that his pampered life hasn't left him completely soft. Kalim had to go through the same training Jamil did, being the heir to a massive fortune and all. He needs to be able to hold his own even though he shouldn't expect to.

Only he and Jamil know some of his rings are hollow and hold poisons. The guy doesn't know how close he is to said poisons.

"Y'know, it's, uh..it's on me. Free." the guy squeaks out, dipping out from under Kalim's arm.

Content, Kalim skips up to you and hands you the decorated envelope with gold calligraphy. "Please come to my party!" he looks at you hopefully, eyes shining.

"I would love to! You know I love your parties!"

"Perfect! I'll pick you up when you're done, okay?" Kalim waves to you.

"KALIM DON'T LEAVE! WE HAVE TO PAY FOR THE NAPKINS! COME BACK!" Jamil has no idea how many sets of napkins he just left with. "Keep the change," he breaths, darting after him.

----

Jamil was taking a rare moment to himself. Lilia and Cater promised they'd keep Kalim occupied for a little while so he could take a breather. They both understood what it was like to look after people, even if it wasn't as serious or to the same degree. The Pop Music Club sessions were normally two hours long, so he had time. Kalim had been yammering nonstop about the Sam's Valentine's setup so Jamil promised to take a look on his behalf.

He grew up around unfathomable finery, almost indulgent to the point of foolishness. Gold forks, gold plates, a knife handle carved from a tree in the Sunset Savanna and inlaid with diamonds--you name it. Perhaps that was why nothing caught his eye, Jamil thought.

So many people were excited about it, though. He had to put himself in their shoes. Their average shoes, just like he was forced to be average lest Kalim feel inadequate.

Poor thing, Jamil rolled his eyes. He was a pro at filtering out noise thanks to Kalim and his ridiculous number of siblings. It was easy to let his brain go and really look at the trinkets and seasonal food. Loathe as he was to admit, some of this stuff was cute.

Jamil let himself bask in the happiness. The freedom.

This is what he wanted for himself one day--traveling, seeing the sights, sampling unusual foods at special times of the year.

Maybe this wasn't so silly after all.

He picked up a few packets of instant curry, only what he felt he could eat and dispose of before fetching Kalim. Curry was a huge weakness of his and he hated that Kalim practically banned it. The amount of caffeine and tea he drank probably bordered on unhealthy (or at least deserved research) but it didn't stop him from throwing a canned coffee into his basket. Because he liked his curry savory and hot, he threw in a strawberry-rose milk drink. It seemed interesting.

Jamil felt the crick in his neck when he snapped his head up in disbelief. Who was this nobody asking you out?!

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

With no Kalim here to temper him, to distract him or force him into the mediocrity, Jamil thought of letting go and lighting the guy up just because.

It really was appalling, his approach. Nothing to offer? What talents or skills did he have? What made him so special, more special than anyone else at NRC?

Nothing, that's what. He probably didn't even know HALF of what Jamil did!

"More than you will ever earn," Jamil answered him. "I'm sure your capacity to make money is on the same pitiful level as your self-awareness. Or do you need glasses to see they're not interested?"

He was known for his biting wit so this was nothing out of character. The way he stared into the boy as if to set him on fire might have been, had no one ever seen him try to get Floyd to cooperate in Basketball Club.

He'd earned his Viper namesake, the boy's ego clearly bitten and bruised as he dragged himself away. His words were deadly, much like Viper venom. Jamil didn't bother watching him leave, setting his basket quietly on the counter and taking out the items.

"Thank you."

All of that venom suddenly dried up. Jamil was feeling quite shy and toothless, not that he'd ever admit it. If he looked up at you, he knew he'd be done for. He could feel his neck heating up.

Unable to resist poking a little fun at him--when did you ever see him blush?--you handed him the change and slapped a smiley face sticker on the back of his hand.

IT HAD HEART EYES!

"I have to go." Jamil took off.

----

Vil was disciplined ninety-five percent of the time so he could indulge the other five percent. Rook all but dragged him to Sam's, waxing poetic about the holiday in all it's pink, sugary glory. He even made Vil promise not to look at any labels while he shopped. Or he could just compromise and let Rook buy him one sweet that he would have to eat no matter what.

That didn't seem too bad, so Vil conceded. Live a little, right?

Several companies had reached out to him in the beginning of February but their products were gluttonous and made him feel sick just looking at them. He felt like he'd be doing his followers a disservice to promote them because they just looked like death in a package. The only one he'd considered so far was a juice from an organic company called 'Beautiful Blends'.

No, not because they had beautiful in the name. The ingredients were organic--he researched the farms--and they had a nutritionist and dietician developing the blends. They had a blend for energy, immune support, digestion, and even one for headache relief. He was interested in the actual beauty blend; it had strawberry, coconut milk, collagen, and several other things he was interested in. It was a milky pink and perfect for Sam to sell during Valentine's Day.

NRC wasn't exactly health-minded outside of Pomfiore so he wasn't worried about missing out. He broke off from Rook, moving with grace and purpose to the refrigerated section. Vil took a split second to admire his reflection in the glass door, satisfied with his skin and the loose hair that escaped his half-bun but had the courtesy to frame his face despite its disobedience. His ring and nails clinked against the glass bottle but he paid it no mind.

"Would you like a basket?" Rook offered his. Vil peered curiously into said basket, unsurprised to see other flavors of Beautiful Blends in there. Rook knew him eerily well. Maybe he knew which ones he'd like to try. He also knew Vil was against overconsumption and wouldn't buy them all at once nor of his own volition.

"I'm fine, thanks." Vil smiled at him, appreciating his constant presence. His discipline and tenacity tended to chase a lot of people away but not Rook. There were people who appreciated him for his routines and followed him loyally, but not like Rook.

Rook wasn't just a 'yes' man. He was Vil's balance in every aspect. As if to prove that, he took the Beautiful Blend from Vil and put it in the basket. Vil didn't like his hands getting wet because that messed with the lotion he applied and it left a weird film on his hands the rest of the day.

"I just said--I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Vil was caught off guard by the flirtation and couldn't believe his ears. It was rare for anyone to surprise him but some NOBODY is trying to make nice with HIS POTATO?!

AS IF!

All he can manage is, "HOW GAUCHE!" as he breezes to the front of the line and stares at the man, absolutely floored. This moment would be a permanent reference for any scene where he needed to look surprised. And lost for words.

