#spinning a tale anon

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

This is totally stupid, but, i was thinking about the Nocorro secret hang out spot.

So this place is the same little river that we sees at the start of avatar 2, a place where as kids Neteyam, Spider and the others could easily spent all day.

Now Neteyam family doesn't go there as much, maybe during summer to cool off a little, but apart from that the place is abandoned.

So is the perfect place for the two to spent time alone, only themselves.

Now, let's imagine they got together when Spider was 13 and Neteyam 12, at the start they only spent time there, talking, looking at the sky and clouds, staying hand in hand with eachother for hours.

During their first year togheter, the RDA returned, so they couldn't see eachother as much as they would have liked.

So they arranged this schedule, Tuesday evening was when both (especially Neteyam) were free.

Date at 17:30/5:30 pm, if i say that Spider would jump on top of Neteyam im not kidding, they saw eachother during the other days of the week.

But is not like they could search for eachother physical contact, their intereation could be only talking about "stupid" stuff, like the war and raids, the others, arms.

Thing they didn't "care", because of crouse they only wanted to talk about eachother and their love.

So when they were togheter, they talked about eachother week and how annoying and boring it was without the other.

Finally during their second year togheter they kissed, don't get me wrong, they did kiss but until there the kisses were innocent, only lip on lip.

Now those two are 15 and 14, and they could stay together only half evening, plus Neteyam started going on raids, and jesus Christ that scared Spider.

So I draw the start of their "passionate" kisses at this age.

Then

Spider got kidnapped, Neteyam did go to their secret place but only for crying.

Let's suppose the Sully stayed a week before going away, Neteyam dropped all his responsibilities and spent all the evenings crying in their secret spot.

Secretly hopping for Spider to appear, but nothing, he had to go away and abandon his clan, home, people and boyfriend.

And on top of that he needed to show that it didn't weigh on him, that he was okay, he needed to be the rock for his siblings.

When I picture the nocorro hang out spot (which trust me, I have pictured before, don't worry) is always on some high rock face on the way up to the Hallelujah Mountains. Far away from the village but not a crazy climb, but enough of a climb that when they started going Lo'ak couldn't make it and Kiri would get distracted before getting there. Can't tell you why but I'm always picturing rocks.

That is so sad though, picturing Neteyam holding it together because no one knows and he doesn't want to add even more onto everyone's plates, and he is afraid his mom will be less likely to rescue Spider if he tells. So he can only truly worry, let go, and grieve when he goes to the spot.

[robin-5-technically]

Sing, O Muse, of the son of those Bat-winged Minyades Who kept the company of nymphs in many furred and scaled and winged forms And broke the curse of his forefathers To step in the path of the golden-horned Artemis And save virtue and lives in equal measure

-🪽

Exquisite. Your words move gracefully like a butterfly through a meadow of flowers, yet, like a sword wielded by a trained hand.

Who’s bard has just stumbled into my asks?

[anaalnathrakhs]

who's your fav mick exwife/girlfriend (or maybe actual wife)??

oh man im gonna be basic but seraina honestly

i don't know THAT much about her but her instagram is always cool and i enjoy... i wouldn't say her works, like i said i don't know much about what she does, but here general vibes. like being called fai mcnasty and writing insta captions like that and posing with the geriatric husband like THAT is just yknow. silly vibes. good vibes. interesting vibes. she's super pretty too, and it looks like her and mick have a good relationship from what we can see on social media so it's never a bad feeling to hear abt it. which i can't say for every ex he has lmao

that choice is also motivated by the fact that i don't know much about his exes. i know the basic commonly accepted tales abt them, his first wife didn't like the instability, emi was abusive, nina hagen was really cool and they almost got married, and uh. that's about all. i don't know much and i'm not that interested in them as characters for either rpf fanfic purposes or just generally playing with the idea of their personas. i would struggle to characterize them.

anyway. rejoice, picture of seraina & mick be upon ye

[benevolentgodloki]

Ok enough with the destroyer anons is it not bad enough loki decided to sacrifice himself yadda yadda

"It was a... complicated day. Let's put it that way."

[targaryen-jpg]

under the weirwood

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader

summary: requested by anon: "rhaenyra trying to talk jace into approaching reader:-(shes just so supportive mshdhshs"

notes: y'all when i tell you this made me BLUSH! he's actually adorable i might be perhaps in love no warnings! just fluff

jacaerys velaryon was a learned boy of eight-and-ten, prince of dragonstone and heir to the iron throne of westeros – yet he was completely tongue tied anytime you were near.

you first met the prince when he came to winterfell to visit your brother – lord cregan stark. he arrived on dragonback, sending up plumes of snow when he landed. assembled with the other lords and ladies of the keep, you retreated further into your fine furs. winter had come, and it was a cold one.

“my prince,” lord cregan announced, welcoming jacaerys as he entered the gates, now on foot, “the north welcomes you.”

“i’m pleased to make your acquaintance, lord cregan,” jacaerys smiled, warm and open, “many thanks to your house for such a welcome.”

cregan nodded, then gestured to you, “my younger sister.”

you dutifully stepped forward, curtsied, and introduced yourself, “welcome, your grace. i have heard many tales of your bravery.”

was the prince… blushing?

he seemed to stutter for a moment before he nodded stiffly, “my lady.”

for a feast held in his honor, the prince did not seem to be enjoying it much.

you, however, were in your element. the north was a large place, so cold and empty that you rarely had guests. to have so many of the great houses together? you were delighted. 

from the moment the dancing started, you didn’t leave the floor. you accepted every man who offered his hand, twirling and spinning and giggling with the other ladies until you practically fell over.

when you returned to your seat beside your brother's, you were flushed and panting. he was off somewhere you did not know, so only an empty chair sat between you and prince jacaerys.

“you do not dance, your grace?” you questioned, pouring yourself a cup of wine.

“i confess it is not my forte,” he looked away with a laugh, “and please, call me jace.”

you took a sip of the deep red liquid, “only if you will grant me a dance. jace.”

you held out a hand, and grinned when he took it. he took the lead from there, leading you out onto the center of the floor. the light grey fabric of your skirts swirled around his dark leather, the silver embroidery shining in candlelight.

“i don’t wish to imply you are a liar,” you began, spinning away from him, then back in, “but you are quite the dancer, my – jace.”

he just chuckled, ducking his head, “you are far outshining me, my lady.”

the next day, jacaerys brought news at breakfast, “my lady mother will be joining us tomorrow. she will only stay for a short while, but wishes to make your acquaintance, lord cregan.”

“how delightful,” you smiled, “to think, brother – the queen, here!”

“yes, yes,” he huffed, then looked at the prince, “we would of course be delighted to host queen rhaenyra.”

“will she be arriving on syrax, jacaerys?” you inquired, and when he nodded, you grinned even wider, “i never dreamed i would see a dragon in this lifetime, but to have two right here at winterfell!”

“would… would you like to go see vermax, my lady?” the prince proposed.

“oh, brother, please,” you sighed, “may i?”

cregan only waved his hand and continued eating.

within half an hour, you and jacaerys were standing in front of the dragon. he was sleeping when you arrived, but a huge golden eye opened as he sensed your approach.

you froze as he examined you, but jacaerys held his arm steady at your back, “it’s alright, my lady. he’s – he won’t hurt you. he’s a gentle creature.”

you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him when vermax fully awoke, raising his head up.

you stumbled back, but jacaerys put himself in between you and the dragon, “umbas, vermax.”

he helped you move closer, and whispered, “lykiri. this is lady stark, vermax.”

the dragon huffed, almost like a petulant child, but when jace moved your hand to his snout, he didn’t object.

you laughed in amazement, “what did you say to him?”

“it’s high valyrian – umbas means ‘stay’, and lykiri means ‘calm’.”

“lykiri,” you whispered, running the tips of your fingers across his smooth scales, “how do you say hello?”

he smiled, reaching out to stroke the dragon, “rytsas.”

“rytsas, vermax,” the word was unfamiliar on your tongue, but vermax lowered his head. still awake, but clearly relaxed, “he’s beautiful.”

“he is,” jacaerys agreed, but he was watching you.

queen rhaenyra, true to her word, arrived the next day. once again, you bundled up in your finest furs to await her arrival. syrax’s entrance was grand, yellow scales glinting in the sunlight as the queen landed her. she was enormous, bigger than vermax, but seemed docile.

as your brother introduced you, she eyed you carefully. but, you held your head high, smiled brightly and curtsied as low as you could.

“the young lady stark is quite beautiful,” rhaenrya stated to her son, “have you had much chance to become acquainted?”

she was resting on a chair by the fireplace in her quarters, warming herself after the freezing ride to winterfell.

“a bit. i took her to meet vermax,” he sighed, leaning on the mantle, “i confess – i can scarcely speak to her. everytime i do, i make a fool of myself. i’m the prince of dragonstone, and i start stuttering like a child”

“oh my darling,” she smiled knowingly, “you have affections for her?”

he knew before he answered. everytime you smiled at him, it was like dragonfire warming his insides. your touch sent sparks down his arms, the way you moved when you danced entranced him. even vermax seemed to like you.

so, he nodded, blushing creeping up his neck.

“you must tell her then,” rhaenyra decided, leaning back in the chair, “you are the crown prince of the seven kingdoms, but i will give you leave to pursue your own choice in wife. and the lady stark would not be an unwelcome match.”

“what?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

rhaenyra sighed, “jace. if you like her, you must make your affections known. if you wish to marry her – you have my blessing. though i cannot speak for cregan stark, i believe it would be an excellent match.”

after begging his leave from his mother, jace nearly sprinted to your quarters. when he arrived, he found only a servant who informed him you were in the godswood. by the time he found his way through the labyrinth of trees, he was panting and sweating despite the cold.

you heard footsteps and looked up from the tome you were reading by the weirdwood in the center, “my – jace?” you stood as he approached you, “are you alright?”

he could scarcely breathe as he took your hands in his, “can i kiss you, my lady?”

you froze, mouth agape, searching his face. you tried to say yes, yes, please, but no sound would leave your throat. all you could do was nod and his lips were on yours. his hands moved to cup your face so tenderly, while yours curled in the fabric of his tunic. it was breathless and sweet and over all too soon.

jace was nearly gasping by the time he let you go, “i – my apologies. i ran here.” his hands moved to hold your waist.

“wh–,” you laughed, cupping his cheek, feeling the hard line of his jaw, “why did you do that?”

“i wanted to ask you to marry me,” he let out a nervous breath.

you froze once again. a pause.

“you don’t jest?” you whispered.

he shook his head vehemently, “no, no, never. i confess i have made a fool of myself time and again, but you – you are everything wonderful in this world. you are bold and tender and i completely adore you. please,” he breathed, “please, marry me.”

