#i am walking into the ocean never to return

[glassofpumpkinjuice]

miss missing you live 2023. i am speechless.

[shrack]

god gives her most embarrassing crushes to her most interesting soldiers

[robyn-goodfellowe]

[abyssalpriest]

Working with Leviathan be like

Leviathan: *completely both rewrites a severe trauma trigger back into something neutral and freeing, and further reconnects me to the Sky and myself off plane and pre-incarnation in the space of 24 hours* yeah nice, anyway we should play video games now I'm tired

[patchdotexe]

OH GOD I ALSO HAVE TO DESIGN EVERYBODY PRE-EXPERIMENTATION ALSO

[feralchaoschild]

.

[shiny-jr]

not my world [ prologue ]

– Summary: One day you wake in a foreign world with nothing to your name except the clothes on your back. A talking cat named Grim, gives you your only lead to return home. Seek out the seven gods and pray they answer your plea.

– Warning: Yes, this series is a yandere thing, although this post really isn't. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Grim.

– Note: Think of this like a test, just to see how it's received. Yes, this is based off that outlander post I made a while ago. I was thinking I could make this a long-lasting series. However, it really depends how y'all like it. There's not too much going on here, because I'm trying to set the scene and I wrote it all fairly quickly. However, it's just a small taste. So, let me know what y'all think.

– Pages: 11

“So… you’re saying that you woke up here on this beach with no explanation, but you’re from another world so you have no idea where you are? You fell asleep in your own bed, in your own home, and now you’re here, with no way to go back?” 

As far fetched as it sounded, you could only grimly nod. A dream, this should’ve just been a nightmare. But that was confirmed to be false when you pinched yourself multiple times and tried to splash yourself with the nearby ocean water. Everything felt so real, from the sand between your toes to the breeze in the air and the sunlight drying the water off the surface of your flesh. You wanted it to be nothing but a dream, especially when you found a talking cat with a forked tail and blue fire in his ears. 

This was your third attempt trying to explain things to this impish but rather harmless little furball, and each time he seemed more puzzled than the last. His little black nose twitched as he sat in front of you, his paws digging into the sand as those strange eyes of his studied you closely. His voice was grating, high-pitched, speaking with a tone of doubt. “You don’t look like you’re from any of the seven nations. No pointed ears, no beast features, not even a magestone to your name! Well, it makes sense. A nobody like you obviously wouldn’t have a magestone anyways.” 

That was probably meant to be an insult, but considering you didn’t even know what a magestone was, you didn’t really take any offense at all. Pointed ears, beast features, magestones, annoying talking cats– you really didn’t care about any of that. “Because I’m not from whatever seven nations there are. I already told you where I’m from.” 

“Yeah, well I never heard of wherever it was you said. So get lost, would you, human? I’ve claimed this beach alrea–” 

A low growl rang in the air. Swiftly you scanned your surroundings, fearful that you were about to be attacked by some mythical beast. However, when you looked back to the feline who now looked quite ashamed, you realized the noise came from his stomach. Actually, the little fellow seemed pretty scrawny, and you could just barely make out the shape of his ribs poking out of his sides. 

Standing up, you brushed off the sand clinging to the oversized t-shirt you fell asleep in. Thankfully, you at least had sandals, which was better than waking up here barefoot. With one look around, there didn’t appear to be anyone for miles, and no sign of civilization here. Leaving the cat as your only option to turn to, as jarring as it was to be speaking to a cat. “Er… Look, if you could at least help me find people, a shelter, a city, something– then I’ll see about getting you something to eat. Deal?” 

“I don’t need your help! But… I’m curious, so I’ll follow anyway.” 

“Great…” You sigh, as you decide to follow a path that leads away from the shoreline and into woodlands. At the very least, you were not completely alone. This would be much more terrifying if you had woken up and there was absolutely no one around. “So, do you have a name or are you, like, feral?” 

“I’m not feral!” It hissed as it walked in tandem beside you, keeping up with your steady pace. “Since I am so great, I will allow you to know my name. I am the all-mighty Grim! One-of-a-kind and destined to one day become strong, powerful enough to defeat even the seven gods!” 

“Seven gods…?” Was this some sort of fantasy setting? It had to be. First he mentioned pointed ears and beast-people, and you were having a conversation with a talking cat! Maybe seven gods were the least outlandish thing you’ve heard today. “Well, I’m (Y/n).” 

“You’ve never heard of The Seven? How stupid could you be?” 

You frowned at his toothy little grin as he ridiculed you for your knowledge on a place you just ended up in. “Well excuse me for not knowing anything about this place I just ended up in!” Tearing your gaze away, you saw a cabin up ahead. It appeared abandoned, so there wasn’t any hope of seeing another person yet. Still, there may be something useful inside, so you approach. 

Trying the knob, you found the lock jammed. The wood of the front door was rotting, some of it in splitters and the windows were shattered. With a few strong kicks, the door became dislodged and finally gave way beneath the pressure. 

“You’re excused– hey! Tuna!” You didn’t even bother stopping the feline when he rushed into the abandoned cabin, sprinting after the few cans of tuna he spotted on an old table. At least he would get to eat. 

You didn’t particularly care for canned fish that’s been sitting there for who knows how long. In practically a blink of the eye he had devoured three whole cans of the stuff and licked the remnants off of his whiskers. 

“Okay, okay, since I feel so bad for you, and because you found these tuna cans, I’ll be your guide. That way, I don’t owe you nothin’ after this! Maybe one day, if you’re still around, you’ll see me ascend to the ranks among the archons and you can brag like I knew him! Isn’t Grim so cool and praise worthy? I might even remember you and accept your prayers! You can thank me now.” 

At his smug expression, you squinted incredulously as he began walking down the path in the middle of the woods once more. Following hesitantly, thankful there was daylight and this seemed like a particularly nice forest, save for the very depths of it further away from the road that were dark due to the cover of leaves and branches above. However, the trees closest to you weren’t so dense, and the sunlight filtered through the thin foliage. The dirt road was wide, but slightly covered with scattered blades of grass and underbrush, as if no one had used it in a long while. Squirrel-like critters darted about in trees, strange fruits hung on low-branches, and foreign flowers sprouted alongside little ponds. 

“I’ll thank you after an explanation and a little help. So, what’s this about gods?” 

“Let’s see… I’ll put it so simple that even a baby can understand! There are seven nations, and each one has a god. These gods are super-powerful! I’m talking crazy-strong, like they can level mountains and raise the sea type of miracles!” 

As he strolled beside you, his forked-tail swished back and forth. For now it seemed like he knew where he was going, so hopefully that was a good sign. Right now, you had no idea what to do or how to get home. However, if magic existed in this realm, then surely there would be some way to get back. There had to be, for your own peace of mind. 

“Maybe if you pray to one, you’ll get an answer. But the chances of that are pretty much zero, because only idiots rely on the gods since they almost never answer. You’d have a better chance trying to actually meet one of them and try to talk to them in person, but good luck with that!” 

As the road neared a cliff, you caught a glimpse of the scenery. It was a kingdom, a whole city that began right at the edge of a vast meadow. The rolling valley ended at a river, across a wide stone bridge where the city began. Miles and miles of cobblestone roads lined with two to three-story buildings, and rising above it all was a white palace with red conical roofs that pierced the very sky. It looked fantastical, like something straight out of a peculiar little story book, especially considering how unnaturally bright the flowers were and how there was the occasional mushroom as tall as a tree. 

Never before in your entire life had you ever seen a single place like this. Some stupid naive little part of yourself had hoped that perhaps you were still in your world, but this was simply proof that tore that little shred of hope to bits. “What is this place…?” 

He paused to scratch a spot behind his ear. “That’s the capital city of Heartslabyul. You see that big palace all the way over there? That’s where the god of fire lives. One day, I’m gonna live in a place even bigger, grander, than that! My worshippers will build, brick by brick, a towering temple that reaches the very heavens! It’ll make that palace look puny in comparison!” 

Dumbfounded, you nearly get left behind in your stupor once the feline begins to walk down a rocky slope again. You follow, as Grim yammered on and on, “Fire is harsh, just like that place. Trust me, I tried staking a claim there, but I was kicked out! Can you believe it? Me! They just threw me out as if I were nothing! Anyways, I already forgot what you were looking for, but whatever it is, you’ll probably find something there––” 

“A way home?” You reminded him, a tiny bit irked that he seemed to forget so easily. For such a haughty little beast with nothing to his name, he was very conceited. 

“Ooh yeah, right. That. Gods have all this magic and wisdom from their years and stuff, so they gotta know something. But if I were a god, I wouldn’t answer you, to be honest.” 

Grumpily you point out the obvious. This cat-like creature was far from the divine that you were currently picturing. “You’re not a god.” 

Yowling in response, Grim shot back with irritation, “Yet! Not a god yet!” When he spat, a small puff of smoke and a spark of flames he tried to aim at the dirt caused his blue ear flames to flicker stronger until one stray flame popped like a hot scorching coal. It went flying directly at your face, and all you could do was react quickly enough to try and step back while your arms and hands covered your face. 

However, no pain ever came. “How are you doing that?!” 

“Doing what? And you need to watch it with––” When you began to lower your arms, you saw it. When you had shielded yourself, your knuckles had been against your cheek and so your palm was facing outward. Floating in your open palm, was that small spark that came from his ears and nearly burned you. Immediately your eyes widened, and the surprise didn’t end there. As if fluctuating with your shock, the fire became a small yet harsh monetary crackling burst that caused both you and the feline to yelp and stumble back in disbelief until your palms were normal once again. 

“You big fat liar! You do know magic! Where’s your magestone?” 

Seeing his gray fur stand on edge, you quickly answered, seemingly just as confused as he currently was. “I-I don’t, I swear! I don’t even have a wizardstone! That has never happened to me before! This, magic, stuff like that, talking cats, huge mushrooms, none of this is supposed to be real!” 

“Magestone! Not wizardstone! M-A-G-E!” 

“Same difference, what do I care?” You had to double-check your hands, wanting to trick yourself again into believing it was something that could be easily explained. Yet this didn't seem like that. This was something else entirely that didn’t make sense, it couldn't be explained. Not while you were still reeling and staring at your own two hands in utter disbelief. “What the hell was that…?” 

Sniffing the air around you, Grim paced slowly around you as his whiskers twitched with each sniff. After several rounds circling you, he plopped down in front of you and peered up at you quizzically. “I really don’t smell a magestone on you… but you used my fire! It was blue! Everyone knows you can’t use magic without one! Wait a moment… this is perfect!” Immediately brightening up, the little creature gave a toothy grin as he declared, “From now on, you will be my servant! One day when I am a god, I will make you a demi-god! Everyone knows the great gods have divine or mystic servants of some kind! So you will be my henchman! Count yourself blessed, human.” 

“What…?” For now you didn’t even want to touch anything, especially yourself. What if you just tapped something and it was set ablaze? Although you felt fine physically, you were not completely okay. Mentally your mind was scrambled with trying to comprehend everything going on and being said, and now you had the additional burden of accidentally burning everything you touched. 

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that you aren’t from here, so this world’s rules don’t even apply to you… yeah, that’s it! This is great! Does this mean you can wield other elements? We should try! If it storms tonight, we’ll stand at the highest cliff and wait for lightning to strike!” 

“Definitely not!” You screech in reply, currently trying to prevent yourself from panicking and having a destructive mental breakdown all at the same time. Keeping your arms away from your body and fingers spread apart, you tentatively try grabbing stones and sticks and blades of grass to test the ability and see if anything would be set ablaze. And yet, nothing happened, so you slowly began to relax, as much as was possible in that moment. 

Grim watched with great intrigue, hoping, wishing, to see you burn something straight with your hands. However, when he saw not a single spark or sign of smoke, he sighed, “Don’t you realize the possibilities! A small chosen few can wield magic like that, and even then, it’s only one element! This means that you might be able to do more! We’ll be legendary, beating every foe we come across!” 

“Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about beating foes?” Cutting off that idea right now before it would get out of hand. It had only been a few minutes, not even an hour, and even you could see that Grim was a handful. “I am no fighter. If I magically somehow have these weird abilities now, doesn’t mean I want to fight with them. Are you insane? The most I’ll do is like… instantly heat up my food or make a light in the dark. That’s it. Actually, that first one sounds pretty useful…” 

Angrily throwing his paws up in exasperation while falling back on some patches of grass, he groaned, “Ugh, but that’s so boringggg! Where’s your creativity? You could become a god among gods!” 

Choosing to ignore his less than enthusiastic response, you proceeded, drawing his attention back to something he recently mentioned. Awkwardly you grip your hands, twisting your wrist between your fingers, yet nothing hurts. Everything felt normal, as if you hadn’t just wielding fire a minute ago. “You said a god of fire resided over there in that city, right?” 

“Yeah, you’ll fit right in with all those hot-headed fire-breathers now that you have a bit of magic.” 

As the two of you neared the bottom of the cliff and approached a smaller section of the forest that would lead directly to the road that branched off into either a vast meadow or the gates of the kingdom, the world seemed to stop when a loud rumbling rang through the air. The birds ceased their singing songs and the squirrelish creatures paused their chittering chattering. The ground shook and in the far distance, miles and miles behind the palace where there looked to be nothing but untamed wilderness, balls of fire spewed forth from what you had thought were mountains but were actually volcanoes. Seeing the smoke pour out from the peak, you debated running right back to the beach which was in the opposite direction of the rupture in the earth. 

While initially startled, Grim quickly relaxed and began his walking again just as the sounds of nature resumed their tune. As if by some miraculous work of magic, the volcano stopped its rumbling just as quickly as it began, and the smoke receded as well. Like a pot popping on a stovetop and simmering over with water, but its vapor and contents contained by a top, that’s how rapidly it started and ended. Grim proceeded to walk in front of you to lead the way. Sensing your question before you even voiced it, he called out over his shoulder, 

“Don’t look so panicked, we’re not gonna die. That happens like once a week. It used to be more sparse but… well, like I said, all the humans in the kingdom are a buncha hotheads. Especially their king! Everyone knows the god of pyro has the worst temper of all the seven, that’s why the volcanoes go off when he’s all angry! All you gotta do is gather up the courage to ask him what you want to know, and pray that he doesn’t incinerate you where you stand.”