And disgusted. And furious.

"You don't think we'd make a cute couple?" the guy teases.

"You want to know what I think?" Vil proceeds to systematically point out the guy's flaws--posture, hair, that one zit coming up in the middle of his forehead--before pointing out that his greatest offense is his sheer selfishness. He's selfish for putting you in a situation where you might cave under peer pressure!

"That's enough, Roi du Poison," Rook shushed him, patting his arm and forcing it down so Vil quit pointing at the little gremlin. If he didn't stop him, he'd keep going. Rook was secretly glad he'd grabbed the Beauty Blend out of his hand earlier; if he was any more worked up it might've gone across the guy's head.

The guy was stunned by the takedown. Vil pointed out things he hadn't thought about. Things he was already insecure about (Vil could tell). "Apologize!" Vil barked in that Housewarden voice.

"I'm sorry." the guy left with whatever trash he bought.

Vil took a moment to compose himself, hands on his hips as he watched the gremlin leave. Fully relaxed, Vil walked to the counter and motioned for Rook to hand him the basket. He set everything out like nothing happened.

"Thank you, Vil."

"It was nothing." he clicked his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.

"Not to me."

Oh, you're clever. And honest. And cute. Maybe he'll drop a hint about his crush in his next interview. Rook forgets he knows French, too, and Vil smashes his hat down on his head on the off chance you know what 'he wants to love you and hug you and kiss you' is in French.

----

It's only natural that Rook would show up for the Valentine's Day sale. He is, after all, a lover of love. Sam never fails to disappoint with his wares and Rook is having a grand time perusing the aisles. There's copious amounts of candy, thoughtful cards, card games for couples, and fill-in-the-blank books with cute phrases and poems!

"You're mine," he smiles at said book, putting it in his basket. There's condensed versions of romantic classics and, had he not read them a million times before, that would be in his basket too. He picks up a pair of heart-shaped glasses for Vil. The desire for liver pate rises in him and he doubles back to check the canned meats. Midway through his careful search, he hears the...attempt...at woo.

A sad, beautiful, nervous attempt.

Rook rises to his full height, feather on his hat dancing almost indignantly as he moves to the front of the aisle. He has half a mind to huck that can of pate hard enough to scare the boy but that would not be very beaute of him.

"Mon amie," Rook drapes his arm around the boy's neck with a disappointed sigh, "There is much to teach you in when it comes to romance."

"Like what? I--" Rook knows that's rhetorical and the guy could care less what he's going to say but he uses his uniqueness to his advantage. He launches into a small monologue about how romance is considerate and kind, not brash and unrefined like that heartfelt confession. Love is delicate like morning dew and tender like the tempting embrace of your bed seconds before you have to get up for the day. Above all, love is knowing your partner in all aspects, which includes when things have gone too far and are not welcome.

Sure, a handful of people left the store entirely but mission accomplished. The guy left shortly after Rook subtly dragged his confession. Satisfied, Rook flashed you a kind smile and unpacked his basket.

"And sometimes love wears a purple hat with a little feather." you smirk at him.

"Oh, Trickster! My heart!" Rook places his hands on his cheeks, face a pretty pink that compliments his green eyes.

---

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, Vil loosened the reigns of Pomfiore's diet for the day. Epel wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and immediately set off for Sam's. With luck, he'd still have some meats on sale. The holiday was all about fluff and pink and sweets so he wasn't worried about missing out on macarons.

To his delight, there was a selection of macarons. He was in hog heaven! If anyone heard the noise he made, it was probably the deepest and most demented thing they'd heard since Vil got his paws on him and 'refined' him. Epel was going to eat himself sick and regret it in the morning but not right now.

He picked up a second basket just for meats, afraid to crush his beloved macarons. The hamburger buns could share a basket with them, but not the meats. Knowing he had a calorie pass for the day unleashed something primal in Epel. All of a sudden he had SO MANY IDEAS.

Bacon burger? Bacon burger.

Hell, he could even make himself a little less homesick and have a traditional Harvestinian breakfast! He put a small thing of breakfast sausages in the basket. The instant grits were a bit of an insult, as was the 'heat and eat' pulled pork but the portion was reasonable and it wouldn't be money down the drain if Vil confiscated it tomorrow.

His patience begins to thin as he waits in line. The baskets are heavy but they're nothing he can't handle, growing up on a farm and all. The line doesn't seem to be moving at all! What in tarnation?, Epel squints menacingly, leaning out of line to see what the hold up was.

DID THAT NOBODY JUST ASK HOW MUCH YOU COST?!

It's clear you're uncomfortable and even MORE clear that this dude is NOT GETTING THE HINT.

As someone who's been hit on more than he cared for, this makes him mad on a whole 'nother level. You're doing all the right things--redirecting, professional body language--but this guy thinks he's going to get his way.

He's not. Everyone knows it but no one's saying anything.

Well he's gonna. What would his grandma say if he just stood by in a situation like this? He puts his hair up in a ponytail and glares at the guy.

"Were you raised in a barn? Couldn't be because EVEN ANIMALS KNOW WHEN TO LEAVE ALONE AN' GIT!" he gets louder with each word, rolling ups his sleeves. He spares his meat basket a quick glance and picks up the still-cold bacon. It's firmer than the hamburger patties and could give a decent wallop. "GO ON NOW, GIT!" Epel brandishes the bacon.

The guy is understandably confused and concerned. Probably the first time he'd been threatened with cold food. If he wasn't going for beef and bacon, he would've snagged a bag of frozen chicken wings and really wailed on the guy.

"I SAID GIT!" Epel chases him out like the dog he is, the guy narrowly dodging a bacon smack.

Word was going to get back to Vil for sure but he didn't care.

"Looks like you're going to have a good time!" you ring up the meats.

"I'm a free man today! Of course I'm gonna have a good time!"

"Have a good day, Epel. Thanks for stopping by!"

"I...I'd have a better time if you wanted to come eat some of this with me. I-I was plannin' on inviting Jack and Deuce, too. And Ace. Ace likes hamburgers. Vil lets me grill outside of Pomfiore sometimes." he starts to ramble, voice getting smaller and smaller as he goes.

"Sure! I'll grab some drinks and stuff when I get off." you smile, double-bagging the meats.

