#whale whisperer's tag

[wishsparkleemoji]

Can we PLEASE talk about how it’s no longer whale whisperer sitting with blushy??

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [YOU WAKE HIM UP WITH NONSENSE] ¡! ❞ pt.2

warnings: Pet names idk some might cringe at that, bad writing, Ace affectionately calling you bitch, some maybe turn out ooc - i just suck at a few characters-my apologies

summary: You wake him up in the middle of the night talking complete nonsense

characters: Twst boys x F!Reader

word count: 4.246

a/n: THIS IDEA WAS NOT FROM ME, unfortunately i can't find the creator so if you remember tag them! My writing wasn't as good as theirs tho

Riddle

Riddle's slumber is disturbed by the sound of his name. He doesn't answer right away, opening his eyes slowly and blinking a few times before he realizes his surroundings. "My rose?..." he asks, voice tired and hoarse.

He sits up, looking over at you. He sees you, and his expression softens. "Are you not able to sleep?..." "Remeber when i was walking my whale in the mountains, and i met two talking closets offering me a discount on money?" Clearly you make no sense, after all this was planned. You have to stiffle your laugh and giggles but you manage to stay serious nonetheless. Riddle blinks a few times as he tries to process what you're saying, his sleepy brain refusing to comprehend the words.

As his thoughts clear, his eyebrows frown as he attempts to make any sense of you talking about closets. Or discounts on money.

He blinks a third time to clear his vision. The expression on his face is pure gold, priceless. He looks adorable with his mouth agape. Riddle blinks a few more times. His eyes flicker as he attempts to discern your words, but he is too sleepy to put together the pieces.

"You walked a whale?" he finally manages. "Talking closets? Discount? Mountains??" He lets himself drop backwards onto the bed again and left out a sigh. "Mhm! Talking closets in the mountains" you softly laugh as you kiss his cheek and lay down beside him. Riddles cheeks heat up lightly, and he cannot help but blush.

"You can tell me all about it once its the right time..." and before you could even answer, he's out again....

Trey

The sound of your voice stirs him from sleep, and his eyes flutter open. Trey blinks a few times, the softest smile still gracing his features. He blinks again and again, finally fully comprehending the situation. His eyes widen as his lips part.

"Ah...yes?" he whispers, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of lingering sleepiness.

"I forgot to tell you that yesterday I was out with my mixer and we saw a duck on the runway having metal teeth." You can tell that the story has stumped him for a few seconds. He blinks, seemingly trying to process what you just said.

Though he knows the words make sense separately, all together they're a rather peculiar combination. He tilts his head, his brow furrowing.

"That's...a bit strange, no? Was it a normal duck aside from its odd teeth?" "Yeah!" His mouth quirks up. You can see a glimmer of amusement flit across his features as he chuckles. "A duck with metal teeth it was then, cool i guess." he says as he tries to form a picture of it in his mind. The concept of an otherwise-normal duck sporting metal teeth would definitely be a curious sight.

He lets out a soft snicker, clearly entertained by the absurd image. "Now," he yawns, "c'mere and sleep with me now, kay?" he mumbles tiredly and pulls you closer by your hips, pressing you against his body.

Cater

Cater's eyes open slowly, as if he was only half asleep. When he sees you, his eyes widen a bit and he tries to focus. His expression is soft and a bit hazy, but he seems to recognize you immediately. When he sees you, you notice a wave of tender affection flood his body as you hear him take in a deep breath before he lets out a quiet sigh. "Whatisitbaby..." he slurrs his words together.

"I baked a broom for you and decorated it with car keys for your happy easter celebration on Christmas!" Cater blinks a few times, before he slowly lifts his head and blinks slowly. He seems a bit confused about your statement, how can someone not. He is too drowsy to respond just yet, so he merely smiles goofly at you gently and lets out a small yawn. His eyelids slowly start to close again, but he seems very content to just sit here with you.

Cater seems to be drifting off sitting, so you decide to let him return to sleep. His breathing grows heavier the moment his back hits the bed again, but you can still see his chest rise and fall softly as his body adjusts to a deeper slumber.

His face rests against your chest, but before he can fully fall back asleep again he slurrs a few words for you. "Youcantellmeallaboutitinthemornin'kaykaybaby?"

"Kay Kay, baby" you softly laugh and kiss his forehead.

Ace

Ace’s breathing pauses for a moment as he remains partially asleep. His eyelids flutter and his eyes remain closed, but he responds nonetheless. "Fuck off Juice...lemme sleep..."

"....bro youre in my room no blueberry juice here-" you deadpan. Ace raises his head, mouth open with a bit of droll running out. He blinks slowly, left eye earlier than the right, and looks drowsy at you. "Right....what's the matter babe?" He drops his head face down in the pillow again after he used all his energy to answer you. "So, yesterday when i wanted to visit the moon i accident took the wrong worm and we ended in the bushes where shoes grow." Ace laughs softly into the pillow and shakes his head at the absurdity of it all. “Ah, yes…I remember. Cool story babe.......now lemme sleep"

Before you can even react Ace wraps his arms cautiously around you and pulls beside him as he lays on his stomach. "You're one crazy bitch...fuck, i love you." He mumbles into the pillow again, before turning to face you and pull you closer into his chest. Ace lovingly kissed your forhead before stroking your hair and slowly falling asleep again.

Deuce

A quiet moan escapes Deuce’s lips, and he begins to stir. He opens his eyes and sits up— you can see that he is still half-asleep, blinking slowly and lazily at the ceiling. “Wha-...ar...are you hurt or somethin'?” he says in a gentle, hoarse whisper.

Your gentle touch on his shoulder has woken him from his rest, and yet he doesn't seem annoyed by it; quite the opposite, in fact.

"No, no I'm not hurt. But i just saw a flying console screaming for pudding outside our shower." "Pudding?" Deuce repeats the word curiously, blinking as he wipes his nose and sniffs tiredly. Your tone seems to suggest that he should find the word familiar, but the foest year seems genuinely clueless as to what you're talking about. He gives you a baffled expression, but you can tell that he's still not quite himself.

If there are any flying consoles out there, they aren't his concern. "Pudding... flying consoles..." he mumbles. "Baby, you want some pudding...?" He ask tiredly, looking over at clock on the wall, luckly the moonlight lets him see the time. "At..." he squint his eyes, "8 am?"...3 am but you don't want to burst his bubble just yet.

"I can wait till 8 am, no biggie" you say, smiling at how concerned but also confused he is. Although hes tired he still tries to be a good boyfriend for you. "M'kay...g'night..."...out like a light.

Leona

"Hmm" Leona groans. His hands trail up and down beside him lookung for your body to pull you closer against his body. But he didn't found you, instead you were sitting up. "Herbivore,...c'mere already."

He's still slightly groggy from sleep. Its common knowledge, waking Leona Kingscholar up is an unofficial crime. And now you even left his arms, the audacity. Good thing hes way to tired at 2am.

"I was looking for my teapot but instead found a dancing glass of ice tea waiting at the traffic light to turn into a tulip." "Ah... what?" Leona murmurs, slowly shifting upward. His gaze is still half-lidded by sleep; his eyes have yet to come back into focus.

He blinks at you a couple of times, before finally rubbing his eyes and frowning. Leona looks somewhat annoyed. "What nonsense are you saying?" He blinks some more, his voice still rough with sleepiness. "I...I love you come back and sleep." And since you didn't immediately react to him he growls back a, "Now."

Ruggie

Ruggie stirs at your voice, ears laying flat and lazy against his head. He opens his eyes slowly and looks at you with half lidded, sleepy eyes. "Mmm...is it morning already?" he asks quietly. "No." You smile gently at him and kiss his cheek. He smiles dopey and falls back against the pillows. "But...when I tried to read the picture about the story of the bear who went jogging in the clouds, i got confused."

Ruggie is just as confused. But smiles slightly as he props himself up in bed. He rubs his eyes, his expression one of amusement layered with tiredness.

"Ya know..., you really need to stop askin' me to help you with your homework,” he mumbles. "Huh?" "...Huh?" "....oh-" "yeah?..." Ruggie didn't know what he said, neither did he knows what he actually understood. And neither did you. You both just blink at each other looking confused, before he drops down into the pillows again and holds his arms out for you. "Come back and cuddle...ya silly little minx"

Jack

His ears twitch at the sound of your voice, and his eyes dart open in a sharp flutter. Blinking away the lingering sleep from his eyes, the world comes into focus.

When he realizes that its only you in front of him, he relaxes. "Are you not feeling well?" He's definitely not wide awake but isn't half asleep either. He quickly sits up too and puts his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb as he looks at you worried. That would make you melt under normal circumstances, but you had other plans this night. "I was attacked by a wild blueberry and it wanted to read my eyelashes off my nails."

Jack blinks. His thumb stops moving as he is processing your words slowly. "... You're... you're..." He trails off at the nonsensicality of the sentence. The words don't register, and he looks at you with confusion. His brow furrows.

"What?"

You can't help but giggle. "Alright...time for you to get some sleep, hm?" Jack sounds exhausting, from being sleepy and from you. He stroke your cheek lovingly one last time, before you cave in and lay back into bed. "Good girl...", sudden tiredness came over Jack and he lays back beside you, pulling you against his chest.

Azul

The voice breaks him from his slumber. He flinches in surprise, waking from a deep sleep. His lavender eyes shoot open. They look at you with a certain amount of fright — until they register your face, in the darkness of your bedroom.

"Pearl?" His voice is a whisper— husky with sleep, but soft all the same. "If a snail flys into a tree, does it turn pink or will it eat chips?" You immediately hit him with your nonsense, no mercy. Azul stares at you in utter confusion. His face is one of uncertainty, and a touch of amusement as he tries to make sense of your question.

He settles on a response, but is not entirely confident in its truth. "I do not know, Pearl." He murmurs. "But what i know is that you should be asleep." You know he's right, but you also just wanted to have some fun. Azul gently pulls you back against his chest. He smiles at you warmly as he wraps your body in his arms.

He presses his lips to the top of your head. His hands come up to your hair, fingers threading through yours and gently stroking you, brushing them down your back to soothe your weary bones. "We can...discuss this tomorrow..." You just nod, snuggling up to him. Teasing him didn't work, but at least you got his affection.

Jade

Jade always sleeps lightly, so the tiny call of his name immediately wakes him. "Hmmm…" his voice is barely above a whisper as he wakes. He reaches out for you, his movements gentle, his eyes searching in the darkness for your body. "Mm...Guppy?"

"Do teeth grown on walls when they are covered in amnesia?"

The question catches Jade by surprise, his brow furrowed as he contemplates your words. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, his brow now a full-on frown as he tries to formulate an answer.

"No?" he says slowly, voice sounding like a question rather than an assertion. He furrows his brow even further, brows meeting in the middle of his forehead. "...You know...there are situations where i feel like Floyd rubbed off on you..." he says. "Ey-!" Jade lets out a tired chuckle before pulling you back against his chest again. "My little guppy...so dumb sometimes, hm?"

Floyd

His pale eyes snap open as soon as he recognizes your voice. "Shrimpyyy," he whines quietly, his voice quivering in his surprise from being pulled from his slumber. "Why'd wake meee?" he mumbles and pulls you closer and tighter against his body, at this point youre used to it. "Do ghosts twerk when you play them ladders and earth?"

As odd a question as it was (Floyd is too), he doesn't even flinch. Instead, he takes a moment to process it before nodding, his lips curling into a smile as he answers, "Of course! Everyone knows ghosts like to twerk." Floyd just starts to giggle in delight, wiggling you around happily, "Aww shrimpy i love you! You're so silly!" He gave you one last kiss on your head before his smile drops, "But we gotta sleep now, so you better behave and don't wake me up again." Though he is still a little unsteady from being woken up so suddenly, his strength still remains in his embrace. From the way he holds you, you can feel how much he loves you. He wants you close. He wants to keep you with him. Forever even.

Kalim

His brows furrow as his eyes continue to stay shut. But your voice was enough to rouse him.

"Hmm?" his lips part, but his voice is still hoarse with sleep, and he doesn't open his eyes yet. Before he can open them or even get remotely more awake, you attack him immediately. "How do i know if a bunny catches a goldfish in a storm of wandering suns?" His brows furrow even further as his head shifts toward your direction. That question did nothing to make any kind of sense to him.

"H-Huh?" he asks warily, his eyes slowly opening just as his brows are un-furrowing. "I- Um." He looks around, his thoughts scattered.

"Lemme ask Jamil real quick...Ja-!" "No-!" Befode he can wake up the poor exhausted second year who just got into bed, you shut Kalim with your hand against his mouth. "Shhh-" He keeps mumbling against your hand, before he choses to gently kiss the inside of your hand. "Tschul...pwease led me go" "Huh?" You raise your hand, "I said, Jewel, please let me go-!" Kalims arms wrap around you in an instant. He buries his face into your shoulder, seeking the warmth of your arms. All of the tension in his body seems to ease at once, replaced by the comfort that he feels when he is in your presence.

He nuzzles his head into your shoulder, the touch being all that he needs for him to be at peace. "Ahhh, I'm wide awake now..."

Jamil

His head tilts a little as the sound of your voice reaches his ears. His head turns in your direction. His breathing is shallow and steady, his eyes closed.

"Mm? What now?..." "Do dogs cry rainbows when they breath daisies on a sunday bell?" There's a moment of silence as your question registers in Jamils mind. The wheels are turning, and you can tell he's processing it.

Finally, he answers, "No, my love. Dogs cannot cry rainbows when they breathe daisies on a Sunday bell....now good night." "Oh-" you were taken aback by how fast and serious he answers. Probably used to it from Kalim. It takes him a moment to realize he should explain his answer. "Dogs are not... capable of...crying rainbows and certainly not when they breathe daisies on a Sunday bell. The latter is...quite nonsensical, actually." A hint of a smile tugs at his mouth, but the expression does not fully reach his lips, "As expected from you "

He waits, allowing a moment to pass to see if you have a response. "Good night Jamil...." "Good night."

Vil

(Bro would honestly kill you but---lets forget about that now-)

His eyes flutter open as he removes his sleeping mask.They blink slowly, fighting off the haze of sleep. And then, they fix on you.

"Yes?" He whispers. Vil is scared you might be in pain, or a different problem flared up. But instead you hit him with this nonsense.

"If a goose loves an ogre, do they drink pebbles in the moonlight?" His mind reels from this seemingly nonsensical question. His body is tense as a whip, his heart pounding in his chest. This feels like a trap, but his mind scrambles to find a response.

He opens his mouth, then stops. He tilts his head, then opens his mouth once more, stopping. He blinks, staring at you.

Then, his lips curl to a smile. "Yes they do," he affirms with complete certainty. "They drink pebbles in the moonlight. And you know what else they do?" "No?" God bless your innocence in this moment, "They never wake up one another when they have their beauty sleep and don't ask them stupid questions." "Oh-..."

Rook

The sound of your voice, however small and soft, stirs Rook from his "slumber". Rook is never truly asleep, a good hunter never rests. He cracks open his eyes, and his lips form a smile and part to form a word.

"Yes?" he excitingly says, though the word, meant hushed and quite, was more loud than expected. "Yesterday I saw a sheep kissing a well and singing it a waterfall because it couldn’t catch a pizza." Without missing a beat he answers, "What a marvelous story mon ange! Did you come up with it yourself?" You nod proudly, not using one braincell to come up with words in the first place is and accomplishment! "Oh, mon ange, would you tell me more about this loving relationship between this talented sheep and its well-lover?"

Rook responds by wrapping his arms tightly around you. He presses his body close to yours, his fingers kneading at you. His touch is gentle but firm. Time seems to slow down as you two press even closer against one another, and you come up with more nonsense to entertain him. The world fades away to oblivion as thoughts of every day concerns slip away and you two embrace the warm bliss of that moment.

Rook doesn't say anything. He only smiles with pure adoration at you and listens to every single word. He just holds you, his every atom focused on being near you. Like always.

Epel

"Epel, Epel, Epel, Epel, Ep-" said guy blinks a few times in an effort to fully awaken as he hears you call his name multiple times. He squints his eyes as he adjusts to the full moon lighting of his bedroom.

He blinks again, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes. "Yeah?" he mumbles softly, his voice still sluggish with sleep. "I just saw an owl wearing a hoddie and stealing a womans wig while the sky was skittles." Epel blinks a few times, trying to process the words you just conveyed. He opens his eyes wider and shakes his head.

"Sounds like you had one wild dream," he whispers as gently as possible, "But at least it wasn't a nightmare so...ya should probably go back to sleep now." Epel's voice is a murmur as he slowly leans down to kiss the top of your head. His cheek brushes against your hair as he nuzzles into the softness, and he takes a deep breath.

His gaze lingers on your face, studying your features as he pulls back slowly. "I'll watch over you so you won't have any strange dreams..."

Idia

The sound of your voice cracks through his mind, jolting him to attention. Idia jolts up from sleep, startled. The sight of you makes his heart skip a beat.

He blinks his eyes open, staring back at you for a moment as he reorients himself. His breathing is quick and shallow, but he steadies himself. "Is-Is something wrong?!" He sounds genuinely scared and worried for you, you almost feel bad about what you're gonna do. "Horses eat frames so they can fly faster to the basement of the Texas curtains."

"Cool" Idia says softly, and his eyes squint. He tilts his head, clearly not tracking your train of thought. His body is tense, his mind dense, on edge as he attempts to make sense of what you just said. "Babe...explain," Idia says, his voice a near whisper. He narrows his eyes, concentrating on your words.

His lips purse for a moment, and he shakes his head slightly. "Can't make sense...might call Ortho..."

Malleus

His chest freezes with a sharp inhale, and he opens his eyes. His heart pounds in his throat, a nervous flutter. "Yes!? Love? I'm here," he says, his voice hoarse from a few hours of undisturbed slumber.

He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes as he looks up to you, sitting in bed. He wants to speak, but the words can't leave because you beat him to it.

"2 birds were fighting over a brush because it tastes like fries on a Tuesday afternoon." His eyes narrow as he tries to process what you just said. "Tastes...like... fries? on a... Tuesday?"

Confusion clouds his expression, and he cocks his head slightly to the side. Your lack of response only cements his uncertainty. Was that a question? A question you expect him to answer, or was it a joke?

His frown deepens and he clears his throat, "The old man once told me abouta thing called Hoocus Poocus (my stupid idea of google)" he says slowly, raising from bed and groaning like and old man with back problems before he walks over to his phone on his desk. "Maybe this can help...my love?...Do you recall how I alive this device?"

Lilia

The snore halts, the sudden outburst of sound startling him out of his sleep. He wakes up like a mother, with a loud gasp. His eyes shoot open as he bolts upright, and he stares straight at you with an anxious expression on his face. "Has the time finally come?" "W-What time?" "Where i may or may not have left a cake in the oven and it caught fire." He says it with such ease...like he did leave a cake in the oven to burn down the entire dorm.

"No-!....I just wanted to know if you can cactus me a cucumber." He stares at you blankly. Your request takes a few seconds before registering in his mind. A brief flicker of concern crosses his face, but it is fleeting as he realizes you are being facetious. Oh, how much he loves your stupid ass.

He lets out a small laugh. "I'll cactus you a cucumber tomorrow, dearest."

Silver

He is so used on your voice that even in his slumber, your words reach his core. When you call out to him, his breathing grows shallow and his eyelids begin to flutter a bit. His lips twitch again, and he turns his head slightly.

"Ahh...whatisit..." "I slept on a dentist with a horn and he fixed my hair with his light switch." Silver's eyes snap open at your words. You've caught him off-guard yet again. He stares at you for a long moment before he finally speaks.

"You slept...on a dentist..?" He's still half-asleep, his voice quiet and hoarse. "Princess, did you cheat on me?" A quiet, breathy laugh escapes his lips for a split second. Your words are nonsense, and he knows it.

He swallows down another laugh, biting his tongue in an attempt to stifle it as he sees your horrified face. "Shut up..." you mumble, why does no teasing ever work with him?

Sebek

"I'M AWAKE AND READY-!," Sebek is startled awake, sitting up quickly. His eyes open with an instant, and he glances around, his gaze settling on you. "HUMAN? YOU AWOKE ME BECAUSE SAVANACLAW FINALLY ATTACKED DIASOMNIA TO KIDNAPP LORD MALLEUS, RIGHT?!"

"......no but, a egg just gave birth to a basball and now his golf wife is mad."

Sebek blinks for a moment, his brain trying to comprehend your bizarre statement. His face twists, you can't tell if its anger or regret. Regret for ever letting himself catch feelings for you. You never heard him being so silent, cause even in his sleep hes loud...he snores.

"...Human?" "Yes?" "I will escort you back to ramshackle so you can spend the rest of the night in your dorm."

"Nooo-!" "Yes-ah-ey-let go of me-!" He gasps at the sudden embrace, and he stiffens as a flood of emotions rush through his heart. His arms hang loosely at his sides as he is swept into your warm embrace. There is no resisting it. No matter how much he trys, he will always love you no matter what.

He feels like he's going to melt.

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

***************************

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

[ceruleancattail]

hello! I absolutely loved the reader who shies away at selfies, can you please make a part 2 with Jamil, Idia, Leona (and maybe platonic Ortho?) thank you!

Jamil, Idia and Leona with a s/o who is insecure about their appearance

Theres nothing much that escapes the eye of a viper.

Jamil’s used to observing people, noting down their every move. It’s crucial for his duties. You never know who’s going to harm Kalim at any given time. Naturally, you’re on his radar as well.

For a much different reason, of course.

Kalim’s a ray of sunshine. He’ll say whatever that’s on his mind. Praising or criticising with a bright smile on his face. Sometimes, he does compliment you.

You don’t take it well. Always laughing it off, before discreetly switching the subject. It’s a practised art for you, isn’t it? Smoothly leaping into another topic, avoiding all conversation about your looks.

It’s rather tragic, that you don’t see what he sees. Don’t get him wrong. You aren’t a dazzling diamond, shining for all to see. You’re a little gem, peeking out of the rocks. A gem in the rough. Twinkling like the north star, guiding him home, back into your arms.

Jamil tends to hold your hand. Fingers intertwining with yours, palm pressed against you. Whenever you start to joke about your appearance, he’s giving you a gentle squeeze. Bringing your hand towards his mouth, Jamil administers small little kisses onto your knuckles. Fleeting little things, kisses like the touch of butterflies, landing on your skin. Staring into your eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

Can’t really deny anything when you’re all flustered, can you?

Jamil does think you’re beautiful, and he’ll be damned if you say otherwise.

Idia doesn’t really like sticking his nose into other people’s business. That’s like provoking a bad-end route right there. Ain’t no way he’s going through that.

However, you’re a different story. He’s seen how you curl into yourself whenever you walk through a crowd. The way you desperately try not to look at your reflection, eyes shrouded in shadow. Idia’s the king of self deprecating jokes, but even he can’t seem to top yours.

You seem to make hating yourself a life goal, with the way you diss every single little thing about your body.

Unfortunately, Idia doesn’t agree. He’ll spend hours on the phone, whispering sweet compliments into the speaker. Telling you what he liked about your outfit today, how beautiful you looked when you turned and smiled at him… sappy things like that.

Idia gets all flustered, and his voice tends to peak at times. Hey, can’t help that he’s nervous, talking to someone as wonderful as you. An SSR, through and through. He’ll whale on the gacha just to catch a glimpse of you.

So please… don’t sell yourself short.

You’ll break his heart.

Leona’s used to people parading about him. The pride of beast men, flexing their claws. It’s a strength dominated world out there. No one wants to appear weak.

You don’t seem to take the hint, do you? Shoulders hunched, always trying to make yourself smaller then you seem. Squirming away whenever a photo is taken, shrugging off compliments like they’re the plague.

You’re quite literally the definition of a small, weak, herbivore. Trembling like a leaf in a storm. Careful, anyone could just take advantage of that. You’re lucky that Leona’s nice.

Yet his patience runs thin. Everything that the sun touches is his. With every self deprecating joke you make, you’re insulting his property. Leona pins you down, pressing his lips deep into his skin. Kissing every part of you that you deem unlovable. Lips burning hot, searing into your body.

Can’t stand to look at yourself? It’s fine.

Leona will just have to make you look.

Bonus: Platonic Ortho

He’ll tag along with you. After all, his brother hardly gets out of his room. Ortho gets bored sometimes.

The best way to acquire data would be through experiences, would it not? He does believe that hanging out with a normal person will do wonders for his database. Although you do tend to shy away whenever he tries to take a photo. That’s no good! He needs pictorial references to draw back onto.

You… don’t like the way you look?

Ortho thinks you look just fine.

He’ll insist on a photo. Ortho’s stubborn that way. Even if you refuse on the account of your looks, he’ll fix you with a blank stare, and say that your voice was not registered.

After this, Ortho goes out of his way to find you in a crowd. He’ll give you a genuine compliment every day. He likes your hair! He likes your skin! He likes your nails!

Positive affirmation is the best way to go for these things, no?

As blunt as his compliments are, you can’t really deny Ortho. Not when his eyes sparkle with joy whenever he’s praising you. He’s merely stating what he observes, after all.

You’re a fascinating human!

[cb97breathing]

WHEN YOU KISS THEM FOR THE FIRST TIME. FT HYUNG LINE

Pairing: Skz Hyung Line x Reader

Theme: Fluff, Friends To Lovers, Hyung line reacting to you kissing them

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work! Let me know if you wish to be on the tagged list.

CHAN:

“C-Channie!” You choked out between laughs. “Please stop!” You tried to get away from him as he continued to tickle you, making you laugh so hard that tears were flying down your cheeks. No matter what you tried he would always over power you as you writhed helpless beneath him. 

“Not until you stop saying that you’re ugly.” He growled playfully. “You’re beautiful, say it!” He grinned as he attacked your sides. You gasped for air as he continued his assault and weakly hit him in the chest trying to push him away. 

“Never!” You cried as you continued to try to escape. “I’m an ugly whale.” You squeaked as you felt him get more aggressive with his tickling and soon it was becoming hard to breathe. You were laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. Your chest hurt and your face was going numb.  “Okay! I-I’m beautiful!” You cried out. “Please stop.” You begged. His hands stilled as he hovered over you with a proud smile. You stared up at him, panting softly, trying to regain all the air you lost from laughing. You both stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. You loved his eyes, you loved him. You had loved him for so long but were always scared to admit it. He gently brushed the tears away from your eyes and smirked softly. 

“That’s my girl.” He whispered softly. His words triggered something in you and before you knew it, your lips were pressed against his. You felt him freeze as your lips touched and you moved away blushing deeply. 

“I’m sorry I– I wasn’t thin–” Before you could finish your sentence his lips pressed against yours, kissing you passionately as you melted beneath him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you closer to him. 