[gigabyte-flare]

The Dark of You

(A Gigabyte Flare One Shot)

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy returns home to you from an assignment in San Francisco in desperate need to relieve some tension

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Death Island!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

CONTAINS DEATH ISLAND SPOILERS

Warnings: sex (p in v), age gap (reader is 26), very mild angst, choking, degradation, pet names, breeding kink

A/N: This is 5000% self indulgent. I cannot, for the life of me, get Death Island!Leon out of my head since watching the movie. The title is inspired by Dark of You by Breaking Benjamin

“Fade away to the wicked world we left,

And I become the dark of you.”

The anticipation is killing you. About an hour ago Leon had let you know he landed in D.C. and is on his way back home. He had been on an assignment in San Francisco, he didn’t say what for, he never disclosed any of his assignments to you. He insisted it was to protect you. You have been sitting on the couch, watching TV as you wait for Leon to come home but fatigue is starting to get the better of you, so you decide to turn off the TV and go to bed. A small inkling of guilt ate at you; you wanted to greet him when he got home.

Walking into the bedroom, you pull back the covers, slipping beneath them and getting yourself comfortable. You fall asleep within minutes; that’s not like you. Your constant worry for Leon clearly exhausted you. You’re suddenly awoken by the feeling of someone kissing the crook of your neck, an unshaven face scratching at yours. You recognize the cologne and his masculine scent immediately.

“Mmmm… there you are, Leon…” you say softly as you’re pulled from your slumber. 

“I hit traffic on the way home, I hope I didn’t worry you,” Leon replies, his voice still muffled by your neck.

“When am I not worried about you?” you ask, turning your body to face him.

You immediately notice he looks ragged and exhausted, with dark bags under his ocean eyes and his hair slightly disheveled. He is still wearing his combat vest over his dark gray t-shirt and his blue leather jacket over that. 

“You look like hell.”

“I feel like hell, I think my age is starting to catch up to me, love,” he says, bending down to kiss your forehead.

“Stop talking like you're 80, you’re only 38, you’re not old.” you tease, playfully punching one of his biceps. 

For some reason, unknown to you, Leon was very self conscious about the age gap between you two. You can’t count how many times you reassured him that his age didn’t matter to you, that the 12 year gap between you didn’t bother you; you’ve been seeing him for almost a year.

“It’s not like you started dating me out of high school, you’re not a creep!” you recall telling him constantly. 

He smirks at you, running a hand through your hair, “I’m going to hit the shower, I’ll be right out.”

You nod at him, watching as he goes into the adjacent bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind him. You listen as he turns on the shower and you can hear the sound of his clothing hitting the floor. You let out a deep sigh of relief, grateful that he’s home and safe. Even though he didn’t talk about his work with you, you knew one thing for certain.

His job is dangerous. 

You watch as Leon comes out of the bathroom, a pair of light gray sweats barely hanging onto his hips as he dries his hair with a towel, giving you a beautiful view of his ‘happy trail.’ Tossing the towel aside, he fixes his damp hair with his hands before climbing into bed with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms, nuzzling his face into your hair as he breathes deeply. You feel him kiss your hair over and over, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Leon,” you tell him, snuggling into his embrace.

“Me too,” Leon replies, “I… I almost didn’t make it back…”

“What?” you look up at him, sitting up, your eyes full of concern.

You can tell by Leon’s pained expression that he was struggling on whether or not to tell you what happened. You watch him sigh and he clears his throat.

“I got infected with a virus--”

“What?! Do we need to get you to a hospital? I can take you!” You panic, throwing the blankets off you as you start to climb out of bed, but one of Leon’s strong hands grab your upper arm, stopping you.

“Babe, I’m fine… I got vaccinated, I’m not infected anymore. It’s… actually not the first time that’s happened.”

You tuck yourself back under the blankets, laying your head back down on the pillow as you continue to listen to Leon.

Leon lets out a soft chuckle, “if I had a nickel each time I’ve been infected with something… I’d have two nickels.”

You can’t help but laugh, even though hearing this from him made you worry more, but you don’t say anything and let him continue.

“I know that’s not a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.”

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands and kiss him as you’re laughing. 

“Unfortunately, there was one casualty,” he says, his lips still pressed against yours.

You pull back, raising an eyebrow at him.

“The bike got wrecked…”

“Oh sweetheart,” you coo, running your fingers through his hair, “I’m so sorry, I know you loved that bike.”

“It’s alright, if I had to choose between the bike and coming back home safely to you, I’d pick you. Every time.”

In an instant, one of his hands grasps the back of your head, pulling you to him to kiss you ravenously. His tongue makes its way into your mouth, dancing with yours as he lets out a low growl. He climbs on top of you, pinning you to the bed as his hands work to pull off your underwear, tossing them aside as he continues to kiss you vigorously.

Meanwhile, your hands are working to get his sweatpants off him, finally getting them pulled down when he kicks them off. His hands grasp at the front of your tank top, ripping it apart to expose your breasts. His hands grasp at them as you pull off the remnants of the tank top, tossing it aside off the side of the bed to join your underwear. Before you know it, he’s manhandling you, getting you on all fours on the bed, positioning himself behind you as he wraps his left arm around your neck as he uses the other to position his hard member against your thoroughly soaked cunt. He pulls back, choking you with his arm but not enough to outright strangle you; a favorite position of yours, admittedly. You love it when he’s rough with you. 

“You want this old man’s cock, don’t you, pretty girl?” he growls in your ear, his hot breath on your ear sending chills down your spine, straight to your aching hole. 

“Y-Yes!” you manage to reply, gasping for air as his arm gives your neck a nice squeeze. 

“Of course you do, you dirty slut.”

You feel Leon bully his cock into your leaking entrance, your fingers curling and gripping the sheets as he begins to pound into you with vicious ferocity. His right hand grips your hip like a vice; that’s going to leave a bruise later. He lets out a half moan, half growl as you feel him adjust his position, getting on one knee to get a better angle to fuck into you as deep and as hard as he possibly could.

“F-Fuck! Too… too much!” you manage to say, his arm still squeezing your neck.

“You can take it, baby, I know you can,” he purrs, thrusting even harder into you, “gonna breed this pretty little kitty.”

His words make your clit throb and your walls tighten around his cock, causing you to cry out. With one of your hands, you reach between your legs, rubbing your aching clit with your index and middle finger, making your body tremble. Leon picks up on this immediately, chuckling in your ear.

“Oh? You like that? You want this old man’s cum? You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

Your cunt squeezes around him again as you nod, moaning as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. He leans over you, kissing the side of your neck before giving you several hickies as he pushes his hips deep inside you, the head of his dick kissing your cervix, filling you with a sense of euphoria, your arms reach up and gripping the arm still wrapped around your neck. 

“Leon… I’m.. I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum…!”

“Good… such a good little slut you are,” he growls, giving you a playful bite on your earlobe.

After a few more powerful thrusts, he pushes himself as deep inside you as he possibly could go and you feel the burning warmth of his release as you come undone on him. Gasping, tears of relief stream down your face. Leon stays inside you for a few minutes as both of you catch your breath, having removed his arm from your neck. Eventually, he pulls himself out of you, hooking your waist with one of his arms and pulling you back so that he could cuddle with you. You give each other gentle, tired kisses until you both eventually fall asleep in each other's arms.

[zot3-flopped]

Sylvia Plath did not stick her head in an oven for this! When Taylor Swift took the Grammys stage last month to claim her award for Best Pop Vocal Album for Midnights, she saw that spotlight as an opportunity to announce her 11th studio album: The Tortured Poets Department. The follow-up cut to audience members—Swift’s music industry peers, mind you—told us all that we would ever need to know, and the collective disinterest across the crowd echoed through our TVs.

Folks from all walks of life took to social media to express a multitude of reactions. Swifties clamored to their beloved monarch’s forthcoming era, while others lambasted the terminally cringe title and artwork and ridiculed Swift for making a night recognizing musical achievements across an entire industry about herself—knowing perfectly well that it would send her fanbase into a surge that would, no doubt, overpower the excitement around the ceremony itself.

Quite a few people questioned whether or not that moment suggested that a critical—definitely not commercial—tide would turn against the world’s most-famous pop star. And, perhaps it has—but, to most, it will look like nothing more than a single ripple in Swift’s ocean of successes.

Swift remained relatively hush-hush about The Tortured Poets Department up until its release, leaving her fans, admirers and haters alike with nothing but an album title to ponder about. And it’s a bad title.

If you have never been in Swift’s corner, her taking the route of labeling her next “era” as “tortured” was likely catnip for your disinterest. If you are a fan—not necessarily a Swiftie, but even just a casual lover of her best and brightest work—you might be beside yourself about the first Swift album title longer than one word in 14 years.

In terms of popularity—certainly not always in terms of quality—no musician has been bigger this century than Swift, which makes it impossible to really buy into the “torture” of it all.

This is not to say that Swift being the most famous person in the world makes her immune to having multi-dimensional feelings of heartbreak, mental illness or what-have-you.

But, she has made the choice—as a 34-year-old adult—to take those complex, universal familiars and monetize them into a wardrobe she can wear for whatever portion of her Eras Tour setlist she opts to dedicate to the material.

Torture is fashion to Taylor Swift, and she wears her milieu dully. This album will surely get comparisons to Rupi Kaur’s poetry, either for its simplicity, empty language, commodification or all of the above.

And, sure, there are parallels there, especially in how The Tortured Poets Department, too, is going to set the art of poetry back another decade—as Swift’s naive call-to-arms of her own milky-white sorrow rings in like some quintessential “I am going to take pictures of a typewriter on my desk and have a Pinterest mood-board of Courier New font” iPhone fodder. 2013 called and it wants it capricious, suburban girl-who-is-taking-a-gap-year wig back!

Soaking our book reports in coffee or having our moms burn the edges with a kitchen lighter cannot come back into fashion; the cyclical notions of culture cannot make the space for such retreads.

There is nothing poetic about a billionaire—who, mind you, threatens legal action against a Twitter account for tracking her destructive private jet paths—telling stadiums of thousands of people every night that she sees and adores them.

Tavi Gevinson says it well in her Fan Fiction zine: “When 80,000 people are also crying, you become less special, too.” If Swift can return to one of her dozen beach houses across the world, kick up her feet and say “I’m a poet of struggle,” then who is to say that millions—maybe billions—of people with access to a notes app and a social media account won’t dream that dream, too?

Maybe that looks like a net-positive, but it’s inherently damning and destructive to take an art form that has long stood on the shoulders of resistance, of love and of opposition to power, systematic injustice and climate warfare and boil it down to the new defining era of your own 10-digit revenue empire. “My culture is not your costume,” yada, etc.

The Tortured Poets Department does begin with a shred of hope that, just maybe, Swift knows what she’s talking about—as she sneaks in a cheeky “all of this to say,” textbook transitional phrasing for poets, on opening track “Fortnight.”

But “Fortnight” unmasks itself quickly as a heady vat of pop nothingness, though it isn’t all Swift’s fault. “I was a functioning alcoholic, ‘til nobody noticed my new aesthetic,” she muses, attempting to bridge the gap between a behind-the-scenes life and on-stage performance—only for it to occur while propped up against the most dog-water, uninspired synth arrangement you could possibly imagine.

Between producer Jack Antonoff’s atrocious backing instrumental and the Y2K-era, teen dramedy echo chamber of a vocal harmony provided by out-of-place guest performer Post Malone, “Fortnight” chokes on the vomit of its own opaqueness.

“I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary,” Swift muses, and it sounds like satire. This is your songwriter of the century? Open the schools.

The Tortured Poets Department title-track features some of Swift’s worst lyricism to-date, including the irredeemable, relentlessly cringe “You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate, we declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist / I scratch your head, you fall asleep like a tattooed golden retriever” lines glazed atop some synthesizers and drums that just ring in as hollow, unfascinating costuming.

Aside from the Puth nod, which I can only discern as a joke (given the fact that he is one of the 150-most streamed artists in the world and is one of the blandest pop practitioners alive—I don’t care if he can figure out the pitch of any sound you throw at him), I think Antonoff should stick to guitar-playing. Get that man away from a keyboard, I’m begging you.

Synths can be, if you use them correctly, one of the most emotional and provocative instruments in any musician’s tool-box. There’s a reason why keyboards defined the 1980s; they rebelled against the very oppressive nature existing outside of the cultural company they kept. There’s resistance in electronic music that, while they brandish an aesthetic that, to a layman’s ears, seems like technicolor hues for any infectious pop track, it’s a genre that aches to tell its own story. That is simply not the case here, and that electronica hangs Swift out to dry when she drags us through the lukewarm “I laughed in your face and said, ‘You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith’ / This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel, we’re modern idiots” lines, only to hit us with a softly sung F-bomb that sounds like a billionaire’s rendition of that one Miranda Cosgrove podcast clip.

I used to rag pretty heavily on Reputation—mostly because I thought (and still do, mostly) that it sounded like Swift had given up on making interesting, progressive pop music; that, in the wake of her (arguably) best album, 1989, it seemed like she’d lost the plot on where to go next. But as she’s put out Midnights and The Tortured Poets Department back-to-back, I find myself clamoring for the Reputation-era more than ever—at least seven years ago, Swift wrote songs like she had something to prove and even more to lose.

That was the always-obvious charm of Reputation, even despite the downsides—that she took a big swing from the echelons of her own musical immortality, that the comforts of winning every award and selling out the biggest venues in the world were no longer pillowing her aspirations. Even though that swing didn’t land, she still made it in the first place—and Swift is at her best either when she is clawing upwards (Reputation) or faced with nowhere to go but into the studio and noodle with the bare-bones of her own sensibilities (folklore).