He's red as an apple when he leaves and that'll get back to Vil, too, but he doesn't care.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Jade Leech x Reader #Floyd Leech x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto x reader #Kalim Al-Asim x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader #Rook Hunt x Reader #Vil x Reader #Epel x Reader

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yanderedrabbles · 4 months ago

Text

The Fisherman and The Starwife

There was a sea at the edge of the world. And a fisherman who tried to catch moonlight. And a bride who was plucked right out of the sky. Do you care to hear their story?

It started on a cold night at the edge of the world. Nights were almost always cold in that place where the land falls away forever, but this was a freezing night even by those standards. The sea churned with shards of ice and the waves chimed like rolling glass.

A fisherman was getting ready to cast his lines. And though most fisherman in most parts of the world are busiest at dawn and dusk, this particular man did all his work in the very dead of night.

The nets he cast weren't like any a normal sailor would know. They were woven out of glass - each string made up of hundreds, thousands of clear beads. For this fisherman wasn't concerned with salmon or roe but with another sort of quarry entirely.

This fisherman was fishing for moonlight.

Moonlight was perhaps the most elusive thing to catch. It poured over the land but couldn't be speared or hooked or trapped. Just one pearl of moonlight was considered a king's ransom. Five pearls was enough to buy a man a kingdom. Ten would keep his children and his children's children fed and wealthy for centuries.

But fishing for moonlight was dangerous too. The only place it could be caught was at the very edge of the world, where the sea and sky were so close they almost touched. And the sea here was rough, not just with waves that grew wilder every hour, but with sea bears and moon hounds that could flip a warship with just a flick of their tails.

The fisherman knew all this. He'd seen countless men come and die in their attempts to catch moonlight. Their bodies swallowed by the ice sea, faces blue and bloodless as they sunk below the waves.

The fisherman knew the dangers, but he still went out every night in his tar bottomed boat. For the fisherman had a secret. A way to calm the waves and the water beasts alike.

(And oh, it was a secret costly bought. He'd traded ten years of his life to a sea hag for it and considered it a fair deal).

The fisherman knew the tune of the sea. Each night he would recline in his boat after casting his lines, and unwrap his pan flute from its oilskin. He would play the notes as the sea hag taught him - soft and sweet like the tide crawling out, sharp like the crack of lightning on the waves, mournful as the open ocean.

The sea would listen, and finally calm. The sea bears would dive deep and dream of arctic caves. The wind would cease its mourning. When the fisherman played his flute, all the beasts in the sea silenced their queer voices to hear it.

On this night, the moon was full and bright. Her daughters, the stars, reflected their icy beauty off the water. His music drifted far in the quiet and tonight even more so.

In the spreading canvas of the night sky, one star leaned down to better hear the music.

It was like nothing you'd ever heard before. It wasn't the subtle, tinkling music of the night sky. It wasn't the sweet song of the moon. It was mournful and wild, and you were so focused on it that you didn't feel yourself slipping until it was too late.

A scream. And a spash. And in the span of a breath, a star fell straight out of the sky and into the sea.

The fisherman sat up with a start, and without thinking, reached into the water and hauled you onto his boat.

At first he didn't know what he was looking at. Your hair was soaked and the beads in your hair shone so bright they hurt his eyes. He couldn't understand it - not even with all the strange things he'd seen. How could a girl suddenly appear in place so lonely and remote? Did you fall from the sky?

You sat shivering at the bottom of his boat, too stunned by your fall to realise where you were. And oh, you were the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on.

In that moment, the fisherman had a choice.

You were dazed and soaking wet. Anything he did to you, you wouldn't be able to fight back. He still had his nets and ropes; he could grab you and take to shore, could force you to be his wife. He was handsome, but strange in his ways and dreams. He didn't have a wife or a lover or even the memory of one. No one would be surprised if he caved to his loneliness and stole whatever good fortune came his way.

For a long, painful moment he was tempted. It would be so lovely to have a warm bed and a warm body waiting for him after a cold, dangerous night. He worked so hard for so little - didn't he deserve a reward?

Instead, he pulled off his oilskin and draped it around your shoulders.

"Be still," he said softly. "Breathe deeply. I will take us back to shore and build you a fire. You won't be cold for long."

You looked up at him, eyes all wide and wet. "Th-thank you."

When he reached the shore, you stumbled and fell to your knees, teeth chattering. You were a creature of starlight and shadow - your feet were never meant to touch the ground.

Carefully, for you looked to him so frail in the thin light of the moon, he picked you up. You smelled like salt and sea, but underneath it was the burning ozone smell of a fallen star. Perhaps that was when he first started to suspect what you were. That what he held in his arms wasn't built of blood and bone.

He brought you to his house and put you down on the hearth. True to his word, he stoked the fire until it roared. You put your palms out to it cautiously, for although your uncle Sun was said to be fire all the way through, you'd never actually seen something burning. Your fingers were so cold they ached and the warmth was a welcome relief.

"Here." He wrapped a blanket around you and set a mug of mulled wine in your hand. "Warm up a little. And then dry yourself off. The sea chill gets in your bones if you aren't careful."

"Wh-where am I?"

He looked at the fire and sighed. "On the shore of the hinterland sea, at the very edge of the world. I fear you're very far from home, wherever it may be."

The wine was warm and sweet, spiced with the last of his cloves and ginger. You drank and finally your teeth stopped chattering.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a fisherman."

You set the cup down carefully, still unsteady. "What is a fisherman?"

He raised his brows but answered you all the same. "Someone who catches fish. Either to sell or to eat. Often both."

You considered this. Stars lived off ether and cloud dust. You had no idea why anyone would want to eat fish of all things.

"What fish do you catch?"

"Ah, that's a difficult question." There was a gleam of amusement in his storm grey eyes. "I'm not like other fisherman. I fish for moonlight instead of animals."

"Moonlight?" That confused you. How could someone catch something so intangible? Did they eat it as well?

"Yes. If you're careful and clever, you can catch moonlight when it reaches down and touches the sea. It's a fortune made to catch even a little."

He looked at you carefully. In the firelight, it was clear you were no ordinary human. Perhaps you weren't mortal at all. As your hair dried, it took on a sheen like starlight dancing on water. Your teeth were small and sharp when you smiled, your pupils shaped like stars in the centre of your irises. It was his turn to ask a question, though he thought he already knew the answer.

"Where do you come from?"

You tilted your head liked he asked the most obvious thing in the world. "From the sky of course. Usually I'm between my sisters Astra and Vena."