“yes,” you murmured, moving closer until your foreheads touched, “a thousandfold, yes.”

when his lips met yours again, you could feel him smile against them.

[fanaticsnail]

I fell asleep with spotify on and woke up to sea shanties. And in that honor:

Roronoa Zoro loves to drink. Everyone knows this. His high alcohol tolerance means he can usually keep himself in a pleasantly fuzzy state.

Still, there are times where he gets properly drunk. Absolutely blackout sloshed. And this poses the question of what to do with him? How to care for him?

That is, until Sanji joins the crew. See, the rest of the strawhats may be new to this sailing business, but not Sanji. Sanji was raised by pirates on the sea. Rowdy, fun loving, drink loving pirates. And he knows exactly what to do with a drunken sailor.

Snhsiwbehei this is so stupid. Just a silly thing that crossed my mind.

-♡♡ lots of love

Anything for you, ♡♡ Anon. What shall we do with the drunken sailor, indeed? I saw your ask about still thinking on the lazy sleeping Zoro. Thought I'd add a little more lazy swordsman in there for you.

Until The World Stops Spinning

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,000+

Synopsis: You have just come off watch-shift, just as Sanji wanders onto the top deck of the Going Merry. Both of you discuss what to do about Zoro's current state of inebriation. What shall we do with the drunken swordsman...

Themes: Zoro x reader, subtle sanji x reader, drunkenness, smoking, drinking, sleeping, written with the sea shanty "What shall we do with the drunken sailor" in mind.

Notes: I listen to shanties all the time when I write. It's seriously such a vibe. This anon comes up with the best prompts, and I seriously can't. Edit to add: That version above by The Irish Rovers is what I used to dance to when I did Irish dancing as a child. One of the old tunes that made me want to play violin.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Gulls singing their sweet song of the morning lingered in the air, the perch of several flocking members sat proudly atop the top mast of the Going Merry. The chef serving beneath the Straw-Hat captain wandered on the deck to enjoy his morning cigarette after setting aside the morning crepe batter to rise. What greeted him in the morning light was a sorry sight to behold.

The puddle of drool pooling from the corner of the sword wielding first mate’s mouth was indication enough that he was past the point of no return in his drunken stupor. His snore rattled and shook the top deck, the wood almost cracking beneath the intensity of the roar falling from his parted lips. 

Standing over the first mate, arms folded in twine, stood the Going Merry’s latest member: the ship's counselor. 

“Mornin’ chef,” you utter without turning away from the snoring first mate. Sanji pouted with a deep frown while placing the filter of his cigarette between his lips. 

“Good morning, counselor. Good watch shift?” Sanji uttered while striking his flint and lighting the end of his cigarette. You nod, both of you not tearing your eyes away from Zoro as the deep rise and fall of his chest indicated traces of life within his death-like slumber. 

“Not a single thing to report, aside from this thing here, of course,” you uttered, gently tapping your toes against Zoro’s thigh as he slept soundly. Sanji inhaled a lengthy breath of his morning nicotine, exhaling down at the swordsman with a soft scowl on his face. 

“How many'd he have?” Sanji asked tilting his head and examining Zoro as his shaky snore. 

“Around five or six, I think,” you bob your head before further clarifying, “Bottles, not short rounds.” Sanji clicked his tongue at the confirmation, gently shaking his head. 

You turn towards the blonde chef, furrowing your brows and looking at him inquisitively. 

“Chef?” you quirked up at him, prompting him to turn towards you in response, “You've probably had the most experience with inebriated sea-folk. Any quick remedies you can think of for this?”

“I can think of a few cures from the tales of old,” Sanji chuckled, his smile turning more playful with each passing moment. “Shave his belly with a rusty razor comes to mind.” You scoff at him, rolling your eyes with a soft chuckle. 

“Zoro's stomach is as smooth as a baby bird,” you laugh at him, “Not a hair to rid him of, rusty razor and all.” Sanji hummed, pressing his index finger to his chin and thinking further. 

“Put him in the longboat ‘til he's sober is the next classic suggestion,” Sanji took a moment to take a lengthy drag with a deep chuckle, “Or: stick him in the scupper with a hosepipe bottom, is another.”

“The Going Merry has no long boat,” you shrug, looking down at the snoring former pirate hunter and lulling your head to the side, “And I don't think he'd very much enjoy a swift spanking on the meat of his ass with a rubber pipe, in his current state.”

Sanji laughed in a loud and unbridled laugh, placing the cigarette on the ground and dulling it's light with the ball of his foot. 

“Put him in bed with the Captain's daughter, then?” Sanji chuckled in glee, softly nudging your shoulder with his, “That's the only other option in the tales and shanties.” You nudge him in return before nuzzling your head against his bicep. 

“While stringing him upside down by his ankles on the topmast is awfully tempting,” you remove your head from Sanji's arm, “We're better off just moving him and putting him to bed to sleep it off, aren't we? Wanna give me a hand, handsome?” 

“Not really,” Sanji shrugged with a soft chuckle before reaching down and grappling one of Zoro’s heavy legs, “But I will because you asked me so nicely.” You shake your head, reaching down and aiding Sanji in bearing the brunt of the swordsman’s weight to take him below deck where the others began to stir from their sleep. 

As Nami got up from the only bed, Usopp and Luffy rising from the hammocks, you gently aided Sanji in placing Zoro beneath the plush duvet and atop the mattress still warm from Nani's body heat. Shaking her head, Nami fishes a bucket from the side of the room and places it by Zoro’s head. 

Stirring briefly from his drunken stupor, Zoro’s blurred and swirling vision glared up at you all before his gaze softened into a lazy smile. 

“I… I love you guys,” Zoro’s soft, drunken drawl lazily called to you all before turning to gaze at you, “Ya’ done with the nigh’ sh-shift, ‘Selor? Gonna snooze?” 

You look over at the crew, gently giving Sanji's arm a squeeze before he turns to begin breakfast for the crew wandering atop the deck. He smiled in response, gently bobbing his chin up and wordlessly telling you to get some sleep. 

“Yeah, swordsman. I'm gonna 'snooze',” you confirm with him, turning to the hammocks and beginning to choose from the three suspended bed-spaces. Before you were able to move away from Zoro’s bedside, his muscular arms shoot out and snake around your midsection, tugging you into a warm embrace beside him. 

Nuzzling into your hair, he takes a lengthy inhale and groans in joy at the body heat radiating from you.

“S’ay w’th me?” he slurred in question, already beginning to fall into slumber with you tucked in his arms. “Only ‘til th’ room s’ops spinnin’?” Facing away from him, you shake your head with a light smile before moving the duvet up to cover the both of you. 

“Sure, Zoro,” you already feel the weight of your eyelids weighing you down the longer you linger in his embrace, “Only until the room stops spinning.” Both falling asleep almost immediately, a soft shutter of a Den-Den image conductor could be heard mixing with the harmonious snores reverberating within crew quarters.

Nami was going to hold those images over the both of you as ransom for more of a cut from your joint haul on this upcoming adventure. You both slept soundly enough to not care, dreaming of what new horizons lay waiting for you.

[itsbubbleteataro]

Heloo! :D I saw your request are open so i decided to send one! what would be Sunday's reaction to a Furina!s/o? If that's a tad bit confusing, can you do Sunday's reaction to his s/o performing Sinners Finale (Furina's execution song) and the execution if you're feeling angsty :3 (You dont need to add that part if you dont want to) SORRY FOR MY BAD ENGLISH IM REALLY BAD AT EXPLAINING

can i be 🤸 anon pls :3

-🤸

You bet you can! Sorry 🤸 if it's not as you'd like but I did have a lot of fun writing about it. I kept some elements that I really enjoyed and found some nice music to listen to in the prosess. I had a lot of fun brainstorming in a cafe with some coffee!

Sorry about my posting being all over the place, moving across the country in the next few months will keep one busy! Anyways heads up this will pull at the heart strings,

Without anymore stalling, I present

La Danse du Chagrin

"Long, long ago, on a small planet named La Sec, a tradition old as the aeons persisted. Every 500 years a lottery was to be held. The winner is said to preform a dance so wonderful that the skies themselves weep and bring this dry and starved planet the water it desires"

You've told this story to Sunday as many times as he asked. Every time he seemed more and more enthralled within the sad story.

The very same story you told him when he first found you, one of of his many trips outside of Penacony.

He saw you dancing for the very first time, a style he wasn't familiar with at first. You lived gracefully, going up en point as if it were as easy as breathing.

The two of you met when he went to extend an invitation, to invite you to dance for the dreamscape. You soon became one of the more popular shows to go to when Robin wasn't present.

It was just after one of your shows, you and Sunday were in your dressing room. Him away from the public eye, watching you make yourself perfect before your next performance.

Sunday's always liked that about you, how your always perfect when you dance, as well as when you dress for the day or for the stage.

A bloodhound knocks on the door to the dressing room, prompting Sunday to get up and answer it as you were busy making sure your hair was perfect. Sunday was handed a note, addressed to you. He passed it along, setting it down on your table while he took his seat again.

Carefully you opened it, taking the note in hand and reading it. You bit your lip, keeping as stoic an expression as you could muster.

"Well my dear dove, it seems we have a show to attend in La Sec. I do hope you will come watch me dance, they did personally invite me too"

You said as you stood up, turning to face him. In hand your point shoes. In the other a red tambourine with matching velvet ribbons tied to it. Your dress a silky white with blood red accents.

"By of course my dear, it seems we are to depart?"

You nodded your head and walked side by side with him.

----

Arriving home was just like you expected. Dry, the earth cracked and starved for water. You took Sunday to Palace d'ear. A grand palace with many a room and beautiful gardens made of stones instead of lush greens. Inside tall ceilings with paintings.

Sunday looked at the paintings, filled with beautiful dancers, tales of woe and sorrow. Some of excutions.

The two of you walked on, further and further. You directed Sunday to a stage, and had him sit in the audience, while you went off to speak with an official.

------

It had been about an hour, he noticed a spinning blue sword above the stage, he figured it was just an effect. After all, it is a stage.

He blinked as he looked at you, then, the music started to play.

He watched you dance both your and his favorite solo, La Esmeralda Finale .

Your white dress swirled around you as you danced, your pristine point shoes matching your skin as always. Your hair half up and half down. Sunday always lived watching you dance.

The music ended as you held your final pose. As Sunday stood clap, the blue sword he saw beforehand stopped spinning, and came crashing down with a thunk.

Your dress was stained red, like the bow in your hair.

His eyes, wide in horror. No one had explained the sacrifice to him.

He bolted to the stage when he could, cradling what was left of you as he watched your body turn to little blue droplets and head into the sky.

Your bloodied point shoes, held close to his chest as it started to rain outside.

Oh what a terrible day for rain.

He clutched your beloved shoes close to his heart. He started to sob.

First he was robbed of his sister, now of his beloved? How the world was cruel to him.