You get something like The Tortured Poets Department when the artist making it no longer feels challenged, where she strikes out looking.

The mid-ness of The Tortured Poets Department will not be a net-loss for Swift. She will sell out arenas and get her streams until she elects to quit this business (a phrase decidedly not in her vocabulary, surely).

She will sell more merch bundles than vinyl plants have the capacity to make, and rows of variant LP copies will haunt the record aisles of Target stores just as long as Midnights has—if not longer.

Perhaps, in five or six years’ time, we will speak of this record just as we now do of Reputation. But right now, it is obvious that Swift no longer feels challenged to be good. The Tortured Poets Department is the mark of an artist now interested in seeing how much their empire can atone for the sins of mediocrity.

Can Swift win another Album of the Year Grammy simply because she released a record during the eligibility period? The Tortured Poets Department reeks of “because I can,” not “because I should.”

On “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can),” Swift tries stepping into the shoes of the country renegades who came before her—the Tammy Wynettes and Loretta Lynns of the world. But her self-aggrandizing inflation of importance, glinting through via a seismically-bland bridge, is backed by a minimal set dressing of guitar, drum machine and keys.

“Good boy, that’s right, come close,” she sings. “I’ll show you Heaven if you’ll be an angel—all mine. Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man. No, really, I can.” On “Florida!!!,” Swift calls upon Florence + the Machine to help her sing the worst chorus of 2024: “Florida is one hell of a drug / Florida, can I use you up?”

Even Welch, who is a fantastic pop singer-songwriter in her own right, delivers a grossly watery verse: “The hurricane with my name, when it came I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away.”

Not even the typos on the Spotify promotional materials for this album could have foretold such offenses. I won’t even get into the sonics, because Antonoff just rewrites the same soulless patterns every time.

What separates The Tortured Poets Department from something like Reputation is that, on the latter, Swift made it known what was at stake and who she was making that album for—herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms (“Look What You Made Me Do” triumphs exactly because of this).

On The Tortured Poets Department, there is a striking level of moral nothingness. The stakes are practically non-existent, and the album sounds like it was made by someone who believes that they had no other choice but to finish it, as if Swift fundamentally believes that her creative measures are firmly embedded in the massive monopoly her name and brand currently hold on popular music. That’s how you get meandering pop songs about hookups, wine moms, Stevie Nicks comparisons, Jehovah’s Witness suit mentions, hollowed-out, tone-deaf nods to white-collar crime in lieu of empowerment and, topically, Barbie dolls.

(Don’t even get me started on the Anthology lyrics, which feature these absolute barn-burners: “Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto” and “My friends used to play a game where / We would pick a decade / We wished we could live in instead of this / I’d say the 1830s, but without all the racists / And getting married off for the highest bid.”) This album and its hackneyed grasps at relevance exist as “Did I just hear that?” personified, but in the most derogatory sense of the notion.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” features another low-point in Swift’s lyrical oeuvre, as she sings “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens, ‘cause he took me out of my box”—perhaps a measure of her capitalizing on the Barbenheimer mania that none of us could escape, not even the musician who spent most of 2023 flying across the world from one country to another.

But you, us, the listener—we want to believe that Swift makes these records because she has the artistic will, drive and interest to continue giving us parts of her story in such ways that they exist as an archival of her life.

But the problem is that, on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift is packaging her life into a form that is easily consumable for the 17 or 18 years olds who pour over her music. Just because her Eras Tour film is on Disney+ doesn’t mean she has to strip her songwriting (which we know can be, and has been, phenomenal) down for the sake of it being digestible by a wide spectrum of ages.

And, sure, maybe that makes the work accessible. But on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift makes Zoomer jargon her bag—titling a song after one of the most popular video games in the world and conjuring flickers of “down bad” and “I can fix him”—and it feels like she’s cosplaying because the Fountain of Youth was out of order.

Now that Swift is in her 30s, it sounds like she is infantilizing her own audience more than ever before—that singing to them at a level that could force them to reckon with something more akin with adulthood would be some kind of kink in the coil or her consumeristic threshold, that writing lyrics that sound like they were penned by a 30-year-old would, somehow, deter the interests of the billions of people who adore her.

If making one, continuous coming-of-age album is what Swift has been doing for 15 years, folklore and evermore were hiccups in the timeline—existing as the most fully-formed renderings of Swift’s own insecurities and concerns. They mirrored our platitudes towards an uncertain future with sweet, stirring remarks about isolation and heartbreak and the unavoidable, hard-worn truth about getting older. On those records, her larger-than-life living seemed, for once, to truly feel as close to the ground as ours.

Now, though, Taylor Swift is at the top of the mountain. Far better artists have made far worse records than The Tortured Poets Department, but you can’t read between the lines of this project. There is nothing to decipher from a place of quality.

Sure, Swift’s fan base will pour over these lyrics for the rest of their lives—insisting they know, for certain, which song is about who. But you cannot place a bad album on the shoulders of lore and expect it to be rectified.

We are now left at a crossroads. Women can’t critique Swift because they’ll run the risk of being labeled a “gender traitor” for doing so. Men can’t critique her because they’ll be touted as “sexist.”

And, sure, Swift is probably too easy a punching bag in this case—and most of the time, I would argue she is undeserving of being a victim of such barbs. But, you cannot write about someone being a “tattooed golden retriever” and get away with it and still retain your title as the best songwriter of your generation. You just cannot.

Sisyphus should be glad he never got the boulder to the top of the mountain—because Taylor Swift is showing us that such immortality and success ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. And, when you’re standing on the peak alone, who else is there left to hit?

In a recent interview with The Standard, Courtney Love said that Swift is “not interesting as an artist,” and I think The Tortured Poets Department proves as much. She has nothing to fight for, no doubters left to drown.

So where does she turn? Well, to boredoms of celebrity thinly veiled as sorrow everyone and their mother can latch onto—because we’ve all had to “ditch the clowns, get the crown” at some point in our lives, right?

The billionaire is having an identity crisis, but there are no social media apps for her to buy up. So she sings like Lana Del Rey and writes meta-self-referential songs about looking like Stevie Nicks.

What’s hollow about The Tortured Poets Department is that the real torture is just how unlivable these songs really are. No one can resonate with “So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, crash the party like a record, scratch as I scream ‘Who’s afraid of little old me?’ You should be.” And normally, that wouldn’t be an end-all-be-all for a pop record—but when your brand is built on copious levels of “I’m just like you!” as the demigod saying it to their fans does so from a multi-million-dollar production set, it’s hard to not feel nauseated by the overlording, overbearing sense of heavy-handed detritus we’re tasked with sifting through on The Tortured Poets Department.

Love’s words to Lana, her advice to “take seven years off,” should be applied to Swift. Now, that doesn’t mean that, to make a good album, you must sit on material for years and labor extensively through the sketching, shaping and recording in order for it to be transcendentally landmark. But it’s obvious now that not even Taylor Swift wants to be the head of an empire—that she, too, can’t outrun the damning fate of being plum out of ideas by hopping in her jet and skirting off to God knows where.

See you at the Grammys.

****

[mo-ondrcps]

♖ ˗ˏˋ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 ´ˎ˗

❛ how fate cruelly plays with your hearts while a stranger desperately try to save you in each dream you had, over and over again.❜

: ̗̀➛ dragon! jiyan x town folk! reader warning(s): reader drowning twice, mentions of death (no major!). content: fem! reader, magical town vibes like magic humans and mythical creatures, jiyan dragon protective of you genre: au — magical town, fantasy, reincarnation, soulmates, romance, slight angst word count: 2.4K author's note: i love protective jiyan, makes anyone feel safe in his arms.

    Water surrounded you, making it impossible to breathe. You couldn't decipher whether you're dead or drowning in the ocean, though a bystander would think you're suffering from both because of your lack of struggle, slowly descending deeper. The light from the waters above your clouded vision continued to fade until a figure above dove in, swimming towards your direction. Unfortunately, his face was only just a silhouette, attempting to reach for your hand and resurface to save you. You wanted to move forward, take the stranger's hand in yours, but an unknown force within you had no strength to do so.

"(Y/n)...!"

    Your name, or what sounds like your name, came out in thick gurgles of water from the stranger. They still persisted in swimming with much of their might to save you. Who is this person? If they continued to sink in deeper with you, there would be no hope for either of you to live. How foolish. Your eyes slowly gave in to the darkness surrounding them before opening once more.

    Your eyes take in the surroundings of your room, all dimly lit by the moon that glanced from the open peak of your window curtains. Your head turned in search of your wall clock.

2:37 am.

    A sigh left your lips, burying yourself further into the warm blankets for comfort. It was the same dream that haunted you for years, the ocean and you sinking into your demised. However, the small moment didn't strike fear in you, at least you hoped not yet. You haven't visited the beach for over ten years now and you always found yourself sticking by the sand whenever your family asks you to come with them.

    You rise up from your spot on your bed, leaving to grab a glass of water before returning to your room. They were both calm, your water and the ocean from your dreams, moving on their own except for the other being more dangerous if you sink in too deep.

    But that man, who was he?

    You thought of leaving it aside, knowing your work starts early in the morning, taking a sip of your water before resting back on the comforts of your mattress.

────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────

"But you never saw his face? That's a shame... You should've seen it if he was cute or not."

    Your eyes narrowed at your friend after telling them the entire story of your dreams again. They always knew what kind of stress you're dealing with, but never knew the answer to how to solve it. At first, they informed you to brush it off as a simple vision your mind had randomly come up with until it grew too frequent for them to ignore.

"You really had to focus on that detail?? I can't just fall for every random stranger in my dreams."

    A boisterous laugh came from the mouth of your friend before shaking their head at your deadpan expression.

"At least they treat us better than the men in this reality. Who knows? With how frequent you meet yours, he might actually appear right through that door!"

    Now a smile erupted your features before bursting into a laugh at how silly they were acting with you. Though absurd, you still appreciate their sense of optimism in your dream related problems. A small chime came from the door, signaling a customer walked into the shop. Your friend gave you a small nod, which you returned before watching them move to entertain them. You, on the other hand, busied yourself in writing a list of the potions you both need to make and what's available to write down and display on the racks.

"Excuse me?"

    A voice deep yet soothing to your ear came in front of you, making you look up to them.

"Hello, what can I get for you?"

    The man was dressed in simple black and midnight green robes embroidered by silk and gold accents, making him stand out only just a bit but not too much to get everyone's attention. It was clear he looked like a soldier or a protector of some kind because of the sword strapped around his waist.

    You thought you would have recognized him because of this small town, but then again, he might be a wandering traveler from afar so you can't assume too quickly.

"Do you have any good potions for healing? I seem to run out myself on the way here."

    The man replied with a slight scratch on his nape. You nod before smiling, taking out a regular sized bottle. It's mixture flowing through green and hues of blue gradient inside, shimmering in utter brilliance.

"That will be fifty gold for a healing potion."

    He reached out from his pocket, pulling a small pouch where he fumbled to grab the amount needed. The man set down sixty-five gold instead of fifty, leaving you surprised at the change. You took the extra, your hands moving to give it back.

"I can't accept this much."

"Please, this shop deserves much recognition for the work you and your companion put through for everyone who needs it. Keep my change."

    Before you could push more to give the extra back, the man bows slightly before leaving the shop. Your friend, who just came back, glanced at the man you just entertained before turning to you with a playful smile you knew you wouldn't enjoy.

"Who was that? He looks so good! I've never seen him before. Do you think he's-."

    Just when your friend was about to ask you for more information about the customer you entertained, you stopped her train of thoughts, speaking ahead of them before it goes in a direction you'll never get back from.

"And don't you think it's your turn to brew new potions to stock while I grab some herbs we need outside? The strength and healing potions won't produce themselves."

    Your friend groaned.

"Let me dream a little. My single life won't move by itself either!"

    Throwing your quill pen at them, you caused them to move aside but still took the blow from the quill thrown at them, laughing at your advancements before heading into the staff room to do their work while you prepared your journey in the forest for herbs. You pack containers, water, and a bit of snacks to aid your short travel. You bid goodbye to your friend, starting your walk into the forest.

    You had a list written by you with a few additions to your friend. You crouched down to pick up yellow and purple flowers, one that radiated like the sun and the other mirroring the deepest night sky of the auras. Since you were here, it shouldn't hurt to grab them for a potion of good sleep. Not that you never tried it before and have it mix with your cup of tea. Your friend suggested this once after experiencing four nights of the same dream in your sleep, but it never worked.

    You move to the next item on your list, which is dewberries, picking at least three before turning your head to the bushes rustling nearby. Your eyes scanned the area before resuming your work of collecting three more until a large hand grabs your mouth, pulling you back towards their body.

"Such luck of running into a lady."

    A skinny man walked into the scene, next to his companion, who took you by surprise. He spoke before smirking. The items from your bag scrambled down after being forcefully pulled away. The man who held you back took one of them, shaking the containers of herbs inside before turning his head back towards you.

"A smart one who can provide and heal too! How much do you think we can make out of her if we sold her to the palace?"

    The skinny man only laughed before ordering his companion.

"Stuff her in the bag. I know we'll make a fortune in that case."

    You struggle in the gruff man's hold who was opting to lift you up while his friend took the large sack they had slung behind his back. Your legs kicked and swung around, managing to injure the skinny man on the groin out of pure luck. But you knew you needed more than that.

"Feisty as well! You'll pay for all the damages you'll do to me and my companion. Now stay still or-."

    A powerful surge of wind ripped through the scene, causing all of you to shut your eyes while your captors try to stay in place on the grass below, gripping onto the strands before getting blown away a few steps.

"You!"

    The voice of a man came, commanding and stern, but there was no man. Only the figure of a large, bright green, slender dragon came in sight. He was exactly like what the stories you kept hearing as a child.

    The Midnight Dragon.

    Its nostrils flared in anger, watching the two men as if they were its prey. The men who held captive of you had their hands tremble beneath their fingertips, eyes staring wide at the force of nature they just angered without moving another muscle.