He smiled and reached down to throw a log on the fire as though the third brightest star in the night sky wasn't shivering on his hearth.

"Would you like to change into some dry clothes? I haven't any dresses for you to wear, but anything is better than the wet and the cold."

"Oh, yes please."

He brought you the softest, finest shirt he owned.

"I'll wait outside until you're done."

You tilted your head again in that sharp, bird like way. "Why do you have to wait outside?"

He almost choked on his tongue before he could answer. "Because I'm a man and you're... not. It wouldn't be proper."

"But it's cold outside."

You were already dropping the blanket and the oilskin he borrowed you. Underneath it, you wore a silvery white robe that was still wet enough to be see-through. He hurriedly turned away from you, jaw clenched tight.

"It's fine. I'd rather..."

He could hear the whisper of your robe as it fell. He froze, mind racing.

"Rather what?"

Rather not be thinking of you naked in front of my fire.

"... Nevermind. It's nothing."

"You can turn around and stop clenching your hands now," you said, amused.

You were wearing his shirt, the collar gaping at your collarbones. You rubbed the hem between your fingers. "What material is this?"

"Just homespun."

He gathered your still damp robes and marvelled at the almost silk feel of them - woven so light that if it weren't for the water he'd barely feel their weight.

"I like it," you said. "It's warm."

He hung your clothes to dry on the back of a chair. "You can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll sleep by the hearth."

"Oh." You thought about it. "Is it 'not proper' to sleep together?"

Gods in Heaven have mercy.

"No," he said, carefully avoiding your eyes. "It's not proper. That's the sort of thing only a husband and wife can do."

"My mother is married to the Tide. Did you know that? He's not a very nice man."

The fisherman didn't need you to tell him how unpredictable and cruel the tide could be. He made his living by its whims.

"Have you met him?" he asked.

"Once or twice." You came to stand behind him and watched as he made the bed comfortable for you. Fluffing his meagre pillow and dusting out the blanket.

"You have very nice hands," you said. The fisherman stilled. His hands were rough from the salt and hooks and lines of his trade. They ached on bad nights. Were nicked with scars upon scars, a strata of hurts.

You reached forward and took hold of his fingers, drew them towards you. Your hands were soft as only ones untouched by labour could be.

"You say you are a man, and that we're different. How so?"

He sighed and let you pull him towards you.

"You are from the heavens. You know nothing of cruelty or greed or love. Mankind, earth - it's not the same." He paused. "If I were another, you might be in danger around me."

You looked in his eyes - oh, you creature of starlight, one of a kind, too pure and rare for his common touch.

"My sister once fell to the earth. When she returned, she told me of love. And of lovers. Do you...have a lover?"

He smiled, rueful. "No. This is a cold, remote place. And it's a cold, remote life I've chosen for myself."

"Do you want one?"

You were still holding his hand, and he was all too aware of it. How would your hands feel, touching other parts of him?

"It doesn't matter," he finally managed to answer. "I have nothing to offer. No wealth, no great learning, no family honour."

"Oh, but you are kind. You are gentle. You saved my life and invited me into your home, asking for no thanks in return. Is the world of Man so evil, that these things mean nothing?"

"They mean less than you seem to think."

You held his palm to your cheek, tilted your head into his touch. His hands were rough as only ones knowing hard labour could be. What would they feel like, touching other parts of you?

"My mother told me a boon granted is one that must be repaid. Tell me fisherman at the end of the world, what would you have in exchange for saving my life?"

You. I would have you, girl too beautiful for even my dreams.

Instead he said, "Nought. My mother told me a kindness given should not expect to be repaid in kind. All I would have is that you recover, and return to the place you belong."

You sighed and dropped his hand. "As you will, so shall it be."

That night, you slept on a thin mattress and dreamt of the dark sea outside the door. And he slept not at all.

You were awake at the first sign of morning light. You were firmer on your feet and you made it to the door without stumbling.

The fisherman heard you and fought the urge to stand. If you wished to leave before the dawn, he wouldn't stop you. Already he'd met a creature few thought existed. He would be greedy to hope for more of you.

You didn't leave. You stood on his threshold and watched the sun rise at the edge of the world. For though you knew your uncle through stories and messages, you'd never seen him.

"Hello uncle," you said to the pink and orange sky.

"Hello niece. What are you doing upon the earth, so far from your place in heaven?"

"I grew distracted with music and fell into the sea. But a man rescued me and now here I stand."

"I would caution you, niece of mine. I rise and set each day. And each day I see Mankind's cruelty to one another. Murder and imprisonment and awful acts of lust. Linger not too long in this place, lest your man think to do what so many others before him have done."

"Oh uncle, he is not like the stories I have heard. Not like the monsters you warn me against. The earth might indeed be filled with danger, but here I think myself to be safe."

Your uncle sighed and clouds parted in great gusts. "Niece, things are never as clear as they seem. Not when you stand upon the earth. Take my advice and return to your sisters as soon as the night arrives. Your mother has seen even more than I the awful lechery of Man."

You smiled at your uncle, proud and burning creature that he was. "Thank you uncle. But this place is filled with strange and wondrous things. I can not return until I've satisfied my curiosity."

"As you say, blood of mine. But know that regardless of how we love you, neither your mother nor I can protect you when you're out of our reach. Anything that happens, you must fend off on your own."

You glanced back into the cottage, and at the fisherman sprawled on the hearth. "I am not so alone as you fear, uncle."

The fisherman could understand little of your conversation. He could not hear the sun's voice. When he heard your footsteps whispering towards him, he forced himself to hold still. Was this it? A final whispered goodbye?

You knelt at his side and brushed your knuckles against his cheekbone. "Will you wake, saviour of mine? The new day comes."

He opened his eyes. "You're still here."

"Does that displease you?"

"No!" He sat up in a hurry, eyes locked on yours. "Never. Please, stay as long you'd like."

You smiled, secretly pleased. "What do you do in the day?"

He thought for a moment. "I work at night, and the day is spent mending my nets. But you're here now. I think I'd rather show you the secrets and wonders of this place."

"You said few people come to the edge of the world. What secrets could there be?"

"Oh, plenty. All the more secret for having seldom been found."

He turned away from you and built up the fire. "It will be cold today, and the wind will be sharp. Still, would you like to see what I wish to show?"