He stayed long past the crowd leaving, gathering up your belongings to take them back to his home, your home.

Sunday never went to a ballet again, it wasn't the same.

How he wished he could have watched you keep dancing on for him

[zablife]

Johnny's Meets a Glamour Girl

Johnny Davis Masterlist

Summary: Johnny offers you a ride when he finds you stranded outside of town, but you're wary of motorcycles. Can he find a way to persuade you to trust him?

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see Johnny with an elegant woman who doesn't like motorcycles. This began as a simple set of headcanons, but I couldn't stop adding detail!

♡ You met Johnny the day your car broke down at the edge of the field where the Vandals were holding a race. Cursing under your breath, you struggled to restart the flooded engine as a group of mud caked bikers ambled toward you in a menacing throng.

♡ Your heart clawed at your throat as you listened to their approaching voices over the sputter of the engine, hand trembling helplessly at the ignition just as a broad shouldered man began tapping at your window.

♡ The moment he caught sight of your panicked expression, a large hand fell over his heart in silent apology before motioning to the others to leave. His eyes softened as he mouthed an instruction for you to roll the window down, taking a step back as he waited patiently for your well manicured hand to crank the handle.

♡ Something in his gentle demeanor convinced you to take the risk, cracking the window as he leaned down in polite introduction. "My name's Johnny," he began, explaining he was the president of the motorcycle club you'd just encountered and assuring you with a kind smile, "don't worry, I won't let nothin' happen to you.”

"Wh-what's gonna happen to me?" you gulped, stealing a glance of the motley crew in your rearview mirror.

"Nothin'," he emphasized, holding your gaze confidently before giving a firm nod.

♡ True to his word, you remained unbothered as you passed the time reapplying your makeup in the passenger seat. However, a mutual attraction seemed to grow the longer he took to assess the problem.

♡ You seemed to catch his eye a few times as you puckered your lips for a swipe of ruby red lipstick, but it didn't bother you. If you were honest, you were using your compact to ogle his glistening biceps whenever he peeked around the bonnet.

♡ Johnny worked until the golden light at his back faded and the evening air turned chilly before calling you outside for the bad news about some faulty spark plugs. He didn't hesitate to drape his leather jacket over your shivering form, smiling sheepishly as he admitted, "Ain't no mink, but it'll keep ya warm."

♡ The wholesome gesture surprised you, but not so much as the comforting weight of it enveloping you safely in his distinctly masculine scent. And Johnny couldn't help but beam with pride when you clutched it to yourself tightly, exhaling a sigh of relief that you hadn't scrunched your nose in disgust at the tattered sleeves or protested about getting motor oil on your expensive dress.

♡ In an attempt to lighten the mood, he told a few amusing tales from his travels as a truck driver and offered you a cigarette to ease the lingering tension you held in your shoulders. When you finally leaned in for a light, laughter bubbling in your chest, he grinned widely at his accomplishment.

♡ By the time he'd gotten around to recounting the time a milk tanker overturned on him, attracting every cat in three counties, you were covering your mouth to hide an unladylike snort. But Johnny was charmed by the noise, realizing you weren't as haughty as he'd assumed.

And you couldn't help but be enamored by the way the sides of his eyes crinkled as he chuckled good naturedly in return. "Reckon I spin a pretty good yarn after a decade on the road," he boasted.

♡ Things were going well until he had to convince you to climb aboard his Harley for a ride to town. It seemed you saved all argument for that moment, listing a myriad of reasons why that would be unsuitable--the wind in your perfectly coiffed hair, the length of your dress, the impossibly high heels strapped to your feet.

♡ Johnny listened patiently as your anxiety ridden voice rattled off a laundry list of worry before finally stumbling to a halt. He nodded his head in understanding, then countered with one very valid point. Your car would have to be towed back in the morning. "Bike's the only way I can get you outta here tonight," he offered with a small shrug.

♡ As he attempted to gauge your degree of stubbornness on the issue, you took in the deep furrow of his brow and how adorably perplexed he looked as it knit together in concern for your welfare. You found the sincerity of it endearing and knew instantly you could place your confidence in him, so you gave a small nod of consent as you began tying a scarf over your intricate hairdo.

♡ Once again he surprised you with his chivalry as he walked you to his motorcycle, carefully placing your bag and shoes in a saddlebag before extending a hand to help you position yourself on his bike. "I'll uh...give you a minute," he mumbled trying not to stare as you struggled to arrange the layers of your dress beneath you.

♡ As the roar of multiple engines announced the presence of the other Vandals, Johnny quickly took his place in front to protect your modesty, calloused fingertips brushing against your exposed thigh with his haste. Though you couldn't be sure in the dim light, his cheeks appeared flushed as he looked over his shoulder to remind you to "hold tight, sweetheart."

♡ It hadn't occurred to you that you might be flirting with him as you bit your lip to stifle a giggle. That is, until you placed your hand at his chest for security and found a rapidly beating heart thumping against your palm.

♡ It was your turn to be nervous as he revved the engine of the bike, watching the others tear away into the night at high speed and waiting for Johnny to do the same. You unintentionally fisted the fabric of his shirt in your hands so tightly, you felt him inhale sharply.

♡ In the same way he'd been quietly comforting you all evening, his thumb grazed over your knuckles softly, repeating a familiar promise, "Won't let nothin' happen to you." You began to relax against his strong back as he hummed, "M gonna take it slow."

♡ He was a man of his word, pulling onto the highway behind the others at a more leisurely pace and easing the bike around corners so smoothly, you actually leaned into the wind to feel it grace your cheek. By the time he was parking at the curb in front of your house, you felt as though you'd been lulled into a dreamlike state, a pleasant weightlessness to your body unlike anything you'd ever felt.

♡ As Johnny helped you off the bike, he held your waist a moment longer than necessary to linger over the glimmer in your eye. Suddenly aware of your appearance, you rushed to smooth your hands over your head, finding you'd lost your scarf somewhere along the way. "My hair must look..." But he stopped you with a chuckle, one hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind your ear. "Looks real good to me," he winked. "Don't matter as long as we had fun, right?"

♡ It might have been the first time a man valued your company over your looks and you nodded in speechless awe. When Johnny reached past you to retrieve your belongings without a single attempt at a kiss, your heart sank a bit. Thanking him for the ride in a reserved voice as you returned his jacket, your eyes traced the pavement as you shivered up the front walk alone.

♡ However, as you unlocked your door, you realized he was still standing at the curb and you could practically feel his eyes boring into you. Then his voice boomed into the cul de sac, "Tell me somethin' before you go...Was it worth it?"

Observing your rumpled dress and mussed hair in the reflection of the large picture window, you spun around to face him with a smirk. "Looking like I'm taking a walk of shame before midnight?"

"Takin' a chance on me," he ventured through a nervous squint.

"Bring my car back tomorrow and I'll tell you," you baited him with a mischievous raise of your eyebrow.

"It's a date," he agreed. "Somethin' nice this time," he promised with emphasis.

"Then I'd better get my beauty rest," you teased before giving a little wave and ducking inside the house, heart fluttering in anticipation.

[comfortless]

AHH I was the anon from the Bear!Ko ask ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I adore it so much like I’m kicking my feet and twirling my hair your ideas are CHEFS KISS AND IM GLAD YOU LIKED THE PROMPTT

Definitely not excited that you’re considering more hybrid stuff.. TEEHEE ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

BUT YEAH JUST THOUGHT TO DROP SOMETHING NEW CUZ WHY NOT! Maybe Ko being deployed on a mission to some wild terrain, having to camp out on the grounds for a while by himself. Reader taking interest in the behemoth and toying with him until he finds out they’re a fae or nymph

Or a game of hide and seek.. in the dark.. with him.. maybe even a wolf!ko

ONCE AGAIN ID LOVE TO SEE YOU WORK UR MAGIC ON THESE IDEAS (｡♥‿♥｡)

hi, 🧸!! working on something with a lycanthrope Kö at the moment, but this is… well it is something! i adore the idea of König with a cute (insatiable) nymph!! definitely give @cookiepie111’s Drink From The Leche of Sirens a read if you haven’t already. <3

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fae nonsense (reader is a tree nymph), vague smut.

It isn’t that he ever intended to be here, not really. Simple surveillance, Fender had told him. Any knowing soldier would recognize the equipment that did not even need hands to tend to it, the cameras that should be set and monitored, and yet there were none in place here— just König, a loaded gun, and the stillness of the forest that seemed to stretch ever onward.

There’s been a lapse for the past week, with Kortac’s most adept at retrieving information out seeking just that, off with their radios constantly abuzz and adrenaline running rampant through their veins.

There’s an envy harbored somewhere in the back of his skull, twittering and hissing when he thinks on it too much… shelved for an uncharacteristic mistake to be left here amongst plants and scattered animal sounds, a temporary solace that would be ripped away when something new came through the chain of command; an overabundance of the very things he would care to think less about.

König hasn’t seen another person in days, not out here, tracking a vehicle carrying supposed smuggled weapons. There are no tire tracks, not even air traffic passing above: only gloom, loneliness, and the chill of early spring.

Then the abandoned house, where he takes refuge. It’s dated: the furniture all in various states of disarray, shattered porcelain about the kitchen and vaulted ceilings so high he doesn’t even need to bother with ducking to cross from room to room. It’s old on the exterior, stately, with vines creeping up its walls to reach the warmest height to bloom. Though internally, it is clear the place has not been left to rot for long: no loose boards, no holes in the ceiling or floor, just seemingly preserved somehow, as though time itself had come to still.

He doesn’t mind the daily patrols through the forest, the pensive stalking and creeping to find any hint of what he was after. Even through the night, when sleep forgets to lure him in for warmth and comfort amidst the pollen and silence, the walking never seems to grate on him.

There are lights, often, amongst the trees, faint pulses of glowing white that dissipate the moment his gaze sweeps over them. He’s read the fairytales as a child, even witnessed Conor get so drunk once that he shared his own tales of the ‘wee folk’, but König would feel a fool to believe any of that at face value. Most of his own kind were not interested in him, shying away with laughter or pitying gazes the moment he approached, so why would anything else be drawn to a man who could never quite scrub the blood from his fingernails or keep a conversation from spinning out into silence and uneasy glances?

It’s during one of these nightly walks that he first sees her, a vision bathed beneath the milky glow of the moon, ethereal, yet still nothing short of a proper blessing from the earth. Despite the distance from his path to her own, her body looks soft, bare and gentle. The growing thorns and clusters of ivy do not scrape her, only gently pull aside as she walks, tender and swaying like the petals sprung up from the plants for little fingers ghost over.

He only thinks that, assuredly, he’s lost his mind. The vision fades away when she looks at him, curls her lips into a smile… and then it is all gone. She leaves not a trace, no footprints indented into the soil he knows he had only just watched her tread. The flowers he saw her pull into being have vanished, too. All that remains is a dulled aura of dread, a strange thing that he has not felt in years, if ever at all.