“Took you long enough.” He whispered happily into your lips. 

MINHO:

You whimpered and buried your face in Minho’s chest as you heard the loud roar of thunder. Your body trembled as your best friend held you tight, his large hand rubbing your back as he tried to sooth you. You had been left out in a thunderstorm when you were younger and had been scared of them ever since. Everytime a storm hit, Minho didn’t hesitate to come and console you. Didn’t matter what time it was, he was there. 

“It’s alright, Kitten.” He whispered softly as he ran his fingers through your hair. “I’m here, I will never let anything bad happen to you I promise.” He whispered softly. You clung to him and felt your heart flutter at his words. You never really realized how much you loved the man holding you until recently. You looked up at him gently as you heard him start singing your favorite song to you.  Tears flew down your cheeks as you looked up to him. In that moment, your eyes betrayed you, all they showed was love. 

Minho looked down at you and his gaze softened as his eyes locked with yours. You let out a shaky breath and leaned up pressing your lips to his. You knew that this could destroy whatever the both of you had but in that moment you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You felt him kiss back almost immediately and cup your tear stained cheek in his hands. You both laid there, pouring your hearts out in a slow deep kiss before you had to pull away for air. You blushed when you realized what had happened, but Minho just grinned at you. He pulled you back in for another kiss and the thunderstorm that had terrified you was long forgotten. 

CHANGBIN:

“Changbin, don’t you da–” You gasped as you were hit in the shoulder with a snowball. You stared at your best friend, eyes wide in shock as he stood there grinning mischievously. “Oh you little shit.” You growled out as you made your own snow ball. “This is war.” You threw one at him and it hit him right in the face, causing you to laugh hysterically. But the look on Changbin’s face made you stop in your tracks. He growled as he made another snow ball and you slowly backed away. “Now Binnie.. You started this.” You chuckled nervously. He didn’t hesitate to throw it at you and hit you square in the cheek. 

You cried out as you felt the impact and cupped your cheek as you heard him laugh obnoxiously. You glared at him and while his guard was down you pounced. Changbin let out a cry of surprise as you tackled him into the snow and straddled him. You both fought playfully as he laughed loudly. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry!” He laughed out as you tried to tickle him. “Please stop!” You grinned as you watched him squirm, but soon he flipped you over. You squeaked as you felt him pin you down against the cold snow. You looked up at him and blushed when he smirked down at you. “You’re doomed now.” He teased as he leaned in closer to you as he raised a snowball in his right hand. Your heart pounded and before you could stop yourself your lips pressed to his. You heard the snowball fall from his hand as he froze. But before you could pull away he was kissing back and pulling you into his arms. At first you did this just to distract him, but deep down you had wanted this to happen for a long time. Your lips moved passionately against each other for what seemed like an eternity until the both of you pulled away panting softly for air, noses and cheeks rosy from the cold. “Please do that again.” He whispered softly and you gladly obliged.

HYUNJIN: 

“Y/n, do you have a death wish?” Hyunjin growled out. To anyone else it would seem like he was mad but you saw the playfulness in his eyes as he wiped the paint off his cheek. You smirked as you held the paint brush up playfully. 

“I was bored and you were ignoring me.” You pouted. “This is your punishment.” You grinned as you splatted some paint on him again. Hyunjin gasped and looked at you with wide eyes before smirking at you playfully. 

“Oh you’re so gonna get it.” He smirked as he grabbed his own paint brush and whipped it at you making paint splatter all over you. You gasped as you looked at him with wide eyes. “You started it Mon Chérie, endure the consequences.” He laughed. Before you knew it, you were both running around his studio, flicking paint at each other for what seemed like over an hour. You both looked like a total mess by the end of it. 

Hyunjin had you pinned against the wall, his hands on both your wrists as you both panted softly from being out of breath. Your heart pounded as he stared deeply into your eyes. He pressed his forehead to yours and you couldn’t control yourself, your lips brushed against his and his eyes widened, you looked into his eyes and blushed. He didn’t move away from you, he didn’t run or back away in disgust instead he stood there looking at your lips. You couldn’t bear it anymore and pressed your lips to his in a deep kiss. He kissed back without hesitation and his hands moved to link his fingers with yours as he pressed into you. Your lips moved feverishly and passionately against each other, as if you needed to keep going to survive. 

“Finally.” He breathed out into your lips.

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[i23kazu]

COMFORT FROM ME (everything will be okay.)

summary: genshin characters comforting you :,)

characters: aether, albedo, arlecchino, ayaka, ayato, beidou, capitano, childe, diluc, dottore, eula, ganyu, gorou, heizou, itto, jean, kaeya, kazuha, keqing, kokomi, kuki shinobu, lisa, lumine, mona, ningguang, pantalone, raiden, rosaria, sara, scaramouche, shenhe, thoma, venti, xiao, yae, yanfei, yelan, yoimiya, zhongli x gn!reader

a/n: genshin characters comforting you. this is the longest post i’ve ever written. with so many characters. so please please please like and reblog with comments (and tags), and if you appreciated this please give me a follow! i'd really appreciate it :") ps. if you hc traveler as a child/minor, this post isn't for you!

[aether]

— aether holds you close, rubbing his cheek against yours in efforts of slowing your anxiety-ridden breaths down — he won't lie, he's pretty anxious for you as well; but he knows he has to keep his composure so as to not freak you out even more — whispers sweet, calming words into your ears and will tell you that everything is going to be okay

[albedo]

— given that he's not an actual human, albedo does a pretty good job of calming you down — brings you your favourite hot drink (with the right amount of milk/sugar that you love) plus a blanket so that you can curl up in his lap while he calms you down :3 — stays by your side the entire time while you cry :")

[arlecchino]

— slightly rough but when she sees you upset it is on SIGHT with the person who made you cry — will go batshit crazy. just for you — gives a very opinionated speech about how she would report this person who made you upset to the department head yadda yadda and it makes you smile

[ayaka]

— definitely freaks out a little bit but remembers what thoma does for her whenever she feels anxious — holds your hand and squeezes it gently to assure you that she's there for you — she listens a lot and doesn't talk. will let you spill out everything while she sits there and rubs the back of your hand

[ayato]

— keeps his composure and is somewhat like a steady rock — will make you your favourite hot drink!! he remembers the little things about you so the right amount of sugar and milk and water etc — brings tissues and a soft cloth to wipe the tears away from your face while he sits there and holds your hand

[beidou]

— she gets a bit more quiet because she hates seeing you upset like this — slightly murderous look in her eyes because she will obliterate the person who made you this upset — holds you in her arms the entire time she tries to calm you down — wipes away your tears with her thumb

[capitano]

— doesn't speak a lot, he's more of a listener — enjoys holding you in his arms :( the quiet comforter is good at that and his presence is generally very calming — also he knows the exact way you like your fav drink — will be out to murder the person who made you sad

[childe]

— hums a soft melody, the same way he used to calm down his siblings when they got upset. also kisses you a lot throughout — (except that you get a lot more cuddles than them. lol) — cooks you your comfort dish while putting it on your favourite plate with your favourite set of cutlery (the fork and spoon with the cute little whales on them)

[diluc]

— asks adelinde to make you a pot of tea <3 — plays a soothing melody on the piano in efforts to calm you down. he makes you straddle him facing away from the piano and lean against his shoulder — presses kisses to your forehead while you spill about everything that made you upset

[dottore]

— bit of an eccentric comforter but thats okay! — he enjoys telling you stories about his past research and it makes you smile a lot (the safer versions, i'm gna pretend he doesn't do anything sketchy just in case ppl @ me) — i honestly can see dottore as a cuddler i'm sorry to those who disagree. this one's for @cxlrosii #1 dottore lover

[eula]

— she's.. not used to comforting you / other people so she's a little awkward — but she tries! she tends to just sit and listen while giving an extremely violent opinion about the other party to make you laugh — it works :) will bring a soft cloth to wipe away your tears as you sit on her lap

[ganyu]

— gets a little panicked but has to calm herself down before she can calm you down — brings tissues and small pieces of candy for you for eat bc she believes that its a better medicine ;) — also brings qingxins for you for some reason. 10/10 comforter tbh

[gorou]

— wraps you in this huge hug with his tail wagging and all!!!! super cute sight — he hates seeing you sad. will cuddle you on the spot even if other people are around — he lets you pet his ears longer than usual bc he knows it makes you happy :(

[heizou]

— i can't get the image of him straddling you while kissing you to make a smile appear on your face — wipes your tears away gently while telling you stories about the arataki gang getting into trouble — he might have thrown itto under the bus.. but oh well. heizou gives good cuddles okay

[itto]

— 10/10 BEST COMFORTER. will beatbox your troubles away — also likes to throw you up into the air for some reason??? like you could be crying on the floor and be up in the air the next — he's very careful though and he's super sweet about it. brings you to eat your favourite food afterward <333 lets you win onikabuto fights

[jean]

— sweet and comforting, just like her sister — you get a little worried bc you can see the stress etched on her face and you're def worried that you're burdening her but she very quickly catches on — you were not and never will be a burden to jean :( she loves you very very much

[kaeya]

— comforter SUPREME. 10/10. i want to cry so he will hold me in his arms and tell me that everything is alright — sings your favourite song & also loves to cook you your favourite food while you cry about everything to him. lets you taste test — he does this little nodding thing each time you say something its very cute

[kazuha]

— SINGS YOU LULLABIES <33333333 — also he wipes your tears away with his hand :") or his favourite cloth, the one with maple leaf print — cuddles you on his lap right there and then!!!! will run his fingers through your hair. gives headpats 25/8 and will gently affirm you that you are more than what upset you

[keqing]

— a little bit of a tough lover but thats just how she is :") — i honestly don't know too much about keqing but i love the idea of her taking a break from her work just to calm you down — gives good hugs!!!!!! they're sweet and gentle despite her slightly brash personality and always make you come back for more <3

[kokomi]

— the minute you start to sob, she sets down her pen and brings you into her arms — assures you that you're a wonderful person!!!! your mistakes do not define you or something motivational like that — wipes away your tears sweetly + gives the best hugs and smiles afterwards

[kuki shinobu]

— literally the definition of your pillar of strength — she's calm, collected, and analyses the situation pretty well so she can calm you down in the way you need it the most — loves to run her fingers through your hair to help you calm down plus give her a smile (it works)

[lisa]

— she does this little quiet exhale when she sees you being a mess. then tells you "come here, darling" — then gathers you in her arms while you sob everything out of you — makes you your favourite tea + grabs your favourite book so she can read softly to you — also cuddles you very well??? hello???????

[lumine]

— super sweet about everything — assures you that you are not a burden and the only burden is the person who made you upset — she hates seeing you sad like this :( will cuddle you all night to make you happy

[mona]

— being cheered up by mona usually consists of her swearing out the person who made you sad, as dignified mona can be — also makes you tea (its cheaper than going out to angels share + she believes that her tea is better than anything else. you agree) — lets you play with her experiments bc pretty colours make you happy :3

[ningguang]

— lady boss will buy you anything you want. — a new bed? it's coming tomorrow. express delivery. inazuman sweets? you can bet that ningguang placed a hefty sum for a commission and now beidou is rowing as fast as she can. — also you like to hear her just talk about anything bc her voice is so calming <3

[pantalone]

— enjoys listening, then commenting

— he likes to run his fingers through your hair while you rant and cry, gently offering you tissues and back-of-hand-rubs

— i think he would be the type to drop his work and come take care of you :(

[raiden]

— get ready for the lightning strike on the house of the person who made you upset because she is COMING

— absolutely hates seeing you upset and h a t e s the person making you feel bad

— listens to your problems with a (slightly) scary smile on her face bc she’s thinking of [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [SCREAMING] the other person. you love her tho <3

[rosaria]

— hurt her y/n? prepare for w r a th

— wipes away your tears gently and reassures you that you’re more precious to her than anything :( mwa

— will 10/10 cuddle you to sleep!!!! she wants you to have a good night’s rest. also bc im a sucker for bad bitches with soft spots for you :3

[sara]

— all the scary women are lined up LOL

— anyways. get ready bc the person who hurt you? her next target

— treats you to your favourite meal + lays in bed with you to run her fingers through your hair. will big spoon you

— another one where she’s your pillar of strength

[shenhe]

— calm and collected. will try to analyse what happened but will always default to your side

— steeps your favourite tea so she can distract you from the hurt + pain. will put it in your favourite cup as well

— don’t be surprised if the next morning you find a bundle of your favourite flowers on the nightstand next to you. she most likely woke up early to find them :,)

[scaramouche]

— another one of those who aren’t afraid to commit other person dies for you.

— though i’d like to think of all the fluffy things that could happen!! i like to think of him having a soft spot for you

— surprisingly good cuddles. it’s like he always knows what you need <3 pls pepper him with kisses after

[thoma]

— someone hurts you? get ready to be SPOILED.

— seriously. thoma is go big or go home. in this instance, you’re his home, so he’d just have to go big

— this man gives the best cuddles + hugs. will bring you out for a walk and to watch the sunset while holding onto you tightly, reassuring you that you’re more than what people say about you

[venti]

— tries to cheer you up first! lame jokes, a poke to your side, cuddles, whatever

— then he realises that it doesn’t work :( immediately proceeds to phase two where he kisses & cuddles you

— will take you out to fly because he knows how much it makes you smile!!

[xiao]

— doesn’t exactly understand how he can cheer you up… fighting demons somewhat relives stress for him (but at the same time causes stress..)

— will cook you your favorite food + let you hug him as he makes dinner

— tucks you into bed :( i just think this would be very cute

— “i’m here, y/n. no one can take that away.”

[yae]

— storms over to the person who hurt you and scolds them like nobody’s business. while maintaining that smirk and lovey eyes towards you

— a torrent of words just attacks the person LOL they’re left in such a shock that they couldnt comprehend (firstly… guuji yae is talking to them??? secondly… guuji yae is pissed off at them???)

— cuddles you the whole night while proclaiming that you’re the cutest most wonderful darling she’s had the pleasure of meeting and loving <3

[yanfei]

— gives the person who hurt you her meanest glare and storms off holding your hand

— but when the two of you reach home she just goes and cuddles you straightaway, constantly reaffirming the fact that you’re hers :,(

— she absolutely hates seeing you upset like this :( it breaks her heart. she’ll cook the both of you dinner and then cuddles you off to bed, wiping your tears away

[yelan]

— breaking news: mysterious incident in the early hours leaves people befuddled, one severely injured!

— yelan is sure to reassure you of your worth. she’s absolutely furious that someone would hurt her darling like this

— makes you your favourite snack and puts on your fav show. makes sure that she cuddles you throughout and leaves kisses on your forehead so that you constantly feel loved <3

[yoimiya]

— puts on a firework show just for you >:( the pretty colours just make you very happy + watching it with her? perfection

— makes sure to hug / cuddle / kiss you throughout the night bc she is absolutely flabbergasted (and loves watching you giggle when she uses that word) that someone would tear you down like this :( why are people so mean

— handmakes your favourite sweets! little dango sticks :3 anything yoimiya makes is the best honestly she’s so sweet

[zhongli]

— calmly listens to you as you cry, while he holds you in his arms :(

— he wipes your tears away gently as he explains to you that you’re worth so much more than some dumbass who can’t see that

— uses childe’s money to buy you food. and drink. and maybe a few sweets. and a new piece of jewellery. and a

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[yeyinde]

WILLOW TREE MARCH

John Price x Reader | Fae!AU

"They'll give you gifts," your gran says, shaking her head. "Things from their realm. Little trinkets and gems—" geodes, sapphires and diamonds, raw gold and coral; "—and you must never accept them," a whittled deer made of sequoia under your pillow; crow bones buried in the garden."Because if you do, if you do, they'll never let you go."  "Why?" You asked, blinking at her.  "Because it's a courting ritual, and to accept means… well," her mouth twists in wry disdain. "Just don't." 

—WARNINGS: 18+ | SMUT fae shenanigans, mythological nonsense; unsafe sex, smut in random places, slight exhibition kink if you squint; Dom-ish Price, soft Price, pining Price; fae trickery (dubious consent on account of the trickery but not really); unreliable narrator; ahhhhhh, body horror (??????????) —TAGS: Fluff, AU, mythology —WORD COUNT: 8,5k —Based on this ask

There's a thick forest at the edge of your town. It curves along the coastline, breaching the yawning maw of the inlet—the last safe haven before the open ocean—and can be found almost nowhere else in the entire world. A unique ecosystem comprising vaguely familiar flora and fauna. Brown and Black bears. Wolves. Sitka-black-tailed deer. Ravens. The waters that crest through the forest are full of salmon, steelhead, and river otters. On the coast of the inlet, you can find whales, sea lions, seals, orcas, and porpoises swimming offshore. 

It's protected, in large part, by its sheer vastitude. Spanning a massive chunk of your home, it stretches far north with curling fingers cutting through the granite of the crumbling coast, and as deep south as its knobby knees can reach. 

From above, it looks like a child curled on its side, knees tucked to its chest. It's this pose alone that makes others revere it as some sacred being, slumbering mindlessly until the day it cracks open its eyes, and awakens to the new world. A child god made of conifers, red cedar, spruce, fir, pine, birch, and hemlock. Mossy caves of granite and limestone. Thick colonies of moss, liverworts, plume moss, and common haircap. 

The forest is linked to your town only by a small strip of land that juts out from a raging ravine with currents too dangerous, too deadly, to try and traverse. An archipelago all on its own, untouched by greedy, human, hands because of its placement. 

It's insulated by the vast ocean on its front, and a series of insidious looking mountains ready to swallow wandering mountaineers whole if they get too close to the sleeping child. Protected and safe by anyone who might try to harm it. 

You used to dream about the forest. A nightmare dredged up about whispers and calls. Lured close to the edge of the river where a man would hand you his heart—sap-stained, and charred; a brittle piece of Bristlecone pine that felt fragile and worn—and told you to come back for him. To wait for him. 

You'd wake in a cold sweat each time, heart pounding so fast that it almost felt like you were dying.

(Maybe you were. Maybe you did.)

You don't know if you believe the stories told about people wandering into the gaping chasm of the forest and never coming out. It's not uncommon for people to get lost, after all. But it feels distinct and archaic. Old. Something about the way the wind howls sounds different from the other woodlands scattered around your home. 

It sounds like a beckoning call. A mother calling their child home for dinner. Come to me, the Chinook bellows. Come home now, dear. 

You never venture too close. You know all too well what happens to children who do.

His name is—was now, you suppose—Kyle, but no one called him that. To everyone in town, he was simply known as Gaz. 

Newcomers to the isolated archipelago are a rarity—so much so that news of the new family's arrival sent waves through the community, making Gaz an instant star overnight, all without him even setting foot on the shores. 

None of that mattered, though. He fit in with an ease that seems almost preternatural when you think about it, as if he was meant to be there. And maybe he was. Maybe the soft rolling valleys were destined to be his home where flowers bloomed in the spring, and Arctic tern trilled from the branches. 

Gaz was unique, different. 

He picked dandelions with the same intensity that picked fights with the bullies in the neighbouring town, the ones who tried to pick on the smaller kids in the community. 

With his fists always covered in dandelion oil and bruises, face caught between a grimace and a grin, like he was never sure if he wanted to spit at their feet or tell a joke, he stood against the onslaught with an anger that seemed to crackle in the air like fireworks. Ready for battle. Thirsty for blood. 

His anger never waned even when he turned back to the group, eyes cresting in satisfaction, and body trembling with adrenaline, and you could scent the rage in his smile, hear it in the soft words he muttered to the kids, telling them everything would be alright. 

Gaz was everyone's friend. The person you told your deepest secrets to, the one you planned adventures with. He was a rock—always armed with snappy jokes to make you smile, and advice when you needed it. 

He was everyone's friend—yours especially—but you can't remember if anyone was his best friend. He was polite. Distant. 

It started in the summer. His hands were always cold, and he kept them shoved deep in his pockets, clenched tight around the latchkey his parents gave him. 

He started to seem almost liquid then. Temporal. You'd reach for him, brushing your hands against his arms or shoulders just to assure yourself that he was really there.

You noticed that his eyes would list sideways, head tilted, slanting toward the forest. It looked to you as if he was listening to something. To some unheard noise or call that only he could hear. 

When you asked about it, he'd always blink, surprised, as if you'd woken him up from a dream quite suddenly. Then, he'd smile, and shake his head. 

"Don't worry about it," he'd say, shrugging. "Just the wind."

He'd bend down and pick a dandelion for you, holding it out between pudgy fingers with a grin that seemed to mimic the cresting moon. 

"For you."

He picked them for three springs before he, too, became another victim of the endless forest. Another empty tomb in the overcrowded graveyard.

Missing, they said, but not forgotten. 

You think about him often. 

(Even more so when you, too, begin to hear your name echoing through the forest.)

Beware the woods, your grandma says. Especially when it calls your name. 

(You never understood why something that sounds so comforting, so sweet, could ever be dangerous. It sounds like an old friend calling you over to play. 

"Never go," she snaps, her hands lashing out to grip your arms tight. You feel her knobby fingers digging into your bones. "Never listen, and stay away—"

"You're hurting me, gran—"

Her rheumy eyes burn into yours. "Stay away—!"

(You wisely never speak about the whispers in your head, keeping them to yourself. A secret just for you.)

You leave town when you're old enough, when the hisses in your head grow too loud to ignore, and it feels as though they're scratching at your skull. 

(Clawing at the walls.)

"Crazy weather, eh?" The first mate mutters nervously, eyes tilted upward as the sky darkens into an angry grey. "Came outta nowhere." 

You leave, and you don't look back. 

(But oh, how the forest screams.)

She calls you back several years later with a phone call. Your gran has passed. 

You think you should mourn, but it's been so long since you thought of home, that you don't remember what she looks like anymore. The sound of her voice is a whisper in your head—the cadence gone, the tone flat. 

But you don't cry, and you don't grieve—she's been dead for a long time now, after all. Ever since your mum went missing all those years ago, she's always seemed more of a ghost than a person. Living as if her body hadn't realised her heart was long dead. 

You go back only because you think your mum would have wanted you to. 

(And pretend it isn't because the silence in your head is suffocating. Without the whispers, it feels as if you're missing something. A part of yourself forever lost in the forest.

You wonder if anyone has found it by now.)

Nothing has changed since you turned your back on the town that raised you, the forest that stole from you. 

It's the same buildings. The same market. The same roads. The same houses. 

The people, too, seem largely unchanged by the years that have passed. 

The friends from your childhood who stayed meet you at the graveyard, eyes filled with sympathy as they ask how you're doing. 

She'll be missed, they lie sweetly to you. Everyone loved her. 

She was a hermit, you want to scream. A woman driven mad by ghosts and fairytales and terror. 

You nod, instead, and let them lead you around the town on a grand tour as if anything about this beautiful, haunting place had changed since you ran away. 

It gets easier to force a smile when they ask if you're okay. 

"Fine," you murmur and wonder if your voice even carries over the whispers. "Just—yeah. Fine."

North of the town is where the river separating the lonely forest carves a path, not at all dissimilar to an idyllic trough, through bedrock and sand, and flows into the sea. 

The estuary is dangerous in high tide when the rapid ascent of water on the sandy shores hides the rip current that is known to form when the two bodies of water meet. 

It's a dangerous place to get caught in. 

This beach was impressed upon you as deadly from a young age, almost in equal—if not greater—measure than the rapacious forest across the river. You know the dangers of standing on the slippery bedrock. 

But as the sun glows a burnt orange in the distance, and the endless ocean before you darkens into an almost unfathomable black, you can't help but find the view from the cliff's edge to be the most mesmerising thing you've ever seen. 

It looks like a painting. A brush stroke of tigers eye in the centre of the cresting sun that gradually fades out into xanthous, and rings of hazy peach; the light of diminishing star smears coruscating rings of persimmons into the indigo water. The gradual fade into gradients as the waves lap closer to the shore is reminiscent of liquid sapphire and smelting amethyst. 

The picturesque view is more befitting of a pastel postcard, an ethereal pastiche of the Ninth Wave—a moment of life imitating art, or—perhaps—the same view Ivan Aivazovsky stumbled upon when he set out to render the haunting beauty of the ocean in oil. 

The cresting waves arch into curled petals of white before setting upon the sloping beach with frenzy. It's the roar of those hungry waves that seem to, if only for a moment, drown out everything in your head. 

There are no whispers. No songs. No screams. Vengeful hissing can't climb to a higher decibel than the frothing waters slamming against jagged bedrock. 

All is quiet—except the sea. 

You lean into it. The closer you get to that precipice, the quieter everything in your head goes. Sounded sucked into the vacuum of the ocean. The endless song of the sea. 

Another step. Another. 

For a moment, you're free. 

The forest doesn't scream for you. Your grandmother doesn't dig her teeth into your gyri, hands clawing at the space behind your eyes. You don't think of her, or your mother, or Gaz, or anyone else unfortunate enough to get consumed by this damnable place where fairy tales split the seams apart, and merge with reality. 

It's peaceful. 

You take another step—

A hand curls over your shoulder, tugging you back. 

Anger pools, thick and acidic, on your tongue, but the flash of your ire, your vexation, is dashed by the sound the waves make when it slams into the spot you were just standing. 

It slashes across the concrete as the stranger pulls you into his broad chest, heat nearly liquifying your spine. 

He sucks in a breath. You feel his chest expand with it. When he breathes out, you taste gunpowder on your tongue. 

"Gotta be more careful n'that, love." 

You've had near-misses before. Flirted with the reaper. Ripped yourself from the jowls of death himself. 

This isn't anything new.

And yet—

Your eyes drag up, meeting flat black boring down at you. His hood is pulled over his forehead, casting shadows down to his jaw. 

"You—"

Your teeth sink into your tongue. Emotions lash through you like the flick of a bullwhip, shredding your skin until it's raw and oozing. The tail pulls away whenever you try to wrap your fingers around one of them—relief: you're not dead; embarrassment: how could you be so stupid; shame: saved by a stranger; and—

Visceral terror. Panic. 

It bludgeons its fist down your throat, barbed knuckles clawing at the soft tissue of your esophagus until you taste blood on your tongue. 

Panic tastes of ozone and leaks, thick and warm like molasse, down your throat. 

"Hey," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, his low timbre, is porous, calcined. The rough scratch scours through the haze of fear threading through your sternum. "C'mon on, now. Gotta breathe, yeah?" 

It's his hands on your shoulder—hotter than grenade fire—and the thick scent of musk, of stale smoke and kerosene sweat, that break through the gossamer of your acrid panic. He spins you around to face him, eyes fixed on your face. 

"That's it," he says, soft, soothing. "Keep breathin'. You ain't dead yet." 

You come to yourself in pieces. The world bleeds with startling clarity around the blurred edges. Home, you think. Maybe.