"Begone or I will banish you myself."

    The men cowered in fear, flinging your body to a shallow lake before leaving in a hurry into the direction of the city. The dragon quickly shifts into a human man, running to the lake before diving in to save you.

    Your arms flailed around to resurface from the water. You weren't sure if you should feel even more terrified now that reality is making you sink deep into the waters just like in your dreams. No, nightmares. If only you agreed with your friend to teach you a bit of swimming, but you were too stubborn, confident enough that drowning would never cross in a moment of your life.

    Right now, you were afraid.

    Maybe it was a warning that you stupidly ignored and now you've fallen deep to your demise. You allowed your eyes to shut, accepting the darkness with the faint figure of the man reaching for your hand.

────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────

    Jiyan thought he could never save you, blaming himself for how slow he was in every haunting nightmare that plagued his thoughts. As if his previous life wasn't enough to make him feel guilty about how much pain you've pulled through and now in this timeline? How much more does he need to suffer?

    He swam deeper, faster, just to grab a hold of your hand before pulling you up with him to the surface. Jiyan carried your body to a nearby tree, setting you down next to it before leaning his head to your chest and mouth to check for your vitals. For the love of the gods, please don't let him see you dead again.

    Using the heel of heel of his dominant hand and the other hand resting on it above your breastbone, he began to push, watching a couple of water droplets leave your mouth. Jiyan counted quietly in inaudible whispers, begging for your revival until slowly a cough came from your lips, causing him to step away a bit to give you some space.

"(Y/n)?"

"W-who- I-."

    You shut your eyes, rubbing away the water residuals that dropped from your hair, regaining consciousness from the events prior.

"What... what did you just say?"

    Jiyan's eyes widen but you didn't catch his surprise, only a clear of his throat before carrying you in his arms again as if you were lightweight. A feather, if he might add, but he'll tease you later. He valued your safety the most, so he took you back home while you had a million questions running in your head, especially how he knew where you lived.

"Stalker much?"

    You uttered above a whisper, making Jiyan shake his head quickly before you act on him.

"I-... You wouldn't believe me if I told you this."

"I'm all ears... Midnight Dragon."

    You didn't know how else to call him besides what the stories and myths had told you. It made Jiyan's heart sink, trying to accept the fact that you will never remember him. Maybe in this life you wouldn't, but it didn't stop him from being your sole protector wherever you go. Why did it have to be him to be cursed to remember everything while you were reborn to forget?

    Jiyan was silent through the entire journey, slipping into the crack of your window with you in his arms, which you forgot to close before leaving. He set you down on the comforts of your mattress before finally answering.

"I've been protecting you endlessly in our previous life and now... Believe it or not."

    Jiyan confessed. It made you confused.

"Previous life? I never remembered anything or been aware of... living longer like you do."

    If it has been that way, maybe you should've had some majestic powers to make you live longer like him. Your thoughts only made Jiyan chuckle softly before ruffling your damp hair, mind racing at what you both could've possibly been, but you had no memory at all whatsoever.

"You may not remember anything about me. But I'll make sure you'll always feel safe and maybe... feel loved by me again in this timeline..."

    Jiyan took your hand, kissing your palm gently. It felt as if a gentle breeze flowed against your skin, gracing you with the dragon's passion and attention. Everything felt like a dream, to actually see the dragon in person who has concealed its identity until years later. Did it have anything to do with your existence? It made you wonder. Most especially with the mystery laced in his words about you and him.

"If heaven ever gives us the chance to meet again, I'll always keep loving you at that time and the next."

    His words held a promise that strangely made your heart accept him entirely. Jiyan smiled, rising from his feet, making you scramble from your seat on the bed.

"Wait."

    He paused, eyebrows raised in question.

"What's your name?"

"Jiyan."

    He blew a soft breeze in front of your face, effectively hitting your eyes before watching you fall back asleep on your bed. It made Jiyan smile, admiring how peaceful you look, waving his arm above your figure to use his own magic, drying your clothes to avoid you from waking up with a cold. He pulled the covers over your body, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. Jiyan shut the windows behind him, taking a mental note to remind you about it before disappearing into the night.

    For the first time in your life, you finally got over your nightmares of drowning. Your dreams only painted the image of green and blue hues of a dragon before shifting to the figure of Jiyan, planning on your next meeting with him again.

author's note: took a bit of inspiration from the potions event of genshin. i was trying to find a good occupation for reader in a magical town and thought of that!

© MOONDRCPS. avoid stealing or translating my work to other sites. likes and reblogs on my works are appreciated ᵔᴗᵔ

[gloryy-vs]

Can I request the sullys taking metkayina reader to their home and she’s attracting a lot of omaticaya men and neteyam becomes really jealous and possessive please <33?

Enough Staring

|| absolutely not.

i’m jk pls don’t leave. I LOVE this idea, i can just imagine neteyam being all huffy and puffy about it 😭

characters: neteyam x metkayina! reader

ratings: SFW , jealous neteyam

||

He was pissed. It’s like they’ve never seen a Na’vi before. Well to be frank, you were an ocean Na’vi, so all these forest folk were in awe at home big, round and blue your eyes were, the different striping on your face, your beautiful proportions that were evolved to work the best in the ocean. At this point, Neteyam was admiring you too. He and his family returned to the village to grab a few extras of their belongings, ones they forget and left behind. You were demanding to come, never wanting to depart from your mate Neteyam.

He was so happy for you to join, as you seemed to be so enthralled and entranced by the beauty of the forest, while others were entranced in the beauty of you. Groups of Omaticaya men circled you, bowing their heads in respect to seeing you, and allowing them to come forth. You enhance in conversation, noticing the vastly different dialects more clearly now, but it was manageable. They reached out to touch your hair, the texture being lightly different and kinky compared to forest people. Neteyam was digging his fingers into the tree beside him, sucking his teeth as he saw you adored by all the Omaticaya men and women. Lo’ak walked by with his extra belongings, following his parents before he stopped next to Neteyam, “This is why I didn’t bring Tsireya.” He said smugly while his brother shoved him away with a tsk.

Neteyam couldn’t stand it anymore; seeing you laugh obliviously while they all gawked at you and your body. He stomped over, towering from behind you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back gently while leaning downs lightly to speak to you. “Come, we’re going back.” He said grimly while staring down the Omaticaya men in front of you. You again, obliviously held onto his arm, turning around to face him. “Already? The forest is very beautiful. Though I’m sad theres not much water..” You happily walked past him. heading back to his Ikran with a positive attitude, while he scolded the Na’vi from earlier, and out of respect the apologized quickly. Neteyam allowed you to get on the Ikran first, hopping on right behind you. He used his hand to press your back to his chest, burying his face in your neck protectively.

“They were gawking at you. It pissed me off.” He said. his accent becoming more distinct with his upset tone. Neteyams Ikran took off, flapping away to the islands again.

“You were jealous? You know I am your mate for life, Ma’neteyam.” You said, a smirk playing onto your face. He sighed, “Not jealous..it was enough staring as is.” He says trying to brush off the accusation to save his ego.

He was cute when he was mad.

[achilles-rage]

Eager to Please

summary: buck has had you on edge all day, and when you finally get back to his place, it's time for your reward

word count: 2.7k

request: Could you write Buck being a munch with fem reader? I feel like he’s definitely eager to please and it would turn him on majorly

A/N: i am a munch!buck truther first and a person second. thank you to the person that requested this, it was fun! enjoy<33

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

You never knew it was possible for a man to be so eager to please until you met Evan Buckley. Sure, guys might go down on you sometimes, but you can always feel the clear difference between wanting to do it, and feeling obligated.

Evan Buckley was not one of those men; he would spend hours with his mouth latched to your clit, adding his fingers every now and then to really make you scream.

You first noticed the first time you had sex. He was quick to strip you of your clothes, and then he laid you down on his bed with a hungry look in his eyes. He insisted that he wanted to watch you fall apart on his tongue before he even thought about fucking you, and you knew you were done for.

Today, he’s been teasing you since you both woke up; bringing you in for a hot kiss as you lay beside him, running his hands along your curves and down to your pubic bone, but never quite to where you want him. He gets up abruptly when he hears his phone ring, and the dejected look on your face has his mind racing with ideas.

It’s one of those rare days that you both have off, and he decides to take full advantage of it. First, he makes you breakfast, making sure to keep his chest and back bare so you could take it in. He’s always known how much you like his chest, and his tummy, and his broad back, so he uses this to his advantage. He sees the look of desire in your eyes as he sets your plate down in front of you and smirks to himself, knowing his plan is already working.

After breakfast, he tells you that he wants to take you out for the day. He brings you to the mall first, then to get coffee at a small café, then for a walk along the boardwalk, then out for an early dinner at a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for ages. He makes sure to keep his hands on you the entire time. They’re just innocent touches: on the small of your back to guide you, on your waist as you look out at the ocean, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand as you walk. But it’s enough.

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re aching for him. He’s wearing a shirt that stretches tightly across his chest and arms, and your eyes have been wandering down to his biceps all day. He keeps giving you those eyes at the restaurant, making you bite your lip as his eyes trail down your plush figure.

By the time both get into his jeep, your mind is so clouded with desire that his hand on your upper thigh makes you spread your legs instinctively. You don’t even notice at first, but Buck does. He smirks to himself and keeps his hand on you the entire way home, moving up an inch or two every few minutes, which keeps you on edge.

By the time you’re home, you’re speed walking to the door, ready to pounce on him the second you’re both inside his apartment.

He chuckles when you finally launch yourself at him, returning your hungry kiss slowly, keeping his hands on your cheeks to guide you.

“Slower.” he whispers against your lips. He pulls your head away for a second to force you to stop, then leans back in, moving his lips slowly against yours to make you match his pace. It takes a few more whispers, but you finally move at the same speed as him, keeping your hands wrapped around his wrists as you push against him.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he mumbles against your lips, tutting softly as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate for more of him.

“You’ve been so good all day, waiting so patiently. Think you deserve a reward.” he tells you in a gentle tone, looking down at your blown pupils and heaving chest. He chuckles when you nod eagerly, a breathy whimper escaping your lips.

He picks you up in one swift motion, fingers digging into the back of your thick thighs as he makes his way to the kitchen counter. You’re so needy for him; he doesn’t think you can wait any longer, but neither can he.

Once you’re on the counter, he pulls your panties down your legs, tossing them carelessly behind him, and lifts your dress up around your waist. He leans down and his lips cover your inner thighs with featherlight kisses, working his way slowly up to your dripping core while his arms loop around your thighs. He almost loves this as much as actually being able to taste you; he loves seeing how whiny and needy you get for his mouth.

Your hands are gripping the counter hard as you watch him move closer to where you want him the most, and it’s not until you let out a breathy “Buck, please” that he finally ducks down to your heat, licking a firm strip through your folds. You whine softly at the contact, and throw your head back when he buries his face into your slick, beginning to lick and suck urgently.

One of your hands moves to his hair as his lips wrap around your clit, and you whine loudly, which makes him chuckle against you. The vibrations add to the pleasure, and a string of “yes, yes, yes” make their way out of your mouth.

He unloops one of his arms and trails it up your plush tummy to your breast under your dress, which makes you lay back on the counter, and when he squeezes your breast roughly over your bra, you arch your back. His hand continues to explore your soft curves, ghosting over stretch marks and scars littered across your body, and he moans at the feeling. He loves having you like this; moaning and writhing underneath him as your arousal drips down his chin.

He darts his tongue in and out of your desperate hole as soft whimpers escape your throat, fingers pulling on his hair slightly. He groans as you pull his hair particularly hard, and he knows you’re getting close. He wants to make you come at least once with just his tongue before he uses his fingers, so he continues, spelling his name and circling your clit with his tongue as he sucks gently.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he murmurs against your folds, and smiles as you nod quickly, a soft “please” escaping your lips. “Come for me, pretty girl. Let me taste you.”

His words are all it takes for you to fall over the edge, your other hand moving to the back of his head as he continues his attack on your core, working you through your orgasm and lapping up all of your juices.

He slows his movements, and finally pulls his head away to look up at your face. He smirks as he sees you panting, head tilted back slightly as you come down from your high with hooded eyes.

He barely gives you a minute to recover before he pulls you into a sitting position and picks you up again, your panties left to find later as he brings you upstairs.

He sets you down on the bed, your head landing on his pillow, and then he pulls away just long enough to rid himself of his pants and shirt. You sit up on your elbows as you watch him, mouth watering as your eyes dart to the tent in his boxers, but he’s not even thinking about himself right now.

He’s back on you quickly, finally pulling your dress off before he kisses down your neck to your chest, hips grinding against yours as his lips move. He slides down you slowly, making sure to stop at your tummy as he presses hungry kisses across your skin, his lips and tongue ghosting over stretch marks as he goes.

He finally brings his head between your thighs again, his dick twitching as it makes contact with the bed beneath him.

He doesn’t tease you this time, instead, he nuzzles into your warm cunt, nose nudging your clit as his tongue works its way through your folds again. You let out a loud whimper at the feeling of his nose, and your hands grip the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.

You’ve just barely come down from your high, and the way he’s working your center has you squirming against his grip on your thighs.

He pulls away just long enough to push two fingers into you, moving in and out a few times before he curls his fingers upwards. You’re practically seeing stars at this point, and you can barely get any words out except incoherent babbling. His tongue is back on you, sucking and nipping at your sensitive clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips as he quickens the pace.

You’re too distracted to notice, but he’s started to grind his hips against the mattress below him, his low groans sending vibrations up your spine and making you shudder and whimper. His length is achingly hard as he ruts against the bed, but he keeps his focus on the way you taste, and the way you mumble his name like a prayer.

It’s not long before you’re coming again with a loud cry, and he continues to hit that spot with his fingers as you squirm and whimper for him.