König does not think of the woman until she appears again, during the day amidst the leaves of a sprawling sycamore. She lies against the bark, body resting over a healthy branch where she sleeps in a position so demure it sets his heart ablaze. The breeze caresses her hair, something he wishes to feel beneath his own fingertips; it whistles over her bare skin while the sun bathes her in rays of gold, filtered out through pinprick partings in the leaves, begs, pleads for him to touch. Forbidden fruit, too lofty to touch, too dainty for ash and blood.

He only walks away, carries on with the focus of his mission, reminds himself of every time that he’s sought some semblance of companionship and how those escapades had all simmered down to nothing but taunting echoes for sleepless nights. There was no need for any more ghosts, not even the pretty ones.

With nothing else in sight, he returns to that house where time halts and loses himself to want; swallows dry when he frees himself of his buckle and pulls out his growing erection. A release and an expelling of memory all in one.

He thinks of her, of her graceful walk amidst the darkened woods, of the way she lay, perfectly unscathed and beautiful, unknowing of any thing that plagues him, scatters from his grim expression right down to his very marrow. The imaginings… he would never speak of them, perhaps would only have the information pried from him that he thought of her smile when he spilled himself into his palm, but only if she came to beg for it with a voice he imagines must be tree sticky and sweet like warmed honey. Only if she came for him.

There lies a meadow just past an abrupt opening in the tree line, small and subdued by outstretched branches that curl over the grass and wildflowers still yet to bloom. No chill lingers here, as though summer stretches over the little glade and settles atop it with its warmth, masks even the little pond that does not seem to carry the same frosted panes of ice that the others he had seen do. There is fruit, puny red berries and hefty pears causing their limbs to bend, gently set them down for the earth and all of the animals roaming about to eat.

And he knows he’s stumbled upon her home.

He finds his voice when she peeks at him from behind the trunk, wide-eyed and curious with the softest curl about her lips, playful but tentative.

“Hallo,” he whispers, raising his gloved hand as if to wave, but curling his fingers into his palm instead. He’s horribly uncertain, caught between the alarming thought that he’s dealing with some perturbing nudist or something… else entirely.

“Hello,” she says, almost shy as she unveils herself from behind the tree, takes a step toward him with a tender look in her eyes and a long draw of breath. Sets his nerves at ease with her silent admittance that she, too, at least seemed wary.

König immediately tells her why he’s here, not in full detail, sparing the poor doe the tedium and the confidential bits that would likely only make her head spin, and then… he mentions how he had seen her, how the forest seemed to yield to her whims, her dancing beneath the moon that appeared to shine only for her. He gives her a curious look, undetectable beneath the darkened hood, pleads for her to explain in his own silent sort of way.

“I have seen you too,” she says instead, curling her arms behind her back, pushing out her chest, and… he doesn’t think to ask any further.

She’s the loveliest thing that he has ever seen or felt: places herself right into his lap when she guides him down to the grass. There’s sap on her fingertips when she presses them to his lips, curiously grazing them over his mouth as he speaks to her about the forest, a forest he’s already deemed to be her own, obscure princess that she was. She giggles when he dares to lick over each intruding digit, even gives a shaky, soft sigh when he suckles at one.

The nymph whispers things into his ear that he’s never heard before: things about each sprouting plant, of other things that hide away in the shade beneath branches and how they had all seen him too, about the earth and life and softer secrets about her beloved tree. Home and love without ever daring to speak words so simple. She does not ask about the dreadful things he does not think about, only lies back in the grass when he praises her beauty and the lovely notes of her voice.

He thinks for a moment that he should not touch her, should not have her grace wasted on something like him, but she rises up only enough to kiss him through the hood and he finds himself tugged down to tickling blades of grass and his mind finally does quiet.

She cradles him close as he claims her love for his own, steals sap from her lips and follows her sighs to a comforting oblivion. Her hands find his neck, his shoulders to offer gentle touches, tracing patterns like the intricate twisting of vines against his flesh all while he praises their union, her sweetness.

He doesn’t know how long he’s spent with her, the day seems to to stretch on for an eternity with the sun high above, but when he wakes… he is back inside of the old, quiet house, lying in the bed he knows with a certainty that he’s never even touched. Fender’s voice is calling to him over the radio, clipped and demanding for a report, one that proves nothing at all, a barrage of words filled with wonder and bliss with no intel on the mission.

And König isn’t shocked by the leave he’s given once he does return to base the following day. Three weeks time would be just enough to clear his head, regain his focus, pull money from his account to purchase that lonesome old house in the forest. He couldn’t bare the thought of never seeing such an angel again, never hearing the soft chittering of her voice or being blessed with the feeling of her beneath him, intertwined like the vines she so loved.

[thefandomdirtymind]

Sanji x reader where shes a bit of a spoiled girl with high standards, who was raised by a group of pirates who couldn’t have children of their own. When they retire, they encourage reader to go out on her own and she meets the straw hats and joins them because of her talent for stealing without getting caught. When Sanji joins the crew, he forms a crush on reader and does everything he can to impress her from his cooking to flowers to small gifts, but reader isn’t impressed one bit because her family always went big and made sure she never settled for the small things.

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi anon ! Thank you for your request ! You seem to have a precise idea so I hope you will accept the little modification I did. It at first start very well and then I get sick and to be fair I had kind of a hard time with the end. But I hope you will like it .

His High Standard Princess

OPLA - Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—

If we were asking your adoptive fathers and their crew of fearsome pirates, they would call you their little miracle. Lost in the sea, booping on the wave like a message in a bottle, they had found you, infant in your little basket, crying with all the force of your small lungs. Not so far, they also found the rest of the wreckage of what seemed like two ships. They never had truly searched for what happened. Accidents weren't uncommon on the East blue, it suffice of an abordage going wrong, waking a sea monster of his nap or a storm to finish your life with the fishes.  

The pirate ship wasn’t, of course, the best place for raising a child, but they both did their best, searching at each port they made a halt, to ask mothers about tricks and parental advice. Soon, you become a brave, smart and skilled woman, returning to your fathers their love, with the interest that you have grown to be one of the best thieves the world has ever seen. And it was a good thing that you were as quiet as a mouse on your feet, because being the little princess of a group of pirates meant they had cherished you and covered you in gold, giving you a strong appetite for the precious metal and some pretty high standard. Or, like your adoptive fathers always said, you knew your worth and didn’t settle for less. 

That’s why you knew, when you saw the golden pendant in his bed of velvet, that you had to steal it, because you deserved it. It didn’t take you more than fifteen minutes, in broad daylight, for it to be your. Of course, you already had multiple necklaces, even one that looked like this one, but the truth was that you were bored and the stone in the center had your favorite shade of blue.

The action in your life was in a dangerous decline since your adoptive parent had decided to retire. You could understand, their life had been rough, with all the battles, storms and adventures. They deserve their peaceful life and as much as they encourage you to abandon them and go explore the world, you couldn’t bring in you the force to let them. But as you walk for the fifth time that road sinding the village in two, you can't help yourself to wonder what you could see and steal if you leave to live your own adventure.

You were taking a little snack, previously the propriety of the mayor's daughter, when you heard words you hadn't heard outside of your own house for a long time.  

“ Nami, how far do you think we are from the Grand Line ? “  A young man wearing a straw hat, but nothing apparently valuable, said, passing in front of you. 

The grand line, the place where most of your children's fairy tales took place. Every member of the crew had told you stories about rumors of incredible treasure, sea monsters covered in gold, dangerous pirates and of course, the legendary One Piece. Child, all those stories had made you head spin, making you beg your fathers to bring you there. Now adults, you understand that it was way too dangerous with you on board. And, without a great crew ready to take you in, you hadn’t no way to leave this small village. That's why you had tried to forget as much as possible the idea of all the richesses and the mysterious treasure. Until now.

Turning on your heels, throwing your/not your half eaten sandwich in a trash can, you followed the small group from a safe distance, admiring their chemistry. As you try, as much as you can, to stay silent and learn what they know about your dream destination. Soon,you couldn’t help yourself, quietly approaching their group more and more at each change of direction. As much as you love your adoptive parents and guilt would hunt you down, you couldn’t deny that the quiet life was slowly killing you, and, if that was your exit ticket sent by fate, you will not step back. 

Taking another turn, now just behind them, you suddenly stop on your track as the orange haired girl spoke. 

“ I don’t know why you follow us, but I wouldn't try to rob us if I were you “

“ Nami, who do you talk to ? “ The young man asked, confused as he looked around him. 

“ That girl followed us for a while now, she isn’t a marine, neither a welcome committee and as her bag can assure you she’s a thief. And a good one, I didn’t hear her until a few streets away and it was because of a puddle. “ She said, facing you. Her expression wasn’t really friendly, and,as much as you were yourself embarrassed and hurt that she had unveiled you, you put your hands in fist and brave yourself. After all, you did nothing wrong. For once.

“ I didn’t want to rob you, I heard you talk about the Grand Line and I was curious,that's all. It’s my dream to discover its treasure. Did you really head there ?” You asked, your hope coloring your word. 

“ Yes,I’m Monkey D. Luffy, she’s Nami. We will go to the grand line, find the One Piece and I will become king of the pirates !  Do you want to join our crew ? “ Luffy happily proclaimed, asking you to join them like if it was a stroll in the park.

“Luffy, we didn’t even know her, we can’t take every dreamer who crosses our path“ Nami almost protested, his gaze more amical but still trying to determine if you were a threat or not.

“ Nami, she’s good, you said to yourself, that if it wasn’t from that puddle you could never have known she was following us. We will need a good ally and I trust her ! “

“ I’m Y/N. I swear I will not steal something which belongs to you “ You promised “ I will worth it , please it’s my dream. If I stay here I will die of boredom.” 

“ We have other crew members, it has to apply to them too “ Nami sighs, finally smiling at you. An understanding of your situation in her gaze “ We leave in two hours, will you be ready ?“ 

“ I will, “ You smiled. 

–

Your goodbye, emotional but proud, had been brief but full of happiness. You all knew that the world wasn’t prepared for you, but you were ready to steal it dry with a smile and without making a sound.After taking your bag, hearing your papa sad complaint that with your extraordinary talent he will not have a warrant to put on their wall, you leave for the port. 

–

The place was busy and noisy, many varieties of boat were leaving or arriving and the common sense of communication seemed to yell at each other, creating a brouhaha who gave Sanji a headache. As if he already had one at guiding Usopp and Zoro charging the crate of fresh provisions, while trying to stop Luffy from opening them and serving himself. Securing the rope of the last barrel, he heard a feminine voice.