You watched the firelight flicker across his face - lined at the eyes like he smiled too often, tanned and ruddy from the sea.

"Yes," you said, "I'd like that."

He borrowed you thick furs to wear and wrapped a scarf around your neck. Your robes had dried overnight but one glance at them was enough to know they weren't nearly warm enough.

He packed a small pack with food and wine. At the door, he held your hand while you got used to having the fine pebbles of the beach under your feet.

A cold wind was blowing from the north and stirring the patchy snow on the ground.You could almost hear a voice in it, coldly amused.

"A star so far from heaven?"

And another, softer. Pitying almost.

"Run back to your sisters, little star. The hearts of men have no room for mercy, or for you."

When the wind disappeared, so too did the voices. You leaned closer against your fisherman and let him lead you down the beach. The still rising sun painted the water orange, and the stones reflected it as a bright gold.

Oh, how many colours in this new world. How wonderful the gold, the silver, the thousand shades in between.

"Do you walk the beach often?" you asked.

"No." He sounded amused. "At least, certainly not with company."

He lead you towards a high embankment, and a narrow path crawling up it's side. He kept hold of you as you climbed, his arm steady and strong around you. The loose stones of the beach hardened to shale that crumbled if you stepped too heavily, the path growing steeper as the embankment curved around the cliffside.

The sun was well above the water when you reached the top. But oh, was it worth the effort. The view from the cliff dwarfed anything you'd seen before. The ocean stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, the water black near the shore and then lightening to a dark greenish-blue. The sun caught on the peaks of the waves, turning them aquamarine and gold.

The fisherman set out his bundle of food on a rock. Fresh bread, a thick hunk of cheese, raisins. You ate breakfast with the sea spread at your feet and the warm south wind tugging at your hair.

You pressed the cheese and raisins between two slices of bread and held it to his lips. "Try it like this. It's incredible."

He raised a skeptical brow but leaned down to eat from your hand.

"Sweet," he said, eyes crinkling with his smile.

You thought the cliff and its view was his secret, but that was far from it. After you ate, he led you to a small, hidden path carved into the cliffside. You wavered - the drop down was beyond treacherous.

He held both your hands in his and showed you how to walk down the carved steps.

"I won't let you fall. I promise."

You believed him.

The path led to a cave, its entrance little more than a gash in the cliffside. You squeezed through, not sure what to expect.

What you saw made you gasp. Your fisherman hadn't brought you to a cave at all, but to the last remains of a castle. You stood in a great hall, it's pillars carved out of the stalactites. Moss had grown over the walls and the ceiling, and the whole room glowed a deep blue.

"What is this place?"

"The barrow of a long dead king. Killed before his time, killed in vain."

Flowers were pushing up through the cracked floor tiles. Strange blue flowers that only grew in the dark. Their pollen rose in golden clouds when you passed them by.

"Oh, no place so strange and wondrous exists in the sky."

You twirled in place, your eyes on the ceiling and its strange, twisting patterns. The fisherman watched you, his heart pulling him in two different directions. Would it be so wrong to keep you? To ask you stay with him for the rest of your days?

Yes, some fierce part of him whispered back. You cannot keep a star from the sky. You think you could love her. But what sort of love is captivity?

You grabbed his hands and pulled him from his thoughts.

"Will you dance with me? My sister says palaces are filled with dancing, with music. This dead king must feel awfully lonely, with a hall so cold and quiet."

He followed you, hands slipping to your waist.

"I must warn you. I'm no king's man, to dance gracefully."

You laughed and let him twirl you in his arms.

"I don't want a king's man, nor a knight, nor a prince," you told him, "I only want you."

He caught you again, dropping you in a slow, graceful dip.

"Don't be cruel, little star," he whispered. "To give me dreams I can never have."

The night flower pollen hung in the air, dancing in patterns from your movement. The room was a mosaic of midnight blue and gold. You reached up and brushed your fingers across his lips.

"I am never cruel. I offer what I willingly give."

It would have been so easy to kiss you then. To have, even for just a moment, a love so far out of reach.

"No," he said quietly. "You're too good for me. I will not pull a star from the sky for my own satisfaction."

He put you back on your feet and let you go.

The walk home was quiet. He held you when he needed to, but his touch was light. Afraid almost.

He stoked the fire and showed you how to feed it. Showed you where the food was kept and how to slice the bread. And then he left you.

He claimed to be going fishing, but his nets and lines stayed in the corner of the room.

You watched him from the door until he was out of sight. And then you curled up on the narrow windowsill and waited for his return.

In your chest, your heart ached in a way you couldn't explain.

You asked him to take you with him that night. He hesitated, his glass nets slung over his shoulder.

"It's dangerous."

"Perhaps so, but I want to hear your music again. The sound I fell from heaven for. Will you not let me hear it once more?"

He gave in and told you to sit as still as you could, for the waves were rougher than usual. The night was clear, and as he rowed you out to sea, you sisters' voices chimed in your head.

"Little sister, why do you stay upon the earth? Your place in heaven is cold and empty."

"Little sister, does the man do you harm? Does he hold you prisoner?"

"Little sister, mother worries for you. Will you speak to her?"

"Little sister, will you not come home?"

"Soon," you promised them. "Soon."

The fisherman cast his nets and began to play his tune. And all thoughts of your sisters and your home vanished. To watch him at sea was to witness a creature in its element. Calm and careful, slow and thoughtful.

You didn't leave that night. Or the one after that. Your mother moved through her phases and still you chose to stay on the earth.

You learned how to light and keep a fire, how to mend the fisherman's lines and snares, how to bake bread and mull wine. You learned to sleep with the moon and rise with the sun.

"Oh niece," you uncle sighed, "I fear this love will be your undoing."

"Love? Is that what I feel? This aching in my heart?"

"Love indeed. Why else would a star choose to be a fishwife?"

At first, your fisherman tried to keep his distance. But you were persistent in your questions, in your conversation, in following him wherever he went.

Finally he caved. Started speaking to you without holding himself back, started taking his meals with you. He was careful not to touch you, and perhaps even more careful not to let you touch him. It was friendship, companionship - but always tinged with longing. You would sometimes catch him watching you, eyes sad as the sea.

Each night your fisherman would tell you a story. Both of you sitting on the hearth rug, his hands carving the tale out of the air, his eyes twinkling. Stories of love, of bravery, of treachery.

