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dutiful-wildcraft · 8 months

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Pack 141 - Fae!Soap Headcanons

Tags: monster au, Fae!Soap, poly 141, sfw, fluff, general lore, Soap's mom? for a minute at least, fae lore I roughly researched.

-Soap's mother was a stubborn and superstitious woman. When her baby boy was born with a caul over his face, her heart seized with dread. She had been told stories, how it was lucky to have a child able to see beyond the veil. How the caul signified a great power, coveted by the people of the forest. Her only babe, marked as Fae.

-They would come for her child, steal him in the night and replace him with another. And it would be a cold day in hell before Jill Mactavish let anything touch her son.

-She slept with the bundle clutched tightly in her arms, refusing to sleep until she left the hospital. Left him wrapped snugly to her front as she hammered iron railroad spikes into the corners of her property; hung horseshoes above her doors, sprinkled fine lines of salt around every doorway and window of her home.

-She thought it had worked. At least for a while. But the Fae are persistent if nothing else. Jill began to notice strange flowers pop up around the foundation of her home, odd tapping rhythms heard in the night. Would she know? Would she know if the lamb in her arms was replaced with another?

-She was so exhausted, worn thin from paranoia. Yet Jill Mactavish was no quitter. Under the light of a pale full moon she marched to the edge of her property. Her blue eyed bundle cooing and gumming happily at his fingers as he wriggled against her chest. With a final look to the boy she faced the forest with a stern resolve, “You won't take him! But I'll share him! Leave us be or help me raise him right!”

-The winds rustled, branches creaking ominously. Leaves gathered and spun into a tornado of color in the chill autumn air. Jill would freeze in place as the leaves fell away, revealing an ethereally beautiful creature before her. All high cheekbones and sharp eyes surrounded by inky black sclera.

-Ordinarily the Fae would swap out changelings, snag the babe once it was the right size and replace it with one of their own. Considering the wee one was already Touched….perhaps a swap would be unnecessary. Human mother's were coveted. The milk of human kindness and all that, and the babe was truly beautiful, destined to be strong. The fae had looked Jill up and down with a calculating look. Yes. A deal could be struck. They would raise the baby together.

-And thus Soap spent his time in equal parts amongst the Fae and humans, learning to socialize with both, though he didn't completely fitting in with either. Soap was hell on wheels. Rambunctious and equally curious, constantly nosing or getting into things he ought not have. Not that he was ostracized by either group he was just..*odd.* Unable to find his footing or close friends.

-You could say that Soap has many siblings, though this term is used liberally. By human technicalities Soap is an only child (his mum's baby boy). His mother, through the nature of her bargain, was brought into the fold with young John. Helping to raise and nurse her own gaggle of fae children of differing bloods. Other children Soap would call family.

-Fae don't have strict family dynamics, it's certainly a community effort to rear little ones. Fae children can be produced in a myriad of ways, with no one way being seen above another, p in v? that works. Born from a flower? Sure why not. Throw some herbs and intent together until a wailing babe sounds from the cauldron? That works too.

-Soap naturally inquired about this, as any kid would. “Ma? Did I come from a flower?” “You came from my belly wee one” Soap had squinted at her, eyeing her belly incredulously, "but how?”

-It took several conversations to get the toddler to understand that the other children in his human primary school were not in fact his brothers and sisters.

-As humans are fascinated with the Fae, the Fae are equally as fascinated by humans. As John grew into a young man he would see the differences. The Fae courts had long fallen into a peaceful rhythm. The humans? Hardly. With a powerful knack for chaos, among other abilities. Soap threw himself into the army. Keen to help as many as he could, and perhaps even find his own way.

-Soap is a marked child. He is more resilient on average than most Fae, and shows no obvious limitations in what disciplines he can learn. However, as marked he does have particular dispositions toward the following.

-Tongues, the ability to speak any language at will. Sometimes without thinking about it. For Soap this isn't automatic, but after a few days of listening or studying he's fluent. (Albeit with the accent). This gives Soap a peculiar edge when working with varying communities, elements, and other critters/creatures.

-Glamour, a sophisticated illusion, these may allow for invisibility or changes to appearance for a brief time (upwards to an hour but possibly longer depending on the severity of the change). Living amongst the Fae made permanent changes to his body. The sclera of his eyes had shifted inky black. His teeth and nails razor sharp. There is an ethereal beauty to all Fae as well. Naturally Soap uses this ability to cover some of the obvious issues.

-Soap knows he's distracting. He's a proud thing, and rarely bothers shifting that. He's damn good at what he does and looks damn good doing it. Hshows off his muscles/skills/looks without shame.

-Shapeshifting, self explanatory, but only works proportionally give or take a few inches. He may take on the appearance of another person or creature, briefly. But once again, only appearance. Mimicking voices is another skill.

-Sight or Clairvoyance, this ability's range depends on the court or bloodline. In Soap's case, his visions will occasionally come to him in dreams, these being more sophisticated visions or events far in the future. These visions are generally more detailed. He is typically privy to smaller prophecies, glimpses of events happening minutes before him. These are typically vague, but have consistently been enough to save his and his teammates asses numerous times in the field. The Infamous Mactavish Intuition ;)

-Soap is one hell of an alchemist, and can make due with most natural items at his disposal. Poisons, potions, explosives, you name it, Soap can make it. He excelled remarkably in the maths and sciences in school, and it’s why he was also quickly assigned to demolitions so long ago.

-Soap has a very noticeable smell. One that isn't exclusively detected by other supernatural beings. Any human standing beside him would notice it. Lemon and shortbread, with a warm curl of rose. Clean, green and vaguely sweet. People wonder if his callsign was from this fact rather than his prowess on the field.

-Nudity has no taboo with the Fae. Raised as such, the man has literally no shame. Soap Mactavish has been naked since he was a child in the woods, and will continue to proudly do so. Does not understand why everyone else is so uptight about it. Will bust in on someone in the shower without a second thought. “Stop screamin’ it’s just me”

-Fae are very partial to music, and Soap is no exception. He is so easily captivated by the sound, swaying slightly, almost as if hypnotized. Soap isn’t as in tune with artists and genres as Gaz is, but he keeps a hoard of songs on his phone. Gaz is his main contributor, keeps him well fed with playlists he makes. Playing new records for Soap as they bop around the kitchen together, playfully dancing or headbanging together. Soap was once pretty proficient with piano and guitar at his mam’s encouragement. His singing however, nearly got him killed in basic.

-Many animals are the watchdogs of the Fae. Soap has been seen having conversations with himself, unknowing to onlookers that a little frog or squirrel was sitting beside him. Someone swears they saw a mouse crawl out of his tac vest once. He whistles with the birds, scoops up bugs and plops them back into the weeds. He unfortunately doesn’t know the language of the shower spider. He doesn't bother to learn, he thinks he prefers the silence in this instance.

-Soap can be attracted with a myriad of things just like any other fae. Music as mentioned above is one. He is also partial to pretty chimes and bells, running water, shiny and/or colorful displays, as well as anything sweet, candies or sweet creams/milks/liquors.

- Too much contact with iron on his bare skin will poison him. Fortunately most weaponry constructed now is made of more synthetic material. It can be noticed that Soap is very particular about his gloves, and is rarely seen without them on. Iron on properties or above doors won’t exactly stop him, but it is incredibly uncomfortable and will lead to sickness if he is trapped within such a ward for too long.

-Fae, like crows, are enamored with jewels and other shiny objects, less of a weakness really and more of a distraction. Soap, prior to his enlistment had several piercings, such as his ears, and brow…among other things. He was very fond of the adornments, and easily captivated by the shiny displays on others. (This also extends to his intense love of blowing shit up and watching the sparks fly, big ole hearts in his eyes as the colors dance) In the event the team goes out for something special Soap will throw on a few pieces for fun~

-Soap can not lie, at least not directly, however Soap is a very sharp lad, and has learned to cleverly navigate around this by either not telling the whole truth, letting others assume, or simply not correcting misconceptions. He is a Fae afterall, being clever is his specialty.

-Customs of love and marriage vary among the Fae. Many Fae interpret strong love as variations of servitude, especially towards human mates. Soap has gotten himself tangled between both of these versions of love. For Soap love is servitude. Not something to be expected of his lovers, but from him. Soap gives himself to his lovers willingly, He wants to be good, give them anything they want and let them take what they need. Love is worship, and Soap is a very devoted man.

-Soap and Gaz had bro’d up as soon as they spotted each other. Having seen through each other's glamours, they became fast friends. Two oddballs fighting side by side. Which would turn into playful banter, and kips on the helo leaning against one another. Then to wandering hands and desperate kisses, having found comfort and fondness in each other after years of hiding themselves among humans. Soap and Gaz are the most cuddly. Johnny likes to lay sprawled in his Sphinx’s nest, his arms curled around his middle, face buried against Gaz's stomach. Both of them absolutely hate to sleep alone.

- Soap had a knack for getting into trouble. Disregarding orders to do what needed to be done. Had nearly been kicked out had his skills not saved his skin (and countless others). It was Price who sniffed him out, offered to take the man on loan for a bit. Soap's former CO was happy to be rid of him and hopeful that the notoriously stern Captain would knock some sense into him. Price, however had no such plans, he cut Soap loose, full authority, and watched the man bloom. Price did not anger at Soap’s decisions, didn’t flinch at his savagery in the field. In fact, Price had looked upon him with fondness (and a fair amount of exasperation). He kept Soap warm with lovely praises and a regular morning coffee, plus a heavy splash of sweet cream, for good measure.