“ I’m sorry sir, is that yours ? “

Turning himself to face you, his breath stayed stuck in his throat as you beauty caught him unguard. Sure, he had seen beautiful women pass the door of the Barratie and Nami in herself was a perpetual sunrise. But you, was a true vision. Sadly, the handkerchief in your hand wasn’t his and as stupid as it seems he was almost jealous of the mysterious owner. 

“ I...Hello Madam, I'm almost sorry that isn’t mine, but I would gladly help you if you need help returning it to its owner. You know... keeping you company during this kind quest “ He offered, tittling his head, his seductive smile already spreading his lips.

“ Y/N, didn’t we agree that you will not steal something from us, give it back to him, Sanji is our cook “ Nami joyfully yells from the Going Merry upper deck rail. 

“ Y/N, you made it ! “ Luffy joined, two pieces of bread in his hand. “ Sanji, it’s Y/N, she will go with us now “

“ Sorry Nami, I didn’t know ! Hi Luffy “ You replied, the tissue disappearing in your pocket as you pulled out Sanji’s golden lighter. “ Sorry for that…nice to meet you “ You smiled in front of his surprised face. Taking back his property, putting it back in his pocket, trying to understand at which moment you could have taken it without him noticing. 

“ Y/N, what a pretty name. I’m Sanji “ He introduced himself, your soft smile making him weak in the knees. “ May I offer you to help you come aboard “ 

“ I will be fine thank you, I grew up on a ship. I was kind of a small pirate princess. “ You confessed, climbing the ramp leading to the lower deck. 

“ Princess indeed suits you, you seem straight from a fairy tale “ Sanji flirts, following you, saving ,as he passes alongside Luffy, one of the small breeds. 

“ You have a hell of a silver tongue, be careful that nobody tries to steal it “ You joked. 

“ If I could, I would gladly give it to you “ He sweetly said, trying to help you with your bag. “ Sadly it would mean never tasting food so it was kind of a disadvantage for my job.”

Laughing, you made your way to the cabin where you put down your bag. 

“ What food do you like ? “ He asked, eager to know more about you “ I can do everything you want “

“ No offense,but, from the cook of a pirate ship, I doubt it. My father had kidnapped a reputable chef who had stayed in our crew until they retired. I never tasted food like his after that.” 

“Test me “ He replied, an amused smile on his lips. 

To his surprise, your response to his usual question wasn’t any basic dishes and would truly be worth it to be served in a five star restaurant. No meat directly in the bones or rice ball. But an actual meal who’s will required him to work his skill for hours to obtain the perfect result. And you wouldn’t stop at the main course, telling him stories of delicate desserts you had eaten.

It was that moment that Sanji knew that you were made for each other. Sure, you weren't the only woman with a delicate palate in all the east blue. But even if his talent in the kitchen wasn’t contested, he wanted you to enjoy his version of those dishes and forget all the memories of those lower poor attempts( in his opinion) you had before. And if at the same time he could win you over with his charm additionned to his food, it would even be better. 

It was on that base that he was starting his crusade. Months passed without you even being impressed by his effort. Sure you had been surprised that he was a great cook, but that was all. Days after days, he made for your favorite meals and dishes Zeff would never allow past the door of the Baratie kitchen, judging it too fancy for his clientèle.

If you go on a mission or just a resupply in an island, the man would come back to you, a flower bouquet bought or handmade in hand, every time different flowers that he proclaimed knew the significance. And, each time, the flower was an affirmation of his affection.  He even went to give you a small pendant of a golden rose.  

It wasn’t that you didn’t acknowledge his effort or his affection. His cooking was impeccable and yes, even better than you had previously tasted. But, even if you think it was indeed sweet that he always tries to prove himself to you, you couldn’t stop yourself to think that you could have stolen every one of those gifts he gave you. And, if it's that easy to steal, will you really settle for some easy stuff. Weren't you worth at least a or many treasure chests?

It didn’t take long, in a strange way, for you to have your answer.

You had been sent, in the cover of the night, in a stealing or like Luffy prefer to call it, a rescue artifact mission. The mayor of the village you currently stop at asks the straw hat crew for help and there you are, tip-toeing in the almost deserted rival ship, while the others were distracting the crew at the tavern or had your back walking the dock. Even if, when you had left a few minutes ago, Zoro and Sanji were more into annoying each other, than looking at the horizon for possible danger. 

The ship was mostly in the dark, helping you as much as causing you troubles. The only sound you could hear, beside the wave crashing slowly against the hull, was a distante snoring you couldn’t exactly pinpoint in the many rooms you had to explore. 

You could never have expected that it was in fact not a snore you had heard but the noise of the machine guarding the many treasure chests and the precious artifact.

Entering the room, you couldn’t believe your luck. Everywhere you were looking, open treasure chests full of gold and jewels were calling for you, making you put your guard down. Grabbing the golden statue, you didn’t notice the noise becoming slightly louder as you put a handful of coins in your pocket. 

“ Y/N ! Where are you ?! We have to go, it's bad ! “ You heard Sanji, somewhere behind you, his footsteps like he was running.

“ Sanji ? Lower your voice you will wake the sleepy dude somewhere “ You order him, seeing him pass the door.

“ We have to get out now ! It’s not a snore, it's the ship blocking every exit. When I came in, the hull was already covered in metal.” He explained. 

“ Shit, it must be something I miss when I check the security...okay okay, hm...take the handle of this chest, I take the other and we can go” You said, already moving to the larger one. 

“ What, no we don’t have time for this, we have to go now ! “ He repeat, looking at you confused that you didn’t take more seriously the closing ship problem. 

“ Sanji, look at all this gold. I don’t go without it, it could be insanity” You said, confusing yourself that he can’t understand that. “ If you don’t want to fine, I will take it by myself.”

“ Y/N, I don’t leave you behind and that gold is too heavy we have to go, now “ He still patiently tries to make you understand, advancing his hand to reach yours. 

“ Think of all the things we could do with that much gold, the quality ingredient you can buy “ 

“ Not if we are caught there and killed. You worth for me way more than that gold and ingredient, Y/N Please “ He pleaded, taking your free hand. “ Let’s go “

His words at first shock you, after all knowing your worth and not settling for less was almost the motto in your family. But, you had to admit it was right, all the gold was way too heavy and you couldn’t do anything with it if you end up being caught. It was then, still unsure that you took his hand, the artifact in your bag, you ran until you could see the star above your head. 

Few hours later, as the villagers were celebrating the return of their precious idol, you find a quiet place on the beach, admiring the stars and waves crashing on the sand. You had heard his footsteps coming your way, recognizable by his controlled but relaxed rhythm, but, you choose to not let him know, you gaze still lost in the wave. 

“ Still think about all the gold ? “ Sanji asked, taking a seat by your side. “ I know it isn’t even a quarter but it’s still gold. “ 

Turning your head, you notice the golden lighter in his hand, the same you had stolen from him the first day. But, your interest toward it has changed, his strange words earlier had stuck a sensible cord changing for you a lot of thought when it came to him. 

“ Did you mean it ? What you told earlier “ You asked. “ About me worthing more that all that gold” 

“ Of course “ He replied, putting back the lighter in his pocket seeing you hadn’t any interest in it. “ You’re more precious to me than those things. Sure I could have bought many high quality items for my kitchen and cooked dishes with five star ingredients.But it wasn't worth it if it put you in danger and resulted in you not being there anymore to enjoy those meals.” 

All your life, gold and treasure had always been given to you on a platter and your stealing service had usually been discussed with a large sum of Berries at the end. Then, the fact that Sanji wasn’t interested in either your talent or the gold but simply in you, was truly shocking to your core. 

Turning your gaze on him, seeing him, with the light of the moon illuminating his features gently, you smiled. 

“ I knew I should have stolen that silver tongue of yours” You joked, your heartbeat taking a faster beat.  

" I’m still afraid I still need it to pre-taste the food, but I gave my heart in exchange” He offered, happily watching you chuckle to his cheesy line. 

“ Fine, I accept the trade “ You answer finally “ But I still expected high quality meal “ 

“ Of course my Princess, I would never give you less than the best, ” Sanji replied, his adoration gaze fixed on you. After all, for him, you’re the most precious thing in the world.  

[augustjustice]

Second in Line (aka Blake Harrington fic), 2/?

AO3 Link

Part 1

The telltale sound of footsteps echo again from inside the apartment, approaching the door.

“Eds? What is it?”

The voice rings out before Blake can see him, and a second later, he’s sliding into the doorway beside ‘Eds’ despite the tight space, one shoulder on the frame and his hip pressed firmly up against the other man’s.

Blake feels his heart speed up in his chest. 

The man now standing before him has on a red Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, so faded it looks almost pink. Despite the cold outside, he’s wearing light wash, cutoff jean shorts at a length that would earn a dirty look from Blake’s father, and thick white baseball socks that are pulled up over his calves. His hair is floppy, not as long as Eds’ but curling over his ears and brushing the back of his neck–unkempt, Blake can practically hear the derision in his mother’s voice–and a shade or two lighter than Blake’s own, sun-kissed blonde highlights shimmering in it. 

He squints down at Blake through thick-rimmed glasses, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion and…

…There they are. His mother’s honey-coated brown eyes peer back at him.

“Who’s this?” he asks.

When the man turns his head to look at ‘Eds,’ Blake catches a flash of white, so small and subtle he almost missed it entirely.

His brother’s got a single pearl earring, shining in the lobe of his right ear.

Eds gives a shrug of one shoulder, the twitch of his lip seeming to hint he’s repressing an amused smile. His eyes swivel between the pair of them, from Steve to Blake then back again, taking it all in.

"Sweetheart, why don't you ask the little dude his name?" 

When Steve turns to him again, Blake feels an uncanny sense of déjà vu, like he’s looking into a mirror, or being reintroduced to a family friend he met when he was too small to remember. 

“What’s your name, buddy?” Steve asks dutifully. 

“Blake,” Blake stutters out nervously, having lost all of the decorum he managed to hold onto when introducing himself to Eds, “–Harrington.”

Eds and Steve’s heads turn towards each other in unison, perfectly in sync. Blake feels an inexplicable stab of jealousy at that, the way the pair of them move in tandem. It speaks to a familiarity that runs bone-deep.

“...Holy shit,” Steve murmurs, running a hand up through his hair.

Eds nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, babe. What can I tell you? This one’s a doozy.” 

Then he opens the door a bit wider, all while Steve continues to stare into the middle distance of the hallway.

“You’ll have to forgive Stevie here–he’s usually more of the Suzy Homemaker type than me, but, uh…you’re gonna have to give him a second, on this one, I think.” Hooking his arm easily into Steve’s own, Eds tugs the pair of them backwards, then gives a flourishing bow. “So come into our humble abode, young traveler. Sit a spell, and spin your tale for us.”

The two men back away from the doorway completely, then, giving Blake room to cross the threshold. 