Feeling you clenching around his fingers is all it takes for him to let go as well, hot come filling his boxers as he continues to rut against the mattress. He mumbles a quick “good girl” against you, reveling in your juices covering his face, dripping down onto the sheets as he tries to lick you clean.

He moves back up your body until his head is leveled with yours, leaving soft kisses along your hot skin as he does.

“You like that, baby?” he murmurs once he makes eye contact with you, licking his lips as he takes in your blissed out state. He leans down to kiss you softly, and you moan against his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Wanna try something.” he whispers against your lips. He pulls back and urges you up onto your knees. He then lays on the bed where you had just been, with his head on the pillow.

Your eyes travel down to the wet spot on his boxers, and you bite your lip. You fight back a moan at the thought that he was so turned on by your pleasure, that he came without you even touching him.

You look back up into his eyes, brows furrowed as you whisper a quiet “what?”

“Just come up here. Want you to sit on my face.” he tells you with a smirk, one hand still in yours as he pulls you up to him. You bite your lip nervously, but let him pull you up.

Honestly, you’re a little surprised he’s never asked before, and although you’re a little nervous, the idea excites you.

“Right now?” you ask in slight disbelief. Your legs still feel weak at your previous orgasms, and you really don’t think you can do another.

“Of course. Come on, pretty girl. Let me feel you.” he purrs, eyes trailing down to your pulsing core as you oblige. You’re kneeling beside his head, and he pats one of your thighs, urging you to swing it over his head.

You sigh, hesitating for a moment before you finally do what he wants. His arms are quick to loop around your thighs, growling softly as he sees that you’re not lowering yourself down onto his awaiting mouth.

“All the way down, baby. Come here.” he tells you sternly, and when you don’t immediately do it, he pulls you down harshly.

You let out a soft moan as his tongue makes its way through your folds again, and you tilt your head back. You’re still sensitive from him, so you grip his headboard tightly as your hips squirm slightly, which makes him tighten his grip on your thighs.

He can barely breathe, but he doesn’t care, he thinks this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Your thick thighs draped across his head, your dripping heat against his tongue. He can just see your head over your plush tummy, and he groans at the sight. He loves your tummy, and if he weren’t so preoccupied, his hands would be touching and squeezing the flesh with his fingers.

You can’t help but buck your hips against his mouth, of both overstimulation and intense pleasure, and he groans as he feels your weight on him. He bucks his hips up as he sucks on your clit, already growing hard again as he pulls louder and louder whines and moans from your pretty lips.

As your third high approaches, you feel yourself trying to pull away from his mouth, the overstimulation becoming overwhelming. Your hands have moved from his headboard to his hair, and you try to pull his head away from your slick folds with a soft “too much.”

He shakes his head as much as he can, growling as he holds you down firmly. He moves his tongue faster in and out of your desperate hole, once again using his nose to nudge at your clit.

With a few more thrusts of his tongue, you’re coming so hard that you can barely see. Your body goes taut as you come on his tongue yet again, and your hands are firmly weaved through his hair, keeping his head in place as he slows his tongue.

He pats your thighs gently once he’s worked you through your orgasm, silently telling you to raise your hips. You oblige and swing one leg back over his head, then collapse onto the bed beside him, breathing heavily.

He moves so he’s lying beside you, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, then your cheek, then your collarbone. He pulls you so you’re lying on your side beside him, resting your cheek against his chest as he stays on his back.

“Is that it?” you ask through shaky breaths, and he raises a brow with a small smirk.

“Was three not enough?” he asks in slight disbelief, but his eyes cloud with desire again at the idea of making you fall over the edge for a fourth time. You shake your head, closing your eyes for a moment.

“What about you?” you ask in a soft voice, struggling to keep your eyes open. It’s his turn to shake his head, and he shushes you softly.

“I don’t need anything, baby. Watching you was enough. And I already took care of myself.” He finishes with a soft chuckle, and you bite your lip as you remember that he had come in his boxers already.

You nod, breathing finally going back to normal as you rest against him, listening to his heartbeat. He kisses the top of your head as you lay there, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your shoulder as he keeps his arm around your shoulder.

After a few minutes, he breaks the silence, looking down at the top of your head.

“You wanna have a bath?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you smile softly as you raise your head to look up at him.

“Yes please.” you whisper back, your cheeks growing hot at the idea, as if a bath is the most intimate thing you have done today.

He leads you to the bathroom, and strips your bra from your body as the bath fills up. He guides you in to sit back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around your waist, sighing happily.

He may love watching you fall apart on his tongue, but he loves this just as much. Sitting in silence and holding you close as the warm water soothes your muscles and makes your eyes grow heavy.

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[bunnyhugs77]

I literally cried so much reading Angel Eyes but it's so beautifully writen i loved it! >.< Please tell me u have some happy scenes from them🥺

The Honeymoon

𓆩♡𓆪 Part of the angel eyes! au but can be read as a stand alone.

𓆩♡𓆪WC: 1.4k

𓆩♡𓆪In my head happy means smutty! lol enjoy

Content Warning: Smut! Honeymoons, fucking making love, jk can't last, oral sex (f! receiving), begging, desperate, dom! jk, making out, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (newly weds smh), mentions of public sex, reader is a bit bratty (but jk kinda likes it), light teasing.

The moment the two of you return to your suite from your couple's massage you immediately jump face down onto the bed of rose petals that are redone for you and Jungkook every night of your stay at the all-inclusive resort.

Your honeymoon suite was simply stunning. It was your own little bungalow with an ocean-side view of the very private island the hotel was on with your neighbours being more than 50 yards away.

You couldn't believe you went from saving a view like this into your Pinterest board and now you were looking at it first hand, although it couldn't beat the sight of your handsome husband who groaned a sigh of relief as he walked into the room behind you, leaving his crutches against the wall.

Rubbing his neck he praises the service he'd just received, "Goddamn, I think that's the best massage I've ever had--and I've been doing physio for almost a year and a half."

You weren't listening to him.

His skin was absolutely glowing, it must've been the oil they used or maybe Jungkook was just naturally this radiant. Your husband is hot as fuck, you wouldn't put it past him.

"What's that face?" Jungkook looks down at you with an arched brow. Just when you thought he couldn't get any hotter. In his stupid tropical palm-tree-themed button-down that was left open over the white wife beater that hugged his buff chest a little too well.

Your thoughts had gone straight to a sinful place and you were going to make sure to take Jungkook down with you. There's no way he didn't know what he was doing.

It felt like he'd been teasing you all day, from the way he licked the syrup off his fingers at breakfast to the way he moaned softly every so often during the massage.

"Want you to fuck me." You say, on your back, legs spreading on their own accord letting the flimsy material of your sundress give him a brief sight of the black thong that left little to the imagination.

He clears his throat, suddenly fanning his face. You'd never been this bold before. Even with all the sneaky hospital hand jobs and the quickies in storage closets, he'd never seen you get like this before. So... desperate.

"Yeah? What am I supposed to do about that?" His voice was smooth like butter and oozing with confidence. You pout and he just wants to kiss you, "Fine. I'll do it myself." You quip, dropping your hand down between your legs, but before they could even make contact, a strong hand is gripping your wrist.

"What's your problem today? You've been short-tempered all day." He walks towards you, close enough to be standing between your open legs. "Oh, like you don't know." You scoff and suddenly there's a light spank to your outer thigh where your dress had rolled up.

A whorish whine rumbles from your throat, never wanting to admit how much that turned you on. "Be nice." He warns and you roll your eyes, taking a deep breath before your head turns to the side, facing out the window to the beautiful ocean that reflected the setting sun.

"You've been teasing me all day, licking your fingers this morning, then moaning during the massage." Jungkook had to laugh. You were just so cute when you got like this, he could get used to it.

Carefully working you out of your underwear as he spoke, "I had no idea you got so hot and bothered this easily. Is this all it takes?" Bunching up your dress in his hands and pushing it to pool around your stomach as he slowly drops to his knees.

"Let me make it up to you," He purrs, and you can feel the warm air from his lips hit your center sending chills to creep up your spine.

With such little time to react to the feeling of his tongue working skillfully along your wet pussy your hands reached down for his hair, tugging gently. "Oh fuck, that feels so good." Your voice was airy and breathless as your eyes closed, too caught up in the pleasure to keep them open.

Jungkook was a passionate pussy eater, always has been, and always will be. Some guys try to overplay the role of being a 'giver' in bed, thinking it makes them some kind of next-level gentleman who deserves to be praised, but Jungkook was different.

He'd once come untouched just from eating you out and he couldn't look you in the eyes for a good two hours after that.

His soft grunts send a soundwave through your body and add an extra flame into your burning core, flooding with arousal. "Yeah, j-just like that." You moan, grip tightening in his hair and he has to stop his hips from grinding in the air.

His cock was throbbing beneath his shorts and it wanted nothing more than to find solace in the warm walls of your cunt. Meanwhile, he kept himself busy with the brutal pace he'd set with the wet, flat muscle in his mouth.

Flicking your clit rigorously until your moans became higher and more rapid. "Jungkook!-" Your chest began to dampen with sweat as it raised and fell with shallow breaths as you came undone on his tongue, but he refused to pull away until he'd licked up every drop.

Collecting the last of it on his fingers before standing and making lustful eye contact with you, sucking it off his fingers just as you'd imagined he would at breakfast this morning.

With haste, he shimmies out of the rest of his clothes while you toss your dress off to the side and out of mind. Your brain is only able to focus on the swollen head of his cock prodding at your entrance.

"My wife just has the prettiest pussy doesn't she?" The question was rhetorical, but the official title did things to you. It made you want to do bad bad things to him. The kinds of things that could put him back in that wheelchair.

Pushing in slightly then pulling out, the sounds from this action alone left you scatterbrained. "Jungkook. Please!" You begged, pursing your lips with displeasure and he chuckles.

With his arms caging you in at the sides of your head he pushed in, letting his arms leverage him down to drop a wet kiss on your lips, one that you hardly responded to.

Mouth slightly agape as your walls stretched around his girth, "Shit." You curse, "Are you okay? Let me know when I-" Cutting him off with your lips, making a sound of approval that prompted Jungkook to slowly rock his hips forward.

Your cunt sucked in every last inch of him until he bottomed out. "You feel so good, baby." He pants, the strained tone of his words telling you all you need to know.

He wasn't going to last long at all. Jungkook always tried his best to hold out as long as he could when he was with you, and he's sure he would have been able to before the accident but he just couldn't seem to control himself, especially not with you moaning beneath him like this.

"fuck-" He curses, rolling his hips into you with a steady pace. With every thrust your mind goes blank and your nose scrunches. It was a cute habit Jungkook hadn't noticed till recently. The way your nose would scrunch when you were close to your orgasm.

"I'm-" You warn and he grunts, hips rutting into you, deeper, slower.

"Look at me, Y/n." The use of your name was able to have your eyes fluttering to meet his. The eye contact was all too much for you, to look at him while you finished was overstimulating in every sense of the word.

All it took was one glance and you were moaning his name at the top of your lungs and reaching your climax, suddenly thankful that your neighbours were so far away. With one last squeeze of your walls around him, he felt his composure crumble, shooting his hot cum inside you.

Toppling down beside you. The both of you stare up at the ceiling with laboured breaths before turning to face each other.

"What if I just got you pregnant?" You snort, "You just always have something to say don't you?" He smiles, "I'm serious, you never know." Inching towards him, never breaking eye contact, "I think we can handle whatever life throws our way."

After the last year the two of you had gone through, that was most certainly true.

[lyraoftheevergreens]

The Realms Enchantress

Chapter 3

NSFW MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader!Niece, Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Female!OC,

Summary: For years Daemon never had a care in the world just, sex, wine and a good battle. With the exception of his favorite niece. His little dragon he called her. He swore to be there for her and he got himself exiled when she needed him the most. Now, he returns from war at the step stones and is determined to get her back. No matter the cost.

Warnings: Targaryen Inscest, mentions of sex, oral female and male receiving, talk of nudity, mentions of death and blood, mother murdered, dead babies, depression, periods, vulgar language. If your watching hotd than you should already know that stuff written about it will not be clean in the slightest.

Author Note: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, life happened and as we all know it tends to suck at times

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Chapter

“Come join me! ‘Tis quite warm!”

“No, how can I trust you speak the truth? I am quite content here enjoying the view.”

“Daemon! Please!” You yelled to him. In time he eventually caved and undressed to join you. By all means who was he to deny you what you wanted.

“You lie! It’s fucking cold!” He yelled walking to you.

“I don’t lie, I’ve just been in long enough that it’s quite nice.”

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into him, stood in the ocean.

“I could live here, till the end of my days.” You whispered, head on his chest.

“On Dragonstone?”

“In your arms.” Just the two of you.

Eventually you both decide to return to your chambers for rest. Walking up with daemon barefoot in his breeches and you barefoot in his tunic. The staff looked at the two of you wide eyed as you both walked through the halls laughing and talking.

“Oh do you remember that time Rhaenyra got drunk?”

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra?” He looked at you in disbelief given she is only 4 and 10 years of age.

“Oh no! You were away! I shall tell you the story than. She was only 10 years of age and I believe it was my father’s name day and he was drinking his wine at a faster pace than usual as well as consuming my mothers because she was with child as always. Nyra saw it fit to help him finish his own glass when he turned to drink mothers. Nobody had noticed what she was doing.”

“Well clearly you noticed if you are relaying the events.”

“No, actually. It was her who stumbled in laughing pissing herself into my bedchambers. When she woke the next morning I questioned her as to what she had gotten her self into the night prior and she told me. Although the fact that she was dancing and telling jest to about any lord or servant that would hear her should have given her away.”

Daemon listened to you as the two of you walked to your bedchamber. A fondness in his eyes. The servants were in shock and some shied away from watching the Rogue Prince appear happy. He smiled with you. None of them had seen him smile.

A warm bath was already prepared when the two of you entered the room. The maids knew not to linger. You laid against his chest as you both laid in the hot water enjoying each other’s presence. It was Daemon who spoke first ruining the silent bliss.