-Simon had been more difficult, adamant on giving the Fae a hard time. Having seemingly been put off by Soap ever since he bounded off the truck and fist-bumped his arm on the tarmac. But Soap was determined, chatting and teasing, unphased by the lieutenants' icey behavior. They fell together in no time. Soap nestled to his chest, lips brushing over Simon's slow beating heart. Soap would never admit it. Never admit that he knew it would be like this all along. That Soap had seen him in his dreams.

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spooky-pomegranate · 1 year

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Price's Scars

Price’s breath was steady and warm on your neck. The bristles of his beard moved ever so slightly up and down against your skin with each inhale and exhale.

You turned and faced him. Watching him sleep he looked peaceful, his strong jawline relaxed, and his lips slightly parted. You reached out and traced your fingers along his stubble, feeling the soft salt and pepper bristles beneath your fingertips.

He looked different.

He felt different.

Things had changed.

Each scar on Price’s body had been like a page from his private diary and earlier he had finally let you in. He had let you read his story. He had spent hours laying himself bare, letting you flip through his pages, and inviting you to study his text. And you had reveled in it. You had soaked in each detail like he was a sacred script, that the gods had blessed you with from on high. And you had memorized every line and stroke of ink like a preacher, devoted to his scripture.

He was still Price, a man whose heart was harder to get to know than most, but now you had a better understanding of him. He had dealt with more pain than you had ever imagined, and that knowledge made you handle him differently. You touched him more delicately and looked at him with a deeper understanding.

He was strong. Physically you had always known that, but now you knew he was a fighter down to his core. And he had promised to fight for you.

Your finger trailed over a small silver scar on Price’s jaw. Training accident when he was 18. Your hand moved to his chest. A bullet wound just below his shoulder. Kastovia, 2014 op gone sideways. You touched a tiny mark behind his ear. This one made you smile. A game of cops and robbers with the boys in his neighborhood. He’d been nicked with a plastic baton a little too hard. He was 8.

As you brushed his hair away from the scar there, you imagined a tiny John Price riding around his childhood neighborhood somewhere in England, doling out prop justice with a bicycle and a vivid imagination. You bet he was cute then. Shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He probably gave his parents hell too with the trouble he got into. If he never sat still now, he must have been on another level then.

You couldn’t help but smile.

God, you loved this man. This scarred but perfect man.

#call of duty #captain price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader

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goatcheesecak3 · 8 months

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What I think saw characters eat for breakfast

I'm not sure why but all these make perfect sense to me

John

I feel like John likes to keep it simple with egg and soldiers, not too much salt but a lot of pepper. If he wants to treat himself though, he'll make himself scrambled eggs on toast and a little salad. (He is my peepaw and I love him)

Amanda

She's an omelette girly <3 if she's got any vegetables knocking about she'll put them in, if not it's all just very plain. She prefers something more exciting, but can only really have something convenient and quick, considering how busy she is.

Lawrence

This man loves, and I mean LOVES, avocado on toast. He probably gets fancy bread from some market, and if he knew what the hell an Instagram was, he would post a picture of it with some corny caption like "what a way to start my day!🤗☀️🥑"

Adam

He doesn't eat breakfast most days, and when he does it's usually unbuttered toast. But in an ideal world, if he had the time and the money, he'd have pancakes with chocolate sauce every day. What can I say? I think he's got a sweet tooth.

Hoffman

I think Mark had a full English ONCE and never looked back. He doesn't have time to make one every day, but he'll be damned if he doesn't at least make himself a bacon sandwich with LOTS of brown sauce

Strahm

I think strahm is big fan of porridge with some jam in it. He makes a big deal of it being "healthy, yet tasty!"

Lynn

Lynn is a busy gal, her job means early mornings and a sporadic schedule, so there's no time to make a real breakfast. I think she's big into fruit smoothies for a quick breakfast that she can drink on her way to work.

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louthesawgirl · 1 month

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What each Saw character would get as a Tesco meal deal (scientifically accurate)

Hello everyone, I decided as my debut long Saw shitpost, I thought I would decide what meal deals different Saw characters would opt for if they stumbled into a Tesco and were a bit peckish after setting up a few traps.

If you’re not from the U.K. or Ireland and are not familiar with the British & Irish institutions of a meal deal, it’s basically a packaged sandwich, pasta pot, salad, bit of sushi maybe alongside a snack item and a drink for a fixed price (it used to be around £3/ €4 but the shops are taking the piss now). Meal deals are considered a treasured institution here and are an indication of your personality. People judge your character based on what you get between two slices of cheap bread.

Here’s what different Saw characters would get for a Tesco meal deal:

Adam (Faulkner) Stanheight

1. Southern fried chicken chipotle mayo sub

2. Doritos cheese flavour

3. Vimto still drink

Judging on how we know Adam is quite an unorganised adult struggling to adult most days, I would assume he opts for high energy foods to keep his tastebuds happy. Cheese, spiced chicken and fruity drinks seem up his street. Plus, Vimto is a very Mancunian thing and if Saw was set in the U.K., there’s no way Adam would not be from Manchester.

Dr Lawrence (Larry) Gordon

1. Eat Your Greens Feta Salad

2. Apple & Grape snack pot

3. Chilled Iced Latte

I feel like because Larry is a doctor, he prioritises convenience but also eats healthily. I also imagine him to be meat free/ vegetarian so that explains the feta & greens salad (I don’t think he’d be vegan though, he seems like he loves proper cheese too much). Larry seems like he’d always be carrying breath mints or tictacs to minimise the cheese or coffee breath- nobody needs a waft of that when being told they’ve got 6 months left to live.

Amanda Young

1. BLT sandwich

2. Walkers Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations Crisps

3. Monster Energy drink (chosen based on packaging colours to match mood)

Amanda is a busy lady planning traps and building contraptions designed to almost certainly kill people. She seems like she enjoys a bit of spice along with classic comfort combinations.

John Kramer

- Chicken & bacon sandwich

- Egg snack pot

- Green smoothie

John seems like he’s mindful of what he puts into his body considering he’s consistently a salt & vinegar crisp away from death with the cancer and all. He’s also a very smart man so he would know the best value for money combination with a meal deal is getting an overpriced fruit smoothie for a drink.

Mark Hoffman

- All Day Breakfast sandwich (triple)

- Walkers Max Salt & Vinegar crisps

- Red Bull

Mark seems like he can’t get enough of bacon & sausage, even though it’s cold and not exactly very fresh. Maybe he’d even have a bit of HP brown sauce with it. Mark would also probably make immature jibes towards vegans and vegetarians because he’s that kind of man. Considering Mark works overtime setting up traps and evading capture, all he’d be drinking by the events of Saw 7 would be energy drinks.

Jill Tuck

- Egg & Cress sandwich

- Arla strawberry protein yogurt

- Bottle of water

Jill is a bit… bland. I’m sorry but I just have to say it. Egg & cress perfectly summarises Jill’s personality as seen in movies 4-7 between two pieces of bread.

Peter Strahm

- Deli style cheese & pickle sandwich

- Smoked salmon sushi pack

- Pepsi Max

Strahm made some good decisions, some regrettable ones and one very very dumb decision during his time in the Saw universe. Just like his track record with making poor decisions, I’d guess Peter would get some supermarket sushi as a snack with his meal deal- not very fresh nor authentic and will leave you wondering why you couldn’t have got a pack of reliable crisps or a chocolate bar instead.

Lindsey Perez

- Feta & sundried tomato pasta

- Propercorn sweet & salty popcorn

- Fanta orange

Perez is a great character and so she would get a meal deal to reflect that. Why do I also imagine Lindsey being veggie?

Eric Matthews

- Meatball marinara sub

- Walkers Monster Munch Pickled Onion crisps

- Red Bull

I feel like this choice accurately reflects Eric. It’s a combination that’s maybe reflective of an immature palette, maybe even a sort of guilty pleasure combination. I wonder if he’d put the monster munch hands (or feet) on his fingers and eat them like that.

Hope you enjoyed my incredibly British saw shitpost x

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moondirti · 2 years

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I love your writing ❤️ Can I ask, what do you think each of the 141 boys top kinks are?

thanks love! sorry this took so long, i was givin it some thought

characters included: simon 'ghost' riley, captain john price, john 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick warnings: dacryphilia (mentioned sadism), gagging (spit and alluded breathplay), breeding (unprotected p-in-v and creampies), anal (lube/preparation, unprotected p-in-a)

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY: DACRYPHILIA

i've mentioned this before but i whole-heartedly believe that simon loves seeing you cry. he's not a good man, nor does he pretend to be – he's a sadist in many ways, and that extends to the bedroom, where, more than anything, he strives to find you writhing in half pain, half pleasure.

there are darker parts of him he tries to keep at bay; that instinct to push you to your limits - seeing just how far you can contort before you threaten to break, testing the give of your flesh and what it takes to pierce it. yet, no matter how much you beg for it - no matter what you say or do - he would never expose that part of himself to you. he’d keep it locked up, tucked between a rib and that doughy part of him that still rings with vexing guilt.

but drawing glossy tears to your lovely little eyes? fucking ragged moans and high-pitched wails out of you? it’s the perfect medium, a compromise he seeks almost every lay. simon would leave bruises, would push so far into you your belly bulges. he stretches you out, tender skin pulling with a fiery sting, and pinches your clit as you try to adjust. he leaves marks he knows will heal, but ones that ache enough to get you sniffing into the crook of his neck.

and it’s when you’re all flushed out, lips swollen and salted water staining your cheeks, that he cums the hardest. it’s when you’re still hiccuping in the aftermath, tender, raw, does he opt to stay the night. just this once, just for the girl whose tears he both hates and adores.

JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH: GAGGING

it is without a doubt in my mind that i say: johnny has a major oral fixation. when people ask whether he’s an ass, tits or thighs guy, he has to turn them around to very intently point to that bloody fucking mouth of yours. it was the first thing that captured his eye – those lips smeared in lip gloss – and ever since then, he hasn’t been able to get a grip.

because – listen – he’s messy. sex with him involves every fluid imaginable, puddled in curves and bends you always miss when washing up. the worst of them is spit; he’s a sucker for you all cock-dumb and drooly, stuffed chock-full in every single hole. when he’s ramming you from behind, he’ll always hug an arm around to reach your face, pushing three thick fingers onto your tongue until you’re gagging like crazy. he nudges your tonsils, allows you the space to breathe but not enough to swallow back your piling saliva. johnny doesn’t pull back until he feels it running down his wrist, until he’s coated in you absolutely everywhere.

and it’s not just his fingers. he shoves just about anything down your throat. his cock, buried to the hilt so your nose smooshes into the crop of curly hair on his pelvis; your toys, right after making you play with yourself; hell, there was the one time he’d been too impatient to get back home and pulled you into a public restroom. he’d fucking crammed your panties into your mouth to prevent you from making noise.

he just likes seeing you struggle to fit them, issall

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE: BREEDING

at twenty-something, he’d made a list of things he wanted to accomplish in his lifetime and, while his career goals were rapidly realised, the domestic column went largely untouched for almost a decade. he thought he was past that point of adolescent naivete – having long since learnt to be okay with the way things are – but price isn’t getting any younger. when he meets you, that yearning for a family – a pregnant wife, barefoot and waiting for him, touched with a halo type of radiance – comes back twice as strong.

he knows he can’t intentionally fuck a baby into you, not yet – he’s still in a position where he’s away from home more often than not. that being said, the captain certainly plays fast and loose with the rules. no condoms? mm, no problem, sweetheart. i’ll fetch you a plan b tomorrow, before pumping you full of cum. he thinks he’s discreet when he manhandles you into those positions, the ones where your bottom half is propped up, where your legs are pushed to your chest and his cock spears into unfathomable depths. he just wants you to feel every of him, promise.

but lord, does he lose it when he feels his head kiss the wall of your womb. It’s the sight of you, spread open and overflowing, globs of pearlescent spend oozing from a wrecked hole. it’s you smearing it into your folds with two quivering fingers and tugging him closer. price thinks he’s ready to risk it all – every ticked box, his career, his livelihood – to get to see you like that every morning, blushing with an early dawn, biting down on his shoulder to keep the kids from waking up.

for now, though, he’ll settle for fingering his cum back into you, knowing that it won’t amount to anything.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK: ANAL

often pegged as the most ‘well-behaved’ member of the 141, gaz just tends to keep things quiet. he hides his snickers with a cough, his sarcastic remarks are whispered to himself (unlike soap – who almost yaps about everything to the lieutenant). as such, his top kink happens to be more of a dirty little secret than anything. it takes him a while to admit it to you, but the thought of stretching your other hole drives him mad; his eyes always draw to the ring of muscle whenever you’re bent in front of him.

he’s kind of ashamed, really. that is, until one slow afternoon where the two of you indulge in your routine of cuddles and shitty anime dubs. he’s got you nestled on his lap, curled under an old quilt that smells like sugar scrub and his aftershave. and maybe it’s the way your head tucks under his chin, or maybe it’s your legs intertwined with one another, but before he knows it, he’s grinding up into your ass and you’re reciprocating, panting as his hardening bulge cleaves between it.

you know, i’ve always wanted to try something… next thing you know, you’re in your bedroom, pillow buttressing your hips as he slowly preps you. he’s got one hand spreading your cheeks, the other coated in lube, scissoring the unbelievably tight clutch of your ass. he’s leaking onto his lap, practically twitching, but he doesn’t want to rush. he takes his time unravelling you, giving you all the orgasms you need to let go of your tensions. only then does he finally, finally, split you open.

and it’s beyond anything he’s ever imagined; your muscles are more controlled, stronger. you squeeze him with herculean strength, milking him for all he’s worth. gaz buries his face into your hair to muffle the satisfied groans that stream from him, taking you deeper, deeper, so that when he cums, you can feel it in your guts.

needless to say, anal becomes a regularity after that.

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featherandferns · 4 months

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It’s my birthday today!!!

Literally can not decide how jj would act about birthdays, what do you think?

-🍓

first of all - HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you have had, or are having, the best day! <3

(everyone wish 🍓 anon happy birthday right now or else no more JJ fics)

hmmm. I think JJ would definitely try his best with birthdays. Even if he doesn't quite hit the mark, he'd get brownie points for giving it his best shot.

His dad didn't ever care about his birthday. At the most, he'd get a rough pat on the shoulder and a grunted happy birthday, kid, or even a can of larger if his dad was feeling extra affectionate and perky. At the least, it would go unnoticed. Thankfully, the Pogues made up for the lack. They'd supply him with drinks and weed and cake, and would spend the day doing JJ-approved things. Those typically involved starting the day with a blunt and a beer, surfing at the break, fishing in the evening and wrestling around the campfire. Money being tight and all, gifts were few and far between. Instead it was more company. That was plenty for JJ. Just the acknowledgement that he was turning another year older was enough.

Besides, his birthday brought a looming sense of dread. He'd try and push it down, distracting himself with festivities, but every year that passed, he wondered what his future might look like. A prison cell like his dad, or casual alcoholism? A scrimping-and-scraping lifestyle, alone and isolated? Or a simple but cheerful life with his friends, perhaps even rich with gold gathered from John B and Pope's countless adventures?

That final premonition became stronger after JJ met you. Once you were around, the festivities altered slightly. Instead of a blunt first-thing, it was sleepy morning sex, with you doting on JJ like he were the first born king, and then a sedated smoke straight after. The joys didn't end at the bonfire: instead, it extended into the night, with you practically worshipping JJ in the bedroom. You also splurged out to get him a gift. Usually it was something handy, like a lighter or pocketknife, but JJ treasured every bargain buy like it was a Rolex.

Because JJ knew what it felt like to go without on birthdays, whenever it was yours, he tried his best to make it special. He woke you up with his head between your thighs. He attempted to bake you breakfast in bed (often consisting of burnt pancakes and luke-warm coffee). He'd be the first in line to offer to take photos of you for your Instagram, working overtime to get the perfect angles and lighting. Had to at least try and push his luck, sneaking a shot up your skirt, earning him a smack upside the head. Same as you, he scraped together enough money to get you a gift. Some jewellery or make-up that you'd been eyeing, unable to justify the price tag. If money was too tight, he fell back on his acts of service. Fixed the creaky door. Pimped out your board. Cleaned your busted-up car. You fucking loved it.

Whilst some things became birthday traditions, one very quickly did not. The first time you celebrated a birthday with JJ, he tried to bake you a cake. Note the word 'tried'. It was undercooked, to start. When he took it out of the cake-pan, raw batter leaked everywhere. He salvaged the baked sponge and made some horrendous contemporary art out of it. The icing was just as bad. Isn't it strange how similar salt looks to sugar? In wonky, wobbling hand-writing, JJ piped happy bithday, joyfully oblivious to the spelling mistake. And whilst the cake was completely inedible (like truly diabolical), you marked that as the moment you fell in love with JJ. Hell, when a guy bakes you a cake, you sort of don't have a choice.

So, JJ tried his best with birthdays, and you appreciated every tiny effort :)

#replies #happy birthday!#drabbles #jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks

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thedeviltohisangel · 6 months

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All The Things I Did (7): I Thought About Thinking It Through

a/n: ok so the first blurb of the sleep talking interlude has been somewhat negated so I apologize but promise it is worth it. heavy shit this chapter as we get the full story on sidney landry. but john might say the L word...

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, mentions of character just wanting it all to stop

When John walked into the pub that night, the sounds of an angel laughing reached his ears but the cause was making his fists curl. Cass was seated at a table in the back corner with a man, who he presumed was Mr. Foster, sitting across from her. Her chin was in her hand the way it was whenever he told her a funny story. Her smile was as soft as candlelight as she nodded along to whatever he was telling her. Swears he felt his blood boil when her hand brushed against his across the table.

“Hey, baby, I didn’t think I was going to see you here tonight.” His annoyance was washed away as she turned to greet him with a smile. She said his name and brought him in for a kiss, John using her proximity to press a few more to her lips.

“John, this is Captain Will Foster. We went to spook school in Maryland together.” John kept one arm around the back of her chair as he shook the man’s hand.

“Major Egan, it’s an honor, sir.”

“Hear that, Cass, some people think it’s an honor to meet me.” She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her soda. “You’re the one who’s going to keep an eye on my girl in Berlin?”

“I’ll do my best, sir, but this is Cass’ operation. I’m just here to do what she tells me.” Cass blushed and ducked her head. “Lieutenant Cooper graduated top of our class. Highest marks the entire year.”

“It’s not that impressive,” she began. “Not like I can fly a plane.”

“None of that,” John stated as he gripped her chin between his fingers. “You are the smartest, most gorgeous, most impressive woman that has ever walked this earth.” She smiled in spite of the ridiculousness and let him pull her in for another kiss.

“Careful, John, or all this is going to go to my head. Then I’ll be truly insufferable.”

“I have never once complained about your company.” As it always did, the rest of the world sealed itself off from the space between them. As soon as they had their eyes on each other there was nothing else that mattered. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Yes, please.” John kissed her forehead and was off in the direction of the bar.

“You and the Major, huh?”