He told you of a queen carved from the sea foam, of a wolf who shed its skin to find a bride, of cities so bright and sprawling that to see them from above was to think earth and heaven had switched places.

You would dream of his stories, and of his hands. Skimming down your back, warm and strong.

A full month after your fall, your mother frowned down at you and demanded to know when you would be done with your adventure. You wavered, for your mother wasn't the type to accept a flimsy answer.

"When our story is all told," you finally replied.

She kept her frown, but your man was returning from the sea and you were too distracted by him to notice it.

You would happily have stayed just as you were. Sleeping in his bed and sharing his clothes, waking to see him already in front of the fire. But your luck changed - yours for the worse and his for the better.

For the fisherman finally caught moonlight.

You were with him when he reeled his nets in, and you both saw the silver gleam break the water at the same time. He stilled, eyes wide.

"I can't believe it."

He plucked the pearl from its string and let it sit on his palm. It cast its glow all the way across the boat and still beyond. There was no doubt now as to why moonlight was so valuable. Looking into it, you could see what your mother saw. Could see the ocean spread at your feet, could see the stars dancing, could see the breadth of heaven and earth.

"Here." He dropped it into your palm and closed your fingers around it. "Hold onto it."

You looked at him, eyes wide. "You trust me with it?"

He smiled his crooked half smile. "I trust you with more than your know, little star."

As he rowed back to shore, you wondered at how your life might change. Hadn't he once said that the only goal of a fisherman at the edge of the world was to catch moonlight? That even a little was a fortune made?

Would he leave the sea? Would he leave you?

When you were back in the cottage and out of sight of your mother, you felt brave enough to ask.

"Oh, never. I'll never leave you, little star. Not for as long as you'll have me."

You looked at the pearl in your palm. A fortune made... What did that really mean?

"What now?"

He came to stand behind you, reaching out to carefully run his fingertip across the shimmering surface.

"Now I will head away. To civilisation. To find a way to sell it without getting my heart cut out first."

"Why would anyone do that?"

He sighed. "Because of its value. Some men will do terrible things to possess a single beautiful thing."

That worried you.

"I want to come with you," you said.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he answered. "I would have it no other way."

The preparations took almost two weeks. Food to be dried, smoked and packed. Water to be stored. Clothes to be mended and altered for travelling. The boat to be tarred and dragged ashore.

The fisherman was in no hurry. He still told you stories at night, the moon pearl sitting in a box between you and lending its strange silver light to the tellings.

If you'd known what was to come, you would have thrown that cursed thing back into the sea. But though you were many things, you were not an oracle. You couldn't guess the misery it would bring.

On the day before you and your fisherman planned to leave, three men came to visit.

They wore the deep black of thieves and killers, and the knives at their belts spoke plenty of their profession.

They found you both on the beach at sunset, wrapping canvas around the boat. Their shadows stretched long in the fading light, so you weren't sure what you were seeing until they were too close to avoid.

Your fisherman stood to greet them, though from his eyes you could tell he wasn't pleased.

"An unpleasant place, this," said the first of the three.

"Cold and miserable," said the second.

"Though we suppose it does have its charms," said the third.

The fisherman considered them for a long while before replying.

"An unpleasant place, aye. The work is dangerous and the reward an impossible dream. Still, some of us are suited to places like these."

The first of the killers looked at you, ran his eyes over your body.

"For you perhaps. But what of your woman? Surely she would like somewhere warmer."

The fisherman tensed. Just the tiniest tightening of his shoulders, but you noticed it all the same.

"I keep her as warm as she needs," he said.

That made the men smirk. Made them eye each other like the joke was oh so funny. The sun was almost gone now and the brightest of your sisters were peaking out of the purple sky. You could feel their worry at the back of your mind.

"Hurry and come away, little sister. I like not the look of these men."

"Quickly. Before they play any tricks."

You didn't like the look of the strangers either, but you refused to leave the fisherman on his own. Whatever this was, perhaps it might still end well.

The leader rolled his shoulders, sighed like this was as mildly unpleasant as a persistent itch. And then he pulled a moon pearl out of his pocket.

It was much smaller than the one your fisherman caught, but it had a strange red tint to it that made you shiver. If you looked closely, you could see yourself in it. Not a reflection, but a view from on high. Whoever these strangers were, they'd been watching you.

"Enchanted to find others like it. Thought it wasn't worth the money at first. Never bloody did anything," the first one said.

"Not until a few week ago at least," another continued.

You felt yourself going cold. They knew.

Your fisherman must have realised the same thing, because his eyes slipped to you and the pearl hidden on a tether under your shirt.

"That's all you want?"

They looked at each other again, and whatever passed between them was only for them and the wind to know.

"Aye," said the third, "That's all - the bounty of the night sky. Give us that and we'll leave you be."

Your fisherman shrugged like they weren't demanding a king's ransom and then some. He turned to you and carefully pulled the pearl free of its cord. You grabbed his hands and held them.

"Why?" you whispered.

He looked in your eyes and there wasn't any regret there. No grief or anger over losing the thing he'd spent years fishing for.

"I worry of losing something far more precious than a stone."

He pulled away from you before you could stop him and tossed the pearl to the leader. He caught it easily and held it to his eye.

"A finer thing I've never held," the thief said.

"Aye, and a finer thing I've never seen," said the other.

"But that's not all you have, is it fisherman?" said the third.

The fisherman rolled his shoulders and anyone could see the threat in it.

"That's the only thing of value here. The only thing you can take. So have joy of it, and be gone from this place."

"Daughter."

Your mother's voice was sharp. "Come away. Now. These men mean you harm worse than you realise."

"Not yet," you murmured, "Not while my love stays."

The thieves smiled at each other. Nasty grins filled with blades.

"Oh, but you have another thing worth perhaps even more than moonlight. Tell me, fisherman at the edge of the world, how did you rip a star from the sky?"

The fisherman snarled, all quiet calm forgotten.

"Come now, don't be so hostile," the thief mocked. "You promised us the bounty of the night sky. That was our deal."

"The star is not mine to keep nor give."

The thieves laughed. "She wears your clothes and helps in your labour and whispers her secrets to you. How can you claim that she isn't yours?"

The fisherman kept his hands loose at his sides but it wasn't only you who noticed his eyes dart to his knife, stuck into the roll of canvas you were working with.