“We must start our journey back to Kings Landing on the morrow.”

“You swore 4 days to me.” You answered him back.

“We’ve stayed 3, our journey together will be the fourth. We won’t arrive till the hour of the wolf.”

“May we return here to Dragonstone as we wish?”

“If your father does not have my head for bringing you here then yes.”

“Daemon.” You whispered.

“Yes?” He answered. You turned between his legs to face him, the water spilling from the sides of the basin.

“I want you to…” you were unable to finish your own sentence from your own nervousness. Your face red unable to express your wishes to him.”

“What is it you want sweet girl. Tell me.”

“I want you to, to. Touch me.” You whispered the last part.

“Touch you how?” He asked feigning naivety.

“Fuck me.” You whispered. He threw his head back and groaned.

“Oh my sweet girl, how I wish I could. We must time such things. If I do so now your father will have my head and he will marry you off to the first lord who will take you.” He tried to reason with you. It was hard to given that he barely got 3 words in before your hand gripped his cock. Once in your soft hand he was rock solid. It took everything with in him not to have you as he truly wished every night here on Dragonstone.

“Wed me. In the tradition of our house, take me as your second wife.” You told him now working your hand up and down his length the water begins to rock due to your hand movements on his length threatening to spill from the tub.

“You are so much more than a second wife zaldrītsos.” He moaned out eyes clenched closed as you continued your movements. He laid there enjoying the feel of your hand working his length. His own hand never being able to bring the same relief yours was bringing him. He knows once he has your cunt wrapped around him, you will have ruined every whore for him, He will solely crave you.

Once the bath was ruined from his release the two of you got out and prepared for bed. Once in bed the two of you drifted off to sleep in each others arms. The next morning Daemon kept his word and the two of you left on Dyrax at sunrise and started your journey to Kingslanding. Once arrived at the hour of the wolf you and Daemon used the secret passageways to your chambers. The two of you held each other one last time. Tasted each other one last time.

When you woke the next morning it was Rhaenyra who had awoken you by jumping into your bed.

“You’ve returned! Oh I thought you would never return from Dragonstone! How was it with Daemon?”

“It was lovely. A much needed rest from court. I must ask. Is father aware?”

“He is unaware to my knowledge.”

“Perfect.”

“Tell me y/n!” She shouted at you, now realizing you would have no choice but to tell her everything. Well, excluding the intimate details. Your day continued on as usual as if you hadn’t been away for 5 days. Daemon returned to his gold cloaks, day time training and nightly patrols.

Otto fucking Hightower. You had returned to court your second day back from Dragonstone. When Otto the cunt of a hand asked you how your time at Dragonstone was, infront of your father.

“You were at Dragonstone? When?” Questioned your father.

“Just 2 days past. I needed to be alone to grieve mother.”

“Did you not arrive at the hour of the wolf with Prince Daemon?”

“Yes I did. It was his idea and it helped. I enjoyed the waters of Dragonstone and I was able to cry and sleep as I pleased. No court, no politics, no murmurs of my mother and brother’s death around the castle. Silence and rest.”

“That sounds lovely my girl. I’m glad you are rested.” Your father responded. One thing Otto didn’t know, is your father would be sure not to upset you after watching him choose a son over his wife. Now he has no heir, no wife and could possibly loose his two daughters.

“Thank you father.” She said smiling to him.

“We must discuss Daemon and the way he is abusing his city watch status. He is acting as judge and executioner, 2 horse pulled carriages were used to rid of the carnage. Many would say it a massacre and abuse of power. His first night back and the people are met with his blade.”

“Has crime not gone down?” You spoke up.

“Excuse me princess?” Answered Otto abruptly.

“He instills fear in criminals, should the people of kings landing remain honest, not steal and not rape than they should have nothing to fear by the gold cloaks nightly patrols.”

“The city watch is not to instill fear.” Otto retorts.

“Maester Fredrick, get me the crime reports please. From the last 3 years.”

“Yes princess.” Said the maester and quickly left.

“Ser Harwin strong was lead commander while your uncle was away. Crime remained down and there were no live slaughters.” Oh how Otto got under her skin.

“While that may remain true how long till the city’s criminals retaliate. If they don’t fear death or loss of limb who is to say that crime won’t raise once again. Daemon has returned, I propose we allow a fortnight to compare results and we will see if the matter requires further discussion with Daemon present. All who agree?” And with that everyone agreed, your father spoke.

“Marvelous idea my dear. We shall allow a fortnight and we will proceed from there. Your king is tired, if there are no further matters that require my attention I shall retire for the evening.” With that he stood, everyone else stood and he left. Once you exited the room you had crossed paths with Maester Fredrick and the records.

“Have them sent to my chambers please.” You asked.

“Of course princess.” He left in search for your handmaid, what you assume. Once you retired to your room’s Rhaenyra came running in.

“I can’t believe the way you put Otto in his place!” Rhaenyra threw herself onto your bed laughing.

“Do you notice the way it absolutely angers him that father allows me a seat on his council.“ you said laying down next to her.

“Yes! I really thought father was going to storm out the council room in search for Daemon after what Otto said.”

“As did I. Truthfully I’m relieved he didn’t further question it. Or that Otto didn’t press into it. You think Otto has spies on Dragonstone?”

“No. I don’t believe so. You?”

“No.” You laid there thinking about if Otto did. Surely he knew something to bring up your leave with Daemon.

Two days later another council meeting was called. You all took your seats and Otto spoke first. “Before we begin your grace, I have a report I feel compelled to share. Last night Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the street of silk to entertain officers of the city watch and other friends of his. He toasted Prince Baelon styling him the heir for a day. After he goes on to say how it will be him and his seed who sit the iron throne. “If his heir won’t sit the throne at least mine shall after I fill his daughter with my seed.” I corroborated this report with three separate witnesses. The evening was by all accounts a celebration.”

You sat in shock at Otto’s words. You watched as your father ordered his guards to have Daemon sent to the throne room. You left to your chambers. Rhaenyra followed close behind. Once alone she spoke first.

“I’m not sure what’s more upsetting, our uncles words or your betrayal.” Rhaenyra speaks coldly.

“My betrayal? Pray-tell sister, how do I betray you?”

“You let him take you to Dragonstone like some whore. Was it worth it? Being sullied by him just to have him run into the arms of another whore.”

“You dare call me a whore? You know nothing baby sister, don’t you dare act as if you do. I remain as virtuous as the day I was born. He may have ran into the arms of his whore but he has never had me! I swear it on the memory of our mother, I have not laid with Daemon in the matter of which you accuse me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Rhaenyra began to cry. You embraced her in a hug.

“It is alright. I forgive you. I know, what we heard was upsetting. Father will talk to him and then I. I will get us answers. I swear this to you.”

“Okay.” She whispered holding onto you. You waited a while before leaving to Daemons chambers once Rhaenyra fell asleep in your bed.

You found him being watched by a knight of your father’s kings guard as he packed his belongings.

“Leave us.” You command as you enter.

“I can’t do that princess.” He says.

“You can and you will, your princess commands it. Shall he escape I will ensure you will not face the wrath of the king. Now leave us.” You promise him. With this he takes your word and waits outside the door while you talk to Daemon.

“You heard.”

“Heir for the day?”

“Y/n.”

“No! I can’t believe you Daemon,”fill his daughter with my seed.” What kind of nonsense is that?” You shouted at him, all he could do is reach out to you. You quickly stepped back.

“Do not touch me after you lay with your whores. I truly hope it was worth it because you will never have me not after this. You swore you would be here for me! You don’t even last a fortnight before you get your self exiled! You made a mockery of my dead mother and brother. Of me!”

“Who is to say I want you! I’ve never made such a proclamation!” He shouts back at you. You stare at him in shock, was it all in your head? Did he just see as another one of his whores when you bare with him on Dragonstone, the nights spent in his arms. The kisses and care in his touch. You step back from him.

“Y/n” he reaches for your arm once more. You step back again.

“No. I apologize uncle. I believed something that was not there.”

“Y/n.” He called your name once more.

“I’m sorry I ever believed you to be the man I need.” With that you left him there and made your way back to your chambers. The guard escorted Daemon to the dragon pit. You heard of your father exiling your uncle to the vale with his wife. You stayed in bed. For days on end.

5 months after Daemons exile your father called you and Rhaenyra to the cellars of the red keep.

“What is it farther.”

“My darling girls. It has been sometime.”

“You have not talked to us in 6 months” Rhaenyra states.

“And I apologize. When you see dragons, what do you see.”

“Father what is this?” You question him.

“Just tell me what you see.” He repeats himself.

“I suppose I see us, they say Targaryen’s are closer to gods than men and they say that because our dragons. Without them we are just like everyone else.” Rhaenyra says.

“I’m sorry Y/n, Rhaenyra. I have waisted the years since you were born on wishing for a son. You are the very best of your mother and I believe it and I know she did that you could be a great queen, ruling queen.”

“Father. Daemon is your heir. Y/n your first born.”

“I understand but I believe that it is you that can unite the realm when the time comes. Only a strong ruling king or queen can do that. While you are strong and passionate Y/n is level headed. Y/n you will need to protect your sister, guide her as heir to the throne. It is you who I believe can do that best. You are caring and quick thinking, you have always protected and cared for Rhaenyra, more so now while you both mourn the loss of your mother you have remained strong and reliable through it all.”

“With Rhaenyra on the thrown and you as her council, her hand. The realm will remain strong long after my death.”

With in 3 days time the realm was pledging their loyalty to the crown, to king Viserys and heir to the throne Princess Rhaenyra. And while you would never admit it to your sister, you were hurt that your father named her heir and not you. You knew in your heart it was punishment for your time on Dragonstone with Daemon. Nonetheless you bent the knee pledging your loyalty to your sister.

~time jump~

1 month time has gone passed. Your mother dead 7 months. Your uncle gone for 6 months, squatting on Dragonstone. Apart of you wanted to fly to him be done with the politics, for him to take you as his wife in exile. But you were still hurt by the last words he spoke to you, and you were needed in kings landing. Your father, Rhaenyra. You sit at the small council table while your sister remains cup bearer. Frankly you and Rhaenyra are exhausted of hearing talk of your father needing to remarry. Lord Corlys keeps pushing for father to marry Laena. While you and Rhaenyra understand it was to happen with time, the vultures push to rush.

An emergency small council meeting was called. You and Rhaenyra hurry your way to the council room. Upon entering there is dragon keeper waiting to speak.

Ziry occurred isse se blackness hen bantis, issa lords, during se hour hen massa. Se thief eluded īlva pursuit

(It occurred in the blackness of night, my lords, during the hour of the Bat. The thief eluded our pursuit.)

Skorkydoso iksos ziry possible bona nykeā zaldrīzes’s drōmon istan stolen hen hen hen gōvilagon tolī than tōmēpsa zaldrīzes keepers?

(How is it possible that a dragon’s egg was stolen out of from beneath more than fifty Dragon keepers?)

Ziry istan prince daemon qilōni istan se culprit, aōha dārōñe…

(It was Prince Daemon who was the culprit, your grace…)

“Daemon?” Your father spoke in a questioning tone, questioning himself as to why Daemon would do such a thing.

“The prince left a missive, which I believe might explain.” Spoke Otto.

“It is the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen, the prince of dragonstone and rightful heir to the iron throne, to announce that he is to take a second wife in the tradition of Old Valyria. She is to assume the title of Lady Mysaria of Dragonstone. Her grace is with child and is to have a dragons egg placed in the babe’s cradle in the custom of House Targaryen.” Maester Mellows pauses. “The prince has invited you to his wedding, your grace. It is in two days time.”

“Gods be good” mumbles Tywin Lannister.

“Who is Lady Mysaria-“ Corlys begins to question but is interrupted by Otto.

“Daemons whore. This is nothing less than sedition.”

“I strongly agree, sire.” Agrees Lyonel Strong.

Skore drōmon gōntan daemon gūrogon?

(Which egg did Daemon take?)

Se drōmon istan dreamfyre’s, prince. Keskydoso drōmon bona ao iderēptan syt prince baelon’s cradle.

(The egg was Dreamfyre’s, Princess. The same egg that you chose for Prince Baelon’s cradle.)

That was all it took for your father to finally take action. Seeing the hurt in Rhaenyra face. It was one thing to try to get a rise out of your father but to hurt his daughters was another issue.

“Assemble a detachment, Otto. I will go to dragon stone and drag daemon back to face justice myself.”

“Your grace! My apologies your grace but I cannot allow it. It is to dangerous. Daemon is without limit. Let me go to dragonstone.” With that Otto begins to give orders to Ser Harrold to gather men to prepare the ship to set sail to dragon stone.

Rhaenyra pulls you aside away from your father and the other men. “We are going to Dragonstone.”

“Nyra. No.”

“It’s to prevent blood shed. You know just as well as I do Daemon would love nothing more than to have Otto’s head on a spike.”

“I suppose. I don’t see the harm that though.”

“Y/n. I can retrieve the egg and if Daemon sees you and Dirrax it will force him to keep his temper under control.”

“I’m not his keeper. If Daemon wishes to kill. He will. Nonetheless I shall go. Only for you though.”

I will meet you at the dragon pit at the hour of the bat in 5 days time. The journey will take a long while, especially with Syrax never having done the journey. Prepare him for it. We will arrive when the ships arrive.”

Thankfully she listened to you, and in 5 days you both had changed into your riding leathers and met at the dragon pit. You opted to wear your black cloak over yours and to take the secret passage ways. You followed her closely behind on Dirrax who was double the size of Syrax.

Once at dragon stone Otto’s men had already arrived both sides with their swords in hand. And a woman in white with brown hair stood next to Daemon. Must be his whore you thought to your self. You had heard of her, never seen her. Your heart ached to think that she was carrying his child. While it had been 5 days since you learned of his betrayal, you hadn’t allowed your self time to process it fully. Being to busy with Rhaenyra. You hear Caraxes screech as he crawls the hill behind his rider. He must sense Syrax and Dirrax who begin to screech in response. Rhaenyra and Syrax land first, and you second behind her. It is then that the men “sheath the fucking steel” Otto yells. Rhaenyra dismounts from her dragon while you remain on yours. You have faith in her ability to handle your uncle.