He does.

And it’s a small thing, really, but it feels big. Because, for the first time in his life, he’s stepping out of his parents’ wealthy, polished world…and into his long lost brother’s.

Quick tag list below the cut:

@zerokrox-blog, @just-super-fucking-gay, @justanother-anon, @aphrobites

I did my best to tag people who expressed interest in being on the tag list when I wrote the first part of this. However, I recognize that was back in December, so if you're on this tag list and would like to be removed, please feel free to let me know! I understand it's been a while and people have moved fandoms, etc. My apologies also if I missed anyone, and if you would like to be added, tell me and I'll be happy to tag you going forward!

[lick-me-lennon22]

Paul McCartney X Insomniac!Reader - Dream Weaver 🌠

(requested by anon!! John version will be posted soon 💞 enjoy, dearies)

☆☆☆

Paul sat in his cozy study surrounded by stacks of books, a dim desk lamp casting a warm glow on his delicate features. The night was still, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze from beyond the room's large stained glass windows. He sighed, glancing at the clock ticking away the hours. It was well past midnight, and it was par for the course for Paul to stay up this late. After all, he'd slept in until nearly noon - as usual.

For you, however, it was a different story. You'd spent last night tossing and turning, desperately trying to soothe yourself to sleep. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, a testament to the restless energy that consumed you. The following day you had trouble staying alert, despite the fact that you'd been wide-eyed and wired just hours ago. You willed yourself to push through your work and studies, groggy and uncoordinated in your movements. You were sure Paul had noticed your decline.

And notice he had. Paul couldn't help but imagine of you, lying awake in bed, struggling in your battle against insomnia. This wasn't new for you, simply another bout of sleeplessness, but it had been particularly brutal as of late.

With a determined sigh, Paul closed his book and made his way to the kitchen. He began to brew a fresh pot of chamomile tea, recalling its calming properties. He listened closely to the soft hum of boiling water, a comforting presence in the quiet of the night. As he waited for the tea to steep, he rummaged through the cupboards in search of a small jar of honey he'd purchased from the farmer's market only days before.

Armed with the tea and honey, Paul shuffled quietly to your shared bedroom and pushed the door open with his shoulder, the stiff wood creaking as he stepped inside. He is welcomed by the sight of you staring up at the ceiling above, your brows furrowed in frustration. You turn to look at Paul, your gaze softening as you smile weakly at him. He walks to the bed and takes a seat beside you, setting the mug and and jar down on the nightstand.

"Struggling to sleep yet again?" he asks gently, stroking your hair. You nodded, a faint frown marring your features.

"It's been tough lately."

Paul nods in understanding.

"I thought you may want a little something to help calm the nerves," he says, stirring a spoonful of honey into the steaming mug of tea and offering it to you.

You smiled gratefully and accepted, closing your eyes and sipping the fragrant brew. "Thank you, Paul. You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged sheepishly, crossing one ankle over the other as the two of you sat in comfortable silence. After a few moments you settled back under the covers, the warmth of the tea seeping into your bones. Paul began to hum a lullaby, a soft and soothing melody that wrapped around you like a cocoon and momentarily eased your stress.

You continued like this for a while, eventually closing your eyes. But inevitably your mind began to wander, your worries returning with more tenacity than before and gripping your mind with the same dreadful anxiety. You shifted positions a few times, grappling for solace in Paul's melodious voice. But finally you sat up, overwhelmed, and placed your head in your hands with defeat.

Paul halted his song abruptly and turned to your hunched-over form, a somber look on his face. "Not doing the trick?"

You sighed and shook your head wordlessly. Paul placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder and started to brainstorm. After a few moments, his face lit up with playful inspiration.

"How about I tell you a story?"

At first you were taken aback by the suggestion, finding it a tad childish. But, realizing it may be just the thing to occupy your spiraling mind, you nodded and laid back to cozy up once again.

And so, Paul began to spin a tale, weaving a tapestry of adventure and wonder that transported you far from the confines of your bedroom. His voice sweet as the honeyed tea he'd brought you, a soothing balm for your restless soul, each word a brushstroke painting a vivid picture in your mind.

As he spoke, you felt the weight of the world lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of enchantment and awe. When Paul reached the end of his story, you found yourself smiling, the edges of sleep beckoning you with gentle hands.

"Thank you, Paul," you murmured, your voice hoarse with exhaustion and barely above a whisper.

Paul smiled back, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"Anytime, love. Sweet dreams."

At last you drifted off to sleep, cradled in the comfort and magic of a fantastical realm. You felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that with Paul by your side, even the darkest nights held a glimmer of hope.

[sadly-in-active]

Hey honey it’s me 🐁🐀🦝🦝🦝🦝🦝🦝

Can I request Sablé Cookie x a Singer/songwriter reader?

The two could definitely make a song together, with Sablé doing the music part of it and stuff

Sincerely, 🌸 Anon (But you know who I am)

I know your fucking home address, I’m coming for you and I’m gonna rip your eyeball out (lovingly) 😈

Sablé Cookie x Singer/Songwriter Reader

Summary: You used to be a homeless singer-songwriter wandering the streets of Créme Republic. But then Sablé, the youngest member of the Convocation of Elders and a well-known politician, caught wind of your performance and loved your voice. Next thing you know, she's offering you a spot in her mansion. Shocking, I know. Now, you two are partnering together: Sablé on music, you on vocals. Who knows, they may be more to this sweet partnership that meets the eye.

My age hc for her is probably in her mid to late thirties or early forties and nobody can change my mind.

Right from the start. She's enamored by your voice - sweet yet powerful, and can't believe you haven't had any vocal training. It's like you've been blessed by the Divines themselves. Together, you jam out songs inspired by mythology or spin tales like bards, minus the alcoholic tendencies and split into two.

When she's not busy, she loves having you around, whether it's watching her paint or just relaxing after a day filled with meetings and politics. Honestly, hanging out with you is Sablé's favorite pastime.

She especially loves watching the sunset with you, but sometimes she doesn’t know the look in your eyes softening as you gaze at her. Not even the sunset could compare to her beauty…wait- wait, no- you two were just friends! Friends who collaborate on songs and stuff! No time for lovey-dovey things, hahaha…

A lot of the times when she’s busy at work, you tend to go all out and overwork yourself, brainstorming ideas to impress her and show you're worthy of her friendship. But deep down, she genuinely cares about you and hates seeing you stress out. So don't be surprised if you wake up to find her tucking you in with breakfast and tea – that's just her way of showing she cares.

And that little kiss on the forehead she gave you was so friendly I know….THEY WERE ROOMMATES…

—

As time went on, you began to see your bond with her in a whole new light. One evening, as you both stood on the balcony watching the sunset, you mustered up the courage to take her hand and awkwardly confessed your love, feeling your cheeks flush as you waited nervously for her response, fearing rejection. But it turns out, your worries were completely unfounded.

“I think I’m in love with you, and I’m so sorry if this made it awkward or anything…I just—“

You were silenced as she intertwined her fingers with yours and pulled you in for a little kiss on the lips. It only lasted about two seconds, but so much happened in that moment. Sablé merely smiled back and laughed.

“I knew, dear. Just because my hair covers my eyes doesn’t mean I didn’t catch you glancing at me every time we watched the sunsets together…”

“So…do you think this would be a good idea for a new song? Two people from completely different backgrounds falling in love over time?”

“Perhaps. Maybe I could also teach you how to play music as well.”

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

And then they kissed again and got married and nothing bad happened haha

[an-au-blog]

I need to get this ball rolling and to write this au idea out anywhere so pllleeease indulge me and listen to me try to put a spin on Shuggy soulmate au.

Setting: a world in which soulmates are connected by a string of fate that shows only for a short second when two peoples hands touch, doesn’t even have to be romantical, but if you are connected to someone with that string it means your souls are interwoven in some way. Shanks and Buggy share such a string. In the beginning they both believed they were more along the lines of „platonic complete opposite soulmates who’s differences and conflicts drive each other to become their best selfs“ but after Laugh Tale they both realized that at least the „platonic“ part was complete Bull and they become a couple.

The inevitable happens. Rogers excecution, Buggy feeling betrayed by Shanks decision, breakup in the rain, but Shanks still holds out Buggy will come and join him again soon. Then one night Shanks wakes up with a feeling of absolute heart wrecking despair washing over him and at first he thinks he had another nightmare about Rogers execution, but then he realizes that he’s in physical pain, his heart is actually aching and a deep sadness envelopes him as he scream sobs and curls in on himself. Buggy has cut his string.

Years later. They meet again at Marineford and things proceed mostly normal. Shanks doesn’t hold a grudge against Buggy, doesn’t even mention it, doesn’t even confront Buggy about it, he still feels deeply for his soulmate and he never managed to cut his string, because he couldn’t bring himself to do it, but he knows Buggy has moved on. And Buggy is pissed as expected about Shanks being so nice and friendly and “Oh the map? You’re still angry about that?” And GODS he wishes Shanks would be at least a little bit pissed… and part of him is glad he isn’t.

… because thing is, Buggy didn’t cut his string either. Oh he tried alright, and it was as awful and painful as it was for Shanks, an immense physical pain combined with the worst sadness and loneliness he ever felt in his life and that’s saying something coming fresh of his father figures execution. But through the sobbing and heaving he suddenly realizes with dread that the string has reattached himself to him. He once again curses that damn fruit That bereft him not only of his ability to swim but also to cut of the person he never wants to be hurt by ever again in his life. But he can’t. But Shanks thinks he did. And the least he can do after hurting his soulmate this badly, doing the one thing that everyone tells you not to do another human being because the pain is so immense, is to never let Shanks know that he couldn’t cut it.

I'm not even joking when I say that literally half an hour before seeing this ask, I was thinking about red sting soulmates Shuggy omfg get iut of my head ahhagah

Anon imma name you just so whenever you write/post this pleaaaase send me the link! I'm naming you Meltan because anon, this melted me this is amazing :')

The thread hurts like cutting off a part of one's body. Some say it's even worse. Shanks had experienced that already, but it was fueled by the urge to protect. He lost his arm for Luffy and that was fine by him. He still feels bad that he regretted it for a split second because he thought that that was the hand that had Buggy's string on it. If he just prayed to anyone and anything that he never had to choose between the two.

Ever since they realized their bind was more than just platonic, the string felt a bit more lively. "Lively" probably wasn't the best word to call it, but it seemed somewhat vibrant. Shanks took pride in it and in the little time they had together before their breakup, he'd take any chance to touch Buggy and look at the thing that connected them for life. Even if they parted, he thought, they would still fate connecting them and pulling them together.

I'd like to think that Shanks knew, that Buggy's parts always came back to him. But he's under the assumption that Buggy's string isn't on him anymore, so it hurts even more because that would mean Buggy didn't feel their connection as a part of himself.