“He is…a welcome surprise. I saw him get off a plane one day and couldn’t shake the look in his eyes.”

“Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back,” Will replied with a swig of his beer. “You always were good at learning everything about your target without giving up even a hint of yourself.”

“John’s not my target. He’s my-” She stopped. What was he? Was there a word to describe their relationship status? Partner seemed too severe and official. Boyfriend seemed too trivial. “Mine. He’s just mine. And I’m his.”

“Simple. That works.” Oh, if he only knew. The feelings they had for each other, ability to express them agnostic, were simple. They were pure. They were real. They were warm and comforting and made her nerves tingle. But the world around them was so complicated. The lives they led as individuals were complicated, how were they supposed to twine them together? “And to think you were a runaway bride when I first met you.”

“Runaway bride?” John chose the perfect time to return. Catching the one part of that comment that Cass felt in her chest. “You?”

“It’s an exaggeration of the circumstances.” Cass transitioned to damage control. The topic of why she had left South Carolina in the first place hadn’t come up between her and John. And she had wanted to keep it that way. There was no use pouring salt in her old wounds.

“Oh, come on, Cass. Engaged to marry the big time banker’s son and fleeing the engagement party to enlist in the OSS? It’s an incredible story.” For the second time that day, John found himself furious with the tone someone was using to speak to her. She had fully retreated into herself, focused on the condensation rolling down the side of the bottle, her hands shaking in her lap at the reminder of that night.

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk about it, Captain.” There was authority in his tone. It was protective. Purposeful. No room to misinterpret his words. “You okay?” It looked like she was having trouble breathing. As if the amount of trauma trapped in her chest was suffocating her.

“No. I just need some air. Alone.” She doesn’t think she could look John in the eye. Not when he now knew the awful truth. Not when she was now nothing but damaged and spoiled goods. John watched her walk away with a clenched jaw.

“Major-”

“I don’t know what the fuck happened in South Carolina, Foster, but if I ever hear you mention it again it will be the last thing you ever do.” John drained the rest of his whiskey and slammed it on the table. He didn’t wait for a response. He meant the words he said. And Will knew it.

----

“There’s more than one of them,” John mocked as he sat across from the RAF officers. “I can see more than one of you, too. I could knock all of you out.” Cass hadn’t come back into the pub and John had just drowned his anger and worry in amber liquid. Buck and Veal helped settle him down as he yelled he could do it in only one punch.

“You want to get Major excited? Baseball. Specifically the Yankees,” Curt offered.

“Really? I would have thought it was the little poppet who left close to tears.” No one tried to stop him when he stood this time.

“Say that again,” he threatened.

“Why don’t we make a bit of sport out of it, Major?”

“I’ve got him, John, let me take care of him,” Curt reasoned. Really, they were all afraid John might kill him. A better man would know when to step aside. Let a more level head prevail. But John wasn’t in any particular mood to take the high ground.

“Not this time. People in this goddamn pub need to stop talking about her.” They all milled outside and John tossed his blazer into the grass. He wondered if Cass would appreciate the gesture or be repulsed by it. If she ever believed violence was the answer or always chose to think her way out of everything. He ducked the weak hand of the Brit as he thought about the way she looked earlier. The way she had hid herself from his gaze and his touch and requested she be alone. He didn’t like the hole in his chest that she left whenever she wasn’t near.

His fist landed square on his target’s face and the sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed throughout the night air. He pictured Harding’s lovesick eyes when his Cass entered the room. Pictured Foster and his words quelling the fire inside of his Cass in an instant. Pictured this pompous asshole watching his Cass walk from the pub with a shake to her shoulders. Cass was a deity that mere men were not meant to get too close to. John didn’t even believe he deserved the way she looked at him. The way she touched him and comforted him and made him feel at home in a faraway land.

“You good, Bucky?” The others were cheering and laughing and slapping him on the shoulder but Buck looked concerned more than anything.

“I gotta protect her, Buck. I can’t let this place take her from me.” He couldn’t even feel the wounds to his knuckles or the blood of another man trickling down his fingers. “I’ll find you guys later.” John ignored their groans and pleas and grabbed his jacket from the ground before heading off in her direction. His north star. He would always follow her home.

----

He knocked softly against her door, Mary not hiding her eye roll at his disheveled uniform and bloodied knuckles when she had begrudgingly let him in, his forehead landing against the wood as he waited for her to answer.

“You found me,” she whispered softly as she cracked the door open an inch.

“Always will,” he replied sincerely. “Can I come in?” She nodded and opened the door wider, John closing it behind him as she sat on the edge of her bed. He looked around and noticed a packed bag on the floor and a stack of envelopes on her desk. The one on top looked like it was addressed to her parents.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back after…” John shook his head.

“You were upset. He shouldn’t have said what he said.” Cass chuckled drily and looked at the ceiling.

“You have my back, just like that? Without even knowing what it was he was talking about?” He sat down in her chair, elbows landing on the top of his thighs. “What happened to your hand?” She surged forward and held his hand in hers with a delicacy that made him shudder.

“I was having your back.” Not asking any further, she opened a drawer and pulled out a first aid kit. “And to answer your question, yes. It doesn’t matter what he was talking about. If it made you uncomfortable, it needed to stop.” He didn’t wince as she cleaned the blood from his hand, kissing each knuckle for extra measure, and wrapping a bandage to seal in her love.

“I appreciate that, John, but what he said was true.” He winced now.

“About being another man’s bride?” The thought made him sick. The thought that Cass was already someone else’s. That she hadn’t told him and let him fall in love with her and share in those sacred moments together. That maybe that was why she so rigidly didn’t want him to say so.

“I was supposed to be. Before I left for training, I was engaged.” She paused and waited for his reaction. Waited for him to be angry or upset and tell her she wasn’t worth the trouble.

“And I’m sure you left for a reason, Cass.” His desire to understand her almost hurt her chest. It reminded her exactly why she had left. Why Sidney Landry was most certainly not the man she was meant to marry. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to drudge something up if you’ve already gotten over it.”

“No, if…if me and you are going to be me and you, you need to know. You deserve to know.” John leaned forward to hold her hands, kissing the back of them with all the love he could muster. “His name is Sidney Landry. His father is the biggest banker in the state and they’ve been looking to get their claws into my family’s business for decades.” Her hands shook slightly and he squeezed them tight.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving.”

“By all accounts it was an advantageous match. They were wealthy and powerful and Sidney could have any girl in Charleston that he wanted but for some god awful reason he wanted me. My mother was so delighted. She had found a man who was willing to try to tame me.” A tear rolled down her cheek and John’s thumb wiped it away.

“Cass…”

“I had no choice but to say yes and let him parade me around like some blue ribbon. I was so miserable every second I was with him. He would grab my arms so tight they bruised everytime we went somewhere. He would say the crudest things about me having his children. I spent months just wanting it all to stop.” The tears were coming in full force. Her hands grasping John’s like he was her anchor in the storm. His own eyes were swimming with emotion as he watched her exorcize these demons from within her. “One night he had been drinking so much I couldn’t understand what he was saying. But he was so angry I wouldn’t let him touch me. So angry that he…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he repeated, “I know all I need to, Cass.” John already knew he was going to kill Sidney Landry. Didn’t know when but he knew it would be slow.

“His hands were around my neck and I thought he was going to kill me. I hit him as hard as I could over and over before he stopped. I ran and I ran and I ran until I couldn’t breathe.”

“You ran all the way to London, huh?” he said in the hopes of getting a smile to crack across her face. It worked.

“I thought I ended up here because I was running away from him but maybe I was really just running to you.”

“That sounds about right,” he murmured as he stroked the top of her cheeks. “What you went through…You are so fucking strong, Cass. You deserve to be happy and to feel loved and protected.”

“I’m so damaged, John. I’m not meant for a life of teacups and doilies and standing there silently. No one is going to want this version of me.” Now that he knew the truth, she expected him to run too. To find a simple girl who could be the wife he deserved and the mother to his children he deserved.

“That’s not true, Cass, because I,” he swallowed and held her face between his hands, steady and strong, “because I love you. I am so fucking in love with you, Cassandra Cooper. I love every last bit of you and I love this version of you and know I’ll love every version that comes after.” She kissed him ferociously, not able to get enough of him even with no distance between them. “Come home with me when this is all over. Do me the honor and make me the happiest man alive.”

“I will, John, I will.” He kissed her with a groan, eager to lock this promise between them. “John, you need to know that I leave for Berlin in the morning. The operation it’s…it’s…others have tried and they haven’t come back.”

“I’m not letting you say goodbye,” he reasoned. “Not when you got me thinking about an after.” Oh it was so cruel and dangerous for the universe to do this to him. Give him the one thing he’d been wanting only to have her live her life on the same edge he did.

“If something happens to me, I need you to know I feel the same way you do.” She just needed to get through this. If she could survive Berlin, she could survive this whole thing. She could love John Egan wholeheartedly and unabashedly. She could find the courage to go back home if he was with her. “When I went to see Harding this morning, I went to turn down Berlin.”

“Turn it down?”

“I would have rather been here with you than anywhere else. No matter what those consequences were. But then I saw Buck’s letter and I was so angry.”

“I know. I deserve that.” She shook her head.

“No, you don’t because here I am doing the exact same thing.”

“Hey, you’re not going to need those farewell letters on your desk, okay? You’re going to go to Berlin, kick someone’s ass or steal state secrets to end the war and you’re going to come right back home to me. Just like how I am always going to come right back home to you.”

“Forever and ever?” she asked.

“Forever and ever,” he promised. “You going to let me hold you while we try and get some sleep tonight?”