Once upon a time. 

You blink. Blink again. 

The hand still on you—heavier, you find, than an anvil—lifts, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw, swiping over the sweat-stained skin.

You can't see his eyes through the shadows cast over his face. A stranger. You've never seen him before. 

They didn't say anyone new moved to town. 

"Who are you—?"

"You don't know?" 

And then his hand is gone, taking all the heat in your body with him. 

It lifts to his vest, thick fingers, gloved in yellow, curling over the butt of his cigar. 

You must make a face. A grimace. A whisper of bemusement. Whatever it is, it makes his lips twitch under the shorn burnt umber of his beard. 

"I'd share," he mutters, teething sinking into the hilt as he pats himself down for a lighter. "But I ain't got the time."

"Shouldn't be smoking in a provincial park, anyway." 

The words are dragged out of you. Numbed, gritty. 

It makes him snort. "Maybe—;" he cups his hand around the end, thumb striking the ignition of the lighter. He inhales, and the red circle at the tip illuminates the cerulean blue tucked away into the folds of his hood. The plume of smoke curls over him like a shroud. "But I doubt a cigar is gonna bring the whole forest down, mm? 'sides, we all have our vices, don't we?"

With that, he leaves you standing in the tendrils of smoke that billow out from his caustic mouth. No goodbye. No name. Nothing except the hum of his touch buzzing through your veins. 

Your head is numb. Thoughts congealing into hardened clay. 

Yeah, you think sluggishly, eyes dropping to the drenched pavement where the ocean narrowly missed you. Swallowed you whole. We do. 

(Yours is bad decisions that reek of napalm. 

Men who scour your hands raw when you touch their coarse surface.)

You find him again in some desolate pub on the fringes of town a few days later. It looks like it's one strong gust of wind away from blowing down. Dilapidated. Rusted from the harsh salt of the ocean to the north. 

He lifts his head when you slide into the empty chair on the left, but says nothing about your unexpected company. 

Instead, his lips curl over the cigar sawed between his teeth. A grin, you think. 

You wonder if he was expecting you. 

(Wonder, then, with a touch of something warm gnarling in your belly, if you surprised him.)

The barkeep wanders past, brows lifting at you in question. 

"Um, a vodka soda—"

The man, Price you learned from the locals with a great of digging, snorts. 

"Ain't got none of that here, love. Two scotches. Neat." He leans over, thick fingers grasping the middle of the cigar, an inch away from the bristles on his upper lip, and pulls it away, ashing it in the tray in front of him. "And a bottle of spring water." 

"Scotch?" You echo, leaning your elbow on the sticky counter. He reeks of smoke. Sweat. Blood. Gunpowder. You veer closer, soaking in the astringent tang of him. Everyone on this island smells of daffodils and cotton; clean and neat and innocent. He reeks of danger. Everything inside of you screams to stay away. "I don't drink scotch."

The cigar burns in the tray. He pulls back, shifting in the chair. His elbow rests on the counter, the other arm is slung over the back of his seat. The picture of appeasement, of a satiated tiger eying a little mouse sniffing past it. There's no immediate danger, and his posture is relaxed. Open. But his eyes—

Price turns to you, then. His legs are spread, knees notched apart, taking up more space than you offer him. A looming presence. Dominating. Confident. He's not doing it on purpose, you don't think, he's just—

Big. 

His legs are too long. Thighs are too thick. 

Something gnarls behind your ribs when you take in his bare face. It's different, smaller, without the bulky black hood thrown low on his brow. His hands bare, leaving him in only casual clothes that stretch taut around his broad body. 

The beanie on his head, pulled low on his forehead, makes him look roguish, rough. The picturesque presentation of a bad boy down to the pelt-brown leather Levi jacket stretched taut around his broad shoulders. 

He looks older, somehow, without the tenebrous of night shading him in dark indigo. Aged like a fine whisky. All burnt umber and ivory. 

The charcoal colouring brightens the heavy blue of his eyes—crushed bluebonnets and powdered graphite; a black hole centre—and the frame of his brown lashes dusting over his clean cheeks makes something pool in your lower belly. 

(You wonder if he'd taste of whisky sour.)

"Well," he murmurs, brow lifting. It makes the skin on his forehead crinkle. He has laugh lines cresting around the corners of his eyes. They stand out to you, now. Void of the shadows you're used to. "You do when I'm paying."

The scotch, the cigar, the dingy pub that reeks of stale cigarettes and is perfumed in a dusting of nicotine that films every surface coalesces into incipient vice. 

His hand moves from where it's loosely curled around his glass, and rests, heavy and warm, on your thigh. 

When he leans in, you taste calcine on his breath. 

The acrid tang is a balm to the blisters in your raw esophagus. You meet him in the middle, smaller hands curling over the wool lapels of his jacket, tugging him into you. 

"Never thanked you for saving me," you murmur, his beard grazing your lips. A tickle. A brush. 

Price sucks in a deep breath, eyes liquifying into an intense azure. "No need to thank me, love. As much as I love the ocean, you don't belong there, do you? No," he adds, decisively. Sure. "You belong on land. The earth. You're wild, like the forest, aren't you?"

It's an out. An escape. An option to flee from the cosm that folds around you like a nebulous cloud. 

You could take it. Back up, away. Walk out of this dingy pub on the wrong side of town, and forget the man who reeks of nicotine, smoke; who leaves ashes behind on your skin when he touches you. 

The only one who stares at you from the unfathomable black of his eyes, lashes shrouded in tenebrous, and makes you falter. Makes your heart lurch, jumping to sit at the bottom of your throat.

You should pull away. Stay away from the man who leaks ethanol and nitroglycerine. From the man who smells of acrid smoke. Gunfire. 

You should. 

But your fingers tighten in the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. Closer. 

The bridge of his nose is warm when it presses against your own. 

His eyes spark, wildfires. A blazing forest. 

"You said something about vices." His chest rumbles in response to your hushed words. 

"So I did." 

Smoke singes your nose when you brush your lips over his. Warm. Chapped. Dry. You taste ash. Humus. The bitter tang of dandelion oil. 

"Got some time tonight?" 

"Thought you said I shouldn't be smoking."

"We're not in a park, near flammable trees," your hand falls to his chest. His heart thuds beneath your palm. Thick, full. Your eyes lift to his, lidded and heavy. You gaze at him from under your lashes, coy. Demure. You wonder if he can see how eager you are beneath the sly cut of your lids. "Are we, Price?"

The use of his name makes his lips quirk. A small, secretive thing that you can't read. 

"No, we're not." His hand slides down, curling over your knee. "Don't know what you're gettin' into, love." 

"Oh, no?" You taunt, breathless. Even through all your layers, you still feel his searing heat on your skin. His eyes drop when your tongue lashes out, wetting your lower lip. "And what's that?" 

A frisson shudders over his face. Lashes fluttering. He leans forward, resting the rim of his beanie on your forehead. 

When his eyes slide open, all you see is arsenic white pooled around Prussian blue. "More than you could ever dream of." 

Your trembling fingers curl into the lapels of his jacket. For leverage, maybe; or to hide the quiver in your joints from his widening eyes. 

And so, you kiss him. 

A messy punch to the mouth with your sun-blistered lips. 

His mouth parts, wry curls flutter when he inhales sharply. And then—

He devours you. 

It's messy. More sealed lips glueing together than it ever could be considered a proper kiss, but it feels more like a homecoming than stepping off the boat, and you tuck that inside your pounding chest. 

(The whispers in your head seem to sing when his lips touch yours.)

You taste bark on your tongue when it slips over his. Loam. Moss. Something earthy and rich. His beard scratches your chin, your lips, but you pull him closer, hungry for more—for the taste of wilderness on his tongue, for the respite from the whispers, the screams. Like the ocean, he, too, is a vacuum, swallowing everything whole until just you remain, stripped down to nothing but sensation and want. Bare, raw. 

Your teeth ache when you pull away, fingers curling into the coarse hair along his chin. The whips of his wry curls scratch your palm. 

You never want to let go. 

Price's eyes are noctilucent clouds; a storm over a rainforest. He'll ruin you. Devour. Destroy. Take, and take, and take until there is nothing left. 

Your lips tremble when you speak, words tremulous with your desire, your eagerness, when they slip past your bruised mouth. 

"I can think of a few that are better than smoking." 

Price shudders. 

"Where did you go?" Your friend asks, eyes swinging from the cards spread out in front of him—the Idiot, Solitaire—to you. They burn into the side of your face, the same place Price touched with bare knuckles, and said you belong to the forest, don't you? "Missed dinner."

You ate Doro Wat in a small shop after Price fucked you stupid in the dingy bathroom of the pub, face scraping against the waterlogged wallpaper that chipped with each brutal thrust of his hips. 

Like that, hmm? Can barely take me, love, but you're so fuckin' greedy for it, ain't you? 

You're sure the barkeep heard your moans as they bounced off the jaundiced walls. 

(You still hear him hissing in your ear. Still feel him splitting you apart.)

You try not to shiver. 

"Ate already," you shrug, bundling your sleep clothes tight in your trembling hands. When you stand, his eyes follow you. "So. Um—"

"You okay?" 

"Yeah," you say, shifting on the balls of your feet. "I've—" You think of his eyes, gyre white, and wonder if this is what it feels like to get swallowed by the sea. "I've never been better."

"Good," he says, smiling. "I worry about you, you know?"

You nod. "Yeah," you say. "Me, too."

You break apart in the shower, falling into pieces as you make yourself finish, thinking about nothing but the phantom stretch of his cock seated deep inside of you, the taste of his come pooling on your tongue.

It balms the residual burn in your esophagus, and you know, then, when you throb, still wanting his touch on your skin, that you've always been terrible at telling yourself no. 

It can't happen. It can't.  

There's a strange magnetism about him—an uncanny sense of mystery and familiarity sutured together. 

It feels a little bit like staring at the looming maw, the event horizon, of a black hole. Unfathomable black. No way out. 

There's something that feels a bit like forewarning inside your chest when he brushes against you, and presses his lips on the skin behind your ear—a secret place only he knows, where only his fingerprints have ever been. You feel his touch even when he's gone. Haunted by the memory of his rough hands and rasping tenor. 

Running would make sense, you think, watching the ferries come and go. You have enough money for a ticket, and you've yet to even unpack your bag. 

You don't know who he is, but you've given him everything. All of it. There's nothing left inside of you to hand over, but he keeps looking at you as if he's waiting for more. 

"Waiting for a ride?" 

You glance back at the operator with a divot between your brow and cotton inside your ears. 

You want to say yes, but you shake your head instead. 

"No." I can't leave. "Just enjoying the view."

You find birch branches stripped of leaves, juniper berries, maple leaves, spindles of dogwood, bushels of fir, and bouquets of bog rosemary, northern bluebell, fireweed, and wintergreen on your doorstep each morning, laid gently against the old welcome mat. 

You should toss them out, and throw them away. How does he know where you live, anyway? It would make the most sense; be the wisest decision. 

Instead, you tuck them inside your notebook, pressing them against the pages where they'll be safe. 

(You try not to think too much about why they never die.)

It happens again. And again. Again—

It becomes a ritual for the few months you're back in town. The leaves, twigs, petals, pines, and seeds all show up at your door each morning and come nightfall, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

He finds the nastiest looking pub in the city, and you find him there after dark. 

He sits, smokes a cigar. Orders two scotches, and a bottle of spring water. Teaches you how to drink it properly—none of that sugary cocktail shite; just pure whisky, love, as it should be—and lets you puff on the damp end of his cigar, eyes gleaming in the soft yellow light above as he takes in the way your lips curl over the wet tip.

He stares at you like he's indulging you. 

Like he knows. 

And maybe, he does. 

Maybe he sees the way your jaw works, tongue lashing over the tip just to chase his taste. The heat in your cheeks, your eyes, as you gaze at him, open and raw and wanting. The way you list toward him. Eager for it. For him. His touch, his smell. 

He must, you think, but he's a right bastard. 

He doesn't give it until the end of the evening, when everyone has gone home. When it's just you and him and the barkeep that glowers at you something ugly when you stand on shaky legs, and whisper you're going to the washroom. 

Your fingers curl over the chipped porcelain, back arched as you stare at the face in the mirror. 

You can't remember if it's you. 

Whisky has polluted your synapses. The thick scent of smoke, the tobacco from the cigar, has congealed into resin over that little bundle of axons and nerves that control your impulse, logic. 

Stupid. 

You stare at the thing in the mirror, and wonder if the basal want on your face was so apparent to him as it is to you. If he saw the dark gleam of hunger, greed, impatience, swimming in your ink-smudged depths. 

The door rattles. Clicks. 

The squeak of the hinges is the only warning you get before Price is there, liquified in the doorway and clouded in smoke. 

His hand curls over the worn, peeling frame. Eyes dance with the same hunger, same want, as the ones that flicker across the surface of the mirror. 

"Couldn't wait for me, eh, love?" He breathes, his chest expands with his exhale. Scenting you, you think. You wonder if he can smell the slick pooling in your panties. The desperation brimming in your veins. "Wanted it that bad, huh?"

He moves. A mountain of a man now filling up the entirety of your gaze until all you see is him. 

You used to want to climb mountains. In training, they always warned of summit fever. Of that little part of your head that just wanted it to be over, to reach the very top of the precipice. Impatient, it couldn't wait. It made you spring up, and climb higher and higher before you were ready, prepared. 

You think of it now when your hands lift, curling over his broad shoulders. 

("Summit fever will get you killed," they say.)

"Just shut up and fuck me, Price." 

His eyes flash. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

You are. Painfully so. 

It etches in your ribs like a sickness, festering in your mouldering bones. Rotting you from the inside out. 

A crutch in the searing heat of skin, sweat, and sin. The feeling of him taking you apart, breaking you down into atoms and molecules that bubble in the lining of your head becomes so commonplace, so often forget who you are when you're pushed up against a wall, being filled to the brim by him.

He leaves madness behind when he goes, and the world that divides fantasy from reality begins to crack, to splinter. 

You hear his voice in your head late at night when the wind blows through the window, carrying the scent of the forest.

"Come home," he rasps in your ear. 

The scratch of his beard seems to scrape against the little thread keeping you tied down to reality. It's frayed and worn by his hands. You wonder when he'll sink his teeth in the silk, and snap the line. Untethering you from your binds.

Come home to me. Come back to where you belong—

Price takes you out to dinner three months after this—whatever it is—starts. After your house becomes more of a garden, writ with the wild remnants of the forest, after each passing day. Full of bushes, and branches. Twigs and precious gems. He gives you raw gold, and open geodes full of amethyst, and sapphire. Canopy leaves, and bark from the trees. 

He leaves a whittled deer made from the red wood of a giant sequoia, and the likeness of the little fawn makes you believe that one day, it'll come to life in your living room.

(You leave a dish of water near the doorway—just in case—and wonder if you're becoming just as mad as your gran.)

He shows up at your doorstep, the bleached antlers of a great pronghorn in his hands. It's decorated with vines and moss weaved over the ivory in intricate braids and knots that you can't even begin to unravel. You marvel at the gift as he tells you he's taking you out for dinner. 

There is no discussion. He doesn't ask, he just—

Does. 

"Found a spot," he says, arms crossed over his broad chest. The cable-knit sweater pulls, stretched taut over his bulk. "Think you'd like it."

You don't know what to say. The antlers feel heavier in your hands, and warm to the touch. You try not to shiver when you set it down beside the little fawn.

"Oh," you say, but know you've never turned him down yet. It's all—

So much. 

Your home is slowly becoming one with nature, with vines growing on the walls in great blooms of wisteria and lilac; the old floor boards under your feet shudder and creak as little saplings sprout through the cracks. You wake up at night and taste earth in your throat, feel the grass beneath your fingers. The breeze in your hair. The call of an arctic tern. 

You dream of running through the forest. Of being chased. You breathe and feel the little seeds inside of your lungs start to take root. Soon you'll bloom with dandelions.

"Okay," you say, and wonder if the madness rummaging around your head will turn into a beautiful sequoia in the end. "Let's go."

The tavern is busy on a weeknight, crowded with a swell of mainlanders who'd ventured out for a camping trip over the long weekend. 

You sit with your back straight, and listen to him talk about a hike he wants to take with you in the morning. Through the woods, he says, and you don't ask which one. You know. You know. 

(It's time. It's time.)

There are alarm bells ringing in your head, but they're drowned out by the crooning whispers. 

But the line is only frayed and worn, and despite the lure in his voice, the itch in your head to say yes, you hesitate. Falter. 

The woods are dangerous. 

You don't want to go. 

He seems to sense it. His brows knot together. 

"You want to, don't you?" 

You fiddle with your napkin and try not to meet his arsenic stare. "It's… dangerous."

"I'll keep you safe."

"It's probably time for me to leave, anyway." 

The air in the room turns frigid all at once. You think you can see white plumes of condensation when you shakily breathe out, teeth chattering. 

"Price—"

"Didn't wanna do this, love," he says, voice hushed. Barely a whisper. His eyes are lavascapes. "But you ain't givin' me much of a choice, are you?"

"What—?"

The words die on your tongue when movement flashes in the corner of your eye. A man weaves, liquid, through the mindless crowd, cutting a path like the parting red sea. 

His eyes are honeycombs. In his hand, he holds a limp dandelion. 

It takes you a moment to make out the strange man who looms in the background. A splash of colour among sfumato. 

It's Gaz.

The childish swell of his cheeks has sunken into angled, sharp bone. Slender fingers twirl the flower around, around, around—

It's hypnotic. You stare, horrified and awed—a strange amalgam of emotions that slip down your spine: worry, elation, panic, comfort—as his pink lips part into an easy, familiar grin. The cresting sun breaching the horizon. Eyes slanting in playful derision. 

He looks like he's torn between telling a joke and spitting vitriol. Making you laugh, and then making you cry. 

It buzzes in the air, electrified fingers dancing down your spine, and then just as quickly as the boy who disappeared reemerges into the land of the living, into this bastardised reality, he gives one last sharp, fanged grin, a mordant wink, and then he's gone.

He slips through the door, and without hesitating, you give chase. 

Price says nothing when you go. Or maybe he does, but you can't hear anything except the rustling of leaves in your head. 

Gaz, it whispers. Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.

(It's time for the lost little boy to come home.)

The rocks sit in a zigzag pattern through the frothing waters, a deceptive bridge that connects the valley to the coast. You feel the tremulous rattle of the water slicing against the hollow cavern beneath your feet. A ledge chiselled from the blunt erosion of the rapid currents below. One day, they say, the granite shelf will give and a massive hole filled with howling water will fill it. 

Try not to be the idiot standing on the ledge. 

You feel the power of the currents even on the peat-covered edge. 

The water in front of you is deceptive. A calm, rolling surface at the shoreline almost seems to beckon you inside. Come take a dip in the cool waters. Grow fins and gills and chase the river otters through the currents. Feast on the wily salmon, and see if your feet can touch the sandy streambed. 

But the river's fatality is nearly assured. No one has survived a dip in these waters that act as a serrated knife, carving chasms and channels through the granite below. The currents will rip into you, pulling you until your body is crushed against the wall, or into an unsearchable cave. 

One slip, you think. Just one. 

But—

The man in the bar flickers through your mind. His honeycomb eyes, fanged grin. Ethereal in his beauty like a painting of a god in oil and raw canvas. Carved likeness of a Stygian prince. 

It was Kyle. It was Gaz. You know it. Know it deep within your bones, your marrow.

Taking the first step to the jutting slate that peaks just a few precious inches from the raging waters is easier, then, when you think of the boy who plucked a dandelion from the earth, and tucked it behind your ear. It makes the risk less daunting when it's for him. 

For his parents who sunk into themselves, into the crater his absence left behind. A deep depression into the earth that swallowed them whole.

They moved last year after laying down a bouquet of flowers at the mouth of the forest. 

You toe your shoes off, leaving them at the embankment, and then you leap. The perch is slick with waterlogged moss, slimy. It wobbles under you, but you catch yourself, stabilising. Steady. You huff. One down, four more to go. 

Up close, they look so far apart. A chasm between each rock. An endless abyss that will rip you into pieces. 

Still. Still. You have to find him. Have to. 

You step, toes sliding in the algae. The rock beneath is stained green. It wobbles again when you bring your other foot down on top of it. The loud clack of rock scraping against rock is heard, unmuffled by the roaring water that tugs on the stone. You feel the push against your feet. 

Two more. Two more. 

You take another step, and then—

You fall—

The world drips into focus, a steady trickle of cognisance that paints the world in shades of greens and browns. An eagle soars above the canopy, their shadow swooping through the thick tangle of conifers reaching to the heavens.

The bed of moss beneath you is damp—lush with dew and softer than your mattress at home. You sink into the ground when you breathe, caught in an embrace. The vines curl over your wrists, your ankles, as if refusing to let go. 

It should scare you—and maybe it does—but there's something against your head, fingers digging into your temples, and you feel nothing except a warm serenity leaking in. Thought spool into liquid gold, threads that weave together in a knotted clump. Indistinguishable from each other, and unreachable when they slip deeper into the honeyed-thick fog that curls around your mind. A temper from logic, from fear. Anything that isn't pure, artificial comfort is filtered through and cast aside. 

You don't know why you're here. 

One moment, you felt the coils of the raging currents sinking its claws into your flesh, pulling you under the deep waters, and then—

Heat on your face. The sun's desperate attempt to filter through the corded canopy and touch the forest floor. The shrill call of an eagle on the prowl. The tender caress of the moss below cushions your body. 

You should be underwater. Pressed tight against the side of the rocks until you were swept downstream and spat out in the inlet, waterlogged and dead. 

You draw humid air into your lungs until it swells against your ribcage. The steady thud of your heart tells you that somehow, somehow, you're alive. An empty brag—thud, thud; thud, thud—that seems to call out to the birds in the emergent layer, the ones nestled in their branches as they watch your feeble attempt to reconcile how you survived. 

It's strange, you think, but the soporific warmth coursing through your veins does not let you panic. 

You are—

"Foolish." 

The warmth turns molten. You try to sit up, but the vines tighten around your limbs. If you weren't so vulnerable, you think it would almost feel like a hug. 

The soft crunch of the moss tells you the voice—the man—is moving forward, toward you. You want to scream, but your tongue is thick, and your mouth is numb. 

"What you did there was stupid," he says, and the forest around you seems to come alive in his anger. Pulsing. The branches sway and the leaves rattle without any wind. The trees bend down, coming inward. You hear the scream of a fox in the distance. The chuff of an agitated brown bear. 

Primordial signs tell you to run.

But you're trapped. 

Price steps closer, falling to his knees beside you. You can see him now, and suddenly you wish you'd been swallowed by the waves. 

His face is writ with anger, brows tightening together in displeasure. 

He seems imbued with the forest. One with the lush green that swells around you. Burnt umber and icy blue. Ethereal, unnatural. Something in your hindbrain tells you to run from that man that looks as if he could swallow you whole.

"Tryin' t'die on me, hmm?" 

His hand lifts, and you feel his warm knuckles graze your temple. Soft, gentle, despite the ire in his eyes, and the irritation clenched in his jaw. 

"Gonna hav'ta try harder than that, love." 

You weren't trying very hard at all, you think, dazed, dizzy. You weren't trying at all. 

"You're mine," his eyes flash, and you feel the press of gravity against your skin, pulling you down to the soft earth. Your fingers twitch. The fog inside your head clears. 

Blinking up at him, you catch the scattering supernovae echoing in the corners of his eyes; galaxies of pine and cedar, humus and tussock. They bloom from the black hole in the centre, surrounded by sapphire blue. He's not human, you think, but it doesn't surprise you because you already knew. Have known, really—ever since you asked around for his name and watched the same strange fog seep into their eyes as they struggled to remember a man they claimed to know. 

Ever since you found bushels of figs on your doorstep. 

A crown of pine needles and crow feathers. 

Price leans over you, brows knotted together like the gnarled, weaving trunk of a Great Basin Bristlecone Pine. 

There's a forest fire in his eyes. "You're mine, aren't you?" 

You think about the trinkets left on your doorstep. The whispers, the screams. 

"Did you ever give me a choice?" 

The tension in his brow snaps taut. Agony frissons through the spaced canyons; whet from ire and slick from sorrow. He bends down, and shakes his head. 

"I've always given you a choice," his words are smouldering logs, crackling with his pain. "I've always told you to go, but you couldn't stay away, could you?"

Price takes you on the mossy forest floor, fingers digging into the peat as you sink, down, down, down—

His hand under your head, cradling the back of your skull, keeps you from getting swallowed by the grass knoll that breathes and trill against your spine. 

Fire licks in the crevasses of his eyes, molten desperation you can't ignore. He rages above you, quivering in the fading glow of the sunset struggling to slip through the canopy. No longer a man but a myth. He hangs over you with his canines bared, and flashes of anger and sorrow scorch the path his teeth leave behind on your skin. 

You're becoming unmoored. Each touch, and brush; each sweep of his tongue soothing the indents of his razor-sharp teeth all seem to loosen the ties that thread through your soul, anchoring you to the world that stands in full bloom before you. 

The forest shudders with his frantic pace; each piston of his hips leaks his fervent anguish and makes the trees croon, and creak as they bow their foliage in sorrow. His pain lashes through their roots, and rent the air in two. A fox mourns his loss in the distance. A wolf yowls in agony. His brethren lifting their muzzle to the sleepy moon, and howling out the melody of their despair. 

It's too much, too much, and you fall into pieces in his hands, shivering beneath him as the woods around you tremble and quake. It's a mesmerising dance. 

He finishes with a grunt that makes the world shudder anew, spending himself as deep inside of you as he can, as if he could overwrite your empty spaces with himself. Fill you to the brim until you are bursting with him, with life. Tulips for your eyes. Furze for veins. Moss for hair. Peat soil for blood. 

When he speaks, the world falls silent. 

"You don't know it yet, but you will. You've always been mine. Always belonged to the forest, to the earth. To me."

Despite his words, he lets you go. 

And you run, run, run—

Your toes dig into the wet soil near the stream. The desperate catapult across the ravine halted at the very last moment, leaving you winded and shaking. Hands clenched into tight balls by your side. Quivering with fear, with the adrenaline rush still roaring in your veins. 

You don't know what you're doing. 

The whispers in your head go silent. 

The absence of sound makes you mourn, and you think about his agony. The pain when he took you, the resignation when he let you go. 

You think of him, and you know. 

I've always told you to go, but you couldn't stay away, could you?

You scent napalm in the air, cloying despite the acrid burn that scalds your lungs when you breathe in deep, holding it there. 

You think of the chest inside your closet. The pieces of yourself you left behind. The way he fits you like a puzzle, like he was made for you. Designed with your rough edges in mind. Softening your hard lines; scouring your gritty surface it was smooth and shiny like fire Opal and precious gems. 