Shanks sometimes still felt the string but he thought that it was like a phantom limb syndrome. He had one arm less anyway, and he would still feel like it was there, but the string felt more tangible. He assumed it was because it was cut off more recently.

(Dare I improvise that- ) Buggy, when they meet again, started wearing long gloves and long sleeves again. He didn't want to risk Shanks knowing. One late night, Shanks gave him a big hug and for a millisecond their skin brushed. Buggy jumped back in a moment of shock. He felt it. And if he felt it, then Shanks also felt it. It was like a warmth after being in the cold for more than a decade. It felt like the first drops of water after wandering a desert for too long. Shanks maybe tries to tell him what he felt but Buggy denies everything and makes jokes of the sort of "Shanks are you drunk again?" "Haha, okay buddy, time to go to bed now" or just tires to make an excuse to leave. In any case, he rushes to shut the door behind himself because he knew he was going to crumple. He leans against the door and slides down, face in his hands, cursing himself for letting himself feel what he's been trying to stay absent for so so long...

Why did he need months of rehabilitation every time he saw Shanks again. Why did being sober hurt this much...

[beanghostprincess]

In love with the idea of Shanks knowing he has a thing for Buggy pretty much since the start but Buggy only realizing that he’s in love during his fever when everyone leaves for laugh tale without them. They have shared their dreams and hopes for the future and probably fricken kissed before that, but his dumb teen brain has refused to make the connection until he was so sick he couldn’t focus on the wooden ceiling for too long without the pattern starting to move in swirls. But Shanks is there. Shanks. His best friend. Everything is spinning. Please be wants to go too captain. Shanks. God he’s going to hurl. A cold compress on his forehead. He loves him so much. What? He does? That’s a thought he can muse over later when he stops seeing spots in the corner of his eyes. No! Don’t go. No come back! He just realized he- “Let me go, I’m just getting more water.” Ah. Good. Loves him so much…

Years later and after many bitter moments Shanks is gonna reminisce about this “You know, I fell for you first, but you confessed to me first.” “The fuck are you talking about? You literally told me you always had feelings for me only a month ago. I kept that shit under a tight lock for ages.” “Not what you said when you were having a fever so high I could have fried eggs on your face?” * high pitched clown squeal* “I SAID THAT OUT LOUD?!?”

Once again asking a Shuggy ask if I can turn this into a fanfic. I was keeping this in my inbox for a long time because I wanted to be funny and write the fic and just respond the thing with it, but 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 It's your idea, anon, gotta be respectful here. So, uh, begging:

Pleasepleaseplease let me write this let me turn this into a one-shot pleaseplease I know I can make this angsty and romantic and hurt/comfort and and and please I'm starving here I wrote a shuggy fic yesterday and I want more pleasepleaseplease

[happybird16]

•Chapter One•

Naga!Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader

Summary: Growing up, the forest's edge always darkened the far corner of your small village. The giant, twisted branches overhead rendered the forest floor a terrifying, pitch black. You shouldn't be here. There's creatures here, dangerous ones.

Overall warnings: Past references to child abuse, blood, scars, gore, mystery, eventual sex, inhuman genitalia (Levi is a snake man), horror vibes.

Chapter warnings: Horror vibes, mystery

Chapter length: 3.7k

Ao3 Link

The most special of shoutouts to my beloved friend and beta @theferricfox!!!! Also, credit to @the-milk-anon for the snake banner!!

Note: Welcome to my spin on Mermay! I have roughly 7/12 chapters done-ish for this! Comments and reblogs are always welcome!! I could use the inspo to continue lol!

Next chapter

You shouldn't be here.

Giant, ancient trees tower above, their twisted and gnarled branches interwoven to create a dense, impenetrable canopy that blankets the ground in an engulfing darkness. These colossal trees are so massive that even ten people, hand in hand, would struggle to encircle their trunks. In the face of such enormity, you feel minuscule, like a tiny mouse in a vast expanse, overshadowed by the towering branches that stretch higher than anything you've ever witnessed.

In your childhood, the edge of this forest marked the distant boundary of your small village. As young children, you and your friends would engage in daring games, cautiously venturing beneath the green canopy one foot at a time. Each step toward the darkness held a thrill, with adrenaline surging in your ears and laughter bubbling in your throat. You remember playfully nudging each other to go deeper, whispering tales of monsters until the alarmed cries of someone's parents would bring the game to an abrupt halt. It was all innocent play, a group of children tempting danger and challenging one another to venture further into the ominous jaws of the forest.

The Maw.

Now, every step forward fills you with an overwhelming sense of dread. The childlike wonder that once fueled your adventures has vanished, replaced by a pounding heart lodged in your throat. The once enticing forest now instills a deep sense of apprehension and unease.

You're in The Maw.

It's named such because it is a place that devours all who dare to venture into its depths. It teems with perilous creatures, their forms etched in your mind with vivid clarity—claws that rend, teeth that tear, and the sight of crimson blood staining the ground. The inhabitants of this forsaken realm include both savage beasts and eerie abominations, a chilling blend of half-human hybrids, demons, and towering giants. While rare for these creatures to stray beyond the forest's edge into your humble farming village, the disappearances of unsuspecting villagers were all too frequent. Vanished without a trace, they would be snatched from their beds in the dead of night or plucked from the fields in broad daylight. Some incidents left behind gruesome remnants of carnage, while others left nothing but an eerie absence. The Maw's hunger was insatiable, claiming lives and leaving a haunting sense of dread in its wake.

“F-ffuck,” you stutter, fighting against a stiff breeze to keep the hood of your cloak tight to your ears. It's cold. Fucking freezing actually. With each labored step, your body fights against the biting cold that gnaws at your skin. The hood of your cloak strains against the relentless wind, desperate to shield your ears from its icy grip. The weather has turned unforgiving since you entered the forest.

What began as a serene sunrise, painting the sky with hues of pink and yellow, has given way to a harsh reality. The gentle dusting of snow beneath your feet has transformed into a thick, heavy flurry. The temperature has plummeted, sending shards of icy pain with every breath you take. The bone-chilling cold seeps into your very core, inflicting aches that reverberate through your entire being. Each step is an agonizing struggle, your weary knees protesting with every creak. It feels as though you've never walked this far before, the physical toll becoming increasingly demanding with each passing moment.

Can't go back. Can't go back.

In the relentless darkness, your sense of time has become distorted, making it impossible to gauge how long you've been journeying through this treacherous forest. It feels like hours, perhaps even most of a day, has passed since you first set foot on this path. The initial signs of caution marked your entry into this perilous realm, with wooden boards warning of the impending danger, are long behind you. The words "Turn Back" and "Danger" were hastily scrawled in bright red, urging you to reconsider your course. The last sign you recall, which feels like an eternity ago, ominously proclaimed "Death Ahead."

The biting cold has taken its toll, numbing your body and rendering your toes distant and fuzzy within the confines of your leather boots. The wind howls in your ears, drowning out all other sounds, but occasionally you catch the panicked shuffling of small creatures seeking refuge from the tempest. Every noise, no matter how faint, puts you on edge, heightening your anxiety with each passing moment. Progress becomes increasingly arduous as you press forward, battling against the biting cold and the relentless forces of nature.

The oppressive darkness seems to intensify the longer the day drags on, engulfing your surroundings and adding to your growing fatigue. You struggle to maintain your balance, feeling the weight of exhaustion in every step. The biting cold cuts through your clothing, seeping into your bones, and you tightly wrap your coat around yourself in a feeble attempt to shield against the frigid air.

With determination in your voice, you mutter to yourself, "Can't go back. Can't go back." Despite the numbing cold and the seemingly endless journey, turning back is not an option. You press on, summoning whatever strength remains within you.

As you trudge forward, a brief break in the dense canopy allows a glimpse of the sky above. However, there is no welcoming sight of an evening sky with its fading hues. Instead, a tumultuous scene unfolds with dark and furious clouds obscuring any sense of time. In the distance, the white-capped peaks of The Spine stand resolute, yet seemingly no closer than when you first embarked on this arduous trek. Doubt begins to creep in, and you repeat to yourself, "I can't. I can't."

But you have to. Of course there'd be a storm. Just your luck.

The bitter cold continues to gnaw at your body, its icy grip sapping your strength and resolve. Hopefully the weather convinced any hungry mouths to stay home. The storm raging around you adds to the foreboding atmosphere, amplifying your sense of vulnerability. You can’t help but feel a sense of grim irony that the weather itself might be the cause of your demise before any of the lurking dangers within The Maw.

Navigating through the labyrinthine depths of The Maw is no easy feat, especially without a clear destination in mind. The absence of a guide or a map leaves you relying solely on your instincts and determination. The path ahead remains shrouded in darkness, and uncertainty tugs at your thoughts. You don't even know where the fuck you're going.

Despite the doubts and the physical strain, you carry on, propelled by a mix of resilience and desperation. The legacy of fear and caution instilled by your village only adds to the weight on your shoulders, reminding you of the countless tales of those who ventured deeper into this forbidden territory and never returned.

The heavy snow has engulfed your legs, reaching up past your shins and creeping closer to your knees. Each step is an arduous struggle, accompanied by a resounding crunch and leaving behind a trail of deep boot prints in the snow.

The words escape your lips in a desperate whisper, “Shelter. Need to find shelter.” Your teeth chatter uncontrollably, and you hunch your shoulders in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the biting wind that threatens to knock you off balance. The hood of your cloak is pulled down as far as it can go, obscuring your vision, and you strain to see the path ahead. Forward is the only option. Forward is the only way to endure.

The Spine dominates your thoughts, an unwavering destination that holds the key to your quest. It is the mountain range at the heart of The Maw, and you must reach its base. There is no turning back, no retreat, not unless you find them.

The weight of the task ahead feels insurmountable, overwhelming you with a crushing sense of impossibility. The magnitude of the journey, coupled with the harsh realities of The Maw, fuels a nagging belief that survival is unattainable. The specter of death looms ominously, casting its dark shadow over your thoughts.

You're going to die out here.

An abrupt sound shatters the eerie silence, reverberating through the desolate expanse of The Maw. It resonates with a weight that sends shivers down your spine, amplifying your sense of unease. Instinctively, your hand reaches for the knife attached to your belt loop, its familiar weight grounding you in this perilous moment. It was your fathers hunting knife, the only thing you have left besides the clothes on your back and a small bit of supplies in your bag.

As your fingers clasp around the knife’s handle, a surge of adrenaline courses through your veins, mingling with the cold that permeates the air. The tremor in your hand betrays a mix of fear and the biting chill that surrounds you. Your grip tightens, seeking solace in the solid presence of the blade as you brace yourself for whatever lurks in the darkness.