“Issa kepa brōstan issa prince hen zaldrīzesdōron. Bona iksos issa sombāzmion ao issi living isse, kepus.” Rhaenyra spoke first.

(My father named me Princess of Dragonstone. That is my castle you are living in, uncle.)

“Daor ēva ao become hen age. Plus hae iksos aōha mandia” your uncle remarked.

(Not until you become of age. Plus as is your sister)

“Ao emagon angered aōha dārys.”

(You have angered your king.)

“Nyke don’t ūndegon skoro syt. Bisa iksos nykeā tubis hen biarves. Nyke naejot sagon.”

(I don’t see why. This is a day of celebration. I am to be wed.)

“Ao emagon nykeā ābrazȳrys.”

(You already have a wife.)

“Daor mēre hen issa.”

(Not one of my choosing.)

“Se bisa ao naejot laodigon issa lēkias drōmon?”

(And this required you to steal my brother’s egg?)

“Ao se aōha mandia rūsīr nykeā zaldrīzes skori ao istan āzma. Nyke jaelagon keskydoso syt issa riñnykeā.”

(You and your sister shared a cradle with a dragon when the two of you were born. I want the same for my child.)

“Aōha naejot emagon nykeā riñnykeā.”

(Your to have a child?)

He looked back at his whore.” Mēre tubis.” (One day) with those words you scoff as you watch your uncles whore leave.

“I’m right here, uncle… the object of your ire, the reason that you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir you’ll need to kill me. So, do it. And be done with all this bother.” With that he looked at the Otto and the other knights, to rhaenyra. To you. And turned to walk away and quickly tossed the egg to Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra placed the egg in pot of fire and mounted Syrax. She left on Syrax thrilled at her accomplishment, she yelled with joy as she flew away on Syrax. While y/n and Dirrax stayed on the wall.

“Sōvēs Dirrax.” Once well in the air y/n let out all her emotions. Crying and screaming

“Dirrax. Dracarys!” With that Dirrax let out a large breath of fire that filled the sky. And they stayed behind Rhaenyra the whole way back kings landing.

A knight alerts your father of yours and Rhaenyra return. You both are then taken to his chambers.

“You fled kings landing without a word. And you acted without the crowns leave. You two are my only heirs. You both could have been killed.”

“May we sit.” Rhaenyra ask.

“You went to dragon stone.” Your father repeats himself.

“And retrieved the egg without bloodshed. A feat I’m not sure Otto could’ve accomplished alone.” Rhaenyra points out.

“Yes, well…” he laughs. “ I sometimes forget how much you both are like your mother. Your mother’s absence is a wound that will never heal. Without her… the red keep has lost a warmth that I dare say it will never recover.”

“It pleases me to hear you say this. To know that y/n and I are not alone in our grief.”

“I wish I had known better what to say to you both in the aftermath. I struggled to realize that both my daughters had so quickly become women grown. But I know she understands what is now expected of me.”

“The king must take a new wife.” Rhaenyra says fighting back her tears.

“I could never replace your mother. No more than I intended to replace you as heir but you both are my only heirs and our line is vulnerable, to easily ended. And by marrying again, I may begin to ensure that we are better defended.”

“Against whom?”

“Whomever may dare to challenge us. I do not dare to make us estranged. The three of us.”

“You are the king and so, your first duty is to the realm. Mother would’ve understood this. Just as I do.”

“And I.” With that you and Rhaenyra leave to your chambers to sleep. And nothing could have prepared the two of you for the council meeting that would be held in the morning.

Your father stands at his chair with a nervous expression on his face. He looks to and Rhaenyra for reassurance. Rhaenyra nods her head and smiles in reassurance to him and he begins to speak.

“I intend to marry…. The lady Alicent Hightower before springs end.”

“This is an absurdity, my house is Valyrian. The greatest power in the realm.” Says Lord Corlys now stood from his seat.

“And I am your king.” With the Corlys leaves. And Rhaenyra fights back her tears in shock and betrayal. She then leaves before anyone else can see her emotions.

“Yes if you were to marry Laena. Not her only friend. This is a betrayal from not only you but Alicent as well. You mislead us both into believing you were to marry Laena.”

“Rhaenyra.” Your father calls out to her. Once she is gone your father looks to you.

“Last night, she said she understood.” He says to you.

“You assumed-“

“No! There was never any mention of Alicent in any of your conversations to wed. You walked with Laena. You questioned your council on whether marrying Laena was the proper thing to do.”

“Y/n.”

“No, now if you will excuse me. I have a mess to clean up that you have created.” With that you left to comfort Rhaenyra

~

Chapter 4

[nelissecrectplace]

Refuge

previous | part 3

word count: 3.7k

language: Tsahík- spiritual leader, Muntxate- mate / wife

description: To say you were happy about new arrangements would definitely be an understatement, yet somehow people’s word still struck you to your core. Little did you know a certain na’vi would put those too rest with three simple words. Fluff fluff and fluff.

“I seek the family’s approval too court Y/n”

Head shooting up you could hardly believe the words that had left his lips. Eyes wide you looked too Ao’nung searching for any hint of deception. Heart racing in your chest your shocked features soon twisted into confusion. “Why?” Although your voice was low it seemed too echo through out the mauri. The deafening silence flooding back in once your words had faded. Gaze moving from your father too you his eyes seemed too soften. Your body stiff and hands clasped together in your lap as you tucked your pinkie in. A habit he had seemed too have created. Ears tinting slightly purple the male looked around. It seemed all eyes were on him, waiting for an answer. “I am showing my intentions.” Taking a pause Ao’nung seemed to be searching for his words. Ronal holding a proud smile as her son spoke.

“I wish to make you my Tsahík. No other woman has made me feel this way, and I do not wish for you too slip from my grasp.” Feeling flustered at the peering eyes Ao’nung ripped his eyes away from you. Now facing your parents. “I will treat her better than any other sutor could. The gifts in the corner are all for Y/n and her family.” Feeling the weight of the situation the Nerves began too set in for Ao’nung. His tail swaying with anxiousness. All of your family’s eyes seemed too turn towards you as they studied you for answer. You could not seem too meet their eyes as you could not tear your eyes from Ao’nung. Hand covering your mouth a dark hue washed over your cheeks. You did not even hear the second part as his words repeated in your head like a broken disc. He wish too make you his Tsahík. You are the first na’vi he had ever wanted too make his.

Stifling a laugh at your expression Lo’ak was the first too voice his opinion. “I accept, I know her better than anyone, and my sister seems overjoyed.” Shyly looking too your brother he met your gaze with a close lipped smile. You could not contain the way your tail whipped with excitement at his approval. “I knew this was coming so I’m with Lo’ak.” Kiri voiced her opinion, shrugging her shoulders as if she was not stunned only a minute ago. “I am fine with it, hopefully there is no mal-intent.” Your eldest brother locked eyes with the na’vi. His yellow orbs staring daggers into Ao’nung soul with an unspoken threat. Eyes just as heavy Ao’nung looked at Neteyam. An underlying offense in his expression. “I do not have any mal-intent.”

“We’ll I think that settles it. Me and my wife also approve. I believe her siblings judgement is strong.” Processing jakes words a smile slowly made its way too Ao’nungs face . Oceans eyes immediately finding you. You felt your heart leap at this action a shy smile making its way onto your lips. Although your future had been decided for you, you did not feel any resentment. If anything your felt an overwhelming sense of love and acceptance as the dinner commenced. You could not seem to maintain eye contact with your future mate without your face heating up. Overwhelmed with the feelings you had tried so hard too suppress, the feeling you never thought would be returned. It seemed that the dinner had ended too soon your family soon leaving the mauri. Ao’nung eyes did not seem to leave your body as you stood, bidding his sister goodbye.

Seeing him walk over you felt your heart leap. Meeting his eyes you felt as if you could burst with joy. “Goodnight y/n” Tucking your one stray braid behind your ear his ocean eyes bore into yours. Brining your hand up too his you navigated it too your cheek slightly nuzzling into his touch. “Goodnight Ma Aonung.” Face flushing the male looked at you his pupils dilating. Eyes scanning your features he had no doubt in his mind he had made the right choice. Ao’nung was sure he had his future in his hands.

The next morning the you were awoken by the bustle of your home. lazily bring your body up you squinted your eyes attempting too adapt too the sunlight. Dazed and confused you struggled too set dream from reality. The memories of last night flooding in seeming as if they were a fantasy. “Y/n if you don’t want this can I have it?” Groggily blinking you processed Tuks words. Eyes traveling too the item in her hand you couldn’t help but let out a slight gasp. “Oh my Eywa.” Taking the bracelet out of Tuks hands you rushed over too the growing pile of materials in your family’s Mauri. Paying no mine too Tuks noises of disapproval you were too wrapped up in your own head. Mouth agape you scanned the amount of offerings brought too your mauri as the reality set in. A giggle erupted from your throat as you could help but embrace your youngest sister, spinning the twelve year old in the air. “I am being courted by Ao’nung!!” Shrill laugher filling the air the mauri was soon full of joy as Tuk mirrored your excitement, not quite sure why you were so hype, but she did not care.

“Looks like we made the right choice.” Body spinning too the entrance your eyes landed apon your father and brothers. The two younger ones carrying the remainder of the gifts as they entered. Placing Tuk down you threw your body into your fathers arms. A heart filled laughed rumbled through your fathers chest as he now spun you around. “Thank you daddy!” Wrapping your arm around your father he happily returned your hug. “Anything too make you happy baby girl.” A small smile made its way onto Jakes lips as he hugged you. Pride filling him with the fact that he had made you happy, that he had made the right choice.

“Not too be a vibe killer but sis…. you do know Ao’nung saw all that.” The humor in Neteyams voice was evident as Lo’aks giggles were already spilling past his lips. Pulling yourself away from your father you peer over his shoulder and sure enough the na’vi was there. A smug smirk placed apon his lips as he handed your father the items in his hands. “Morning y/n.” Hands clasping together you turn your gaze too the floor. The embarrassment of what he had witnessed slowly settling in. “Good morning” Almost muttering it you shifted your body weight from side too side.

“You kids get out of here ronal is expecting you.” Interrupting the awkward exchange your father ushered you out. Face heating up you took your place beside Ao’nung. Your heart seeming to rest at his usually pace around him as it beat against your chest rapidly. “I’ll walk you to the healing tent?” Voice rough the male smirk rested comfortable on his lips. Nodding your head softly you agreed. Pushing back your nerves you boldly took ahold of his arms. Your slim arm easily wrapping around his bigger one. Muscles stiffening under your hold his cocky demeanor slowly slipped away at your proximity. “You do not know what you do to me forest girl.” Finding your smaller hand he engulfed it with his. A warm feeling crashing over the both of you.

As the two of you walked to the healers tent it seemed that the village began to wake with your pretense. A chatter following behind you as the village gossiped. Ao’nung had never openly showed his affection no matter how many relationships he had been in so for him to be walking hand in hand with a na’vi sent shock waves through the village. It did not take long for your news of him courting you to spread like wildfire. You would not be surprised if by the time the two of you had reached the Tsahíks tent the whole village knew. Usually this would make a woman proud. Being claimed by a man so openly was suppose to be something a woman dreams of yet you felt none of that. You did not enjoy the gossiping that occurred after your arrival and did not wish for something about you to be in mouths of others. Sensing your unease Ao’nung squeezed your hands oceans eyes not tearing away from yours.

“You okay y/n?” Stopping a few steps away from the entrance of your destination he turned his body towards you. Your arm being ripped away from latching onto his. A sense of guilt seemed to build as you looked into his concerned eyes. You did not wish to dampen the mood over something so minor. “Of course.” Clasping your hands together you sent a small smile towards the male. Obviously not buying it his face seems to harden but the words never had a chance to leave his lips. Aggressively opening the tent Ronal announced her presence. “You are keeping my student from me. Arent you accompanying your father today? ” Crossing her arms the two of your turned to her. An annoyance plastered on Ao’nungs face as his eyes rolled at his mothers words. “Meet me after eclipse on the beach.” Words spilling out of his lips he pressed a hasty kiss to your forehead. “Of course” responding, your once dampened mood skyrocketd at the simple gesture as the na’vi ran off. Shyly looking too his mother she wore a similar smirk too her sons as she eyed you knowingly. “Come child, we must begin your preparation.”

𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅𓂅

Whoever said being a woman in a clans was easy, is a liar. For hours you were given examples and duties of tsahík and the list made your head spin. Not saying that these tasks would be overbearing but it definitely wasn’t light work. You could only thank Eywa the festivities and religious ceremonies were branched out the months. Now, sitting in front of foreign herbs you attempted to memories the names and affects. You only knew a minor amount of healing as you were a warrior alongside your brother in the forest. You tried to tie the Metkayina herbs to the ones you already had knowledge of. “Atla will be helping you I must step out.” Forcing you out of your mind Ronal commanding voice filled the Mauri. Eyeing the na’vi next to the woman you examined her features. She could not be much older than you, maybe around Ao’nungs age. Atla was beautiful standing taller than you she held herself with elegance and confidence with a smile. Rising to your feet you hurriedly greet the woman. “I am y/n”

“Oh please I know, you’re the talk of village!” Voice high pitch she spoke enthusiastically. Striding over to you. “Do not gossip the whole time. The future Tsahík must learn quickly.” Words stern Ronals words were commanding. Although she had her soft moments the thought of having her as a mother in law still sent shivers down your spine. It seemed that her intimidation did not have the same affect on Atla because as soon as Ronal form vanished the woman already had rumors spilling out her mouth. “Is it true you are pregnant ? How far along are you? People in the village are saying its the only reason he’s with a na’vi well……like you.”