Ever since you felt his hand on your shoulder, you haven't been able to let go. 

(You don't even think you ever really tried.)

Come to me, the forest says, honey in your ears. It sounds like the rapid beat of a million birds' wings, ready to take flight. Pulsing and alive and full of wonder, childish glee. 

The earth blooms in your chest. You feel the soft, tender caress of the leaves against your skin, the moss sinking between your toes. Clinging to your flesh, desperate to get inside, and take refuge in your heart. Come home to us.

Your grandmother warned you to stay out of the forest, that it was dangerous. Deadly. Wrong. But how can it ever harm you when it touches you so sweetly? 

The branches curl around your ankles as you walk, leading you, guiding you, to the place where you belong. The forest opens around you, spreads apart and makes room for you to pass, touching you as you go, taking little pieces of you. Strands of your hair, the salt from your tears. Pieces of clothes. Parts of your soul. 

You pluck your heart out of your chest, and leave it beneath a gnarled sequoia. She will protect it forever. 

Moss grows inside of the empty space. A tern makes a nest inside of it, filling it with a bed of pine needles, and twigs from the junipers. You feel a mouse make a home in your rib cage, burrowing between your bones. You place your hand over your side, and feel her nuzzle against your palm. 

"You're safe now," you say. "We're almost home."

It's Gaz who greets you with a crown made of sugi. When he cups your face, you feel raging rivers and streams in his palms, and now that you are home. 

"Missed you, dandelion," he breathes, and his voice turns into a Chinook that crests over the mountains. "But there's someone who wants to see you."

His hands slide down to your wrists, and you feel the sun grazing your skin when he spins you around, around, around—

"Now," he leans down, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. You hear the Falcons nesting in his chest, and smell pine in his breath. "He's been an impatient bastard, you know? Just moping about ever since you left—"

A scoff. You lift your head and feel the swell of the earth beneath your feet. Dizzying. Wanting. 

He waits for you in the thicket, eyes made of sapphire and stone. When he breathes, the forest swells with his breath, and you taste loam when you swallow. 

"A sorry sap, thinkin' you were runnin' away, and all. But you won't, will you?" Gaz pushes you forward, and his laughter rings in your ears. "Not anymore."

Price meets you in the middle, his eyes sparkling embers. A baptism in fire. You feel the heat on your skin, and shiver. 

You used to be afraid of forest fires, but you know, now, that sometimes trees need to burn before they can truly grow. 

Lodgepole roots bud under his skin, rippling veins across a ravine. He rests his hand against your cheek, thumb brushing the dawn redwood needles that bloom under your skin. 

"Welcome home."

"They'll give you gifts," your gran says, shaking her head. "Things from their realm. Little trinkets and gems—" geodes, sapphires and diamonds, raw gold and coral; "—and you must never accept them," a whittled deer made of sequoia under your pillow; crow bones buried in the garden."Because if you do, if you do, they'll never let you go." 

"Why?" You asked, blinking at her. 

"Because it's a courting ritual, and to accept means… well," her mouth twists in wry disdain. "Just don't." 

You don't tell her that you already have. You don't mention the sticks and precious stones that always ended up on your windowsill. The whispers of the forest calling your name. 

You nod sagely instead, fingers tightening around the sap stained heart chiselled from Bristlecone Pine. The charred ends are warm in your palm. You feel it pulse. 

Will you accept this? My heart? Will you keep it safe for me? 

"I will."

This was meant to be light and fluffy and smutty but now it's. This. And um. Oops. I hope you enjoyed it!

JOHN PRICE MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION PART THREE OF COD X MYTHOLOGY ⁞ SOAP ● DRAGON PRICE

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eight

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Fluff, A smidgen of angst, Truths revealed, Kind of smut (heavy petting and making out), Magic, Supernatural elements.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: It's been a hot minute since we've heard from Skipper and Jake! I hope you all enjoy this chapter because it was actually a real struggle to finish for some reason. Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You had always loved mermaids. You had always wondered what it must be like to live as half human and half fish, swimming beneath the blue waves of the sea and singing beautiful songs for everyone to hear. You wondered what it would be like to coast your fingers across the rocks and corals, interacting with the creatures below. Were there cities like Atlantica down there that only the merpeople knew about? Or did they migrate like whales?

“You know mermaids aren’t real, honey, right?” Your mother had asked you one day, brow furrowed in concern. You had let out a sigh that only a thirteen-year-old beginning their journey into the reality of life could give.

“Yeah, Mom,” you had frowned, looking out the window and onto the waters of the lake below. “I know.”

“Have you thought about maybe redecorating your room?” She continued, picking up your porcelain mermaid and eyeing it with vague distaste. You glanced over at her, turning to face her slightly.

“I like my things,” you grumbled, pressing your lips into a thin line. “They’re my treasures. And what’s wrong with liking mermaids and the ocean?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” she had sighed, setting it down. “Maybe it’s just time for you to start thinking about more serious things, is all.”

She gave you one last smile before walking out of the room, leaving you to ponder over her words.

Weeks later, her words still floated in your head, and you had relayed the conversation to your grandmother, your mother’s mother, one day as you sat in her living room. She had scowled, shaking her head and fixing you with a fierce look.

“Now you listen to me, young lady,” she groused. “Your mother means well, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. There’s magic in this world, believe you me, and it’s a rare person who continues to believe and see it. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and one day you’ll see the truth.”

And one day had finally come.

The waves crashed against the shore with a deafening sound, the wind whipping your hair about your face where it rested atop your knees, and the rock beneath you was vaguely damp, causing goosebumps to run up and down your skin. You had been out there for hours, needing time to come to reconcile what you thought you knew with what you now knew.

The scene on the beach earlier that morning replayed in your mind. The song, falling into the water, Mandy. It was a wonder you hadn’t run for the hills.

You had stood on the beach, soaked to the bone as the rest of the group stared at you like some kind of wild animal, like you might lash out at them at the most sudden of movements.

“Skip,” Bradley had started slowly, taking a small step towards where you stood, feet planted as firmly as they could be in the shifting sand. Your shoulders were drawn back, attempting to make yourself seem more confident than you actually were. In truth, you were still terrified, the adrenaline from your near death experience still running through your veins as your eyes darted the small group gathered around. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and it was an oddly cold, summer morning, and you fought the shiver that threatened to run up your spine. “Honey, it’s not that we don’t think you’re ready to know…”

He trailed off as you narrowed your eyes at him, anger starting to course through you. Bob cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him.

“It’s just that you’ve been through a lot in the past hour,” he explained with a grimace. “We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Yeah!” Chirped Mickey. “Besides, you’re still wet, and we wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything.”

“Mickey is right,” Nat smiled gently, “you should get changed out of these clothes.”

She moved to grab your arm, but you shifted away, fixing her with a glare before your eyes once again shifted towards the other members.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you hissed, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “Stop treating me like I’m some child.”

Your eyes connected with familiar green ones, and your anger instantly dissipated into a sense of pleading. Jake stared back at you, face unreadable as he took you in. After a moment, he walked towards you, and you didn’t even think about stopping him as he stopped in front of you. He raised a hand, running his thumb lightly over the apple of your cheek, and you felt yourself relax into his touch.

“They’re right,” he said softly. You immediately stiffened, opening your mouth to say something, but he cut you off.

“I promise you, that we will tell you what you want to know. But for now,” he pauses, running his eyes up and down your form, grimacing at the sight of you. “For now, you need to go change into some dry clothes. We can talk more after, okay?”

You stared up at him for a moment, studying him. His eyes bore into yours, not a hint of deceit resting in them. Slowly, you nodded, and he let out a relieved sigh, squeezing your shoulders slightly.

“There’s my good girl,” he smiled, running his hands down your arms before releasing you. You preened at his words, feeling your cheeks warm as you glanced away.

“Okay,” Nat sighed, a relieved smile on her own face. “Now that that’s decided, let’s all head home to change and then we can regroup later.”

Bob had escorted you back home, leaving before you had finished your shower. So, you had walked, and you found yourself where you sat now, on the rocks just past Jake and Bradley’s house on the beach, the sky a dismal grey as the seagulls cried. No one was answering your texts, and while it annoyed you to no end to know that they were probably trying to come up with a way to get out of telling you, you remained secure in the fact that Jake had promised you they would tell you the truth. You let out a long sigh, trying to ease some of the tension out of your shoulders.

“Wasn’t expecting to find you right here.”

You jumped, whirling around to see the familiar green of Jake’s eyes as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, moving to sit next to you. His shoulder brushed yours in the process, and you inhaled a gasp, hoping he hadn’t heard you.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I was just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“Care to share?”

“As if you don’t already know what they were about,” you scoffed, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips. He chuckled, nodding slowly.

“You’re right.”

“What are you doing out here, Jake?” You asked. He let out a breath, rolling his shoulders back before answering.

“The others are still debating on what we should tell you, or what you can handle knowing right now. I snuck out to come and find you.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, listening to the different sounds around you. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating whether or not to break the calm between the two of you.

“I wasn’t dreaming,” you breathed, peering over at him. “Was I?”

Jake let out a sigh, leaning back against his arms as he continued to stare out into the ocean.

“You’ve heard the stories the older folks tell, right?” He asked finally, meeting your gaze. You nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.

“Well,” he started, looking back out at the water. “They’re all true.”

A beat passed.

“All of them?” You questioned, looking down and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You thought back to all of the things Mrs. Cambroni had told you. “Even the frenzy?”

Jake’s eyes grew wide, and his cheeks turned a brilliant red. He cleared his throat, looking away as he muttered, “Yes, even the frenzy.”

“What’s it like?”

“What?” He blinked, eyes still wide but holding confusion instead of shock.

“What’s the frenzy like,” you pressed, leaning in closer to him. He stared at you for another second before answering.

“It feels like a constant itch underneath my skin. A heat that I can’t dampen no matter what I do. It drives me crazier the older I get.”

“Is it dangerous?” You whisper.

“It can be,” he admitted slowly. “If we don’t take a mate before a certain time, then the magic becomes stronger because there’s nothing to siphon it in to. Mates help with controlling the magic, and our magic grows the older we get. If we don’t take a mate, then the magic will drive us crazy.”

“When does that happen?”

“There’s no real set number of frenzies you go through before it happens. For some, they can’t make it through their third one before they go crazy. For others, it could be their fourth or fifth one.”

“What about you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a second you were worried that you had upset him with how still he was sitting.

“Me?” He chuckled humorlessly, drawing patterns on the rock beneath the two of you. “I can already feel my control slipping sometimes this go around, especially when I’m around you. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, brow furrowing. “I cause your control to slip? Why?”

Jake stared at you, eyes widening once again when he realized what he had said. He shook his head.

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “You promised me that you would be honest and tell me what I wanted to know.”

He looked a little taken aback, but let out another sigh as he relented.

“Sea people have what they call ‘true mates,’” he began, “and they’re different from regular mates. True mates are an ideal pair, one the powers that be have ordained as a perfect match. Everyone can take a mate, sure, but very few ever find their true mate. They’re so rare, in fact, that some people think it’s just a myth.”

“Do you?” You asked. “Think it’s a myth, I mean.”

He stared at you for a beat.

“I used to,” he admitted. “I used to think that true mates were just some sappy fairytale that people clung to to make themselves feel better. I used to laugh at the idea, actually. It wasn’t until-”

He stopped, clamping his mouth closed as his cheeks tinged red once again. You furrowed your brow at him.

“Until what?” You pressed. He swallowed thickly, turning to look out at the water.

“Until I met you,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. You let out a small gasp, but waited for him to continue.

“The first night I saw you in that bar, Skipper, I knew. I knew with everything in me that you were the one that I had been looking and waiting for my entire life. You were the one in my dreams growing up. You were the one I could feel in my chest, pulling me towards you. You were the one that made me realize that I could be happy, that I didn’t have to settle for a life that other people had decided for me.”

You stared at him, registering the look of vulnerability on his face, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“I dreamed about you too,” you admitted, causing him to look back at you. “Or, at least I think I did. And I always felt like something was incomplete, like a piece of me was always missing. But when I sit here with you, things just feel…right.”

“Right?” He pressed, leaning in so that your noses were practically brushing each other.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your heartbeat picking up at the close proximity. “Like things aren’t so hard when you’re around. Like I don’t even have to try. Things just feel easy around you, and if I’m being honest, that kind of scares me.”

He hummed, resting his forehead against yours, warm breath running over your face as he breathed out.

“It scares me too,” he said, closing his eyes, his hand reaching out to curl around yours where it rested atop the rock. “My whole life I thought I knew what would happen. I would marry Mandy, I would go work with my father at his business, we’d pop out a couple of kids, and then the rest of life would happen. I’d die in my bed of old age, surrounded by the people that I love having lived a life that anyone would be proud of.”

“And now?” You asked, squeezing his hand. He took a shuddering breath before opening his eyes. You were almost taken aback by how beautiful they were. Swirling shades of sea glass green mixed with darker emerald, a look of pure longing on his face as he stared at you.

“Now, I know that’s not what I want,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be with Mandy. I don’t want to have the pristine, picture perfect family you find in commercials or magazines. I just want you, Skipper. I want you in any way that you’ll have me.”

His eyes were glowing now, the mossy green standing out against the growing darkness of the storm clouds that were rolling in from the sea.

“Your eyes,” you breathed, raising your unoccupied hand to run your fingers across his cheek. “They’re glowing. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.”

Jake nuzzled into the palm of your hand, humming low in his throat as he breathed you in. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a chaste kiss in the center of your palm, and your breath hitched. You shifted, leaning in close enough that your lips hovered just over his. His eyes once again connected with yours, boring into you as if he could see every single part that you kept hidden. Your gaze dropped down to his lips for a brief second before darting back up. Eyes hooded, you leaned in, lips barely grazing his before jumping back as the rain started.

The drops came in a downpour, instantly soaking the two of you as you let out a startled laugh.

“Come on!” Jake grinned, gripping your hand and helping you off the rocks before the two of you sprinted towards his house. You trotted up the steps after him, letting out another peel of breathless laughter as the two of you caught your breath. You looked out at the beach as it continued to pour, a peel of thunder cracking through the roar of the rain. You turned back to look at Jake with a smile, shaking your head.

“The rain didn’t even build up to-”

Jake’s lips were soft on yours, pressing firmly as he cupped your cheek in his hand. You froze, taken by surprise. He pulled back after a second, eyes uncertain as they watched you.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, eyes growing wide with panic. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought after the rocks and you were standing there looking so pretty, I just-”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, and he stiffened for a second before returning it. His hands landed on your waist, backing you up against the pillar by the stairs as his lips moved against yours in a heated bid to feel every part of you. Your own hands moved to tangle in his hair, pulling on the still wet strands gently and earning a groan from him. His tongue traced your lower lip, and you instantly opened up to him, relishing in the feeling of the muscle against your own.

Jake’s grip tightened on your waist before moving his right hand up to grope at your breast, squeezing it with a low groan. You moaned into his mouth, one hand releasing his hair to slide down and grip at his shoulder as you pressed against him. He continued to lick languidly into your mouth, savoring the taste of you and every little sound you made. He pulled away to allow you to breathe, nipping at your bottom lip gently. As you sucked in a lungful of air, he busied himself with pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head to the side to allow him better access, and you felt him smirk against you as his left hand grabbed your thigh to wrap your leg around him. You could feel the hard bulge press against you, and a tingle ran up your spine.

“Jake,” you breathed out, head thrown back as he nipped at your skin, running his tongue over the same spot to soothe the sting. His lips worked lower and lower as you began to roll your hips against his. You let out a strangled cry as his lips connected with the intention mark on your neck, pleasure rippling through your veins as you gripped onto him and ground down harder onto him. Jake nipped at the mark, causing you to let out another cry as your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders through his shirt. You could feel your arousal dripping from you as your mind grew heavy with lust.

Suddenly, Jake pushed away from you, practically throwing himself across the porch. You whined at the loss, brow furrowed in confusion as you took in the state of him. He was panting hard, almost crouched as he gripped the porch railing to steady himself. His eyes were still glowing, brighter than they were previously, but fading in and out as he calmed down.

“Jake,” you murmured, “are you okay?”

“Not like this,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“What are you talking about? Jake, you’re worrying me.”

He looked at you then, taking in your disheveled state as he righted himself. A mixture of regret and longing adorned his face as he spoke.

“I gave that mark to you during a moment of frenzy,” he admitted, gesturing to the bite in question. “I was so scared that you weren’t going to make it, and the frenzy magic was already in overdrive. I gave it to you without thinking, and I’m sorry.”

“Jake,” you said slowly, taking small steps towards him as if you might scare him off otherwise. “I’m not mad about that at all, but why are you suddenly acting this way?”

“Because,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “because I already told you. I want you, Skipper, and I want you to want me back. I want to know that you want me for me and not because of some damn magic that tells us we’re supposed to be together.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing what he was telling you. It was true that you felt a pull towards him that could only be explained by the magic, but it felt so much more than that. Jake was sweet and kind, and he cared for you. He made sure that you were taken care of when you were vulnerable, and he wanted to hear your opinions on things. You did want Jake beyond the magic, but you were more than willing to take the time to prove that to him.

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Can we,” he swallowed thickly, eyes hopeful as they searched you. “Can we take it a little slow? Maybe spend some time alone together?”

“You mean like on dates?” You smiled, standing in front of him now and batting your lashes at him. A grin tugged on the corner of his lips as he looked down at you, giving you a nod.

“Yeah. I want to take you out on a date.”

“Just the one?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, a full-blown grin on his face now.

“Well, I was hoping you’d give me more than just that,” he teased back, leaning into you again. You tapped a finger on your chin thoughtfully.

“I dunno,” you hummed, fighting back the smile that threatened to overtake you. “I guess we’ll just have to see how the first one goes, won’t we?”

“I have full confidence in myself that I’ll be able to convince you of that second date.”

“Come on, Crooner,” you laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the front door. “Let’s get changed before we catch a cold or something.”

About a half hour later, you were dressed in a pair of oversized sweats and an old t-shirt - both belonging to Jake. The two of you were huddled up on the couch underneath a blanket, some random movie thrown on to fill the silence. Your legs were curled under you as you rested against Jake’s side, his arms wrapped around you as you played with his fingers.

“You bit him?” You huffed out a laugh as Jake chuckled. “Why?”

“Because Bradley gets a little big for his britches sometimes,” Jake defended. “He knew I had an interest in you and what we were, and he still pressed his luck. Even with the mark on your neck. ”

“Boys,” you exclaimed with a roll of your eyes. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the movie continued to drone on in the background.

“Jake,” you hummed thoughtfully, “do you regret giving me this mark?”

He stiffened against you, and you chanced a glance up at him. His lips were pressed into a firm line, brow furrowed as he looked at you.

“Absolutely not,” he bit out. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just,” you hesitated, still fidgeting with his fingers as you looked down, “it’s just been one thing after the other since you gave it to me. Am I really worth the trouble?”

“Skipper,” he said firmly, cupping your jaw and making you look at him. “I will never regret you, okay? Even if you decide that this isn’t something you want, I will live the rest of my life knowing that I had the privilege of having you even for a moment.”

His eyes were sincere as they held your gaze, and you suddenly felt silly for doubting him. You nodded, willing the tears that prickled behind your eyes to go away. You sniffed before settling back down against him, basking in the feeling of him stroking a hand through your hair.

“Jake! We can’t find Skipper anywh-”

You jumped as the front door burst open to reveal your friends, Bob at the front of the pack. All of you stared at one another before you raised an eyebrow at them.

“Are you coming in or not?” You snapped, fixing them all with a glare. Jake turned the TV off as the squad filed in, taking seats wherever there was one available. Once everyone was settled, you continued.

“Finally decide on how you’re going to lie to me some more? Whatever you came up with, I sure hope it’s better than the ones you were telling me before.”

The group had the decency to look ashamed. Bob gave you an apologetic look as he faced you from where he sat in one of the recliners.

“We never wanted to lie to you, Y/n,” he explained. “But would you have believed the truth?”

“I might have,” you countered. “You could have at least tried.”

“Would you trust an outsider that you barely knew with a secret like this?” Javy chimed in. He made a good point, and your silence answered for you.

“I wanted to tell you, Skipper,” Bob continued, “but it wasn’t my secret to tell. And with all the stuff between you and Jake, it just seemed like it would be so much to throw at you.”

“I get that,” you conceded, nodding slowly. “But Jake’s already told me most of everything, so no more lying to me, okay? I need to know and be kept in the loop moving forward okay?”

Everyone looked at each other before nodding at you. You gave them a small smile before letting out a relieved breath.

“Good,” you chirped. “Now that that’s settled, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starved.”

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[dearbraus]

Flowers Never Bend with Rainfall⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Wriothesley

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem! reader, mentions of reader wearing a corset, gown and earrings, arranged marriage, original characters; reader has an unnamed family and older sister, nobility and high society's conventions, allusions to gendered familial roles, sfw. ⊹ Run time. 1.3k ⊹ Note. I have had such brainworms for this man since seeing him for the first time. I had to write something but didn't want to get too ahead of myself since we know nothing of him yet sooo I decided to start a new series of drabbles that will follow this plotline, reader, and Wriothesley. You can find it under the tag # flowers never bend and it will eventually be posted to my ao3 as a cohesive story <3

Your sister beams as she gives your appearance another once over. It's the fifth time in the past ten minutes that she’s turned to you with scrutiny in her eyes, adjusting a strand of your hair or smoothing out the crisp neckline of your dress– you must be perfection. Today you’re meeting him, the man your parents sold you to when you were no more than six years old. He had been a boy then too and just as much of an unwilling participant in the whole affair as you had. Perhaps it was cruel to blame him for your misfortunes. At least the two of you had been given the courtesy of a meeting, a single chance to rectify the will of your parents before they made plans to force the two of you down the aisle.

The day after her eighteenth birthday, your older sister had been married. A gaggle of small children soon followed. They made quite the army of troublemakers but she continued to grow round with one every few years because they were just so cute when they were little. She fancied herself a matchmaker and believed that she knew everything there was to know when it came to matters of the heart. But, what did marriage have to do with the heart when it was nothing more than a political arrangement? Your father had made thousands of those in his lifetime and he’d do thousands more by the time by the time his earthly body was returned to the waves.

There was nothing special or romantic about standing in the middle of the lobby at the Hotel Debord being primped and preened over like a porcelain doll. The seafoam-coloured walls make the contents of your stomach curdle uncomfortably though your favourite gown as a child had once been spun off the very same shade. Today you wore pink taffeta topped off with a lace-trimmed neckline and a little white bow placed carefully at your décolletage. It as though your childhood bedroom threw up on your seamstress and out came this dress.

“Did you know that your fiancé is a Duke?” your sister whispers as she ushers you over to one of the plush chairs, “That mean’s he comes from a very wealthy family, mhm, and is a very well respected man.”

The whale-boned corset beneath your dress keeps your spine straight as you sit and still your sister makes a point of pressing your shoulders back before taking her own seat, “Does he have a name?” You ask, placing one delicately gloved hand over the other.

A myriad of people file in and out of the hobby with what appears to be a purpose. You can’t but watch with curious eyes and the childish hope of discerning him from the crowd before he’s able to spot you. Like a flower, you’d wilt beneath his gaze and learn nothing more than the facade people like you and he were taught to wear like a second skin. Instead, you’re met with swishing skirts that ooze refinement and galloping pups in gaudy costumes. There is little to be gained from people watching carbon copies that chased the latest trends as if that would appease their archon.

“Wriothesley,” Your sister states as if the answer should be obvious to you.

The name hardly strikes a chord of recognition within you, you may have heard it in passing years ago but no new memories surface as you search for an inkling of familiarity. It was futile, your days within the court were limited as you much preferred the solace of your family's countryside estate. The quiet was nice. With no nightmare-inducing machinations to tower over you. The servants were friendly too and even with the tendrils of gossip that filled their quarters, they never seemed to judge you too harshly for having the privilege to shirk societal expectations.

“Does he have a surname?” Focusing your eyes on the ornate glass chandeliers that swing with each gentle breeze pushed in through the ever-revolving doors, you quell your growing need for some tangible information into a dismissive interest, “Or shall I just be known as the lady duke?”

Your sister's gaze is sharp as is how quickly she turns her head to face you, “Come now, you know it is inappropriate to make such comments,” She smiles at a passing stranger, and they smile back, “He is a good man, that much I know.”

Despite the sunny disposition that is quick to replace her annoyed expression, you can feel your sister’s ire simmering within her gaze. Light splinters from the artfully crafted crystalline chunks and dances along the slick tiled ground. The sight of it makes you dizzy but you enjoy the head rush as you settle your focus onto the reflective floor. A gloved and idle hand comes up to twirl the dangly earrings that weigh heavy on your lobes, smoothing your thumb against the drop pearl.

“How can you be certain that he is a good man if you do not even know his family’s name?”

It’s difficult to stifle the giggle that rises to your lips when she glares at you. You found in that moment that it was good she had not been blessed with a cryo vision because it would pale in comparison to the chill that settled over the table.

“If you were so curious perhaps you should have asked father,” she gritted out, “I am just here to ensure that you do not embarrass yourself in front of Wriothesley.”

“How kind of you dear sister,” you grin the way she hates, showing her all of your teeth, “Surely I could not know how to talk to a man at my advanced age of twenty-two without your steadfast guidance.”

“It is a wonder why Mother and father chose you for the duke and not I,” your sister muttered beneath her breath, hoping you did not hear her.

Green was an ugly shade on your sister but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. It was human nature and adults were far more like children than they liked to believe, coveting toys that didn’t belong to them.

Though, her ego would balloon to be ten times the size of her body should you ever dare to admit that you wished your parents had chosen her for their political gain and not you. You weren’t well suited for the things you supposed this Wriothesley would expect of you. Most days you spent more time with your nose buried in long-forgotten tomes than you did in etiquette lessons. Those were important, your mother once said, a man of such status had much social responsibility and as his wife, so would you. 

“What time did Father say we may expect his grace to grace us with his presence?”

If the two of you were at home, she might have snarled at you, “I do not find you amusing!”

A well-dressed man carrying a shiny silver platter approached the table. If he heard your bickering, he chose not to comment on it, “Your tea has arrived, ladies.”

“Sir, I fear you are mistaken” you stated, your voice growing timid as he began to unload the contents of the tray into your table, “We did not order any tea.”

“No, but he did.”

The “he” in question was an imposing man who hovered behind the waiter. Neither of you had noticed but your sister began to smile demure at him the moment she took notice of his presence. The first thing you noticed was the glinting silver handcuffs that hung off his belt like a warning and then the metal-clad fingerless gloves. The chains and chunks of alloy made the deep red tie he wore look silly and out of place but his keen, pale eyes made you shrink in your seat as they slid over your visage.