And that was how Mary found them before the sun rose the following morning. John protectively wrapped around Cass from behind, their fingers interlocked at her middle. And they both studied each other for a few more minutes until Mary said it was really, really time for Cass to go. John not wanting to forget a single thing about this very moment. Cass not wanting to forget a single detail about the face of the man she loved. The face of the man she was fighting to keep safe.

“Don’t get distracted by thoughts of your love for me while you’re flying,” she teased as he pecked her lips a few times.

“I am going to fly so much faster with that admission off my chest.” She giggled and fell back into him easily, her plane whirring to life behind them.

“If you do, I might let you show me how much you love me when I get back.” That twinkle of mischief was there that he loved so dearly.

“Is that so? You better hurry then. I’m a patient man, Spook, but not when it comes to loving on you.”

“Cass! We got to go! Weather’s moving in!” Her heart dropped along with her smile as she turned back to John. The part she was dreading.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” she said, her fingers tracing the contours of his face one last time. His knuckles brushed her cheek and he kissed her one last time.

“I love you. You come back to me in one piece. That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll do my best, Major.” She pulled him by the front of his jacket for her own last kiss. To tell him she loved him without saying the words. Those would be for after.

She walked backwards until she couldn’t anymore. Her hand pressing to her lips before she released it into the wind, John catching the sentiment with ease. He had never felt such torment watching a plane take off as he did in that moment. It was carrying everything he held dear off to a faraway place.

“Please come back to me, Cass.”

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #mota fanfic #callum turner fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #cass and bucky

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inthememetime · 2 years

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There are plenty of posts where Justice League and Constantine sees Danny's Ghost King Form in all of its Eldritchy glory, from on being Lightning Based to one being compared to an event horizon, as he takes down the ghost that was giving the League problems and it basically freaks them out.

So when I stumbled upon this picture

I knew that this could be an excellent form worthy of a King if it was tweaked to fit Danny with ghostly elements, and maybe ice themes sprinkled with something Space related.

Like Vortex or Undergrowth is giving the League trouble, then this thing straight out of the Old Testament shows up, takes down the Ghost, and turns back to Danny who didn't know he just melted the League's brains.

Or, maybe during The Legion of Doom / The Light tries to summon the Ghost King for power/ take over the world, and Danny comes along looking like that and scares everyone there shitless.

How do you think that will go down?

I have had this in my drafts for So Very Long... Im sorry!!!

Holy *^$π, Batman!™

I LOVE the image, and 100% agree, it's an awesome base to work off with Danny.

I think it would be hilarious. Matter of fact, I wrote a fic about it. 😁 If you have an AO3, let me know and I'll gift it to you.

Ao3 here

Be Not Afraid- or Whatever

Summary: The weather god- though Constantine swore it was 'just' a ghost- had pinned down the entire Justice League. While they'd managed to trap Vortex in a two square mile area and evacuate civilians, and even arrested the cult responsible, they in turn were trapped in a small warehouse, protected only by the blood blossom spray and salt circle Constantine made.

With no way to fight it, they had only one choice: summon another ghost. Enter Ghost King Danny Phantom, stage right.

Rain, wind, and hail pounded heavily against the metal roof and walls of the tiny back office of a warehouse.

Earlier today- just this morning, in fact- it had been a bright and warm summer day. The Flash flinched as a piece of hail broke through a window. Constantine didn't flinch, intent on his task. Superman was still unconscious, Batman picking out shards of kryptonite from a bullet that had hit its mark too well.

It was silent but for the occasional pained gasp from their Kryptonian friend, and Constantine's low mutters in what sounded like Ancient Latin to Barry's untrained ears.

Thunder roared, and the single lightbulb went out. Wordlessly, Batman cracked a pair of glowsticks, passing one to him so he could hold it up for Constantine. Clark groaned quietly.

A cult of summoners swearing fealty to Vortex, Lord of Storms, seemed easy enough to stop; Batman made the plan and coordinated with everyone. He and Superman rescued hostages and dock workers alike as Batman and Constantine took down the cult.

It was supposed to be easy. Simple. It was anything but.

The smell of the weird floral spray Constantine used- Blood Blossoms, the magic user had said- was beginning to fade. A drop of sweat fell down Constantine's face. His lips were pressed tight, white against the odd pallor of his face.

"John," Barry whispered, "how much longer?"

Another window broke. Batman swore quietly. "Good news is, we've got the blood sacrifice ready," he joked under his breath. He winced then, and pressed his hand against the bandage on his arm.

It had bled through again, but the others were needed for Clark. In a rare event, the alien was the most injured on the team.

The cultists had purchased bullets laced with kryptonite from somewhere, which didn't hurt Constantine any more than a regular one. The same couldn't be said for Clark.

The magic-user hesitated until water started to bubble underneath the door, threatening the complicated circle of chalk and blood. He spoke, and this time it wasn't in Latin. Barry couldn't recognize it.

The temperature began to drop further while the air around the man began to shimmer, almost. Ozone gathered in the air, and the darkness increased until he couldn't see anything. Even the glowstick was a pinprick of light so tiny he couldn't be sure it was real.

A low rumble sounded and a radioactive green pool started to open. One massive clawed hand grabbed the edge. Constantine's voice cracked- but didn't stop. Another hand pulled out, and another, folowed by one more.

They were white as snow up to the wrists. One massive wing shot up, far too big for the office, followed by another, both black as night and covered with starry patterns. The next thing Barry made out was a crown of twisted black iron and glittering jewels, wreathed in green flame, atop two large horns, blue like sea ice.

The figure continued to rise as John spoke, revealing a second, then third set of wings and a mane of white hair which flowed in a wind he couldn't feel. Four sets of eyes opened, some solid green and glowing, some pitch black, some solid white, and the last a myriad of colors.

The thing's face was almost tan, almost the color of mortal flesh, but green scars like lightning bolts marred it. A thud alerted him of one massive foot, then another, both white and clawed.

The rest of its body except a shining white D was black as the void. When it opened its mouth, he had to look away, unsure if he feared or loved it, found it beautiful or terrifying.

Abruptly, the light from the sticks was back. He didn't dare look at Clark or Batman to see how they were doing; every instinct said he was in front of a predator, and showing the weak of the herd would be a death sentence.

Finally, Constantine fell silent.

"What's up? Kind of a weird place for a summons, you know," it said, and Barry swallowed. It sounded like a child, an old man, a windstorm, the shriek of a blizzard, the thunder of roaring waves all at once.

"I have summoned you, King of Ghosts, to take your servant back to your realm," Constantine managed, voice only wavering a little.

It leaned forward. "And the price?"

The thing sounded almost teasing. Amused.

"What would you ask of us?"

"Autographs," it immediately said. "From Martian Manhunter, Superman, Cyborg, and Wonder Woman."

Wait. What?

"I'm a big fan," it added.

"Should all of us survive today, we will do so," he agreed.

"Sweet. Gimme like 5 minutes. Maybe 10, Vortex is a bit of a bitch. Also, be not afraid or whatever. I'm one of the good guys."

It was gone, then, and abruptly Barry sucked in a breath. Sounds of a fierce battle echoed from outside for several minutes before the storm abruptly stopped.

Slightly singed, the Ghost King returned. "Hey, does Supes over there need a doctor? I know a good one in the GZ."

He swallowed. Batman cleared his throat. "We only need to get the kryptonite out of him, he'll be fine."

"Okay!" It chirped, then reached over and, without so much as ruffling the suit, reached into the alien and pulled out a small handful of shards. "I'll be back in a few weeks for those autographs- I'd say tomorrow, but time is weird. Bye, guys!"

"Wait- can I ask for a way to contact you? If you'd be willing to help in the future," Constantine asked.

"Yeah, sure. My Chirper handle is @realdeadguy, all lowercase, no punctuation," he said, "and you can call me Phantom if you want."

"Guys!"

Sam groaned and Tucker covered his face with a pillow.

"Dude, we know you just got back from a summons, but it's 3 am."

Danny rocked back and forth, wings twitching. "I met the Justice League! They're so cool! Batman was there! Batman!!!"

"I thought you were all about Su-"

"And I saved Superman's life, isn't that awesome?! I kept the kryptonite, look, real-life rock from space!"

"Rocks aren't alive, Danny," Sam muttered. Then, a second later, "wait, what?! You met the Justice League? Was Wonder Woman there?"

"No, but I asked for an autograph."

#danny phantom #inthememetime #danny phantom au #eldritch danny #ghost king danny #vortex #constantine #dp x dc #barry allen #the flash #batman #superman

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saintbarou · 7 months

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tags: 18+ minors dni, a/b/o verse, fem reader, omega reader, alpha john, licking, marking, themes of jealousy and possessiveness. for @prettyboykatsuki with their explicit permission.

synopsis: jealousy comes knocking on our door no matter what or when or why.

He doesn’t smell like you, it’s the first thing you realize when John Marston walks back into camp after taking Old Boy to the horse hitches with the rest of them. It makes your body twitch and stall for just a moment - you spill some water on the table that Mr.Pearson reprimands you for and you can only half apologize. You watch with sharp eyes how he moves, how he walks and how John easily slots himself next to the other men at the table with his hands on his gun belt even when he is passed a bottle of whiskey.

The camp is large and has a variety of scents and smells, one gets used to them and you can identify them as easily as picking out the white clouds from the blue sky. Pine for Charles, lavender for Mary-Beth and firewood for John Martson who is currently being covered by the scent of roses and cherries that you know no one at camp smells like and it makes something inside of you insane at this outsider’s scent. It’s enough to make you excuse yourself, marching over to the scarred man and tugging him behind you, away from the men who watch with amused expressions on their faces as John almost trips with the force you pull him into your shared tent.