You reached out and grabbed at his hand. It was dawning on you now what your mother meant. These men were worse than you first assumed, and to stay in their presence was to invite death to your door.

A star leaping back to heaven is an easy thing. Your bones are light and your magic is strong. But to take a human with you? That was another matter entirely. Their feet were rooted to the earth, their bones weighed down by the nature of their birth. You pulled with all the magic you had, but you couldn't move him. Your heart was a fluttering, panicked thing in your chest.

"Mother, please."

"I cannot," your mother said, her voice torn with grief. "He is of the earth. I cannot lift him to heaven no matter my strength."

The fisherman and the thieves didn't seem to notice your efforts. Their eyes were on each other, hackles raised.

The thieves moved first. Drew their knives and rushed your man all at once.

But the fisherman didn't survive on the hinterland sea by being slow or cautious. He pushed you behind him and in one graceful step, pulled his knife loose from the canvas. He slashed at the closest man, his blade a silvery arc that turned the night red with misted blood. The man fell away, clutching his eyes and screaming.

The fisherman was too slow to dodge the oncoming strike, so he threw his arm up and let the leader's blade carve a long furrow down his forearm. Blood welled at his elbow and fell onto the black pebbles of the beach.

He kept you behind him as he retreated, his eyes darting between the two standing thieves.

You were frozen. Eyes glued on the fallen man and the blood welling up between his fingers.

So this is what you meant. That Mankind will do terrible things to each other without a second thought. Oh uncle, I'm sorry I doubted you.

Your mind raced. How to escape with your man alive and in one piece?

The two thieves were spreading out, flanking him as wolves would. The blood from his arm had soaked his side and you could tell he was growing pale.

You needed to fight. You needed to kill. But how?

Stars are no great terror. You aren't like the moon, who can wreck cities with her pull on the sea. Not like the sun, who can turn crops to dust and cities to deserts. You had no weapon, no strength, no great magic.

But I must have something.

Oh. Oh. You did indeed have something. A little magic of your own. There was a reason people wished on the brightest stars. There was a reason a falling star was considered lucky. And you, well, you were one of the brightest stars in the night sky.

No great magic, but maybe you didn't need to move mountains or spilt the sea in half.

Your fisherman once showed you how to use a needle and thread, told you that sometimes injuries were sewn up just like a ripped shirt. You focused on that now. Thread in, thread out. You pulled your fingers through the air like you were sewing a sail.

The fisherman flinched but kept his injured arm raised. There was a faint glow from under his sleeve and the blood slowed it's dripping. His steps grew steadier.

As though sensing the change, the thieves pounced. Coming at him from two sides at once. He wouldn't be able to fend them both off.

You acted without thinking. Earth magic and sky magic didn't mix well, but you were beyond caring. You pulled at the ground with your magic and one of the thieves fell, their leg thigh deep in a narrow sinkhole. The fisherman took the opportunity he'd been given. He stabbed his knife into the man's throat, all the way up to the handle. There was an awful, wet choking sound when he ripped it out.

You looked away, sick. And that's when the final thief stabbed your man in the back. The blade sunk deep into his shoulder and he roared, whirling around. Too late, too late. The attacker had a second blade ready and when the fisherman turned, he plunged it straight between his ribs.

You screamed.

The fisherman fell to his knees, blood not just trickling but pouring down his chest.

You caught him before he fell entirely, his head falling back against your collarbone. When they said the dead had no light in their eyes, you finally understood what they meant. You could see it fading.

You poured your magic into him, not caring about technique or luck or skill. That little bit of brightness that makes a star glow, you gave it all to him. Your hands were glowing silver, burning like the coldest night.

And still the blood came. Still his life bled out of him.

"Please," you begged. "Please."

What more could you do? You were light headed, cold.

"Stop!"

Your mother's voice was a frantic shout.

"You'll kill yourself giving him that. Stop it daughter. Stop now!"

Kill yourself? Hope bloomed in your heart. The world needed balance. Death was meticulous with his scales. If you burnt yourself out, wasn't that one life gone? Didn't that mean another could stay?

If you gave your life for his, would he live?

You didn't hear your mother scream. Didn't hear your sisters' horror echo through the night. You dug for that last glimmer inside of you, the last breath of the brightest star.

You gave it to the man you loved.

Kindness need not be repaid in kind, he'd said. But he saved your life. He showed you tenderness, care. You loved him. And if only his body was left, you owed him.

You kissed his hair. Pressed your cheek against him. You felt so cold. Colder even than the night you fell into the sea. I'm dying, you realised. There wasn't fear there. Only regret.

Was it ever so hard to breathe? Your lungs stuttered. You barely cared. All you needed was to know he would live.

The last thief standing watched you for a long while. Saw your glow fading. What use was a dying star to him? He picked up the moon pearls, skirted the injured man who was still rolling on the ground and left. If there was honour amount thieves, he didn't have any.

You were beginning to think it all for nought. He was a limp, heavy weight against you.

"Please," you whispered. "Please."

He stirred. Drew in a breath thick with blood, like the first gasp of a drowning man. When he opened his eyes, his pupils were shaped like stars.

"Love," he whispered. He reached up and cupped your cheek in his palm. "Oh, love."

You kissed him. His lips were rough, but not in an unpleasant way. There was blood on your mouth when you pulled away.

"All those nights with you just across the room, all I ever wanted was to feel your lips on mine."

You sighed, pressed his palm closer against your cheek. "Oh, love. That we could have had more time."

He was still drowsy, still reeling from blood loss. But at your words his eyes sharpened.

"We have time."

He sat up slowly, his hand still on your cheek, his knees in the dirt.

"We do. Don't we?"

Whatever he saw on your face was answer enough.

"No."

"Yes." It wasn't you who answered, and perhaps it was the nature of the speaker that only you heard him.

You looked beyond your lover's shoulder. Standing in his shroud, Death waited.

"A fair trade?" you asked.

The fisherman turned to follow your eyes, but all he saw was the open sea.

"Better than fair."

Death shook his head, long nails click clacking on the handle of his staff.

"It is rare indeed that I claim one of your kind."

There was no triumph in his voice, no sorrow. He truly was implacable as the grave.

"Who do you see?" The fisherman asked you, hands gripping your shoulders, frantic.

You thought he already knew. He was not so long out of the underworld that he could forget the feeling of Death's footsteps passing by. He pulled you into his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head.