“May I present to you his grace, the Duke Wriothesley.”

Oh.

So this was the man your family intended for you to marry.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.  

[torukmaktoskxawng]

'anla - part four

part one, part two, part three

Summary: The Sully Family is trying to work around their grief and Ao'nung learns that family doesn't always have to be by blood. It can be by choice.

Pairing: Ao'nung/Fem!Na'vi!Sully Reader

Warnings: Mature language, time skips, HEAVY angst, depression, older sibling syndrome, mentions of death, canon typical violence, canon compliance, slow burn, etc.

Word Count: 5k+

Tag: #'anla ao'nung fic

Na'vi Words: nivi - hammock, olo'eyktan - clan leader, tulkun - whale like animal, Sänrr Rong - Glow Tunnel, marui - home, ikran - Mountain Banshee, pa'li - direhorse, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, kuru - queue braid, tsahik - spiritual leader, kalweyaveng - son of a bitch

posted on ao3

Taglist (red indicates "could not tag"): @bangtanxberm @aonungmyaddiction @lv9su @aisselasstuff @yourusername1 @amortencjja @king-julian6201 @gg-trini @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @mikeyswifie @heart-an0n

A/N: 200 followers?! When did that happen? Thank you so much for the support of this series and for all the requests! Here's the next part of the series in celebration! 🍾 ✨️ 🎉

Going through the motions.

That's what Y/n ended up doing since the day her twin brother was murdered by the Sky People. She would wake up and not feel as though she was actually awake. Mostly it still felt like some sort of bad dream and she somehow couldn't open her eyes. She moved around and did everything she was supposed to, but mostly it was like she was on autopilot.

Losing Neteyam took a toll on everyone in her family along with the people around them. At the funeral, they all had a role and took part in letting his body go, even Spider, who had been rescued from the Sky People in the chaos of losing Neteyam. Y/n didn't even realize Spider was living among them again until the next day after she had passed out from screaming and crying to her dead brother. He and Kiri were sitting beside her nivi and the human boy even offered her water for her aching throat.

After that, Y/n couldn't remember much, she just let her body lead her. As mentioned before, she was just going through the motions. Everyone around her could agree that she was just a walking shell, eating when she needed to, sleeping when she had to, and doing her chores, and other daily duties around the village. Her expression had become stone, even during her brother's funeral. It was as though she didn't have any more tears left to shed and her chest felt hollow.

The Sully family mourned for a week and even longer once Jake got reassurances from both Tonowari and Ronal. To everyone's eyes, the Sullys were Metkayina now and they were being allowed to stay forever, as part of the People. The Sully kids wanted to feel proud, but instead, it felt bitter and more like guilt. To Y/n, her acceptance into this new clan didn't mean anything. Not anymore. It didn't make her feel anything other than that empty hole in her chest. Physically, there wasn't a hole, but mentally, up in Y/n's head, she had a hole in her chest that was bleeding out and it was the same size as the bullet hole left in her twin.

It took a while, but eventually, the Sully kids reverted to something resembling normal. Yes, they were still grieving, but now they moved around, helped out in the village, and went back into the water. Lo'ak, Kiri, and Tuk have found themselves playing again, and this time, they're showing Spider around and dragging him everywhere, despite the stares and whispers.

Y/n goes with her siblings everywhere, but she doesn't play or explore. Instead, she keeps watch. She had definitely unsettled many of the Metkayina, walking behind her group of siblings, carrying a bow and arrows in both of her arms, scaring people away with just one glance. She brought her weapons everywhere now, never being seen without them. She couldn't afford not to have them again. It was hard for anyone to believe that she was just fifteen years old, with the way she held herself and hovered over her family members, her yellow eyes watching them like a hawk. While they played in the water, the Sully kids could rely on their big sister to watch over them. She was always near, sitting on some rocks, high above her siblings so that she could see everything that comes within a hundred feet of them. Her brother and sisters could always rely on her to be a constant presence, even if she didn't appear to be all in her right mind.

There was also an unexpected constant presence beside Y/n when she was like this, and that presence was Ao'nung. Whenever he could, the reef boy would be beside the former Omatikaya girl. Y/n was so used to being Neteyam's shadow, she never realized that she had one of her own. Ao'nung refused to leave her alone, ever, especially if he knows that she wanted to be left to her thoughts. He wasn't sure what was going on in her head, but something dark and terrifying in his gut told them that whatever demons she had, she shouldn't be left alone with. So, he remained steady and strong, like a cliff against a mighty storm. Unmoveable and calm, Ao'nung became Y/n's silent shadow wherever she went.

It wasn't much of a challenge, especially since Y/n barely goes anywhere. She follows her siblings around during the day and that was it, otherwise, she was with the entire village for communal meals and then with her family to sleep for the night. The meals and slumber were the only things Ao'nung had to part himself from Y/n, but otherwise, he remained stuck to her hip, whether she wanted him to or not. Their routine was simple and nearly everyone in the village knew it. It wouldn't be difficult to locate the two young Na'vi even if they were sought after. Ao'nung would sit beside Y/n every afternoon, on the rock where she kept watch over her siblings as they played in the water. The reef boy never complained about never being able to join in on the fun. Other people did plenty of that for him, however. The boys that had bullied Kiri, the ones Ao'nung had dropped, thought they would be doing him a favor by antagonizing Y/n when they swam by on their ilu one day, ready to go for a hunt. Wanting Ao'nung to come with them, they jokingly asked Y/n if they could borrow her shadow for the afternoon, promising to bring him back in one piece. When that didn't draw the reaction they wanted out of her, the jerks tried other methods such as manipulation, telling her that she didn't need Ao'nung and that he was his own person and doesn't need to be bored all day long for her sake.

Ao'nung snapped, the waves crashing against the rock cliff and breaking it down. He shouted at his former friends and told them some very unsavory things about their mothers and, if he were olo'eyktan, how he would punish them for their dishonorable behavior. For now, that appeared to scare those assholes away, but Ao'nung was certain they would go crying to their mothers, who would then proceed to tell his mother. That night, Ao'nung had prepared himself to go home and receive the brewing storm that was Ronal, who expectedly lectured him about how a chief's son properly acts.

It was worth it in his eyes if the way Neytiri looked at him had anything to say about it. The Sully mother was intimidating, to be sure, but when she looked at Ao'nung, he wasn't entirely frightened. She stared at him as if she was calculating, observing, anything but trying to find ways to kill him in his sleep. Tsireya was unable to sleep one night and told her brother how horrifying it was to watch Neytiri slip into some kind of wild animal the day Neteyam died, and at first, Ao'nung couldn't believe it. But he knew she was a protective mother, who would kill for her kids, just from the way she looked at people. Even Ao'nung's father knows better than to look Neytiri te Suli née te Tskaha Mo'at'ite in the eyes.

So Ao'nung continues to sit with Y/n and to fill in the silence, he would tell her about his day or relay a story he once heard or experienced. He wanted to tell her more stories about his Spirit Brother but decided against it. A part of him knew that if he talked about the tulkun, Y/n would be reminded of Payakan, and then she would remember the tragic day when her family lost her brother. He doesn't ask her if this would upset her, but somehow he knew it would. He doesn't really ask her much of anything. It's not like he's assuming what she'll think, it's more like he somehow knows it already. Somehow, he knows her.

He never outright asks her if she's alright or if she needs someone to talk to. Ao'nung wasn't like that. He wasn't his sister who is open and unashamed. He had his own way of asking those questions.

"Do you wanna go to Sänrr Rong?"

At the end of each of his stories or daily briefs, he always asked her the same question. It was his way of asking her if she wanted to get away so she could freely talk about whatever she wanted. He was offering a way out and somehow, she knew it but didn't ever take him up on his offer. Every time he asked her the same question, she gives him the same answer, "No."

"Okay," was always his reply.

~~~~~~~~~

The only time Y/n wasn't looking after her siblings was when she left her siblings to her parents for the evening. After dinner, the Sullys would return home and settle down for the night, and when they returned home, Y/n would grab her bow and leave for a few hours to find time to herself. It wasn't like Jake and Neytiri asked her to watch Lo'ak and the girls, but Y/n did so willingly, without complaint, and would only leave her siblings alone if one or both parents were around to keep them safe.

Neytiri understood that as a teenager, Y/n needed to have time to herself, but not at such a late hour and away from the village, "Y/n, please stay with us. Stay with Mama."

It felt like a constant battle every time Y/n moved to leave the marui but every time, the girl remained victorious and always escaped into the night. Through their grief, Jake and Neytiri lost the will to fight her and granted their eldest daughter more freedom than before. They knew she was grieving in her own way and they needed to let her do so, but as parents who had just lost a child, sometimes it was hard to let them out of their sight.

Y/n needed to be alone. She needed to have her space. She could only listen to her mother tearfully sing Neteyam's songcord for so long. Technically, it was Y/n's song, too. The twins had shared at least the first three beads on their respective cords, signifying the first three milestones of their lives. The first verse and chorus of their songs were the same, only branching out in their separate, unique melodies after the first communion with Eywa. Listening to Neytiri sing the same song that was meant for both Y/n and Neteyam would drive the young girl up the wall, both in anger and sadness, but she couldn't bring herself to tell her mother that. She didn't want to stop her mother's way of grieving for the sake of being comfortable.

Y/n would look away and speak in the smallest voice, "... I can't."

She would leave for a few hours but always came home when she knew her family had settled down to sleep, doing this on purpose so they wouldn't talk to her. Neytiri always stayed awake, however, and therefore Jake stayed awake. To avoid waking their other children, however, they don't lecture Y/n when she got home. They always flashed her disappointed or pitying looks, but otherwise, let her find her own hammock and go to sleep.

Neytiri had tried to be her daughter's shoulder, lending her ear along with her gentle voice, "I was around your age when I lost my sister."

And Jake had tried to be his daughter's rock, placing a firm, comforting hand on the top of her head for reassurance, "And I lost my brother. We know how you feel, sweetheart. We're here when you're ready to talk."

She would only shake her head, "There's nothing to talk about."

~~~~~~~~~

Lo'ak feels guilt and regret for a lot of things. He regrets dragging his siblings into rescuing Payakan when it should have just been him. He regrets forcing Neteyam to help save Spider when he could've done it alone. He regrets not going back for his sisters when he had the chance to do so. He regrets freezing, in shock, and unable to move while his sisters were scared and tied up on the ship. He regrets letting Neteyam take the gun from him... maybe if he had kept it, they would've shot him instead...

Maybe Y/n wouldn't hate him so much then. His big sister barely spoke to anyone, least of all him. Lo'ak can barely get Y/n to look at him much less say a few words. With Kiri and Tuk, it's a little different. The three sisters all seem to communicate without ever vocalizing to one another, a form of communication that Lo'ak greatly resented. It only made him feel more alone, the only brother left... Well, except for Spider. The human boy is older than Lo'ak but doesn't act like it, the complete opposite of Neteyam in that aspect, along with physicality. Lo'ak appreciated Spider in many ways and does see him as a brother, but not an older brother. Not someone he could look up to.

Which is why he couldn't stand Y/n hating him any longer. One night, after she slipped away to be alone with her bow in hand, Lo'ak pleaded with his parents to let him go after her. He never vocally asked, instead using those big eyes and droopy ears to his advantage. Jake only looked away while Neytiri gave in, softly telling her last remaining son, "Go bring back your sister."

He ran after her, being sure to let her know he was following her with loud footsteps so as not to scare her. After all, he's seen her archery skills before. He knows his sister doesn't miss. Y/n didn't appear bothered by her little brother tagging along, the two running through the forest together until they came across the rookery in which their family's ikran had found their homes. It was a clearing of trees with a waterfall leading up to small cliffs of rock and bits of floating boulders. They weren't mountains and it wasn't as impressive as the rookery back home, but it did its purpose to housing the banshees. Y/n strung her bow over her shoulder and climbed up with Lo'ak close behind. They climbed to the very top of the waterfall where they were greeted by the ikran.

Y/n moved to greet Evi, trailing her hand down the strong neck of her dear friend as Lo'ak climbed over the ledge. For a moment, the siblings remain quiet as Lo'ak greets his ikran, a pissy beast who has been feeling neglected as of late. While Lo'ak provides him with treats to make up for it, the words come tumbling out of his mouth.

"Please don't be mad at me anymore."

Y/n's head tilts, curious, before turning to face her brother. Lo'ak couldn't bring himself to look back at her as she finally spoke to him, "Why would I be mad at you?"

He winced at the sound of her voice. It was different. After she had screamed her lungs out that fateful day, she hadn't spoken very much since. Either it was still the same voice and Lo'ak just hadn't heard it in a while, or it had changed, making the guilt continue to eat him from the inside out. His hands shook whilst he stared down at them, his blurring vision reminding him of the blood he had been forced to scrub off once upon a time, "Because it was my fault. My... fault..."

Y/n's ears drop, her tail lowering in distress. Her heart clenched painfully as she took a step toward her brother, "No. No, Lo'ak--"

"He's dead because of me." He blurted out.

"That's not true--"

"And I never got to... I should've said..."

She finally reached Lo'ak and pulled him by the shoulder, forcing him to turn and stand directly in front of her. Both of Y/n's hands squeeze his shoulders comfortably, gently whispering to him as if they were sharing a secret, "Tell me."

The tears were beginning to fall, and Lo'ak didn't have the strength to stop them, "The last thing I told him before everything went to shit... I said that Payakan was my brother and he needed my help. I told my own brother to his face that someone else mattered more to me than him! That he wasn't my brother--"

Y/n's face was not free of tears this time, her heart breaking all over but not just for Neteyam. Her heart broke for Lo'ak, too, her baby brother who thinks he screws up everything he touches and blames himself for everything that's happened to their family. Y/n reached up for that stray braid Lo'ak keeps free from his hair band, running her thumb over one of the beads Tuk had gifted him as she spoke, "You didn't mean it, Lo'ak. I know it, and 'Teyam did, too."

His entire body shook, and eventually, she coached him into leaning into her for support. It was by no means a hug. Lately, Lo'ak had been acting too grown up for that sort of thing, but Y/n will take whatever she can get. He leans his forehead on her shoulder and cries, shaking like a newborn pa'li while her arms envelop him, despite how he kept his arms to his sides.

They weren't out of the woods yet. Their family still had a long way to go before they feel as though they will survive this pain. But at least it was a start.

~~~~~~~~~

After realizing that her silence was making her siblings believe she hated them, Y/n tries to do better after her talk with Lo'ak. Speaking normally would be difficult for her and for the majority of the time it was uncomfortable, but she was eventually starting to work herself up to feeling somewhat normal again, starting with her sarcasm.

Slowly, day by day, her sarcasm returned, and she even made a sarcastic comment that got Spider to laugh. Ao'nung was there as well, wanting to feel at least relieved that Y/n was slowly coming back, but something stopped him from doing so. It was the way Spider laughed that made his skin prick uncomfortably. He didn't like the sky demon boy, that was clear to see. Even though Tsireya and even his parents warmed up to Spider, Ao'nung was not an easy feat. He had taken a while to accept Na'vi and demon hybrids, so trying to accept an actual Sky Person would be even more difficult, maybe even impossible as Ao'nung watched how Y/n and Spider would interact.

Anger often flared up in his chest whenever he saw the two together. Spider was always beaming a bright smile up at Y/n behind his strange little glass bubble of air, talking adamantly to her even when she wasn't in a talking mood. What bothered Ao'nung, even more, was the fact that Y/n didn't seem to mind Spider's presence. In fact, she gladly welcomed it. What was once red flaring up in Ao'nung's eyes was now green with envy, and the green wasn't a good look on him. His hands began to twitch whenever Spider was in the vicinity, or whenever the human was around Y/n. Ao'nung needed to do something with his hands, and unfortunately, when he finally lashed out, it was a mess.

Y/n came running to the sound of yelps and grunts of pain, someone snarling and hissing along with the familiar sound of fists being thrown. It was like being sent back in time, watching Lo'ak and Ao'nung fight in the sand. The forest girl easily broke the fight up and looked around with annoyance in her eyes while staring down at her brother and her friend.

"What's going on?"

"Ao'nung hit Spider!" Lo'ak spat out.

She took a moment to find Spider's gaze, the teenaged human looking a little frightened but otherwise unharmed. He was clutching his mask tightly around his face, however, so Y/n put the puzzle pieces together to realize what had happened. She examines Spider and his mask first, poking around at the oxygen tank attached to it before turning to the reef boy responsible, "Ao'nung?"

Ao'nung was sporting another bruise on his face along with blood on his lips. His ears darkened a shade, but otherwise stood his ground as he mumbled, "He said he knows what's best for you."

"What?" Lo'ak hissed, scandalized, "Bro, he didn't say that!"

Y/n held a hand out to Lo'ak and he quieted down. When her eyes found Spider, he knew that it was his turn to explain, "I only said I've known you a long time, Y/n, I swear."

She nods and turns back to the Metkayina, "Ao'nung. Did he really say that word for word?"

Ao'nung wished he could remember exactly what had been said before the fight, but it was all a blur. His memory was easily blinded by rage, and he could only remember bits and pieces of his conversation with Lo'ak as they fished on the shore before Spider had shown up. All the same, he realized that what he thought had happened wasn't exactly true, regardless of what he remembered, "... No."

Her expression was blank, a stone wall that has become her natural reaction to everything now, "So you assumed."

"... Yes."

She nods, side-eyeing the reef boy with a look of disappointment. It was cold and impassive, much like how she used to look at him before they became friends, and that honestly terrified him. She tilted her chin back in the direction of the village, "Ao'nung. Go cool off. And for the time being, leave me and my brothers alone."

Brothers. One word and Ao'nung quickly realized how blind he had been, how foolish he looked. As Lo'ak and Spider left, he watched the way Y/n gently held the back of Spider's head when the human teenager walked past her. It was like a splash of cold water ran down Ao'nung's back, the ghost of Neteyam's memory following Y/n's simple movements and love language toward her siblings, alien and Na'vi alike. She spared one last glance at Ao'nung before she, too, walked away. Ao'nung growled to himself, wishing he had something else to hit to release that foolish energy. Of course, Spider was her brother. It was foolish of Ao'nung to assume otherwise after everything the Sully children had been through. Tsireya had been the one to tell her brother about Spider even when he didn't want to know. She told him how Spider grew up alongside the Sully kids, how they used to play together all the time and learned how to hunt together as they got older. Even though Spider wasn't able to ride an ikran or finish his Iknimaya without the means of contacting Eywa with a kuru, his fellow Na'vi friends still treated him like one of their own and included him in everything, against their mother's wishes. Ao'nung heard about the events that happened on the demon ship, how Neteyam saved Tsireya, Tuk, and Lo'ak, but stayed behind with his brother to save Spider. It was clear to everyone how much Spider meant to the Sullys, enough to risk their own lives for him, which is why everyone except Ao'nung got the message to leave him alone.

He went home and it didn't take long before word spread -yet again- and Jake Sully informed Ao'nung's parents about what happened. The olo'eyktan and tsahik were furious with their son, lecturing him about his behavior and why what he did was wrong, "Toruk Makto recognizes the demon boy as his own. The Sully family has adopted him as their son and brother. Despite your differences, you must learn to respect him as you should respect the Sullys."

They make him go apologize, but they didn't have to. Ao'nung wasn't going to fight them to defend his wrongdoings. He accepted his punishment and went to find Spider the next morning after everyone had time to cool off. Spider was happily climbing the atoll walls leading out to the open ocean while Lo'ak, Y/n, and some of the older reef kids went hunting. As Ao'nung's punishment, he wasn't allowed to hunt for a few weeks, so he was able to catch the human boy alone without anyone around, which is how Ao'nung preferred to apologize in his walk of shame.

Ao'nung settled into a crouching position beside Spider after the human teen took a break, sitting on the very top of the sea wall. Ao'nung couldn't afford to look at him as he apologized, "Sorry I hit you."

Spider only shrugged, leaning his weight on both hands bracing him from behind, "All good, man."

Ao'nung whipped his head up in the sky demon's direction, confused as he reiterated, "It's not all good. Y/n is still mad at me."

Which was true. Y/n was openly avoiding Ao'nung at dinner the night before and that morning. Once upon a time, Ao'nung was her shadow, but today, she refused to accept one. Spider shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his swinging feet that dangled off the edge of the wall, "Yeah, well... She's mad at you because she was picturing what could've happened. I mean, technically you could've killed me if you hit my mask just right."

Ao'nung's spine stiffens, "What?"

"My mask? Ya know, the thing that helps me breathe?" Spider stares at Ao'nung curiously while tapping the glass of his exo pack. When Ao'nung only stares back with a conflicted expression, he explains his question, "Sky People can't breathe this air without help. That's what these are for."

It was like a splash of cold water was running down his back as Ao'nung berates himself under his breath, "Kalweyaveng. I didn't know. You and Y/n must think I'm some sort of monster--"

"You didn't know, cuz. As for Y/n, she likely realizes that, too. You just scared her is all. She's scared of losing another big brother."

Ao'nung couldn't help the smirk on his face as he peered back over to the other boy, "Big?"

"Shut up. Not what I meant." The boy rolled his eyes, "I'm still older."

That was news to Ao'nung, and the thought of Neteyam sobered him up, "I didn't know."

"That's fair," it's not like it was obvious, given the size difference and separate species. Spider has been misinterpreted as the youngest of the group for a while. It doesn't help that Little Tuk is catching up to him at just seven years old. He tries not to let it bother him, but he could see why Ao'nung felt like shit messing around with him if all he saw was a demon baby, "It was a mistake and Y/n knows that. She just needs to cool off a bit."

Ao'nung tries not to feel hopeful at Spider's words, so he tries not to talk about it and ask questions. It's what his sister would do, and he was trying to be friendly, "So what happens if your mask breaks?"

"I have friends in the Omatikaya clan who might fly out here soon to give me spares."

"Do you plan on staying then?"

"Yeah..." Spider's sudden nonchalant attitude melted into nerves, cautiously watching the reef boy out of the corner of his eye, "That okay?"

"Yeah." Ao'nung doesn't think before answering, but he doesn't regret it and it feels as though a calm wave is blanketed over him, extinguishing whatever ugly emotions he held toward the human boy before, "I think so."

Spider grinned, "Cool."

~~~~~~~~~

Kiri offered to bring Y/n and Tuk with her when Tsireya and Ronal invited her for tsahik training. Kiri was obviously missing that part of her life and was excited to go, therefore Tuk was excited, too. Y/n... not so much, but not that she would show it. She just smiled and told her sisters to have fun. The girls left around the same Lo'ak went out hunting with Ao'nung and Rotxo. With her parents also out of the hut for their daily routines, that left Y/n with Spider, and the two of them decide to stay indoors and weave a few baskets. Spider also wanted to add a couple of beads to his songcord, so Y/n helped him out with it. They worked in silence and Y/n took note of the beads Spider was adding to the cord. She had a feeling what they signified but didn't have the heart to ask. Likely, they were to represent the loss of Neteyam and Spider's adoption into the family.

The thought made her throat swell and she was forced to cough in her arm. Y/n had yet to add to her songcord since her brother's death. She had plenty of other moments of her life she could add, like joining the Metkayina clan, but she knew, eventually, she'd have to add a bead for Neteyam and a bead for Spider. She already had some options picked out, like a bead she had taken from Neteyam's braid before his funeral. As for Spider, she was juggling between finding a shell or a rock in the area where the battle with the Sky People took place as a way of his returning to the family.

While her storming thoughts were brewing, Spider had a few thoughts of his own that he wanted to openly share, "You don't have to avoid your friend for my sake, ya know."

Her eyebrows scrunch as she bore a pouting frown when she peered up at him from her work on his songcord, "Your sake?"

"I don't think he meant any harm."

"Harm? I don't think you would be saying this if you knew how he treated Kiri when we first got here."

Spider paused, squinting his eyes in confusion, "But... doesn't Kiri like him? I thought she told me he's actually nice."

"Perhaps that was Kiri just being nice," Y/n rolled her eyes.

"He seems nice to Tuk."

"That's different. It's Tuk."

"Aside from when Ao'nung hit me, he and Lo'ak get along."

"Just because he's nice to us doesn't mean he can go around and be cruel to you."

"He was being protective of you, Y/n. In his eyes, I'm just an alien who thinks they know you but not really."

"He hit you."

Spider shrugged, albeit a little bashful, "Yeah, but I'm okay."

Y/n didn't think any of this was 'okay' and it frustrated her to think Spider didn't feel the same. He always brushed things off like they didn't matter-- like he didn't matter. Kiri was always bothered by it and Y/n wished she had stood up for Spider the way her sister did their whole lives. Y/n wanted to blame herself, but a resenting part of her knew the blame was her mother's. Neytiri had always been so cold toward the human boy, even when he was so young and innocent. And yet, he never said a bad thing about her and always respected her wishes. Even if he only did so to make sure he could continue to hang out with the kids, he still respected her far more than she respected him.

Y/n loved, respected, and even admired her mother, but sometimes, the child doesn't wish to be like their parent. Y/n reached over and grasped Spider's shoulder, "What if he broke your mask? What would have happened then? You don't have a spare, Spider. You could've died."

"But I'm okay. See? I'm fine."

"But what if--"

"No more 'what ifs.' It didn't happen, Y/n," he reached out and grabbed her shoulder as well, smiling softly, "So just leave it be. Ao'nung didn't know better, and he clearly feels terrible for what he did. If you're worried that you'll offend me if you forgive him, don't be."

Y/n looked away, still appearing unsure of his words, so Spider continued, "Did he tell you he apologized?"

She peered up, eyes wide as she subtly shook her head. Spider huffed a small laugh, "I guess he wouldn't have been able to, seeing as you've been avoiding him."