The thick wooden beam that supports the middle of the tent is your witness stand as you push the taller, broader alpha to the wood and hold him there by the shoulders, nails digging through the sleeves of his coat. There’s an alarmed undercut to his firewood and brandy scent, agitation and nerves biting against your own as you bare your teeth at him.

“What is it with you, woman?” He asks you, dark brows furrowed and his scowl on his scared face would make anyone cower but you with your stubborn fearlessness that you push him further against the wood as the sweetness of your foreign scent turns sour in your agitation.

“Why do you smell like that - like some, fucking tramp?!” You hiss, voice low but venomous and John has no doubt that if you had a tail it would be flickering behind you with your jowls peeled back like some sort of feral hellcat. John frowns, brows pinched as he tries to free his arms from your grip.

“What you mean? I smell fine.” He throws back, bringing the lapel of his jacket to sniff half heartedly - picking up on nothing out of the usual. You puff, muttering some words under your breath. The only ones he catches are calling him the village fool as you crowd him, pressing yourself flush to him and John is happy that you closed the tent behind you so no one at camp can see how the fullness of your figure perfectly melts into his. There’s a flush to his cheeks that was not there before and you can’t notice it on how you feel sick on the scent of roses. On the tips of your toes, you press your face onto his neck and rub against the scent glands there. Pressing and rubbing until your cheeks shine with the scent of firewood and musk and brandy as you huff into his skin. Your tongue sneaks out to lap at the oils and John jumps beneath your silken touch as you moan softly against his flushed form. The salt of him melds onto your mouth as his scent clouds your mind and the sour-mango scent fogging the enclosed space of the tent blooms in golden nectar and clove.

It’s enough to make him moan, enough to make something heady flush in his mind as your teeth once bared nip and suck until the alabaster skin of his throat turns into purple petals of the jarul flower you would catch along the coasts. You pull away only to be tugged back and John’s voice is reduced to raspy little sounds in your ear as you lick, bite and suck at the other side of his neck until you can see the indents of your teeth as red as a sunset. If you could, you would have stayed there for hours, scenting and marking your John until he reeked of mangos and clove and henna leaves and so many things from the other side of the world.

“You’re mine, don’t ever - don’t ever come back smelling like you ain’t.” You mutter in between nips of your sharpened teeth.

So he’d never smell of anything other than you ever again.

But his name is called by Hosea, who’s voice is like a spear of sobriety through the veil of omega-posession and alpha-want that makes you pull away. John is a vision and you are too, red faced and panting; face slick with drool and oils from his scent glands. Dark eyes look at you with a wanting so deep you are tempted to disobey Hosea’s call until it rings out again clear as day. It makes John swallow, ducking his head and running a scared, calloused hand through his head as he nods to you.

“I’ll see you later, um…okay. I’ll see you tonight. Here.” He mutters, ducking away and out the tent flap cursing when he hears some of the men holler at the marks on his neck and the heavy scent of omega on his clothes. You find yourself unbothered as you step out and return to Mr.Pearson who finds himself unable to look you in the eyes.

#lamb.writes #john marston x reader #rdr2 x reader #abo verse #red dead redemption 2 x reader

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wearethekat · 8 months

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Anticipated New Releases of 2024

**As anticipated by Me. Mostly SFF. Links are to goodreads because that's what I use, sorry. Anything marked "new to me" I haven't read anything by that author before and therefore can't vouch for the quality. I just think the premise is neat.**

Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands, Heather Fawcett (16 January)

Sequel to the charming novel about the fairy anthropologist.

Exordia, Seth Dickinson (23 January)

Well, it isn't a new Baru Cormorant, but this modern SF about first contact may be the next best thing.

City of Stardust, Georgia Summers (30 January)

New to me. A young woman descends into the underworld in order to break her family's fatal curse.

The Tainted Cup, Robert Jackson Bennett (6 February)

New to me. A sherlock holmes flavored duo solves the mystery of the murder of an imperial official in a labyrinthine fantasy realm.

What Feasts at Night, T Kingfisher (13 February)

The sequel to the mushroom horror book What Moves the Dead.

The Warm Hands of Ghosts, Katherine Arden (13 February)

A ghost story set in WW1 about a woman searching for her missing brother.

The Fox Wife, Yangsze Choo (13 February)

New to me. A detective in 1908 Manchuria investigates a young woman's death in an area full of mythical foxes.

Redsight, Meredith Mooring (27 February)

New to me. Unpowered priestess and Imperial pawn is set on a collision path with a pirate with a grudge for the Imperium (Gay romance).

Sunbringer, Hannah Kaner (12 March)

Sequel about the professional godkiller Kissen.

Jumpnauts, Hao Jingfang (12 March)

New to me. A SF novel in translation from Chinese, with three scientists joining forces to deal peacefully with a first contact situation.

The Woods All Black, Lee Mandelo (19 March)

I liked Mandelo's debut novel very much so I'm excited to read this queer horror novella set in 1920s Appalachia.

Floating Hotel, Grace Curtis (19 March)

New to me. A series of cozy character vignettes on a space cruise ship after a murder has occurred. One of the four (!) space hotel murder crimes books coming out this year.

The Emperor and the Endless Palace, Justinian Huang (26 March)

New to me. Reincarnation gay romance set in 4 BCE China, the 1740s, and modern-day LA.

Alien Clay, Adrian Tchaikovsky (28 March)

Far future space xenoarchaeology by a man trapped on a prison planet.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In, John Wiswell (2 April)

New to me. Bizarre lesbian cannibalism monster romance from the point of view of the monster.

The Familiar, Leigh Bardugo (9 April)

Glad to see Bardugo writing more adult fantasy, and this one is especially exciting because it's a fantasy set in early modern Spain with a Jewish main character. Fun to see a more original historical period.

A Sweet Sting of Salt, Rose Sutherland (9 April)

New to me. Lesbian selkie romance.

Death in the Spires, KJ Charles (11 April)

Charles branching out from romance into historical Oxford murder mystery about a group of friends with dark secrets.

Audrey Lane Stirs The Pot, Alexis Hall (22 April)

The new Hall thinly veiled british baking show romcom. Libby says it's releasing in April but I've heard nothing from the author so I think it may be Alecto'd (shifted to next year)

Necrobane, Daniel M Ford (23 April)

Sequel to the dungeons and dragons-esque low fantasy lesbian necromancy book.

A Letter to the Luminous Deep, Sylvie Cathrall (25 April)

New to me. Sweet underwater epistolary academic romance.

How To Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying, Django Wexler (21 May)

New to me. A young hero caught in a fantasy time loop gives up and tries being the villain in an attempt to escape.

Goddess of the River, Vaishnavi Patel (21 May)

Another woman-centered retelling of Hindu mythology, this time based on the river goddess Ganga.

Escape Velocity, Victor Manibo (21 May)

New to me. Evil and toxic private school alumni jockey for position in a space hotel event in an attempt to escape a dying Earth.

The Fireborne Blade, Charlotte Bond (28 May)

New to me. Gay dragon slaying knight novella.

Evocation, ST Gibson (28 May)

New to me but looks very cool. Attorney and medium David attempts to escape his deal with the devil with the help of his ex boyfriend and his ex boyfriend's wife (Poly romance).

Service Model, Adrian Tchaikovsky (4 June)

In an SF future, a robot kills its human owners and ventures out into a world where human supremacy is beginning to crumble.

Lady Eve's Last Con, Rebecca Fraimow (4 June)

New to me. A con artist seeks revenge on the man who hurt her sister, who's coincidentally also on a space cruise ship (Sapphic romance subplot).

Triple Sec, TJ Alexander (4 June)

An actual mainstream published poly romance (!!) by trans author Alexander.

Running Close to the Wind, Alexandra Rowland (11 June)

Gay! Pirates! Scheming! Alt fantasy world! Monks! I liked Taste of Gold and Iron a lot and I'm very excited for this one.

The Knife and the Serpent, Tim Pratt (11 June)

New to me. Space opera about an interdimensional organization. Also, there's a sentient starship.

The Witchstone, Henry Neff (18 June)

A childhood favorite of mine's adult debut, featuring a demon who suddenly has to shape up at his curse keeper job after eight hundred years of slacking.

Rakesfall, Vajra Chandrasekera (18 June)

VERY excited to read more weird queer sff from this author after a fantastic debut. Looks weird. I'm in.

Foul Days, Genoveva Dimova (25 June)

New to me. A witch in a Slavic fantasy inspired world flees her evil ex, the Tsar of Monsters. There's also a plague and a detective.

Saints of Storm and Sorrow, Gabriella Buba (25 June)

New to me. Filipino inspired anticolonialist fantasy novel about a nun who is secretly practicing the religion of her goddess.

The Duke at Hazard, KJ Charles (18 July)

A queer regency with an incognito duke by one of my particular favorite romance authors.

Long Live Evil, Sarah Rees Brennan (30 July)

!!! Very excited to see a new adult fantasy by Brennan. A reader is dragged into a fictional world and finds herself the villain.

A Sorceress Comes to Call, T Kingfisher (20 August)

A retelling of The Goose Girl from reliably good fairy tale stalwart Kingfisher.

Buried Deep and Other Stories, Naomi Novik (17 September)

Collection of Novik's short stories.

Swordcrossed, Freya Marske (8 October)

VERY excited to see a new book by talented writer Marske. A man falls in love with the duelist hired for his arranged wedding. MEANWHILE. details of the fantasy world wool industry.