"No, no. Reverse whatever you've done. My time has come and passed." His voice was raw, flayed by the salt of blood and tears. "Please."

You grabbed a handful of his shirt, felt the heart beating strong and true in his chest. "I cannot. I will not."

Above you, the moon and the stars wept.

"Daughter. Oh, my poor daughter."

"Little sister, gone, gone, gone where we cannot follow."

Death brushed his hand across your brow and you shuddered. The fisherman pulled you closer, spoke to the air where Death stood.

"Take me instead. It's me you came for, it's me you want. You won't be cheated by a fisherman, will you? So do as you came to do."

"Fair is fair, fisherman at the edge of the world," Death said in a voice like bones rattling.

"A life must be taken. The scales must balance. Even the stars in heaven die at my hand."

The fisherman paled. Very few heard the voice of Death while they still lived, and fewer still kept their minds together after. It was the sound of the tomb, the grave, the earth thudding on the coffin top. When he spoke, his voice was wretched with grief.

"I'm begging you. Let her live."

"We beseech you, let our sister go," the stars chorused after him.

"Please," said the moon. "Please have mercy, Lord of the end."

Death stood at the edge of the world and all of heaven begged him to be kind. Just once. Just for a moment.

"No."

You felt his hand on your heart. And then you felt nothing at all.

The fisherman knew the second it happened. Your body sagged against him, your fingers dropped from his shirt.

He cradled your body and wept his terrible grief into your faded dress.

Death held your soul between his fingers. The size of a moon pearl, but ten thousand times as bright. Few things in his collection were quite as fine.

"I will not be cheated. Not by the innocent nor the wicked."

The wind and the sea sighed. They knew all too well how inflexible he could be. To all the witnesses, this should have been the end. Lovers were not spared by Death. Why would he make an exception now?

And to all who knew the moon, in her timed phases and careful rotation, this too should have been the end. But the thing they most often seemed to forget was this; the moon was still a mother. And though you were dead and on the earth, you were still her blood.

"A link!" your mother whispered to herself. "He lives with a part of her inside him, creature of the earth that he is."

Death didn't notice when the moon reached down for your body. Why would he? The soul was what mattered to him. But she wasn't called the wise woman for nothing. He was about to leave, about to step from one world to the other, when your mother snatched your soul straight out of his hand.

Too late, too late he whirled to catch it, to curse at the moon's trickery. Already she was gone, your body and the fisherman gone with her.

Death cursed, gathered his shroud to pursue, when the Tide finally spoke. The moon's husband was quick to anger and slow to forgive, but he loved his wife. Hated to see her grieve.

"Still yourself, bone lord. I ask you not for mercy or for kindness. I ask you simply to trade."

"What could you have, sea beast? Drowned men are a dime a dozen. What can you offer for a star's soul?"

The Tide sighed, for he knew that Death measured by a metric none living or dead fully understood.

"I can give you a mermaid's heart, still beating with the pull of the waves. I can give you a fishwife, still young and in love. I can give you the most beautiful of my pets, to forever keep as own."

Death laughed, as terrible and grating as a tomb opening.

"No deal at all, sea beast. Life for life must willingly be given."

"I thought so," said the Tide. "But if you are as quick and wise as they say, you would look to the heavens and realise whatever soul you wanted is beyond your reach."

In the sky, twin stars burned. The third brightest in the sky.

Death laughed again. "Oh, the moon is a tricky one indeed. Two stars, sharing a soul."

You might have expected him to be angry, might have expected cursing and rage. Thought he would reach up and pull you both from the sky. But few understood the whims and wiles of Death.

He gathered his shroud and smiled and winked away. He would have you eventually. No one could escape him forever. But a star lives a long time and when it came down to it, he didn't mind waiting.

Death of all people could appreciate a good trick.

You pulled in a breath that rasped and burned. When you opened your eyes, the fisherman was kneeling at your side, your head in his lap.

"My love, how do I live?" You sat up slowly, afraid that he somehow undid the magic you cast.

"You've done a dangerous thing, daughter of mine."

Your mother stood waiting for you, her robes silver and red and the dusty gold of a full moon hanging low in the sky.

"Mother!"

"Don't stand. You're still weak." She frowned at you, and at the fisherman at your side.

"I did not think to ever have a son-in-law. And I did not think to ever watch my daughter die."

You looked her in her eyes, pale silver from end to end. "I'm sorry to have done that to you mother. But I'm not sorry for my choice."

She sighed, harsh from trying to hide her grief.

"You have him now, daughter of mine. The man you gave your own life for. I hope he was worth the sacrifice."

"He was. He is."

The fisherman's arms tightened around you and his head dropped to your shoulder. He was crying, but only you knew, only you could feel his hot tears soaking into your dress.

"Very well. Have your moment with your man. And then come and take your place."

She left you. For a second between the moment she opened and closed the door, you could see the faces of your sisters. Still worried, still pale.

The hall of your mother's palace was quiet. The fisherman kept his forehead pressed against your shoulder, breathing hard.

"I never should have kept you," he said finally. "I should have sent you back to the sky the second you landed in my arms. Oh love, how could I be so selfish?"

"Don't you dare say that. All you did was show me kindness. It was I who chose to stay. And even now, my only regret is that I bought you to such grief."

You intertwined your hands with his.

"I love you. I loved you the moment I heard your music and fell from the sky to hear it better."

He brought your knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss against your fingers.

"I loved you the moment I pulled you from the sea." Another kiss pressed against your hands. "I loved you the moment you spoke to me, the moment you smiled."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure. "I've made you give up your dream of catching moonlight."

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, I've caught myself something much better than moonlight tonight."

I've caught myself a bride. And oh, I'm never letting her go.

If you look to the sky at dawn and dusk, you'll see twin stars. They always rise together, always move across the heavens in tandem, always set hand in hand. Lovers wish on them, pray that Death is as kind to them as he once was at the edge of the world. Fishermen sail by them, trust the steadiness of their light to bring their boats safely home. And stories are told of them. Of the fisherman who tried to catch moonlight. And the bride who was plucked straight out of the sea.

The third brightest stars in the the night sky - the Fisherman and the Starwife.

#8k words #Fem reader #Yandere Fairytales #yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere oc x you #yandere x darling #Yandere story #Reader insert #X reader #Yandere Fairytale #Tales from the Hinterland #Yandere OC #Myths legends fables

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