Her ears droop in shame, looking back down at her fingers while they fuss with Spider's songcord. Spider settled back down beside her to help, but realistically he's never been good at the crafting part of jewelry, "He feels guilty and even called himself a monster. I said I forgave him, but he still feels ashamed because you're still mad at him. He actually seems like a pretty cool dude and he really respects you. Just give him a chance?"

~~~~~~~~~

It was like earning the trust of a stray cat. Jake personally hasn't seen one in a while, but watching the way Ao'nung tried gaining his daughter's trust again, he was reminded of stray cats back on Earth. Jake faintly remembers an old lady who used to live across the street from his shitty apartment. She would leave out food for the strays and over time, would gain their trust and they would let her pet them or take them into her home.

Watching this was no different. The Sully family was interacting at the communal meal that night, among the villagers. Jake and Neytiri stayed close along with Tuk, the young girl was tired and slowly falling asleep in her mother's arms after playing all day. Jake had kept a tally of where each of his teenagers was currently at, and thankfully he didn't have to look very far for each of them. For the most part, they had stayed close together. Lo'ak, Spider, and Kiri have huddled around with Tsireya and Rotxo, laughing and occasionally tossing food at one another, using their own plates made from tree bark as shields from the onslaught. Y/n was sitting next to the group of teens but was far enough away so she wasn't involved in the food fight. She silently sat alone, picking at her food. Jake didn't miss the way she'd politely wave someone away if they tried sitting next to her. She was purposely keeping that spot open and her father didn't know for who until he had spotted Ao'nung out of the corner of his eye.

The chief's son definitely looked forlorn, keeping to himself with his plate full to the brim of food in hand. Ao'nung was keeping an eye on Y/n the whole time he slowly made his way around crowds to reach her. He would pause every time she looked his way, wait as she analyzed him, then continue slowly approaching her when she looked down at her food. She clearly knew where he was at all times and Ao'nung was intentionally letting her know, like he was afraid of spooking her. Eventually, he was close enough to be standing over her as she ate but Y/n made no sign of acknowledging him, despite the fact she knew he was there when Jake watched her tail gently thump against Ao'nung's leg. The boy clearly took that as a good sign and slowly sat down in the empty spot Y/n had left open for him. He crossed his legs, being sure not to touch and to give her some space. There was a beat of silence between them, both teens looking in opposite directions of each other before Ao'nung subtly slid his plate of food closer to Y/n.

An offering was made, and Y/n clocked the food with her eyes before she slowly glance back to Ao'nung. To Jake's amazement, he watched the way her lips slowly curled into a timid, shy smile, as if testing some boundary. Ao'nung gladly smiled back, and the two teens began to melt and fall into a small conversation as they ate together, sharing food and catching up like old friends.

Jake couldn't help but feel somewhat troubled by this, tapping his wife's elbow to get her attention, "I thought we would have to worry about that boy mistreating the kids."

Neytiri followed his gaze and watched Ao'nung and Y/n for a moment before returning her eyes to Jake, confused, "Yes?"

"Now I think we're gonna have to worry about him being too nice to Y/n."

A/N: So now that I'm writing more chapters than I originally thought (that's a good thing 'cause I have so many ideas for this series) I have made an 'anla series masterlist!

Neytiri's eyes widen at the dawning realization before smiling brightly, a look her mate had not seen in quite some time as she fondly cooed at him, "Oh, Ma Jake."

Thanks again for 200 followers! Part 5 is already in the works and I'll release the date soon 💖

[ladymarycrawley]

Like father, like daughter - John Stones

Not requested but I've been woking on this piece for a while so there you go 💕 and dad! John is a weakness of mine so yeah (and it's quite long). Feel like dedicating this to queen herself @footballffbarbiex 🤍

Warning: pregnancy

Tag list: @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @chelsealover, @masonxomount, @kathb59 (cause she was eager to read it)

Pregnancy is seen in the collective consciousness as a blessed time, where a new life is growing inside of a woman’s body and everything seems good but most people only see the pleasurable side of it, ignoring all the cons these nine long months carry with them.

Of course there’s physical pain (back pain, swollen feet, morning sickness just to mention a few), that’s something concrete everybody can see. What’s more painful it’s the hidden part of this journey, the one that takes place in women’s head: embarking on such a massive change might be scary and sometimes fear overlaps with the joy of welcoming a new human being, overcoming it most of the time.

The most common worry is about not being ready enough to become a parent (as it’s the hardest job a person can do) followed by the difficulty of giving birth: how is it going to be? What will I do if something wrong happens? Will it be as painful as they make it seem in films? 

All of this has an impact on mental health and stability, as all these fears may take a toll on a person’s mind and rely on the most disparate stimuli to give life to the most random scenarios…

"John I'm so scared"

"Of what?"

"There's people who like pregnant women but not in a good sense…"

"In what sense?"

"Like they find them hot and have a fetish for them, that's scary"

That what can be defined as one of the random scenarios mentioned above: that afternoon you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone to stumble upon an article about the most unusual fetishes and you happened to read about people who had the pregnancy kink.

"So what?"

"That's gross and what if these people steal my pics and do vile things with them?"

Your head started spiralling in panic as your hormones and your unstable state of mind was totally controlling you. Too many thoughts in that overworking brain of yours culminated in desperate tears rolling down your face. 

"Your pics are safe and you look so sexy"

"I don't, this thing is insanely big and…and the other day you called me whale" You confessed to him as sobs were making you shake.

"Affectionately though, I'd never call you a whale to insult you…" He wrapped his arms around your waist "You're the sexiest, most beautiful whale ever" John whispered with a husky voice right into your neck

"You're fake, you're just mean"

"I'm not mean!"

The sobs were getting harder and your boyfriend knew the breakdown was getting serious.

"You'll leave me for some beautiful, hotter woman that'll give you no problems and you'll be cheating on me and I'll end up as a single mother and -"

"Hold on, hold on. Calm down and take a deep breath" John tried to calm you, stressing those encouraging words and trying to take deep breaths with you as to show you the priorities you should have considered. 

"You're overthinking"

"What if something goes wrong? What if the birth doesn't go as planned? What if our baby -"

"Calm down"

"I've read a lot of stories of mums that had horrible experiences while giving birth to their babies and what if one of us dies?"

John blurted out his eyes in shock as fear and worry covered his perfect face as well.

"Don't even think about it. We're following literally what the doctor told us, I'm sure they'll do whatever it's in their power for your safety"

Your baby kicked in that moment, as if your worry suddenly became her own and she felt the urge to calm you down, coming to the aid of her dad.

You gulped and brought your hand to your belly as John’s eyes never lost sight of you.

He’d never lost sight of you, not even when you went through labour and you were holding his hand so tightly while following the midwife’s instructions, trying to coordinate your pushes with the deep breaths she was asking you to take.

You were trying not to think about all the fears that piled up during those months but it was so hard when all the contractions trampled over you so violently. He stayed there even when you were squeezing his hand so hard your nails dug into his skin, almost piercing it. 

He was the antidote to all your nightmares: someone who stayed there with you, holding your hand through thick and thin.

John only left at nightfall and only after you insisted for him to go back home to sleep on a proper bed.

You were feeling like a done and dusted whale, all bloated and tired while he was there looking so fine, surely fresh out of the shower as the unmistakable scent of his aftershave tickled your nostrils.

The sight of him entering what had been your room for the last two days made your heart swell and the butterflies in your stomach soar.

The tiredness painted across your face as well as your swollen eyes made your freshly woken up expression evident and John couldn’t help but smile as your tired smile welcomed him.

"Hi"

"Good morning"

He closed the door behind him, approaching your bed and looking at the small crib where your tiny baby girl was sleeping.

"How are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Yep…slept a couple more hours"

"Good" He muttered while pressing his lips to your forehead.

"And how is she?"

Both your glances fell on the product of your love that was so small she could easily fit in one of John's large hands and looked so cute in her blush pink bodysuit, stretching her little legs as she was probably busy dreaming something. 

"She seems fine, we can't wait to go back home"

"I know…they said you would be good to go today"

"Yeah but they want to check in on us for a final check and then we can go"

"Okay" John was a bit disappointed he couldn't take his ladies with him and leave the hospital right away so he reluctantly nodded and got up to take you something to eat for breakfast. 

"I want a giant chocolate croissant"

"And a giant cappuccino as well?" He asked with a smirk, knowing full well your taste when it came to what to have for the most important meal of the day.

"You know me so well" You exclaimed, happy with those small things that weren't small at all in your eyes; they meant the world to you as him and your baby were now your whole world too.

John smiled, a blush pink tint colouring his cheeks and lowered himself over your seated figure, balancing himself on the mattress with his hands, his lips busy pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"See? Everything went well, you're both doing great" He whispered, referring to your fear of something potentially going wrong during the birth, your biggest fear.

You smiled back at him, watery eyes full of weariness and emotions looked up at him as you moved your head to the side to press a tender kiss to his hand that was soothingly caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much. Both of you”

“I love you more”

That sweet moment was interrupted by a nurse who knocked on your room’s door to check in on you and Iris, as it was time for the last visit before discharging you officially.

John waited outside for it to be over, using that time to buy you the delicious breakfast you have been longing for.

He really hoped they could give you the green light to go back home because that would have meant everything was okay and you were perfectly healthy. So he prayed to hear the good news he was waiting for, to see your baby in that white wooden cot you spent a whole day choosing at the store, paired with that flowery pink bedding set his sister gave you as a gift and that had you crying as soon as you opened the box.

After fifteen minutes or so the nurse opened the door followed by the medical staff who welcomed your boyfriend with a smile, the doctor holding your file in her hands. She complimented John on your newborn and told him what he was dying to hear: you and Iris’s health status was good and you were ready to leave the hospital.

He thanked her and nodded when she gave him some quick advice on how to take care of them during the delicate moments following the baby’s birth.

After saying their goodbyes quickly John rushed back to your room with a big grin plastered on his lips.

"We're going home babies" He cooed, taking the duffle bag with all your personal belongings.

“Not so fast, Stonesy” You chuckled “Help me get out of this bed so we can get ready”

The City player giggled and helped you step out of the bed so you could stand up properly. The standing posture made you feel pain in places in didn't even know they existed and the grimace on your face told it all.

“I’ll take the baby and all her things while you put all your stuff in here” He said, directing his tall body towards the crib where his princess was looking at him with her blue eyes. “Yes baby, you’ll come with dada” 

The moment you dreamt of a lot, that is to say John making his silly little voice to speak to your daughter, finally happened and it brought genuine tears to your eyes: funny how a small, tiny creature that you met for the first time no more than 72 hours earlier, that shared every single second of the last nine months of your life with you suddenly became the most important, priceless treasure you ever put your hands on. 

You thought there were some feelings it was impossible to give form to and love was one of them, but you had to change your mind the moment you took her in your arms because you  realised the human being you were holding was the embodiment of all the love you had for her dad. So some feelings, even the strongest one, had a shape and it was astonishingly beautiful.

“Oh I see you’re already taking the baby and leaving me with the heavy things” You mumbled, feigning being angry at him.

“You had her with you for 9 months, don’t be selfish”

“Me selfish?? Oh I’d have really liked you to carry her in your belly for 9 f-”

“Oi don’t swear in front of the baby”

You laughed seeing him all concerned and covering Iris’ ears as he was glaring at you. You shook your head as you slowly started to collect all your things around the hospital room.

“Give me my breakfast, I’m starving”

“See? Your mum has already changed and uses me as her butler and credit card”

His joke caused you to roll your eyes as you were trying to get dressed while dealing with your yet aching body.

You were in some baggy pants and an oversized hoodie because it was the only outfit you were feeling like wearing as John was there looking as flawless as usual even though his fit was quite simple: a pair of jeans matched with a gray jumper and a baseball cap on made him look hotter than usual. The child seat he was carrying with your baby girl in was making him even look like a real hot daddy and your heart was bursting with love. The right word to describe how you were feeling was blessed.

When you finally stepped foot in your house you sighed in satisfaction as you just wanted to get in your bed and cuddle with your new family in peace, eating some good junk food if possible.

“Home sweet home”

John smirked and carefully put the child seat on the floor so he could take Iris out of it.

“Welcome home, baby” He lifted her up to place her against his shoulder so her head could rest against it, as they showed him in the hospital. “This is your home”

“I’ve missed it so much…I think I’m going to lay down for a while”

Lying down on your own bed, on the bed sheets you chose, in the room you shared with the man of your life gave you that much needed home feeling.

You closed your eyes in the attempt to relax but the level of weariness, of emotions you had experienced recently didn’t make it any easier for you to sleep a little.

"Ok so I'm gonna go"

"I don't wanna see anyone" You mumbled when John finally entered your room, cradling Iris in his arms. When he looked down at her to see she was asleep, he put her in the wooden cot right next to your bed.

He couldn’t help but smile: that sight was the closest to perfection he had ever seen, as that piece of furniture that had been empty for all those past weeks was now full as it should have been, hosting the most important treasure ever.

"Not you, idiot. I just wanna see you and our baby" You grumbled as your voice came out feebly due to your state of tiredness.

John smiled and was about to sit next to you on the bed as your phone started ringing, much to your dismay. You groaned in annoyance.

"Who the fuck is now?"

"Your mum"

"Tell her I can't talk, I'm sleeping"

He nodded and swiped on the screen to do as he was told. You knew your mum was dying to talk to you, to make sure you were doing okay but you just wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment and keep that special moment for you only.

When he finished talking, he finally climbed on the bed and you soon were all over him, wrapping your arms around his body and letting your head rest against his chest with your eyes closed breathing in his familiar scent, the best fragrance in the world to you.

"Are you comfortable? Maybe it's better if you lay on a pillow"

"Nope, you're my comfiest pillow"

John scoffed with a half smile and kissed your head.

"Wanna watch something on Netflix?"

"Nope, too tired" You muttered, cuddling closer to his chest.

John's lips curved in a smile as he brushed his thumb against your right cheekbone.

He then scrolled through his phone, answering all the text messages the people he knew sent him ahead of your baby girl's birth.

"What are you doing?" You really wanted and needed to crack some sleep but your mind wasn't agreeing as the level of adrenaline in your body was still too high, plus you wanted to stay awake to spend some time with John and checking on Iris. 

"Answering all the texts they've sent for Iris"

"Read me some" You wanted nothing more than to bask in the sweet words of people congratulating you, saying how beautiful your baby was and how strong you've been through all the process. After all you deserved all those sweet words: bringing a child into the world is something so brave people tend to underestimate sometimes.

John pressed play on a voice note from Kyle that made you both laugh, then read you one from Jack and at that moment your own phone rang with a notification and you asked John to check who it was from.

"It's from Sasha, she answered the pic you posted with "congrats you gorgeous mama"

"Aww she's always the sweetest"

"Well, you're everything but gorgeous now…"

"HEY" You threw a fist against his bicep with the little strength that was left in you. "I just pushed your daughter out of my vagina, you should be a little more grateful"

John loved getting on your nerves, making your thin-skinned side come to surface. He giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I know I look awful and I stink as I really need to take a shower but I can't, I'm so tired" The whiny tone you pronounced those last words with was about to turn into a desperate cry but John took action just in time.

"You know I was joking" He took your face in his hands to look right into your eyes "I'd get you pregnant again right now if I could"

"Liar"

He laughed and kissed your forehead.

"I'll help you with the shower later on"

When your baby whined a little in her sleep the little yelp caught your attention as you both turned your heads towards the crib.

"There's the blanket over there, put it over her" You gestured for him to take the pink honeycomb blanket to cover your baby girl's sleeping body.

She looked so cute with that tiny blanketyou fell in love with as soon as your eyes took sight of it on the shop’s shelf and you had no doubt it would have been perfect for your beautiful baby.

“Can you believe we made her?” You asked John in awe as he was lovingly tucking her in. You got up to join him, encircling his waist with your right arm and putting your head against his bicep. "We made her teeny tiny feet, those little hands..."

“Yeah…you know what they say?”

“What?”

“Daughters tend to be more similar to their dads in the looks”

“So?”

“So if she’s beautiful that’s all thanks to me... even Kyle said it”

Another thing the collective consciousness ignored was the post pregnancy period: the danger of post-pregnancy depression was real but you knew you had the most handsome dad in the world who would have helped you along the path, even when the downs would have outnumbered the ups.

“Yeah Stones…I think you and your friend need some sleep too…you’re hallucinating”

And no, you weren't upset at all: you only wished for your daughter to be the carbon copy of her amazing father. So you hoped deep down your heart the Kyle was right.

[treason-and-plot]

Because it’s been so long since I focused on the Isla Paradiso gang, I’m first going to post a small series of recaps before plunging back into the story. I have shamelessly borrowed this recap style from one of my favourite Simblrs, @zosa95 who is a constant source of inspiration and entertainment! Recaps will be tagged IP_recaps. Feel free to follow...or block!

IP_recap 1

Raj, (with a lot of help from Cookie) discovered that Lincoln Porter, multi-millionaire property developer and the vice-president of the Isla Paradiso Chamber of Commerce, had bribed Government officials to have a theme park approved next to Hobart’s Hideaway. Lincoln had awarded one of his own building companies the contract to build the theme park, a deal that would have netted him many more millions. Warren Sandler, aka Warren the Whale Whisperer, had submitted the original application to build the theme park, but a three-month long investigation cleared him of any wrongdoing. Lincoln and several of his cohorts were jailed and Raj was once again offered a seat in the Chamber of Commerce, a move which Lincoln had previously vetoed. Raj and Cookie are now the toast of the town for the role they played in Lincoln Porter’s very public fall from grace, and Raj’s rebirthed whale watching business is booming. Life is sweet for Isla Paradiso’s newly-minted power couple…at least, on the surface....

[anjuschiffer]

Momma's Lullaby

Welp here's another entry for @official-timari-server's Shutterbug Station 2024!

Enjoy!

-

Tags: @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha

-

Context:

Damian is recovering from memory loss after a mission having gone wrong. With his memories barely in tact and only remembering his family's names, Damian was placed into 24 hour surveillance and staying home until his memories returned…hopefully. While at home, Damian was encouraged to do whatever he felt comfortable in doing, drawing and painting being one of them. Out of nowhere, Damian started to remember something from a very long time ago.

A03

“Baby Beluga in the deep blue sea,

Swim so wild and you swim so free,

Heaven above and the sea below,

And a little white whale on the go.”

Jason stopped half stride as he heard someone sing, ensuing him to figure out who it was. 

“Baby Beluga, baby Beluga,” Jason turned a hall, muttering in disbelief when the voice came from Damian’s room

“Is the water warm, is your mama home,” He couldn’t believe it…

“With you so happy?” It really was Damian singing, the boy lost in his painting as he slowly swiped his brush across the incomplete canvas in front of him.

In the few weeks that Damian was brought to them, Jason has never heard the boy sing. Hell, he never sang to begin with. So hearing him sing, nonetheless a song that seemed so familiar to the boy, Jason knew he had to get Dick.

Damian watched as the blue paint he dabbed onto the canvas started to morph into a small rubber whale, watching as his hands morphed into small chubby ones, holding onto said whale. He watched as he threw the whale just a few inches away from himself, laughing up a storm when he watched the whale barely sink upon hitting the water

His own squeals were soon accompanied by some distant giggling, Damian feeling his entire body lighten up upon hearing the familiar laugh, feeling the need to smile as he turned to look at the person next to him, her face resting on the edge of the bathtub. Large bluebell eyes smiled at him.

“Was that fun, Dami? Was it fun?” She asked him, Damian finding himself just squealing as she pinched his cheek. “Oh you’re just so cute! Let’s get you washed up, okay?” She tucked a strand of midnight hair behind her ear before she went to scrub his hair. 

“Way down yonder where the dolphins play,

Where you dive and splash all day,” She slowly rinsed the soap off, Damian watching the suds surround him.

“The waves roll in and the waves roll out,

See the water squirting out of your spout.” She brought his bath toys closer to him when Damian started to cry as he watched his beluga toy float away.

“Baby Beluga, oh baby Beluga,

Sing your little song, sing for all your friends,

We like to hear you.” She sang as she took him out of the tub and wrapped a towel around him, kissing his nose as she took him to his room.

The room was dim, only a lamp lit the room, speckling the room with tiny stars of light. She laid him on the bed and quickly put him into a soft pair of pajamas so that he would remain warm.

“When its dark and your home and fed,

Curled up snug in your water bed,” She sang as she tucked him under some blankets and laid right beside him.

“Moon is shining and the stars are out,

Good night little whale good night.” She sang, Damian feeling his eyes turn heavy, his consciousness fighting the drowsiness that enveloped his body.

“Baby Beluga, oh baby Beluga,

With tomorrow's sun, another day's begun,

You'll soon be waking.” He found himself closing his eyes.

Baby Beluga in the deep blue sea,

Swim so wild and you swim so free,

Heaven above and the sea below,

And a little white whale on the go.

You're just a little white whale on the go.” Damian whispered as he opened his eyes, lifting his paintbrush away from the canvas, finally leaning back to look at the woman staring back at him. Or at least, he knew the face of a woman was looking at him, but try as he may, for the life of him, he just couldn’t-

“What do you have there, Dami?” Dick asked, Damian controlling his flinching from the sudden call. “Who’s that? Someone you know?”

Damian felt something stir in chest, because the longer he tried to stare at her face, he couldn’t see her face. He could only see, he could only recognize the bright shade of bluebell that he adored to see everyday. He loved her attention. Her hugs. He loved her voice and yet… “Damian. Is everything-”

“I don’t know.” Damian answered in the quietest voice Dick had ever heard him speak since he had known the kid. “I don’t know who she is.”

“Well for someone you don’t know…she’s very pretty.”

“She was.” Damian found himself saying, feeling his mind muddle. “She was very pretty…and her voice was pretty. She’d always sing me the same lullaby while tucking me in for bed.” Damian admitted.

“She tucked you into bed? When you were younger?” 

“I think…I’m not completely sure.” Damian looked at her face one last time, but like always, he could only see her eyes. 

Eyes that he wished he could see again.

What he would give to be able to see her again. “But I know one thing. 

I used to call her Momma.”

“Momma! Momma don’t go!” Damian yelled as Talia pulled him back, Damian watching as Momma was guided out the League’s compound, her luggage carried by two guards. “Momma!”

Damian watched as she stopped and said something to the guards. She turned around and simply smiled. “Momma?”

“Take care Dami. Grow up and find me, okay?” She smiled one last time before she turned around, Damian watched her disappear into the exit that led to the outside world he was forbidden to go into.

“MOMMA!”

[written-in-flowers]

The Drifter: The Sea King's Curse (1.02a)

Pairing: siren!hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: 59k

Genre: fantasy, smut, fluff, adventure

Summary: When the corpses of mutilated mermaids wash up on shore, the lawmen of Levanter Bay seek YN's help to find the cause. They end up discovering this goes much farther than expected.

Tags: Graphic violence (just fist fighting and monster slaying), kidnapping, animal death (hunting out of necessity), graphic descriptions of corpses, death, autopsies, thalassophobia, fear of deep water, megalophobia (fear of large objects), sea monsters, mind control, mind manipulation, mental illness, dark magic, mentions of war, slight ptsd. vaginal fingering, p in v sex, monster fucking, bigdick!hyunjin. underwater sex, public sex, outdoor sex, monster dick

Part 1 < | > Part 3

Drifter Masterlist

***

The whale stopped right outside where you’d met Hyunjin that morning, and you lamented leaving him. You knew you’d see him again, but leaving him this moment left you empty inside. People told you sirens give that effect, so you tried not thinking too much as you swam away from him. You forced yourself to focus on whether Minho and Han had any luck with their part of the investigation. 

“More than enough luck!”

Han called as you and Chan arrived back at the station. He sat at his desk, leaning back with his feet on the top and a satisfied grin on his face. You gaped at his broken lip, and the black and yellow bruise on his temple. On his left hand, you saw a bandage wrapped around his palm, bloody in the middle. 

“Jisung!” Chan gasped, moving over to check his bruises. “What the hell happened?”

“Got into a bar fight,” he shrugged, playing it cool. “It’s no big deal.”

Chan gingerly lifted his bandaged hand, “What happened to your hand?” 

“Park Jinyoung, that’s what,” he grimaced when Chan turned his hand palm upwards. “He put a knife to me, and I had to get him off somehow.”

“With your hand?”

“It worked! I put a bullet in his leg, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He still got away.” 

That was when you saw them. A young man and woman sat in one of the holding cells, the enchanted purple bars keeping the woman from teleporting out. The young man had the wide, long ears and black eyes of a goblin, while the woman appeared human. The goblin noticed you first, his reaction not much different from other criminals who see you. He backed up into the wall attached to the bench, pushing back as if he might melt into the stone. His sudden jolt startled his companion, and she turned to see you as well. She didn’t back away, but her eyes did widen. 

“Jennie and Eric, right?” you asked, walking past Han and Chan to the cell. Eric crouched into the corner, but Jennie kept her gaze on yours. “The mage and the accomplice.”

“So the squirrel wasn’t lying when he said they knew a demon bounty hunter,” Jennie drawled, seeing your exposed markings. “Plan on roasting us, demon?”

“Not right away,” you leaned against the side of the door, arms crossed. “I’m going to take a stab and guess the deputies already questioned you?”

“They tried,” she sniffed. 

“We don’t know anything about Alcina!” Eric squeaked, eyes squeezed shut. “I swear, we don’t know anything about her! Not at all!”

“Eric!” Jennie hissed, kicking at him. 

“Alcina, huh?” you let the name rest out in the air, “Where did you meet her?”

“I’m not talking, demon,” Jennie spat, arms crossed. “Save your breath. You’re going to need it when Jinyoung comes for me.”

“What makes you think he’s coming?”

“We’re his crewmates,” she shot at you. “He needs us. We need him.”

“Does he?” you raised an eyebrow, “He can pick up any pair of misfits off Cortuga and sail off without a second thought about either of you.”

“He’d never do that!” she said angrily, frustration bubbling inside her. “He…He isn’t that kind of captain…” she looked away from you, biting her trembling lower lip. 

“Alright, sure. I honestly can’t wait for him to get here,” you then bent and whispered to her, “Then I can cook him alive myself.”

“Demon filth…” she grumbled through her teeth. “You’ll see soon enough. You’ll all see!”

“And I’m terrified,” you seethed. 