Feast While You Can, Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta (29 October)

New to me. Small town queer cave horror.

The Last Hour Between Worlds, Melissa Caruso (19 November)

Multiple reality murder mystery spy vs spy type antics, with lesbians.

#book recommendations #on the tbr #now I would Like to put alecto the ninth on this but as we know. NO news (sobs)#long post #updated 3/8 with more books I've added since I posted this

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trashquisitor-shirozora · 8 months

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*enables you* what happened with TLJ 👃

After all these years I still can't properly find words to explain how deeply betrayed I felt after the credits rolled and I shuffled out of the movie theater with everybody else. There was a TON of hype surrounding this movie, an absolute fuckton. I only saw positive reviews about it, the cast, the director, the plot. I got excited to see where Rian Johnson & Co. would take the ST.

The only remotely negative comment I saw before watching the movie was a fandom blog saying they didn't like what happened to Poe. Since this blog was about racism in fandom, I knew something was off. That was my only warning.

And y'know, it was like, five minutes in? Ten minutes? And Poe makes a "Yo mama" joke at Hux? I used to go into movies with an open mind and spent days gathering my thoughts about them because I was always slow to react, slow to gather my thoughts into coherent strings of words. It's how I enjoyed Michael Bay productions and JJ Abrams' love affair with lens flare. I never got actively angry with a movie I was watching, and I was fucking angry by the time the movie ended. I still remember texting a friend while standing out in front of the theater because I was so confused. The response to TLJ was so positive so why did I come out of the movie so frustrated and confused and dissatisfied with the whole thing?

It's been years and we all know how this movie divided the Star Wars fandom and just... broke Fandom Spaces in a way I never expected. We all know what TLJ did and didn't do, and how TROS provided the final nail in the coffin that was the ST experiment. But back then, all I saw was positive commentary about the themes and messages of TLJ, how it portrayed failure and the dangers of putting someone like Luke Skywalker on a pedestal, how the Force was female, how... important it was to see Poe get characterized as a hotheaded hotshot who needed to be demoted, slapped around, and stunned in order to learn some kind of lesson, how important it was to see Finn lose everything he gained in TFA so that he could relearn how not to be selfish or something while starring in a fucking incredibly tone-deaf B plot, how Rey... I'm not sure exactly what because she didn't need training anyway and then spent most of her time trying to bring Ben Swolo back to the light????? Rose was so promising as someone who grew up under the FO's thumb but she and Kelly were fucking abandoned by Disney so I don't know if Rose existing was actually a good idea if it meant giving Kelly unending trauma. Mark slipped up by calling Luke "Jake" and expressing his displeasure in front of cameras, and I was so fucking baffled and alienated by his character after knowing how his story ended in ROTJ that I couldn't connect with whatever lessons I and he are supposed to be learning. JJ set up Snoke like a mystery box and Rian just yeeted him off without so much as a fucking explanation so what was the point of that? Hux was a fucking joke. Phasma was barely there. The only character that Rian cared about was fucking Kylo Ren and Adam says years later that he was never supposed to get a redemption arc anyway.

Like, this was the movie everyone hyped up? This was the movie that didn't answer any questions left unasked by TFA and didn't bother to move forward with character development for any of the known characters? I spent money watching a slow space chase that ended on a planet made of salt and killed off Luke for Reasons? Am I stupid? Am I dumb? Am I a peasant incapable of understanding the masterpiece Rian directed, this so-called Best Star Wars Movie Since ESB?

But I couldn't say anything. I couldn't be dogpiled for hating such a empowering movie for women, a diverse and inclusive movie that had the likes of John and Kelly and Oscar. I couldn't be lumped in with the Star Wars dudebros with their raging misogynistic and racist takes on the movie, the cast, Kathleen Kennedy and Lucasfilm, Disney, etc. I couldn't be seen as one of them just because I didn't like a movie that I should like, I'm supposed to like. So I sat in silence, read meta, witnessed the fucking catastrophic explosion around some wild ass AO3 fandom essays written by a racist OG member of OTW about Finn/Poe, saw hate piled on black and bipoc fans, saw r*ylo fans come for John and John clap back at them, just saw an absolute fuckton of hate, and so by the time TROS came around I just... checked out. There was no way JJ could salvage what Rian had done and I was right. TROS was a corporate-run soulless garbage end to the Sequel Trilogy, but it ended just as The Mandalorian finished its first season and regained a lot of good will with this small story about a lonely Mandalorian bounty hunter who encountered a Force-sensitive Baby Yoda.

And then TBOBF/Season 3 of the Mando Show happened, just like how TLJ happened. All the promise, all the unanswered questions of the previous movie/season, all fucking dropped or provided with the worst, most unsatisfying answer. I'm sure others have found better answers and can live with what Star Wars gave us, but I haven't been able to. TLJ came out years and years ago, and I am still so bitter today. I'm still so bitter because TFA had such an incredibly compelling setup with such promising characters, and then TLJ Did That.

I got so heated while writing this. I'm still so mad. I'm still so bitter. I bury my head so deep in the sandbox I built for myself so that I don't have to think how Disney is twisting and contorting all these Mando'verse shows so that they all eventually lead to the ST, their precious hot potato child that just... didn't have to end the way they did if they actually had a fucking plan and fucking stuck the landing. I'll give the MCU this - their Phase 1? They fucking stuck the landing. I fell off the train tracks and haven't really watched the MCU since Captain Marvel, but at least they had a fucking plan and didn't fucking derail themselves like Disney did with the Sequel Trilogy.

I could be nice to people who like this movie but I'm not going to be. They can be nice on their own blogs.

Man, I can't even watch Knives Out or Glass Onion because my blood starts boiling. Just. TLJ did a lot to ruin what I hoped would be a positive and creative connection with Star Wars, and it took the Mando Show and the 2 minutes where Din and Luke locked eyes on the Imperial light cruiser to bring me back.

I'm gonna stop before I get way too heated for sleep.

#shirozora awkwardly responds to asks #anti TLJ #this is 100% a TLJ hate post and blog #i spent so many years holding in my thoughts about this cursed movie #when I say spite fuels me this is what I mean #this is how I find comfort in 'love star wars. wish it was good'#anyway this was the movie that made me feel crazy for years because how could i hate this movie if everyone said it's good #how can a movie be good if all i got from it was confusion and betrayal #time to go art something and calm down before bed

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irradiatedsnakes · 6 months

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hi so i’ve been following you for a little (mostly because of dinosaurs and mechanisms) but i’ve been curious about this and don’t really know where else to ask, how do you find dinosaur references? i’ve been wanting to start drawing some dinos again but really have no idea where to go for references or inspiration.

my go-to's are skeletal references and 3d models!

for skeletals, the gold standard is scott hartman's. he's done sooo many and they're all very good- you can find them on his website here. https://www.skeletaldrawing.com/

i do think his life reconstructions tend to be on the shrinkwrapped side, but his skeletals are great.

for skeletals, gregory s. paul is another great resource. if you can find a physical or digital copy of the princeton field guide to dinosaurs, it has skeletal references for a LOOOOT of dinos.

greg paul's life reconstructions should also be taken with a grain of salt- shrinkwrapping and pronated hands abound. his taxonomy is also notably controversial (he's the lead author on that tyrannosaurus regina/rex/imperator paper from a while back..), so double-check the genus/species names you're referencing.

(he also has the princeton field guides to marine reptiles and pterosaurs, but i haven't read those so i can't comment. haven't heard great things about the pterosaurs one, though- if you want pterosaur references, go for pteros.com, pterosaur.net, and mark witton's "pterosaurs" book)

now for 3d models- skeletals are all well and good, but if you're not drawing a dinosaur from the side their usefulness can be limited. sketchfab is my go-to to find 3d reference. i look for skeletons/skulls from museums that have been digitized, mostly-

but i'll also look for full reconstructions, just reference them in the same way you'd reference any other art piece (with care).

i also sometimes use the video games saurian and prehistoric kingdom? they both allow you to spin around the models of their animals, and their reconstructions are both super good.

lastly is to reference the work of other palaeoartists! this especially fits in for the inspiration part.

here's a few awesome palaeoartists around the internet (tyhank you to billymayslesbian for helping me put these together!)

mark witton

fred wierum (aka fredthedinosaurman)

john conway

alphynix (here on tumblr under the same name)

julio lacerda (this hatzegopteryx image is one of my favorite palaeoarts ever tbh)

joschua knüppe (here on tumblr at knuppitalism-with-ue, i'm especially a fan of his work recreating classical paintings with extinct primates)

and for more cartoony/styilized work:

miquel camiodraws

johan egerkrans

abby howard (here on tumblr at abby-howard)

natalia jagielska

greer stothers (here on tumblr at pangur-and-grim)

nev (saint-nevermore here on tumblr, this picture is one of my favorite palaeoarts of all time)

for some more books, check out all yesterdays by darren naish and john conway, which takes a highly speculative look at reconstructions of prehistoric animals, mostly dinosaurs.

also look at mark witton's the palaeoartist's handbook, which is exactly what it sounds like and i think could be VERY helpful for what you're looking for.

#dropitdoeeyes

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milliesfishes · 2 months

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𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓼 𓇼 ⋆˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆𓇼

request by @stardustandseashells [fem reader] contains: storm, injury, prejudice pairing: merman billy the kid x fishergirl reader summary: you get caught in a storm and billy saves you author’s note: thank you anon for leaving this request!!! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The sea itself is not dangerous, but everything in it is.

As a child, when storm tossed nights when the rain beat at the windows and you hid under your covers in fear, that was what your father had always told you.