Someone -something- curses in the distance. The distant swear cuts through the air, resonating with a chilling familiarity that freezes your very core. It echoes with a human quality, evoking haunting memories of voices that once whispered from the edge of The Maw during your childhood summers. Those beguiling voices, whether belonging to silver-tongued demons or ravenous wendigos, possessed a deceptive innocence, luring the unwary towards their perilous embrace. They wore the guise of familiarity, mimicking loved ones and casting their sinister spell.

But this time, the sound does not persist. It does not morph into the soothing tones of your mother's voice or the mischievous giggles of your younger brother. Instead, an unsettling silence descends upon the forest, amplifying the eerie stillness that pervades the surroundings. The once-constant symphony of rustling leaves and distant whispers is replaced by an oppressive hush, broken only by the howling wind that pierces your ears.

The skeletal branches of the ancient trees loom ahead, their gnarled forms resembling bony fingers reaching out in a macabre invitation. The forest, now stripped of its foliage, feels even more sinister, as if the very essence of its secrets and lurking dangers is concentrated in this barren landscape. Your instincts scream at you to tread cautiously, to be alert to the unseen perils that may lie in wait within the shadows.

Prey.

You have the sudden, panicky realization that you’re prey. The thought builds a solid, uncomfortable itch between your shoulder blades. Every fiber of your being trembles with the realization that you are nothing more than some predator's next quarry in this treacherous domain. The weight of vulnerability settles upon you like a suffocating shroud, your senses heightened to the point of hypersensitivity. There could be something hungry watching you in the distance, just waiting for you to tire yourself out. The notion of unseen eyes fixated upon your weary form fuels a primal panic, evoking a primal fight-or-flight response deep within your core.

Your fingers, numbed by the biting cold, clench around the knife, its presence offering a meager reassurance in this harrowing moment. With determined resolve, you steady your breathing, allowing each inhalation to calm your racing heart. One deliberate step at a time, you advance through the snow-laden terrain, your movements slow and measured, as if treading upon fragile ice.

Every crunch of snow beneath your boots feels deafening, resonating through the wintry silence. The haunting stillness amplifies the tension, heightening the suspense as you inch closer to the source of the disturbance.

It's a man, slumped against the trunk of a massive tree, his body partly concealed by the swiftly accumulating snow. As you cautiously draw nearer, you observe his disheveled state, lying motionless on his side. Your attention is immediately drawn to his coat, a patchwork of furs and skins stitched together from different animals. The garment stands out as peculiar, though it appears to provide warmth in this frigid environment.

There's someone else out here? The presence of another person this far into The Maw surprises you. Something along the back of your mind flares red in warning, reminding you of the possibility that this could be a trap. With this warning at the back of your thoughts, you proceed with caution, prepared for any untoward situation that may arise.

Knife held steady, you kneel next to his form. The snow immediately soaks through the material of your pants, burning cold against your skin.

With your knife still in hand, you carefully lower yourself beside the man, the icy snow seeping through your pants and chilling your skin. “Hey,” you call quietly, eyes assessing the stranger's face.

The thought crosses your mind: What if he's in a situation similar to yours? Lost and vulnerable in this treacherous wilderness, in desperate need of assistance?

Despite being unconscious, the man continues to shiver uncontrollably. His trembling is so intense that it causes the snow around him to tremble as well. The exposed patches of skin beneath his peculiar coat are inflamed, their bright pink hue indicative of discomfort. His features appear slack, his hair splayed out against the snowy ground, forming a stark contrast of black against white. You observe that his lips have taken on a slight bluish tint. Worry grips your heart as you implore, "Hey, you need to wake up. We have to get you up."

With mounting urgency, you observe the man's lack of response as his head remains nestled in the snow, becoming adorned with a delicate layer of white flakes. The sound of the knife slipping back into its sheath echoes softly, as your hands instinctively reach out to press against the stranger's shoulders in a desperate attempt to rouse him. "Hey, come on!" you plead.

Although his chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath, indicating that he is indeed alive, you still place a finger on his neck to feel for a pulse. It's slow, alarmingly sluggish compared to your own racing heartbeat. "Fuck! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" you chant urgently, slapping his cheeks with your gloved fingers. His skin feels unnaturally cold, even through the protective layer of your gloves.

As the man's eyes flutter open, his brow furrows with confusion, and he mumbles something barely audible. His head lolls back into the snow, and he shifts, his elbow digging into the snowy ground.

"Hey, hi. That's it. Look at me," you urge, your voice filled with a mix of concern and determination. You grasp his shoulders and gently tug, trying to encourage him to sit up. "Come on, you can't stay here. You need to get up. Is there somewhere warm nearby?"

His eyes finally open fully, revealing a glimpse of gray irises before they quickly close again. "No, no, no, come on!" you implore, cupping the base of his skull with one hand and using your other hand to deliver a firm but gentle slap to his cheek, attempting to bring him back to consciousness.

If he's here, there must be some sort of human settlement nearby. Somewhere warm and safe.

As you contemplate the possibility, your attention is abruptly drawn to your left by a movement in the snow. Panic grips you as you witness something massive and black emerging from beneath a thick layer of white.

"F-Fuck!" you scream, unable to contain your shock and fear. Your eyes widen as you realize it's a colossal snake tail, stretching out straight and partially buried in the snow. The unexpected sight causes you to lose your balance, and you fall back onto the cold ground, landing on your backside. "What the fuck!" you exclaim, your voice filled with a mix of terror and disbelief.

He's a Naga. An actual Naga, half snake half man. You've only heard of them in legends, tales whispered back and forth among the children of your village. Even in the darkness of the forest, his black scales glitter up at you like diamonds.

Stuck in your awe, now waist deep in the snow, you're suddenly reminded just how cold it is. Even with excited adrenaline making your limbs all jittery and sweaty, it's still freezing. The snow is falling more rapidly now, wind whistling through the trees to twist and warp their smaller branches.

Surging forward onto your knees, you move to cup his face yet again, intending to continue your prodding. If only you could get him up, he could save you both.

“Hsssssssh,” he hisses at you, teeth bared. His head doesn't rise, resting heavy in the snow, but a jaw full of sharp fangs widens in full aggressive display right next to your hand. Silvery eyes suddenly wide and alert, he glares up at you with a vicious heat, flaring a pointed tongue out to taste the air. “Hhhuman,” his nose curls up at the word.

The sight of his long, white incisors strikes cold fear into your heart. It brings you pause, fingers trembling against his pale cheek. “H-hey,” you start shakily, struggling to meet his gaze. His pupils are sharp, the thin pin prick lines of a predator. When he blinks, a thin translucent membrane precedes the eyelid, startlingly inhuman. You pause for a moment, your fingers still trembling against his pale cheek. Despite the fear coursing through you, you muster the courage to speak, your voice quivering. Meeting his gaze, you try to convey empathy and urgency.

“Hey,” you stutter, your voice barely audible as you try again. “I understand you’re wary, but we can’t stay here. It’s dangerously cold. We need to find shelter. Please, let’s get up and find somewhere warm.”

“Cold,” he repeats with a hiss. Claws dig into the snow by your knee. He blinks heavily, struggling, “Why…”

He’s clearly disoriented, prompting you to speak slowly and gently, trying to guide him to sit up.

“Come on! We need to find somewhere nearby, somewhere warm,” you encourage, tugging at his shoulders in an attempt to rouse him from his daze.

“Warm,” he mutters, eyes fluttering with a vague sense of recognition. Slowly, he rises, causing his magnificent, 20-foot-long tail to shake off the snowy coating. Its pitch-black scales glisten in the dim light, an awe-inspiring sight. “Nest.”

“Do you live somewhere nearby?” you inquire, keeping a close eye on his movements. Once he manages to prop himself up on the bend of his tail, he leans heavily against your side, almost toppling you over. With one hand on his back for support, you guide him forward, urging him to lead the way.

“Where is your nest?” you ask, hoping he can direct you to a warm and safe place nearby.

"Cave," he slurs, his voice muffled against your neck. As he stands upright, you realize he's slightly shorter than you. His heavy eyes close and open, struggling to stay alert. He trembles against your side, his senses keen as he tastes the air once more. "Human. Don't need your help."

The mention of a cave ignites a spark of hope within you. If there's a cave, it must be located on the edge of The Spine, nestled among the rocks on the mountainside. With renewed determination, you wrap your arm around his back, fingers pressing gently into the small of his waist. "Come on. Can you guide me there?" you implore, relying on his knowledge to find the refuge you both desperately need.

“Mhmmm,” he mutters nonsensically as his face burrows into the warmth of your neck, his cold nose pressing against your collarbone. He doesn’t respond to your question, instead leaning heavily against your side. “Warm.”

“Hey hey,” you pat his hip, trying to pull him forward as you take a step forward. “Don't fall asleep again. Come on, move with me.” He does, tail sliding back and forth through the snow behind your huddled forms.

The progress is slow and arduous, each step a struggle as you practically drag him forward through the snow. The falling snow obscures your vision, but you spot a faint path ahead, partially covered by fresh snowfall. The wide trail left by his tail serves as a guide, leading you deeper into the wintry landscape.

"Come on, almost there," you urge, your voice strained. The weight of his body feels overwhelming, causing your bones to protest with each movement. The biting cold sears your face and ears, and the wetness on your pants becomes a painful reminder of the freezing temperatures. You can only imagine the suffering the man at your side endures. His fur coat, now soaked through, adds to his misery, and you feel his trembling against your side. How long has he been out here, exposed to the elements?

Throughout the entire journey, the Naga’s delirious muttering continues against your neck. His words are incoherent, mixed with occasional hisses and the repeated mention of warmth. You even feel the wet brush of his forked tongue against your skin at one point. He clings to you, one arm draped across your back, fingers digging into your far hip.

“There we go,” you gasp, the strain evident in your heaving chest as you continue pulling him forward. The physical exertion keeps you warm, though having sweat-soaked clothes in the midst of the storm is far from ideal. As you near the base of The Spine, the path grows more treacherous. The rugged terrain, with its sharp rocks and hidden crevices beneath the thick snow, demands careful navigation. Each step becomes a deliberate effort, further slowing your progress.

The winds howl fiercely, swirling the snow around you in a blinding flurry. It’s difficult to keep your bearings, but you know you can’t afford to stop. The cave must be near, offering the possibility of respite from the harsh elements. You cling to that thought, pushing through the exhaustion and pain.

After what feels like an eternity, you catch sight of a dark opening nestled among the rocks. It's the cave you've been searching for. Relief floods through you, pushing you forward with renewed determination. With every ounce of energy you can muster, you guide the Naga towards the entrance. It's camouflaged amidst the snow-covered rocks, barely noticeable. The opening is a narrow crack in the cliff side, just wide enough for you to squeeze through.

You pull him in behind you, tugging at his arm. He manages to squeeze himself inside, and the moment he fully enters the warm cavern, he succumbs to unconsciousness.