You turned to see Minho back at his desk. He did not leave the fight unscathed. You caught the busted blood vessel in his right eye. It was most likely caused by whatever object left a cut underneath the eyelid and purple and black around his eye. Another cut on his left cheek told you his attacker got in close before he blasted them away. He placed a large book on his desk, and opened it. 

“Alcina?” you walked over to him, grabbing a chair to sit on the other side. “Does that name ring a bell for you?”

“No, but I’m assuming it’s the person they’re working for,” Minho said, “Unless you two find something to contradict her?”

You told Minho everything you learned while Chan rewrapped Han’s injured hand. He froze up when you detailed Tytos’s condition, and mentioned The Creator. 

“That’s not Brain Fog,” Minho said when you finished. “Brain Fog might make you forgetful and dazed, but it doesn’t debilitate you at the same time. You say he looked thin and frail. In what way?”

You thought about it, “In a deathly way. It was as if the curse was slowly killing him at the same time. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, his hair was brittle and thinning and his dry lips were cracked. Yet, when I mentioned his eldest son died, he seemed to break out of his delusion for a second before Mizu put him back under somehow.”

“How? Did you see what he did?”

“He touched the middle of his forehead,” you showed him the thumb motion Mizu had done, “And left behind some kind of black powder. Does that sound like any spell or curse you know? None of the ones I remember require that sort of touch.”

“There are a few,” he rolled his chair to the bookshelf a few feet from his desk and scanned the shelves, “Brain Fog doesn’t require any sort of physical touch. You said you’d seen this in the war?”

“Yes,” you watched him pick out one of the black leather books and came to the desk, “The mage who removed it used a stone. Yejin thinks it might’ve been a black tourmaline.”

“Yes!” he cheered reading the cover of the book, “Demonic Curses of the Dark Age! I knew I had it somewhere. I bought it at a sale in Newport. The warlock selling it says it was written by a real demon who was put to death for writing down their secrets!” He brought the book back to the desk, and opened it. “There’s a chapter in here somewhere,” he scanned the first page, “About manipulation curses. It has everything from elemental manipulation to molecular manipulation to zoological manipulation! I devoured this book in days! There’s so much!”

“Okay, Minho, that’s great,” you said, amused by his eagerness, “But does it have anything about mind manipulation?”

“It might…” he then asked, “You said the mage used a stone?”

“He did,” you nodded, “He said some sort of incantation while he did it, and the curse was gone.”

“Hmm…” he flipped another page, “Black tourmaline is a good stone for battling negative energy and psychic attacks. It’s regularly used for sapping out a curse.”

“What do you do after you have it in there?” asked Han, who winced when Chan closed the bandage. 

“You usually melt or break the crystal,” Minho said. “A lot of fairies study alchemy so they can dispose of dark matter easier.”

“And I’m going to guess you’re one of those fairies?” he grinned humorously. 

“I am,” he nodded. “We only need to find the right incantation.”

You shut your eyes as the day slowly broke down on you. “As fun as reading books late at night can be,” you yawned, slumping against the chair, “I think my brain is ready to shut off.”

“Not surprised,” he said, “Swimming around Hydrus will do that to you. You two get some rest. We won’t be finding our answer tonight.” 

“You sure you want to walk to The Pearl like that?” asked Han when he saw you stand from your chair. 

“Yes, why?” You then realized why Minho tried so hard not to look at you and why Han could not stop looking at you. 

You’d gone into Hydrus in just your bra and pants. 

“Oh, so Chan can walk around shirtless and nobody cares, but if I walk around with a bra on, it’s suddenly a problem?”

“Nobody said Chan can walk around shirtless,” Minho said, still focused on his book, “He just does it and we accept it.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” Han said breathlessly. 

“Jisung,” Minho snapped, something similar to jealousy in his voice. 

“Oh Minnie, you know I only have eyes for you,” he batted his lashes and blew a kiss. 

“Ugh,” you groaned and made for the door, “It’s not a big deal. Wearing my shirt and jacket would have weighed me down. It’s not much different from swimming suits.”

Han stifled a laugh, “Which can be just as deadly on a woman like you.” 

“Oh hush.” 

“Men are the worst,” Jennie said from her cell. 

“They are!”

You left the station without another word, walking out into town. Yes, you did get a lot of stares as you walked up to the White Pearl. Though, something told you it was your markings and not the lack of a shirt that caught stares. Honestly, you felt too tired to really care. Muscles aching from the constant swimming around in the ocean, you thought only about peeling off your damp clothes and crashing onto your bed. Moving through the crowded inn, you saw Felix singing up on stage. The pretty blond winked at you when you met his eyes, and you’ll admit you found him charming. 

Not as charming as the bed waiting upstairs. 

****

“I believe they are unto us, Creator. The mainlander lover and the old fool were alone with him.”

“Have they undone our work?”

“Of course not, but…one of my guards said his shark sensed somebody else in the room with us. I believe it was her half-breed son hiding in plain sight.”

“Then you must get rid of him. Our spell is almost complete. In a few days, King Tytos will die and the Seven Seas will be ours.”

“Of course, Creator. I will have my best men on it. We will kill that mainlander and whoever else stands in our way.”

The Creator remained silent in her orb, and Mizu sensed she was searching in “the beyond”. He noticed her gasp, and hesitated. “No…this cannot be. It must not be true.”

“Creator?”

“I see eternal fire within the waves,” she said. “I see…Oh, I can feel her powers now.”

“Whose powers, Creator?”

“The Vanquisher…The demon who slayed The Dark Lord…She is here…” her voice suddenly sharpened, “You must stop her! She cannot succeed!”

“The Vanquisher?”

“The Vanquisher!” she hissed. “The fire demon named Multak, who slew our master in Incheon and sent him into The Abyss! Our mortal enemy! She will foil our plans if we do not stop her!”

“What would you have me do?”

“Distract her. Keep her busy with your pirate friends while I work my magic. It appears we will have to speed up the process.”

“As you command, Creator.” 

****

“How was your adventure under the sea?” 

Changbin passed your breakfast plate to you on the bartop, and refilled your milk cup. You licked your lips at the steaming eggs, bacon, grits and biscuit on your plate. 

“Great,” you answered, digging into the eggs right away. You hadn’t noticed your hunger until you’d woken up this morning with your stomach growling. The fluffy eggs melted in your mouth and you thought you’d melt with them, “Met a pretty siren, saw some fish, and got to ride a whale. Very eventful.”

“A siren, huh?” he asked with an impressed grin. “Did you get lucky?”

“Unfortunately not,” you frowned, thinking of handsome Hyunjin’s pretty mouth. “I was there on business, so there wasn’t much room for pleasure.”

“Shame,” he said. “When you came in here without a shirt, I was hoping to hear a wilder story than that.”

“Well, I did get to sneak into a palace, so it wasn’t totally uneventful.” 

Changbin chortled, and you started telling him about your journey when a high cry broke through the morning crowd outside. You chased your food with the milk as you peered into the windows. People rushed down the dirt road, fear in their eyes and adrenaline pushing them forward. They ran into nearby buildings, calling to those inside, and shutting doors and windows tightly. Dread filled your bones, and you suddenly didn’t feel hungry. Changbin, however, knew exactly what was happening. 

“Wooyoung!” he called into the kitchen, “Pirates!” He then reached under from the bar and retrieved a double sided axe. From the notches on the wooden handle, it’d been used plenty of times. “YN, either get your steel or go upstairs.”

“Pirates?” 

You slowly stood from your stool, and went to the window. A group of children ran into the inn, going right behind the bar. You heard Changbin direct them into the kitchen, while he whistled for Honey. Their calls came from far away, but their taunts and laughter stuck in your ears. He sent them. Whether to scare you or kill you, Mizu sent these pirates to you. While a twinge of fear did hit you, Zunar’s words whispered in your ear. 

“That’s the only time we can be brave, little flame.”

You went to grab your sword. 

When you returned, Changbin and Wooyoung already ran outside. While most of the citizens of Levanter Bay hid, a select few met the invaders: Fred Pebbles with a large club and his men shooting from behind wagons and crates; Han and Minho standing atop a nearby building, taking shots with bullets and magic arrows; Changbin with his ax and bear companion: Wooyoung with twin daggers and swift kicks, and even Mayor Wallace with a heavy hammer. The smell of blood and battle hit your senses, fueling you for the fight as you went up to the porch railing. 

One of Pebbles’s farmhands stood fighting a particularly nasty looking pirate goblin, so you jumped behind the goblin with a swift kick. Once on the ground, the farmhand slammed her hammer into their skull. Your eyes scanned the invading pirates, daring one of them to come at you. One of them finally did. A bearded man with gunpowder smeared over his eyes came at you with a hatchet raised in the air, and you moved to block it easily. Your hand burning bright, you shot a fireball right into his abdomen. He cried in pain, and you kicked him away to fend off another pirate who ran up to your side. A slash up their middle had them crashing to the floor, while you shot another fireball at the bearded pirate. 

Effectively being burned alive sent the bearded back stumbling and running into a group of pirates, who moved out of his way. A woman’s cry caught you through the commotion, and you saw two men break into a boutique and start ransacking the place. You narrowed your eyes and rushed at them from behind. Levitating one into the ceiling and then slamming him to the floor, you swing your sword at his companion right as he reached for a small girl. He turned around, pain shooting up his back, to swipe a knife at you, which you returned with another fireball to his face. Your demon fire seared his skin, making him scream with pain. 

“Get somewhere safe,” you told the women inside, “And barricade the door.” When they froze with fear, you said more firmly, “Go! Now!” 

You stuck the screaming pirate with your blade, then kicked him off. When you stepped out the door, you waved your hand over the doorway where black clouds of smoke started embedding into the wood. The protection spell would keep any other pirates from breaking in. You’d stopped a pirate from attacking an elderly woman inside her stall when you saw him. 

Chan’s merfolk genes appeared to make him faster and tougher than a normal human. You watched him throw punches, dodge kicks and hands with precision and speed. You saw the weapon in his hand: a long dagger with a bone handle. Fearless, daring, and strong, you couldn’t help admiring him as you easily cut down a reptilian pirate. It’d been when he cut through another pirate that a voice rang out through the fray. 

“Where’s the demon called Multak?!”

A tall, tanned man with a small face and a square jaw came through the crowd. People around you gasped when they realized he held Mayor Wallace at gunpoint. You could tell the mayor put on a brave face even with a gun barrel in his stomach. A woman with copper skin and braided coarse hair ran out of a nearby shop, tears in her dark eyes. 

“Gerald!” Mrs. Wallace, the school teacher, cried out. She tried going to him, but Fred kept her at a distance. 

“I’m alright, Barbara,” he called out, not daring to look at her. 

“Let him go, Park,” Chan said, the fight having stopped with the captain walking onto the scene. “He’s not a part of this.”

“He is,” the captain cackled, “He is until you hand me back my first mate and bring me the demon.”

“I can’t do that, Park,” Chan replied, “She’s headed for the capital. It’d be awkward if they came for her and she wasn’t here, you know?” 

“Stop playing games, and give me Jennie, you half-breed.” 

“Call me that again, pirate,” Chan let the last word hiss like a curse, “And you’ll get your first mate alright.” 

You knew exactly how this would go if you didn’t step up. “You want me, pirate?” you stepped out from the crowd, putting yourself between Chan and Jinyoung. Removing your jacket, your markings began faintly glowing their red-orange colors. “Here I am.” 

“You’re the demon?” he huffed. “I thought you’d be taller and more…manly.”

“I thought you’d be manlier too,” you shot back. “Mizu sent you for me, and here I am. Let the mayor go.”

“Bring me Jennie,” he demanded, “Then I’ll think about giving your wimpy mayor back.”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Park,” you said. “I’m already going to have a big day ahead of me, and I’d like to go back inside this inn and finish my breakfast at least. Wooyoung puts cream in the eggs? It makes them melt in your mouth.”

“Then you’ll have no problem handing over my Jennie.”

His Jennie? “I’m sorry, that’s not possible. You see, your first mate and her little goblin friend have information we need and, well, she just hasn’t given us what we want. We can give her back to you in between 365 to 730 business days.”

“I’m done fucking around, demon!” he shouted angrily. “Give me my Jennie!”

“Your Jennie, huh? Alright, I’ll go get her right now.” 

You turned around, eyes following you as you marched into the station behind you. He wanted to play this game? Then you’d play it too. Walking over to the enchanted holding cell, Jennie stood confidently and smiling smugly. 

“I told you he’d come for me, didn’t I?” she taunted, not scared by the anger flaring in your eyes. “He’s come for me and he’s going to burn your-Hey! Let go of me!”

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, you dragged the mage out of the cell, across the station, and outside. “You want her, huh?” you asked Jinyoung, keeping a firm grip on Jennie. “Here she is! Come and get her.”

“No, bring her here!”

You sneered, “Alright.”

“YN, what are you doing?” Chan whispered at you, but you ignored him. 

Jennie’s feet stumbled as you guided her over to her lover. You spotted the satisfaction in Jinyoung’s eyes, and it enraged you further. You threw Jennie onto the ground beside him, then spoke. 

“There she is,” you said, a growl in the back of your throat. “Let the mayor go.”

Jinyoung gave you a wicked grin. You had mere seconds. Reaching out to the gun on Mayor Wallace’s side, the heat from your hand immediately shocked Jinyoung’s body. A handprint similar to a branding covered his gun hand, which opened and dropped the gun to the floor. The mayor rushed to his wife nearby, but you kept your eyes on the pirate.

“Damnit!” he seethed, holding his shaking hand. The mark you left started steaming, burning the skin there further. “Damnit, damnit, dammit! You damn dirty demon!”

“Stop your howling,” you said. You grabbed him by a tuft of hair and growled, “I could’ve sent you to demons who’d do way worse than that.” You then asked, “Who is Alcina?”

“Who-o?”

“Alcina, the witch who cursed the king. Who is she?”

“Who?”

“‘Who, who, who’, are you a fucking owl?” You placed your hand on his shoulder, burning him once more. “Who is she? Tell me who she is or I’ll roast you alive!”

“I won’t tell you shit, demon!”

You touched him one more time, and you saw tears in his eyes. Jennie, who’d boasted about his love for her, did not move to protect or save her “lover”. 

‘They know nothing of loyalty. They turn on each other the moment the world starts crumbling.’ 

Nor’goth may have a point there. 

A gentle hand touched your arm, and Chan’s voice drowned out Nor’goth’s. “YN, don’t do this here. Everyone is watching.”

You suddenly became aware of everyone still in the square. He was right. Not here where children and soft-hearted folks could see. A flush of embarrassment and worry came over you when your fires faded. 

“Let’s take them into the station, and question them there,” he said, slowly soothing the fires blazing inside your chest. “Not torture them. Question them.” 

His soft hand touched the one holding Jinyoung up, and you released him. Han and Minho quickly collected both Jennie and Jinyoung. You turned to see the townspeople looking at you, fearful and shocked. They saw your glowing marks, your fiery hands, and saw the demon. A monster. At the end of the day, you are the monster they fear. 

“Come on,” Chan said gently. 

You swiped your jacket from the dirt and threw it over your shoulders. They’ll want you to leave after this. Nobody wants a demon in their town. It’s why you never stay. A lump formed in your throat, and you kept your head down as you followed Han and Minho into the station. You didn’t stop Han and Minho from putting Jinyoung and Jennie in another enchanted cell. Minho went to grab ointments from his desk while Han locked them up. You didn’t bother with the other two. They won’t tell you anything, but the goblin will. 

“Nam!” 

“Woah, woah, woah! Wait, wait-” Eric Nam ducked into the corner of the cell. 

You lifted him by his shirt collar. His fear dripped out of every pore becoming a fuel for the fire in you. “Who is Alcina and where is she?”

“YN!” Chan called behind you. You ignored him. 

“Who is she?!”

“She’s a witch we met in Cortuga!” he cried out, eyes shut tightly. “She said she’d make us rich if we helped her! She said all we had to do was kill a few mermaids and Jennie had to rile up some of the sea predators, and we’d be rich! I swear, that’s all I know! That’s all I know, please don’t burn me alive! Please!”

“I ain’t making promises,” you growled “Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” his voice cracked when you pushed him into a wall, “I swear, I don’t know! I don’t! We only met her once! That merman is who we communicated with!”

“Eric, you absolute coward!” Jennie called, brave now that she’s safe in another cell. 

“Merman? You mean Mizu?” Chan asked from the cell door. 

“Yes! Him!”

“Did he ever say where he meets Alcina?” he came up beside you. “Let him go, YN,” he said, hand on your wrist. 

You hated how easily you let go of Eric. On the ground, Eric took a few shaky breaths before he spoke, “He never told us, but I followed him one time. He gave us the ability to breathe underwater, and after one of our meetings, Jinyoung asked me to tail him. Jinyoung never works with anyone without knowing things about them. We thought he might be going to meet someone to do a double cross, but then I…I saw her.”

“Alcina?”

“In a cave outside of Hydrus,” he said, “In a leviathan’s lair. I can conceal myself, so none of them noticed me.”

“What did you hear?”

“Them talking about cursing the king.”

“With what?”

“They said something about mind consumption? I don’t know what that means.”

You turned to Minho, who sat nearby listening as he treated a hand-cuffed Jinyoung. He nodded, “Yes, I’ve heard of it. It’s a mental curse that slowly consumes the mind until the afflicted body deteriorates. It explains why Tytos’s body is slowly shutting down. The brain is having trouble sending signals to the rest of him.”

“Would a stone treat that?”

“It would,” he said, wrapping the pirate’s burnt hand. “I know someone who could help us.”

“Who?” 

“Our resident doctor and garden fairy, Yang Jeongin,” he said with a satisfied grin. “If anyone knows about healing crystals, it will be him.”

“You and YN can go talk to him,” Chan directed, “Han and I will watch over these three while we wait on the marshal.”

You hesitated to join Minho. Outside the windows, you saw the remaining pirates turning tail and running out of town by the docks. People coming out of the buildings convened together in the middle of the square, where they embraced loved ones. You then saw them start whispering. It might be about the pirates or about the demon who tortured one in front of them. Regardless, Minho guided you to the door. 

“You won't get the reaction you're expecting,” he assured you.

You realized that once you stepped back outside. At first, people looked apprehensive until you heard a steady clap from nearby. This clap then started a wave, and you saw bright, proud faces. 

“Thank you,” the boutique shopkeeper smiled, “Thank you for saving us! Those pirates were going to kidnap my little girl, but you showed them.”

“That goblin would've had my head if you didn't have my back!” Fred's farm hand clapped your shoulder, a toothy grin on her face, “Thank you!”

“Can you really set people on fire?!” Eunwoo, the moon elf boy from the inn, asked excitedly.

“Those pirates will think twice before messing with us again!” His friend said, swishing his stick like a sword.

“Boys, that's enough.” Barbara Wallace came up next, clutching her pearl necklace. She hesitated a moment, then said, “Thank you, YN, for saving my husband. Knowing him, he would've gotten himself killed if you didn’t step in.”

“How is he?”

“Just got a nasty bump from the fight. He's had worse injuries,” she sighed. “But, Eunwoo is right. Word will spread with time that Levanter Bay isn't as defenseless as it seems. It truly was a blessed day when you came into our town.”

“The sheriff, Han and myself were there too,” Minho pointed out, hands on hips. 

“And you handled it gallantly as always,” she patted his shoulder as she walked past him to the children nearby.

Their collective reaction silenced you. “They aren't…scared?” you looked at Minho as you continued through the square. 

“Did you want them to be?” asked Minho, amused. 

“No, but that's usually the reaction I get whenever people see, you know, me.”

“The people around here aren't like that,”  Minho said. “It’s not as if you tortured an innocent person. He was a scumbag pirate who tried to tear down the town. You did us a favor by arresting him.”

“Most people tend to think that I take it too far…the intimidation part, I mean.”

“The people who think that are idiots,” Minho scoffed. “You’re a demon, YN. Demons swear oaths to protect innocent souls and punish wicked ones, don’t they?”

“We do.”

“And that’s what you were doing: protecting innocent people and punishing the wicked ones.” He then said, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I would’ve made him think he was covered in snakes or spiders or something awful to get him to talk.”

“Psh, mind games,” you snorted, “They’re worse than physical ones, if you ask me.”

“Chan isn’t a fan of them, but it gets the job done and that’s what matters to me.” He said, “The people here aren’t like the people in the cities. They’re wholesome and quaint. They’re…accepting and open. It has to be for so many different people to coexist in the same town.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Levanter Bay, despite not having any real sun, definitely carried one of its own in the townspeople. More people thanked you and Minho as you walked down to the doctor’s office right beside the postman’s station. Above the door, someone wrote in black cursive letters: ‘Dr. Yang Jeongin, M.D.’ with a pair of fairy wings with a staff in between underneath. However, you didn’t stop at his office. Jeongin happened to already be outside, tending to a young man with a ghastly cut up his arm. 

You briefly remembered Jeongin from your last case, the handsome garden fairy who wore a gray and white hanbok, the traditional attire of his people. His long, bright green wings looked so thin they could be glass. As you drew closer, you saw the white blossoms woven into his black hair like a crown. He’d been in the process of finishing a stitch when you and Minho approached. 

“Hello, Minho,” Jeongin said without looking at him. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Minho drew closer, crouching to survey the stitches on the man’s bloody arm. “Your stitching has gotten better.”

“My stitches were always fine. It was yours,” he cut the thread and tied it down, “That were crooked and too tight. Pass the gauze, please.” Minho handed him a roll of white gauze, and Jeongin began wrapping it. “What is this about, Deputy? I have a lot of people who need me.”

“We have someone who may need you more.”

“Who?” 

“King Tytos.”

Jeongin stopped wrapping when he heard the name. He looked over his shoulder at Minho, “The Sea King? What’s happened to him?”

“He has mind consumption, Jeongin,” Minho said seriously. “It’s slowly killing him . The mermaid corpses on the beach, the predator attacks along the coast, and the pirates today? They all have to do with Tytos being ill. My friend and I discovered that a way we can combat it is by-”

“-Sapping it out of him,” Jeongin finished, taping off the gauze swiftly. “Mr. Song,” he went into his medical kit beside him, “Take two of these tonight, and swing by in the morning.” 

He gave the injured man a packet, then stood up with his bag. “You need black tourmaline,” Jeongin said, turning back to his office, “Which is not easy to find in these parts.”

“Please tell us you happen to have one?” you asked hopefully. 

“It just so happens I do. Come with me.” 

He led you and Minho into his office across the road. Two young garden fairies stood inside, gathering supplies from shelves and putting them into baskets. “Kira, Koya,” Jeongin called to them, “See to the wounded outside. I have some business with Deputy Lee.” 

“Yes, sir,” the twin fairies said together, bowing before leaving the room by their wings. 

Jeongin put down his kit and walked to a workbench behind a curtain. “I’m sure you know by now that black tourmaline is used to defend against negative energy, correct?”

“Yes, we do.”

“And Minho should know that certain crystals,” you heard bottles clinking behind the curtain, “Can be used in rituals to remove said negative energies.”

“Obviously,” Minho said defensively. “I only need the incantation used to remove the consumption.”

You heard Jeongin rifle through his stores before coming back from behind the curtain. He held out a black pouch to Minho, “I really should go with you to assess his condition. We don't know how deep and how long the consumption has festered.”

“I estimate about a few weeks now?” You threw out there, “The corpses showed up two days ago, but a friend of ours says his illness has carried on long before that. He shows signs of severe dehydration, malnutrition, delusion, and memory loss.”

Jeongin listened intently, nodding and thinking to himself. “What color was his skin? His eyes?”

“Pale and paler.”

“Hair?”

“He had lots of patches and sores forming where his head rests. He doesn’t have much of it left either.”

“He shows all signs of severe consumption,” Minho told him. “I need the incantation, Jeongin.”

Jeongin walked over to a bookshelf, scanning the spines until he pulled one out. It appeared much older than some on the shelf, with flesh colored leather wrapped around it. Minho gasped upon seeing the strange book.

“What is a garden fairy doing with a dark remedy book?” Minho asked, touching the stitches keeping the cover together. 

“It was a gift, if you must know,” he said airily. “I am a doctor, Minho, and doctors need to learn all kinds of arts if they're to treat anyone. Dark magic, as much as it pains me to say, has plenty of full proof remedies.” He smirked at Minho, “What? You don't have one?”

Minho glared, “I do happen to have one. All shadow fae have one. I'm only surprised a bubbly, goody-two-shoes like you would have one as well.”

“I'm not always good. You know that.”

He turned a few pages in the book until he came across a section for curses of the mind. 

“Ah, here it is,” he said, putting glasses on the bridge of his nose. “‘Combined with a crystal of light energy or protection, hold it up to the area of first contact and repeat the mantra: ‘Replenish thy mind and embrace the light’ .”

“That's it?” Minho asked, unimpressed. “Just that?”

“Sometimes the treatment is simpler than you think.” He closed the book, “Find the infection site and hold it to him while you say the words. If the king is not as far gone as you believe, then he should be fine.”

“What if he is far gone?” You asked. 

Jeongin thought for a moment, then said, “Help him remember things. Anything he may have an emotional attachment to, like a happy moment or a particular event in his life.”

You thought about the king’s reaction to you when you’d spoken as his daughter. Speaking about his dead son, hearing another acknowledge his death, broke the spell for a few seconds. 

“Thank you, Jeongin,” Minho said, peeking into the pouch to see the black stones inside, “I'll bring these back so they can be disposed of properly. We don't want anyone using them.”

“I hope it works,” Jeongin said, replacing medical supplies in his bag, “Tytos is a good man, and his people will need him. I pray the Light is kind to him.”

You waited until you left the office to tell Minho, “We need to go now. If we keep putting it off, Tytos will slip too far for us to heal him.”

“Agreed. I'll tell Chan we're going ahead of him,” he dug into the dust pocket on his belt. “You've had a siren’s kiss, right?”

“I have,” you said, remembering Hyunjin’s soft lips. 

“Good to know.” He tossed some dust into the air, and spoke into the floating particles. “Chan, we have the cure. We're going to Hydrus right away.” He blew into the dust, and it zoomed away through the crowds. “There's no time to waste. Come on.”

***

A/N: sorry this part is so long! Haha, this episode is pretty long compared to the first one. I still hope you liked it, and thanks for reading <3 please reblog and like <3

Part 3 >

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 1

This will fill the "It's mine, and you can't have it." square on my @jacklesversebingo card. The quote will be bolded.

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. This part is mostly fluff, with a tiny bit of making out at the end. They are both 17 when they're making out, so technically underage, but barely - and they are the same age.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 4,398

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. This part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19)

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

Dean and Y/N basically spent their childhood bickering. They met when they were six, when their fathers teamed up for a hunt. The two of them, and Sammy had been left together with a friendly old lady who was mostly deaf, so she very happily didn’t have to hear their constant fighting. 

They fought over toys, they fought over snacks, they fought over who would get the first turn on the tire swing in the old lady’s backyard. Dean’s longer legs always got him there first and he’d gloat down at Y/N, his smile wide and wicked.

“Too slow, Y/N!” He’d taunt. “It’s mine, and you can’t have it!” 

Since their fathers often teamed up, they ended up with the same babysitters, or in the same schools all the time. Dean was always popular; the teachers always adored him and his sweet smile and big green eyes. But Y/N was shy and slightly awkward, so the other kids didn’t usually play with her and teachers tended to ignore her. 

Dean would never let that stand though. When they'd play tag in the schoolyard he’d purposely go up and tag Y/N even though she hadn’t been invited to play the game.

When he’d tap her arm, she’d scowl at him. “I’m not playing, you idiot.” 

But Dean would ignore her and any of the other kids saying she couldn’t play. “You’re it!” He’d yell and then run away, sticking his tongue out at her and taunting her because he knew she’d never stand for it, and be forced to play. Once she was playing, the other kids usually didn’t care and the game would go on.