"She only acts as she should," he would say soothingly, bringing you over to the window to watch the waves lap at the shore. "But with time you learn to love and trust her just as intended."

Looking back, you were unsure the sentiment was entirely correct, having seen typhoons and hurricanes that didn't have anything to do with what laid beneath the waters. But your father had long since passed, and you weren't about to correct the dead.

He hadn't left you much in terms of wealth, but he had passed the knowledge of his craft to you. Fishing was a man's world, but you navigated it well, your compass your father's voice in your head.

Because it was so male dominated, you had to work twice as hard, bring in double the bounty, in order to even slightly be taken seriously. But it made a decent living, enough for you to keep shelter and food in your belly.

Maybe it was dangerous for you, a woman all by her lonesome milking what she could from the ocean. There were whisperings of the creatures who could cause you danger; krakens that had tentacles lined with teeth, men with tails and a vengeance for human blood.

It wasn't like you had a choice, though. You weren't about to marry one of the sunburnt fishermen who occupied the pubs late at night. And nobody respectable would possibly entertain the thought of someone like you.

No, this was what you had. The long, lonely nights by the fire, smelling the salt air.

As you untied your boat one day, you heard a group of men talking near you on the dock, their faces tight with fear.

"He barely made it t' shore," one said in hushed tones. "Had scratches 'n marks all over 'im. Was scared half to death, talkin' 'bout a creature that almost killed 'im."

"'Nother fella on the north shore said somethin' just 'bout the same," a different man said, tipping his hat up to block the sun. "There's somethin' in the water, t' be sure. Somethin' after us."

Fishermen were a superstitious bunch, and so you paid no mind to their worries. It was more than likely the men they spoke of had a little too much sun and salt and fell offboard, maybe hitting a few rocks or patches of coral. When you'd first started, you'd been afraid of the supposed creatures within, but survival instincts had overpowered it.

It would be silly to think that the waters only contained fish and sharks. You knew there was more down there, and your father had told tales of it. His favorite was of people with tails like a fish, who lived in underwater kingdoms. He claimed to have seen them once or twice, bobbing their heads above the water.

The underlying warning in his story, however, was that they were ruthless, terrible beings who would hurt you as quick as the tide changes. So, you stayed wary.

Dark clouds on the horizon told you there would be a storm, but you ignored it. Rain and creatures aside, you needed a good day on the water. It was sure to be a lovely day for the net.

Nature, as always, had other plans.

The waves were like mountains, threatening to swallow anything in its wake. You pulled at the sails, trying to bat down the hatches, but the wind was furious, the rain beating steadily against you. You cursed your choice in clothing, your skirt tangling around your legs. Usually you wore men's clothes, but today of all days you'd let the comments of nosy townspeople get to you.

Frantically rocking, your little boat threatened to tip, knocking you from side to side. You squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to the mast and sending a prayer to the gods of the sea, reciting an old sailor's verse to the sky and begging for mercy.

Opening your eyes, the first thing you saw was a never ending wall of water hurtling toward you. Nails digging into the mast, skirt soaked and sticking to your legs, hair in your eyes, your heart threatened to fly out of your chest.

Is this how it feels to die?

Sun.

That was the first thing you were aware of. The warmth.

Sand.

Your fingers twitched, the grainy substance scrubbing against you.

There was a light straining against your eyes, and you squined as you opened them, blinded by the hot ball in the sky. Turning your head to the side, you tried to sit up.

"Careful," a voice said gently. "Don't be movin' so much."

"What happened?" Your voice was like sandpaper, your memory hazy.

"You were sailin' in a storm," the voice soothed, and you felt a hand settle on your arm comfortingly. "Real nasty one. Got tossed overboard. I pulled ya out."

"Thank you," you murmured, blinking and opening your eyes blearily.

There was a bare-chested man sitting beside you. He looked concerned, but his head was blocking the sun at your angle, and it gave him a halo. It didn't hurt that he was terribly handsome as well, rugged and chiseled in all the right places. You tilted your head, sure you must be imagining him. "Is this real?"

"If anyone's dreamin', it's me," he reached out and tucked some of your salt-tangled hair behind your ear. "Ain't often I get to rescue someone so pretty."

The compliment made you smile, and you sat up more, wanting a better vantage point. His chest was tanned, no doubt from long hours on the water. Your eyes trailed downward, to his stomach and catching on his...tail.

Eyes snapping back up to his, you opened your mouth, and he blurted out, "Don't scream!"

You froze, and the panicked look on his face caused a laugh to bubble up inside you, escaping your mouth and causing your head to sink back to its sandy pillow. Oh, maybe you should have been horrified. And if yesterday someone had told you you'd meet a man with a fish tail one sunup later, you probably would have expected yourself to be.

But looking at him now, seeing his worry and realizing he must've waited hours for you to wake up instead of leaving you stranded on the beach, you felt anything but.

"I'm sorry," you smiled, sitting back up with a little giggle. "You just looked terrified."

He looked at you in disbelief, then a smile broke across his face as well. "You're a strange lass, ain'tcha?"

"That's what everyone says," you shrugged, leaning back on your hands. "Maybe you're not so different from them after all."

The man seemed surprised by how casually you were talking to him, but he didn't comment on it. "Maybe not."

Tilting your head, you asked, "Gotta name?"

"Billy," he answered, sitting up with you.

You told him your name too, and then looked down, realizing your dress was in rags. "Knew I should've chosen something sturdier."

"Brave of ya to venture out into a storm," he remarked, the ends of his tail swaying lazily.

"Or stupid," you shrugged.

"Brave," he insisted. Billy reached over and moved some of your long hair over your shoulder, so it was covering a spot on your chest, conserving your modesty. Your heart fluttered.

Something shifted in your mind as you looked at him, your eyes curious. "Why did you save me, Billy?"

There was a beat of silence. The squawking of seagulls hovering over the shore could be heard, and the wind whistled lightly, sending a few of your dry baby hairs into your eyes.

"I've seen ya 'round before," he said quietly, looking out at the horizon. "Watched ya workin'."

A hint of a smile found your lips. "You live around here?"

"Close," he nodded, his tail bending where his knees would be if he had any. "I hang around."

Frowning slightly in thought, you tilted your head, studying him. Then it dawned on you. "You're the creature they speak of. The one who's been hurting-"

Billy cut you off with a firm shake of his head. "Never hurt anybody."

"But the fishermen-" you brought your knees to your chest, suddenly aware of how little was covering your body. "-they came back with injuries. They described a ruthless creature, it...it couldn't have been you. You just saved me."

"I'm the only one 'f my kind 'round these parts," Billy nodded, his arms resting on the bent part of his tail. "'nd I have come across a few men. They were tryin' to capture me. Fell overboard 'nd caught against the rocks when I swam away. It was bad, sure, but they made it to shore alright. Wouldn'ta let 'em die."

"Oh," you breathed, eyes brightening with new realization. Honestly, you should have known the afflicted men had practically done it to themselves. But he still hadn't answered your question. Moving a little closer to him, you set your hand on his, causing him to turn his head.

"What made me different?" you asked softly. "You didn't just leave me at shore or watch me float and make sure my heart was beating. Why?"

Billy had a quiet look in his eyes. "You're different from the others."

"How so?" You were intrigued by him, by the moral code he seemed to possess.

Cautiously, Billy lifted a hand, lightly tracing your cheek with a singular finger. You let him, leaning ever so slightly into it. "Most men I see out here try and dredge the ocean for its contents. They demand things from 'er, and get hurt when she defends herself." His fingers were now in the hair at the nape of your neck. "You treat the sea like a sister, demanding nothin' and takin' what she decides to give to ya. And so she gives you more."

The sentiment made your heart beat faster, and you found yourself saying, "I didn't ever think of it that way."

Billy looked at you intently. "Someone like that doesn't deserve to die."

On the sandy banks next to the one they called a monster, you felt as if you were coming to life for the very first time. Because now you knew nothing was what anyone said it was, not entirely.And suddenly, your father's sentiment seemed wrong.

Not everything in the ocean was dangerous.

Once you were steadier, Billy insisted on swimming you back to your little home on the coast, pulling you into the water and instructing you to wrap yourself around him.

He swam gently but swiftly, and you felt as though you were gliding through the water. It felt so safe here in his arms, and you couldn't help but lean against him.

When he arrived at the sandy banks in front of your house, you shifted against him, not ready to be parted from him so soon. But you were also tired, battered from the storm with a dress torn to shreds.

So, with a soft smile, you muttered, "Thank you Billy. For everything."

His expression was light, his eyes not seeming to be able to leave your face. Billy's smile was a little bit crooked, and that only made it more endearing. "It was my pleasure, darlin'."

The little nickname made your heart jump. Billy pulled you up onto the shore, sitting on the surf and making sure you were steady on your feet. He grinned. "You'll be alright?"

"I'm sure of it," you said, kneeling beside him. He did it again, smoothed your hair so softly that it made you smile wider. It was almost like he was fascinated by it, even though it was a tangled mess.

He removed his hand. "I hope to see ya 'gain. Maybe under better circumstances."

"Me too," you smiled in a quiet way.

Then, you leaned in and kissed his cheek shyly, getting up afterward and walking toward your home, sparing one glance back at him. He was still sitting on the shore, a dazed, lazy smile on his face.

As you made your way inside, you were already looking forward to the next time you'd see him. Maybe while you were out fishing, or even right back here.

All through the night you dreamt of him. Of the once-thought monster who'd saved your life.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x you #billy the kid imagines #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid 2022 #billy bonney #william h bonney imagines #william h bonney #merman billy x fishergirl reader #merman billy au #milliesfishes billy #Spotify

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