“Excuse me?” Confusion and shock evident in your voice you looked the na’vi up and down. Processing her words your feelings soon turned sour. “I am not pregnant, and what do you mean na’vi like me” Poison evident in your voice you looked at the taller woman. “I mean, you are not metkayina and on top of that you’re not true na’vi.” You felt your stomach drop with her eyes as she examined your hand. Clasping them together you quickly tucked in your extra finger body language rigid and hurt. Your obvious signs of discomfort did not seem to affect Atla as she continue too speak as if this was a causal conversation. “The people just never thought he would chose an outsider and alien. There’s a bunch of theories going around since this morning but most think you trapped the poor boy. Did you seduce him?” Disregarding your feelings her eyes bore into yours. She did not seem to have a hint of remorse. The room seemed to suffocate you as you processed her words. Tears pricking the ends of your eyes as your emotions made it hards too breath.

“The people do not think I’m worthy?” Voice cracking you looked up to the female. Her eyes showed confusion at your question as her thoughts swarmed in her head. “I mean, not really, but look at you.” Her words were harsh as she motioned to your frame. “To be honest I always thought it would be me, I was pretty surprised that his parents let him chose.” Not being able to handle anymore of her rambling you rushed through the exit. Inside you knew a part of her was doing this out of jealousy acting all innocent and casual so you would be the dramatic one but you could not seem to care as you stormed out the Mauri. You knew your feeling of euphoria would not last long and people would talk, Ao’nung was to the future chief after all, but hearing the word so soon still hurt. Looking at it from an outside perspective it did make sense, Ao’nung should be with a real Metakyina.

That night you did not meet Ao’nung at the beach. Hell you didn’t even go back to your Mauri. Finding peace in the small forest on the island you hid yourself from reality and the hatefulness of the clans disapproval. Basking in the darkness of the forest you pretended as if you were home. Pretend that you were away from all this conflict for all the disproval you got for the sin of being born. You couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different if you had three fingers. Raising your hand into the sky a hatred grew as you examined the five fingers, cursing Eywa for allowing your soul to crossover into such a form.

To say Ao’nung was confused was an understatement. The male did not understand why you had not shown up on the shoreline. All the excuses in his head running out as eclipse turned too day. The male had dozed off on the shoreline awoken by the tide against his skin. His confusion soon turned to irritation as he gathered his thoughts. The na’vi was quick to set out on a search checking your family Mauri to no avail. They had simply said they assumed she was with him their worried faces telling no lies. His mother seemed to be a dead end as well. Ronals words being “She stormed out on Atla, Atla said it was because she was frustrated with all her tasks.” It was hard for him to believe her words as you were not the type to give up. Finally, the idea of the small forest in near the village struck his mind as he was quick to venture into the unfamiliar area.

Ao’nung had never been much of a land adventurer always sticking to the ocean. He saw the small forest as a place for the gatherers never setting foot in a place he did not have control over. To say he was wandering endlessly would not be a far stretch as he seemed to be lost among the tropical trees. Frustrated and hot his discomfort was unmatched. But, it seems his tireless search did not end up fruitless as his sights soon landed on your dark blue body laid leisurely agains a tree. Your hands worked slowly as you peeled a fruit with your knife. Meaningless humming filling the area around you. “Is this where you have been?!”

Jumping as his voice the fruit was quick to fall out your hand along with your knife. You felt your stomach drops as your eyes were met with a seeming furious Ao’nung. His shadow casting a shade over you as you looked up to meet his eyes. A familiar feeling of guilt and regret seemed to bubble up as you looked at the man the furrow in his eyes unrelenting. “I did not mean too-”

“What? Stand me up?” Voice dripping with anger he glared down at you. “I do not understand what you want.” His seeming angry tone cracked as he said his last sentence. A hint of hurt seeping through his frustration. “Do you even want me? Your actions are so contradicting I do not understand!” Anger slipping away it seems that his true emotions seemed to show. The confusion and pain evident in his tone. “Ao’nung, of course I want you.” Voice soft you rose to your feet. Attempting to place a hand on his shoulder. Harshly ripping away from your touched the na’vi looked into your yellow eyes. “You say that I was playing with you now look at you.” Seeming to come to his own conclusion the na’vi backed away. Heart racing in a panic at his retreating form you felt all your newly formed doubts spill to the surface. Your brain screaming a you to make him stay.

“No! You don’t understand! I simply came out here to recollect. Ao’nung, please.” Racing after him your hand gripped on his shoulder. Harshly turning around his ocean eyes bore into yours. “Ah yes and thats a perfect excuse for showing interest than running away!” Sarcasm evident in his tone his fist clench at his sides. “I just-“ A roll of his eyes seems to shut your right up. A lump in your throat slowly gathering as you felt him slipping from your grasp. “I do not want to hear it y/n”

“No! I only left because your clan does not wish to have me. An alien and outsider as a Tsahík? They do not want me Ao’nung. How could you want me?” Tears pricking the sides of your eyes the lump in your throat only grew as they escaped cascading down your face. “Who has said this?” Although the anger was still evident it was no longer directed towards you as his hand quickly cupped your face. “You have said these words as well you can not be mad at your fellow tribesmen.” Eyes flashing with regret his oceans eyes swarmed with many emotions. Remembering the harsh words that had left his mouth many time.

“I was a skxáwng. I have always wanted you even before I ever realized what these feelings are. Y/n you are meant to be my Tsahík. I do not care what words leave the mouths of the clan members they listen to me.” Softly wiping away your tears his calloused hand brushed against your cheek. Letting his body relax it seems that all the resentment flowed out. His impulsive feelings leaving alongside his assumed conclusions. Feeling the tension leave his body you could help but allow your heart to flutter at his words. Stepping forward you closed the distance between you and Ao’nung, seeming entranced by his very being. Your body did not seem to stop until you felt the heat from his chest only an inch away from yours.

Breathing rigged his ocean eyes scan you. Flashing between your eyes and lips. His self control withering away by the second. “They will always see me as an alien. No amount of power can change that.” Almost as if supporting your point you brung your hand up putting your four fingers on display. It was as if you were working against yourself on purpose, still not fully accepting you could be his. The invisible marks from his actions from weeks ago still seeping in. “Their opinions have no effect on me. I do not care what they see.” Turquoise hand wrapping around yours his color engulfed your hand. “I see you y/n”

His touch burning you looked into his eyes. The breath from your lungs taken away. “I can not breathe without your presence y/n. You do not have to say it back but please do not push yourself away from me I-“ Stoping the mans nervous rant you could not help but crash your lips into his. His hands dropping to rest on your hips. You could taste the saltiness of your tears but it seemed neither of you seemed to care refusing to break the connection. Pushing down the burning of your lungs your pressed your hands against his chest pushing the male until back hit a bark of a tree. An amused hum came from his throat as he pulled away his normal persona taking no time to come back as a smirk rested upon his lips. Chest heaving you seemed to drown in his eyes struggling to catch your breath. “I see you Ao’nung.”

Heart fluttering at your words Ao’nungs ears seemed to shoot up. His once smirking face morphing into a genuine smile. “You will be my muntxate no one will stop that.” Voice stern and determined the male seems to be reassuring your doubts with his eyes holding no lies. A small sigh breached you lips as you rested your head on his chest. Your slim arms wrapping around his waist in a soft embrace he was quick to return. “I will not run away again. I will seek my refuge with you ma Aonung.” A purr coming from his chest the male could not be happier as held you in his arms. A sense of peace washing over the both of you as all the difficulties disappeared. “I will always be here for you my forest girl.”

a/n- I am soo sorry this took so long my summer has been busy! I hope you enjoyed the ending of this little mini series hopefully I did not kill your expectations!!Personally i really enjoyed writing it and hope you loved reading it just as much. 🫶🏽

tags: @yeosxxx @atwow69 @misscaller06 @lynbubble @heart-an0n @jarofer @lovethefruitman @elegantkidfansoul @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @neteyamssbaby @coldlamaspersonspy @optimisticsandwichgladiator @lemonmoonmochi @sully-stick-together @chxrrybobaby-sin @abysshaven @nilrilie @ok-boke (srry if i missed you)

[alexa-fika]

Hi, hope you have a good year. Can i request for a whitebeard piratesx child,f!reader ff. So this is what if when the whitebeard found her when her parenst abounded her, she didnt do those bratty things or childish,things. Instead she becomes more stotic (emtionless if you want). So how would the whitebeard pirates help her?

Thanks

Abandoned Treasure (Whitebeard pirates x f!child!Reader)

A/N Okay guys listen, listennn After I got sick I had to catch up with homework and packing and moving so I left you guys again 😭 I ‘m sorry. This is kind pf a flop I don’t know if I like it but but I am cooking another piece as we speak with characters I’ve never written before 🤭

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Pops, I’m worried about her. It’s been a few months already, and the most she has done is get up to walk away from us,” Thatch piped up after bringing his lunch to the Captain.

Whitebeard sighed, looking at the young girl still sitting on the ship’s bow, not shying away from the scorching sun that had been penetrating her skin for days.

He had found the girl on a small island they had passed on the way to their next destination. The island itself, if one could call it that, was but a patch of sand, a small mountain protruding from the vast ocean. He could only assume that she was abandoned there, seeing as she had no signs of wear you would expect from one at the mercy of the sea and its waves. After being brought on the Moby, she simply remained in the bow, her stare never straying away from the direction in which she was found.

Even as the storm hit the boat, she did not waver, having to be forcefully brought inside lest the waves took her away. Relieving herself and taking a few spoonfuls of food every few days was the only reason she would deviate from her scouting, waiting for what he guessed was her family to return. Any attempt the crew made to interact with her was promptly shut down as his sons simply found themselves making empty conversations with someone who would never answer; extended attempts at conversation or trying to get words out of her would only end in her walking away, placing herself in a different post and resuming her search.

“Marco,” he rumbled, glancing down at first mate, who let out a quiet hum in acknowledgment of the call as he continued to browse his father’s latest changes in health.

“How is she?”

This gets the Doctor’s attention as he moves from the papers in his hands to the girl sitting at the ship’s bow.

“Thatch, when did she eat last?”

“Ah, the last time I noticed something missing from the food I brought her was a week ago; it was less than a bite, though.”

Marco takes a minute to get the information and take in the child’s current state.

“If she keeps this up, she won’t make it another month; her body is barely hanging on as it is from the starvation, dehydration, and sun poisoning she has been taking. I would be surprised if she made it that long.”

“We have given her enough space and time; it’s time we talk whether she wants to or not,” he states, slowly standing up.

Dokucha is quick to notice the overwhelming presence of the Captain behind her.

“You have to stop, brat”

A single glance from the young girl was all the man got in response to his statement before she stood up to change her position, only to be stopped by Thatch.

“Sorry, not this time, sweets.”

She glared up at him at his words, ignoring the way he winced.

“Geez, ray of sunshine aren’tcha”

“Move.”

“you’re bossy for someone who Is stowing away in our ship,” Marco stated.

“I didn’t ask to be a stowaway; my parents are coming back.”

“No.”

“They are,” she voiced, looking up at the huge man.

“They aren’t coming; your parents are not coming back.”

“You are wrong.”

“I’m sorry; it has been over a month since your parents left you behind,” Izou stated, stepping closer to the girl.

“They didn’t.”

“Then why haven’t they come back?”

“They are restocking supplies; that’s why they are taking so long,” she reasoned, glaring at the gun user.

“Sweets...” Thatch trailed off, a frown on his face at her stubbornness

“You are all liars. I won’t fall for your lies; my parents are coming back.”

Whitebeard closes his eyes, sighing; they are unlikely to get anywhere with the way it was going. He has many sons, and none were free from pain and anguish. They often turned to denial to ground themselves from people’s cruelty, so he has become adept at reaching such people.

“Leave us,” he ordered, opening his eyes.

“Pops?

“Go to your posts.”

“Aye, aye, Sir”

Dokucha watched the commanders slowly retire from the bow, some lingering for a while longer until they finally gave in to their Captain’s orders and left the two alone.

Dokucha said nothing as she simply sat back down in her original spot, ignoring the presence of the yonko

“You already know they are not coming back,” he rumbled, looking down at her small figure.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated.

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

“What are you talking about, you old man?”

“You’re parents abandoned you because they are a bunch of bastards who can’t take responsibility. It’s not because there is something wrong with you.” He stated, raising a brow when she did not respond

“They are coming back,” she finally stated, continuing her words before Whitebeard had a chance to tell her off.

“I was good; I helped them find the best treasure. I had a hard time finding some for a while, but I’m really good at it, so they will come back,” she stated, a crack to her otherwise emotionless facade beginning to shine through.

“I’m useful, so they will come back. They have to,” she muttered, her voice filling with emotions the more she went on in her tangent.

“They won’t.”

“No..No, I can find the treasure, so you just need to find them again so I can tell them,” she replied, rubbing her eyes.

He frowned, kneeling down and taking hold of the girl.

“That’s enough.”

“No, I c-

“Enough,” he repeated louder.

“If your parents loved you only when you found treasure for them, then they only loved the treasure you found for them.”

“I don’t care! They praised me if I found treasure, which made me happy; they loved me if I found treasure, and that made me happy,” she cried.

“Let me go! Let me go!” she hollered, struggling against his half.

“Stop that,” he growled.

“Did she fall asleep?” Ace asked, approaching the two hours later

“Damn brat was screaming and crying for two hours before she finally gave in to exhaustion,” WHitebeard grumbled.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Whitebeard glanced at his youngest son, stopping for a minute to think.

“It will be a while before she is okay; just like all of you, she has to deal with her trauma slowly. Just hope she’s not like you and goes on assassination attempts.”

“Come on, Pops, stop bringing it up; it’s embarrassing,” the young man replied with a frown, this one only growing as his father just let out a massive laugh.

Okay I ‘ll give you a hint, this one is really general, maybe if you ask I can give another hint but they are marines, technically I have given you two hints, I have never written them before and they are marines any guesses?

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