No one teased and tormented her like Dean did though. He was constantly yanking on her ponytail, or shooting spitballs at her from across the classroom. They competed over everything; test scores, who got to be the Christmas tree in the Christmas concert, who could skip with a jumping rope more times in a row without stopping, who built the best sand castle, who made a better volcano in science class - anything and everything.

In spite of that, however, Dean was also her biggest champion. When they were in third grade, Chester Hugo, a wiry little blonde boy, called Y/N fat and ugly and laughed at her. He showed her a picture of a whale in the encyclopedia in their classroom and laughed as he pointed to it.

“That’s you.” He whispered, and all his friends giggled with him silently. 

Y/N tried to ignore him, but at recess she was standing up against the brick wall of the school as usual, and Chester began waddling around in front of her and puffing out his cheeks. “Look everybody, I’m Y/N.” He called out before doubling over with laughter.

He only laughed for a second though, because without warning he was tackled to the ground by Dean, and began shrieking and covering his face as Dean pummeled him.

Dean got detention for three days because of it, and got grounded at home too. Y/N felt terrible, but Dean said it was worth it because now every time he walked past Chester, the bully shrank away or ran inside. 

When they were in the sixth grade, they went to Truman Middle School in Fort Madison, Iowa for a few months and ended up with a teacher who was absolutely terrible - Mrs. Abernathy. 

She was ancient and obviously didn’t really like kids anymore - if she ever had. Her classroom rules were arbitrary and confusing. She was constantly yelling at her students for doing things that had been permissible the day before. She barked orders at them and expected silence from them at all times. 

One afternoon the class was set to dissect a frog and Dean and Y/N were paired up to share one of the hapless amphibians. Mrs. Abernathy gave them their frog, closed inside a glass jar, along with a jar of cotton balls soaked in ether to toss in with the frog to kill him.

As soon as the grouchy old lady had moved on, Dean picked up the container holding the frog and pushed it into Y/N’s face.

“Hey Y/N look! It’s lunch time!” He said quietly, thrusting the frog towards her over and over.

“Stop it!” She said in an angry whisper, turning her head. After a while Dean grinned proudly at his ability to gross her out and set the frog back down.

Y/N looked down at it, and then got closer to the jar as the frog lifted its two front legs to press against the glass, looking for a way to hop out. It hopped around the confined space, rather pathetically trying to get free. Suddenly Y/N felt sick to her stomach and tears came to her eyes. 

She looked at Dean. “I wanna let him go.” She said quietly so only he could hear. 

Dean frowned at her. “What are you talking about? In like two minutes we’re gonna kill it and then look at its guts.” He said, trying to tease Y/N out of her concern for the frog.

But it didn’t work. Y/N shook her head, her tears falling fast now. “No, Dean, don’t kill it. I don’t wanna kill it. Look at him.” She said pointing to the little green creature desperately hopping around as though it could sense its impending doom.

Dean shook his head, trying to reason with her. “Y/N it’s just a frog. It isn’t gonna feel anything, the cotton ball will just make him fall asleep and then he'll die.” 

But Y/N was shaking her head, her eyes slightly frantic as Mrs. Abernathy reached the front of the classroom, having given everyone their frogs. Suddenly Y/N grabbed the jar and yanked it open, allowing the desperate frog to immediately hop away. 

She realized her mistake quickly as the frog simply jumped up onto another table and made the boys there scream and jump back, knocking their own frog to the floor so it smashed open, giving a second frog its freedom. The class erupted into chaos as the two frogs hopped around the classroom. Three more frogs had their jars smashed open as some kids scattered and stood on chairs, and some kids chased after the frogs.

Eventually, when all the frogs were finally rounded up and put back into new jars, (much to Y/N’s dismay) Mrs. Abernathy began looking for a culprit. She stood in front of Y/N’s desk and her always stern face was particularly harsh as she pointed a bony finger at her.

“That frog came from your desk, Miss Y/L/N, do you care to explain yourself?”

Before Y/N could answer, Dean stood up. “It was me. I opened the jar.”

Y/N looked at him, frowning and shaking her head. But Dean waved his hand at her. “Y/N told me not to, but I thought it would be funny if he got out.” He shrugged and gave a wholly unrepentant grin. “And it really was.”

Y/N tried to say something, but Mrs. Abernathy was too busy grabbing ahold of Dean’s arm and manhandling him out of the room. “Principal Yates is going to hear about this, young man.”

Y/N felt her stomach plummet as Dean was yanked out of the classroom. She sat quietly at her desk, guilty and sick feeling, as the other kids took full advantage of the teacherless classroom to discuss the frog escapade - loudly and with many sound effects. 

When Mrs. Abernathy returned, Dean wasn’t with her. Y/N tried to talk to her and explain the truth, but the teacher wouldn’t listen.

“Enough!” She shouted angrily. “There has been more than enough disruption in this classroom for today. Sit down and take out your math textbook.” Y/N opened her mouth and the old lady sliced her hand through the air. “Now!” She barked loudly, making all the other students pull their textbooks out as well.

Y/N didn’t see Dean again until the end of school. He was walking down the side road that led to the motel they were all staying in.

“Dean, wait up!” She called to him and he slowed his long stride. When she reached him she shook her head. “What were you thinking? Why did you say you did it?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. I just like to see Abernathy go berserk.” He said with a lazy smile.

Y/N frowned. “You got in trouble. Did you get detention again, or -” She stopped still and gasped. “Were you suspended?”

Dean just shook his head and kept walking. “No, it’s fine.”

Y/N ran after him. “What do you mean? What did Mr. Yates do?” When Dean just sped up and kept walking Y/N reached out and grabbed his hand, trying to force him to stop.

Dean winced and inhaled sharply, his face contorting in pain. He tried to pull his hand away, but Y/N had already seen the huge red welts that were spread over his palm and fingers. Tears immediately flooded her eyes and fell down her cheeks as she stepped closer and cradled his hand in hers.

“He gave you the strap?” She whispered, horrified at the image of Dean’s hands being struck over and over with the thick leather strap the principal kept hanging just outside his office.

Dean shrugged as Y/N lifted his other hand and looked at the damage there too. “Yep, five licks for each hand. Said it was supposed to make me remember to not let the devil use my idle hands for mischief.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t wait till we're out of this bible-thumping, piece of shit town.”

Despite the life they led, Y/N was still sheltered enough that hearing Dean swear felt rebellious and she blushed a little. Then she sniffled and looked at Dean with remorse suffusing her face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have done it. And I really wish you hadn’t said it was you. I should have been the one getting strapped.”

Dean frowned darkly. “No, that would have been so much worse.” He said quickly. 

Y/N’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dean’s face flushed and he just shrugged and pulled his hands away from her. “No, I mean - I just mean, you know I’m a hunter, I’m used to it. I mean the last hunt I went out on, I took down a werewolf.” He bragged. “You and Sammy, you’re still soft.”

Y/N scoffed at that, running to keep up with him as he walked on. “Whatever, oh great Winchester. ‘Took down a werewolf’? I feel like you probably had some help from your dad and mine.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter! I still fought him.” He argued, and the fight was back on. 

***

Within a few years though, Sam and Y/N did begin to join the hunts. They started slowly, hunting ghouls and wraiths, and other easier-to-hunt monsters.

However, in Y/N and Dean's Junior year, the end of middle school for Sam, their Dads began asking more of them, claiming that they needed to concentrate on learning to hunt. They told the two of them that they were needed for more important things than algebra. That was when Dean dropped out of high school, going to work with them and hunting full time. 

He told Y/N that he was just sick of school, and he’d never need it anyway. But Y/N knew he’d done it to give their Dads the help they wanted while giving her and Sam more time to be students.

By the time they were sixteen Y/N had figured Dean out. He still teased her mercilessly, constantly trying to annoy her with his hard rock, making fun of the boy bands she listened to. When she scored a ninety-five on her chemistry test, he’d called her poindexter for two weeks straight. 

But he was also fiercely protective, and he would bloody the nose of anyone who tried to hurt either her or Sam.

And she knew she was right about why he dropped out of school. Sometimes, when she and Sam were sitting around the motel room doing homework together, discussing the novel one of them was reading, or trying to make sense of trigonometry, she’d look up and catch Dean watching them with a look of longing on his face as he was cleaning weapons.

It was always gone in an instant when he noticed her watching, and he’d usually crack some kind of joke about what nerds they were, but Y/N knew what she saw. She would usually suggest that they stop their homework and watch a movie. Or she’d beg Dean to take them for a ride in the Impala that he’d inherited when he turned sixteen and his dad bought a truck. He’d always act like it was a huge pain, but she knew he loved it when they all piled into the car, rolled the windows down, and pretended to be carefree teens for a while.

She knew him and he couldn't get anything past her.

What did sneak up on Y/N, however, was how much she actually liked Dean. Like…like-liked him.

It became clear to her one day when she was seventeen, and in her senior year. Dean swung by one afternoon to pick up her and Sam after school. He was standing outside, leaning against his beloved car, waiting for them to show. She rounded the corner with a few girls she was doing a group project with; they were trying to iron out details of when they were going to meet to collaborate. 

When she saw Dean waiting there, she raised her hand to let him know she saw him and she was coming. Sam bolted past her and ran to the car. “Tell him I’m coming!” Y/N yelled after him.

She turned back to the discussion wanting to hurry up so she didn’t miss her chance at a ride. But all of the girls were just staring at her like she’d grown a second head.

“What?” She asked, self consciously covering her face slightly, worried she had something in her teeth.

The short girl to her right, Tracy she thought her name was, sputtered slightly and then looked pointedly at Dean. “Are you kidding me? What? Who?” She asked, flipping her hand quickly in Dean’s direction. “Who the hell is that?”

“Oh,” Y/N responded slightly confused, “that’s just Dean.”

“Dean?” The red-headed girl across from her asked. “Is he your brother?”

“What? Ew! No.” Y/N denied vehemently, and it took her a moment to figure out why that idea grossed her out so much. When the girl with braces (Sheila?) spoke though, the reason hit Y/N like a Mac truck.

“He’s so ridiculously hot!” Sheila exclaimed and all the other girls agreed quickly, giving giggly little moans and being incredibly obvious about staring at Dean.

At first Y/N’s mind wanted to mock that idea, remnants of their childhood rivalries and bickering jumping forward. But then she looked back at him where he still stood, talking to Sam. 

Holy crap, she realized with a bolt of lightning kind of realization, he really is ridiculously hot.

He wore black jeans and his black Metallica t-shirt which stretched tightly across his newly broadened shoulders. His hair was thick and perpetually looked like he’d carelessly run his fingers through it. His smile was bright and blinding even across the schoolyard, and though none of them could see it, she knew his eyes would be twinkling in that mischievous way they did when he was bent on getting into trouble.

She could see that he was noticing all the attention he was getting, and he patted Sam on the shoulder and started to walk towards them. Sam gave a full-body eye roll and got into the back seat.

The girls all turned shrill as he approached, laughing like dying hyenas. Y/N felt anger start to burn in her stomach and it confused her. But when Dean stopped in front of them and smiled charmingly at each of them, Y/N recognized that it was jealousy turning her heart green and she was shocked. 

“Hello, ladies.” Dean said in a would-be suave kind of way. It made Y/N roll her eyes, but her classmates practically swooned. 

A chorus of dreamy hellos followed and Y/N grabbed on to Dean to pull him away. But Dean resisted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So I’ve, uh, got my car over there.” He said, thumbing towards the Impala, his face full of teenage boy pride. “Anyone need a lift?”

All of them began nodding and squealing, but Y/N shouted over them. “No, it’s fine, Dean, let’s just go. They’re good.” She succeeded in dragging him off but when they were a few yards away from them, Y/N ran back quickly to warn her temporary classmates, using a paraphrased version of she and Dean’s childhood refrain.

“Stay away from him. He’s mine and you can’t have him.”

***

Once Y/N realized her feelings for Dean, things became very awkward for her. All the things that used to be simple, sitting beside him to watch a movie, training with him for hunts, simply sitting across the room from him and looking at him - they all became unbearable situations that she didn’t know how to deal with.

When she sat beside him now she could feel the way he radiated warmth, she could feel her heart skip a beat when he’d shift his leg so his thigh pressed against hers. When they were training, simple holds that she had only ever cared about breaking out of before, now left her breathing heavy. When his big hand would wrap around her wrist or whenever he'd reach his strong arms around her waist from behind, it was everything she could do not to just sink into his arms like putty. 

About a week and a half after her epiphany hit, she and Dean were alone in the motel room, sparring, and he pushed her up against a wall, pinning her there and expecting she'd try to get out. But he was breathing softly across her cheek, his face inches from hers and her whole body started tingling, making her lose her grip on the knife she held. It fell from her grasp and ended up slicing his calf on the way down.

“Aah! Jesus!” Dean shouted as he let her go and hobbled away from her. “What the hell, Y/N? What’s wrong with you?”

He sat down on the bed and Y/N ran over to pull up his slashed jeans, gasping at the long wound that bled down the side of his calf.

“Oh my god, Dean!” She said, jumping up and quickly grabbing the first aid kit. She got back on her knees beside the bed and pressed pads of gauze against his leg to stop the bleeding. She looked up into his face and saw his eyes closed in pain. “I’m so sorry! I just…”

Tears hit the backs of her eyes and she shook her head, looking back at his leg. “God, I’m so sorry.” She repeated in a teary voice.

“Hey.” Dean said as he lifted her chin so she was looking at him again. His thumb brushed away a tear that fell down her cheek. “Sweetheart, it's fine. No need for tears. I’ve survived worse.”

Y/N’s breath stilled in her chest and she whispered quietly. “You’ve never called me that before…sweetheart.”

Dean immediately tried to act casual, but he wasn’t a very good actor. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t, like, freak out about it.”

Y/N nodded and went back to caring for his wound. Once she got the bleeding stopped, she could see it wasn’t very deep. As she cleaned it, she could feel the tension between them rising, like something thick and palpable. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Did you, uh…I mean do you want me to call you that? Or, I mean…did you like it?”

Y/N felt her cheeks turn a burning red and she shrugged as she taped a big piece of gauze over the long cut. “I dunno.” Was her only response.

She was finished taking care of him, so she stood up and started to walk away. But Dean’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the back of her t-shirt. He let go as she turned back to face him. 

“Why have you been so weird lately?”

Y/N laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Dean stood up and pressed closer to her, slipping his hand around her so that it laid against the small of her back. Her blood pumped hard in her veins and she licked her lips. Dean’s jaw clenched and his eyes fell to her mouth.

“I mean that you’ve been weird with me all week. Ever since I picked you up at school and you got all jealous.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped open before she slammed it shut and spluttered. “Whatever! You wish! Like I care about the dozens of girls you riffle through in every town we stay in.”

Dean moved closer to her and brought his other hand up to cup her cheek and trail his fingers along her jawbone. “I mean…it does actually seem like you care a little bit.” 

He walked her backwards a few more steps so that she was pressed up against the wardrobe that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes roamed over her face and then he looked deeply into her eyes, and his green-eyed gaze made her feel exposed, like he could see into her soul so there was no point in lying to him. He’d always known how she felt. He knew when she was scared, knew when she was annoyed, and when she was furious; he knew her sadness and the loneliness that seized her sometimes. 

He always knew, and he always knew just how to make things better for her. She’d already realized that she was actually incredibly attracted to him, but now she realized that he was also her best friend. She felt incredibly stupid for not realizing that sooner. She’d always thought of him as this annoying gnat that wouldn’t leave her alone. But really he was the person who knew her the best, the one she was never afraid to go to for anything, the one she knew would always have her back.

Dean’s breath was soft against her lips as he hovered there. “So, do you care, Y/N? Even a little?”

She could do nothing but nod, and then close the distance between them, pressing her lips against his briefly before pulling back, terrified to see his reaction. 

But a wide, slightly goofy smile spread across his face and it made her smile in return. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.” He said before he planted his mouth over hers and kissed her for real. 

She’d never been kissed before, but she’d imagined it many times. This was nothing like she’d imagined. It was much wetter, much hotter, and much more all-consuming than she’d imagined it would be. Her head was swimming, and she felt like she might pass out. He swept his tongue into her mouth and she moaned. 

The thought of “french kissing” had always weirded her out a little. Who wanted someone else’s tongue in their mouth? But Dean’s tongue was silky and skillful as he trailed it along the roof of her mouth. It felt possessive and that feeling made her stomach clench in a pleasant and shaky kind of way. 

When she reciprocated, slowly allowing her tongue to trail along his, Dean groaned and slipped both his hands down over her hips to press her closer to him. She gasped as she felt his hard on through his jeans, pressing against her lower belly. 

Dean pulled his mouth away from her and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, before turning his head and pressing soft kisses along her neck.

“Sorry.” He said gruffly. “It’s just…I mean, fuck you’re crazy hot. Sorry.” He said again, but Y/N giggled, more thrilled than she could say at his reaction to her and to their kisses.

“But,” Dean continued, “there’s no rush or anything, no rush to, you know, do anything.”  He raised his head to look her in the eye. “I’m just so glad that you're, uh…that you like me, you know…like that. I’ve liked you for so long.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “Been wanting to kiss you since we were about eleven years old.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I just realized last week that I wanted to kiss you. How have you known this long, and not tried to kiss me even once?”

Dean shrugged sheepishly. “Never thought you’d want me to, and I wasn't about to try something and weird you out…or make you stay away from me. But then, you seemed so jealous the other day, and the daggers you were shooting at those other chicks gave me some reason to hope. Then you’ve been so weird ever since.”

Y/N snorted. “Whatever, I wasn’t shooting any daggers. I’ve been very cool and collected this whole time.” She lied.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, the gaping wound on my leg says otherwise.”

“Hey, don’t blame me because you lost focus and got yourself hurt.” Y/N said haughtily. 

“Lost focus? I did not lose focus. You got all swoony and dropped the damn knife.”

“That’s totally not true. You know you always - “

Suddenly Dean cut her off with another kiss, one that was deep and probing and left Y/N completely senseless.

Dean’s breathing was harsh and shallow too as he rested his forehead on hers and spoke against her lips.

“God, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Kiss me?” Y/N asked, her eyes still closed.

“No. Shut you up.”

It took Y/N a moment to register his words and then her eyes popped open and she saw his wide, mischievous grin and punched his upper arm lightly. “You’re an asshole.”

Dean nodded and yanked her tight against him. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

Y/N laughed. “Yes.” She nodded. “But let’s just remember who kissed who first.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

[dira333]

Water Lily - Kisame Hoshigaki x Reader

tagged: @missalienqueen @snuggleboots

The rain was more than welcome.

Kisame never minded the rain, had been born and raised in and around water. He loved that about Amegakure, felt more at home here than he’d ever done in Kiri. 

There was just something honest about it, the way its drops washed away every lie, every chance of deceit. Where one could easily hide in the neverending fog of Kiri, they’d have to bare themselves to the world in the rain of Amegakure.

.

It was close to nightfall by the time he made it out of the hidden village.

Kisame could have easily found a bed there, but he wanted to get out, clear his head, and think about the offer he received.

As a Rogue-Nin, he didn’t have that much to choose from. A hidden life, or a life of being chased. He’d never been one to hide away but he was getting older. Maybe he’d one day get tired of hunting down criminals for bounty or fight those who hunt him. Maybe one day he’d want to have a family too.

If Kisame accepted Pain’s offer, he wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, but the Akatsuki didn’t sound like a group he could walk away from as easily as he did with Kirigakure. 

He paused in his musings, forcing the thoughts from his mind to enjoy the wet squelch of his sandals, the cool feeling of rain soaking through his clothes. If there was a river nearby he could take a dip later after he found a bed to sleep in.

-

Lanterns bravely defied the rain, their soft light ready to fight the coming darkness.

It looked warm and welcoming and Kisame spontaneously decided that he would stay here for the night. He moved through the crowd of people, eyes focused on the signs, looking for an Inn.  When he stopped in front of one, something tumbled into his side.

When he looked down, two curious bright eyes peered up at him. A child, maybe three years old. Kisame frowned, and waited for the crying that usually followed when small children took sight of his features.

Instead, the kid started beaming, reaching for him with chubby fingers.

“Fishy!” It cried out joyfully. “Big Fishy!”

“Oh, Suzume!” Two arms swooped in and pulled the child away from his leg. It was a young woman, visibly related to the child. 

“I am so sorry.” You apologized, not meeting his eye. You were pretty, not unlike a water lily that bloomed in murky water. 

“Fishy!” Suzume kept exclaiming, struggling against the arms keeping her away.

“You like fish?” Kisame asked, watched with quiet satisfaction as your eyes finally flew up to his face, and widened at his sight. For some, it was his Hitai-ate, clearly crossed through, for others his animalistic features. He wondered what it was that scared you.

“I love Fish!” The child beamed up at him, not the least bit scared. “My favorite are sharks! Then dolphins. Whales are cool too! And Jellyfish!”

“Why do you like sharks?”

“They are so funny!” Suzume giggled and turned her face to you. “Right, Onee-chan?”

You didn’t answer, your eyes still on him as if you were searching for something.

“Are you looking for a place to sleep?”

“What if I am?”

You nod to the sign above the door. “Old Man Koda rips people off. Our place might not be as big but our prices are honest.”

He’d be a fool to say no to that offer and while Kisame Hoshigake might be known as many things, he’d never been a fool.

-

Kisame hears the pitter-patter of quick little feet before he sees her.

Suzume fails to hide herself, a chubby shadow betraying her efforts to be secretive.

“Fishy?” She asks, whispers way too loudly. “Can I bathe with you? I can scrub your back.”

He wouldn’t have minded a similar offer from her big sister, but he grins at the little girls eagerness. Kisame pushes open the door to Suzume already beaming up at him.

In her arms is a stuffed toy that has seen better days. The shark has lost most of it’s filling and its felt teeth are no longer white but a dirty grey.

“This is Mr. Mimi.” Suzume explains and steps inside the little washroom. “He watches over me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Suzume nods her head eagerly, walks up to the bathtub and climbs up, takes a seat on the rim. Her movements tell him that this isn’t the first time she’s scrubbed someone’s back.

“Do you bath with your sister?”

“Yes.” She nods. “You have to get into the water.”

“You don’t need to scrub my back.” He tells her, keeping his towel securely around his waist as he takes a seat in the tub. It’s too small for him, but he folds his legs under him and grins up at Suzume. “You can just tell me about Mr. Mimi.”

-

By the time you step inside the washroom, it’s clear that you must have looked for your sister everywhere. Your hair has turned into a frizzy halo around your head as if you pulled at it in desperation and your eyes are red from unshed tears.

“Suzume!” You cry out when you spot her, still sitting on the rim of the bathtub, chubby feet dangling in the cooling water, Mr. Mimi secure in her grasp. “What are you doing?”

“She wanted to scrub my back.” Kisame offers with a grin. “I could barely keep her at bay.”

“I was telling him about Mr. Mimi.” Suzume squirms in your hold. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes, you are. You should be in bed. And you can’t bother our guests! You know that.”

“But! Mr. Fishy!” Suzume starts crying. “I’m not done yet.”

“Relax, Kiddo.” Suzume immediately stops her wailing at his words. “You can tell me in the morning.”

-

Kisame finds you in the kitchen after that, a pot of curry bubbling in front of you.

“I am sorry about my sister.” You say without looking at you. “She’s normally not that clingy.”

“It’s fine.” He takes a seat at the table, his eyes on your back.

You’re not Shinobi, but you have some sense of Chakra Control. He can taste it like he can taste the possibility of a great fight or the deceit of a stranger.

“You’re not Shinobi.” He’s not asking, but you nod. “Not anymore. My parents took me from the Academy at eleven when my little brother was born. He needed a lot of care and it was cheaper to have me care for him.”

“How do you make money?”

You shrug and put a plate in front of him. He digs in with a quick “Itadakimasu”. It’s delicious.

“I house travelers like you. I mend clothes, bake, whatever needs to be done. I’m not eligible for missions because I never properly graduated, but we make do.”

“Your brother?”

“Dead.”

“Your parents?”

“What do you think?” Your voice is sharp now. He shrugs like you did before.

Why is he even that interested in you? You’re not the first pretty girl he’s seen on his travels. 

He should just take you to his room - which coincidentally belongs to you anyway - and get this over with. Tomorrow he can leave with a clearer mind and never think of you again.

But he doesn’t. 

Kisame sleeps alone, dreams of rainy days and the gleaming white of a water lily in a murky pond.

-

“Fishy!”  Suzume lands heavy on his chest, beams into his face as he blinks.

“It’s way to early.” Kisame grunts and she giggles, tugs at the blanket covering him.

“I gotta tell you about Mr. Mimi!” Suzume exclaims eagerly, climbs under his blanket before he can protest. She’s fast when she wants to be.

That’s how you find them half an hour later, Suzume snuggled into his side, waving Mr. Mimi around as she tells him her dreams while he dozes.

You make breakfast and keep quiet over it, speak only through short glances.

Kisame should get going. Pain didn’t give him an ultimatum, but he’s not someone you keep waiting.

Instead he grabs his trusted sword and a scroll filled with Kunai.

“Is there a place we can train?” He asks. Your eyes are big as you nod. But you don’t disagree, walk him down the street and to a field. The grass is slick with rain, the thick droplets have already soaked through his clothes but neither you nor Suzume seem to mind.

“I don’t know the rules.” Kisame points out gruffly. “But can’t you retake the exam? Become a Genin at any age?”

“Who would look after Suzume?” You ask back and he shrugs, unable to speak. Instead he grabs a bigger branch, cuts away with his Kunai until the shape roughly resembles one and presses it into Suzume’s hands.

“Watch me closely, Drop.” Kisame taps one finger against her temple when she furrows her brows in confusion. “Don’t think. Just watch.”

-

After one week he corners you in the kitchen at night. He doesn’t have to say the words, can already see the answers in your eyes. 

Pain can wait a little longer for an answer.

After one month he starts telling you about Kirigakure. The kind of jobs he takes. 

Kisame would never say it out loud - doesn’t have to - but there’s a different kind of honesty to his words when he’s with you, alone, only the rain clothing them.

Two months in and he can feel it, the fire in his bones that makes him restless. Kisame’s never been good at staying in one place - never mind that it’s dangerous for someone like him. He needs the constant thrill that only dangerous missions bring.

Kisame’s not surprised that you can read him before he has to say it.

“You should leave.” You point out one night, your head on his chest. “Make some money. You still need to pay your bill with me.”

“And here I thought I paid you off with my body.” He jokes but his humor falls flat.

“Kisame.” You sit up to look down at him. He can barely make out your shape, but he’s grown to memorize you, the curve of your lips, and the swell of your cheeks. “I will never hold you back. If you need to go, you need to go. Besides, I’m almost bored of you anyway.”

“That’s a lie.” He points out and you sigh. “Yeah. But still. I understand. You did enough for us already. We will be fine.”

He doesn’t believe it. Not because he hasn’t seen your progress or has watched Suzume grow from misusing a wooden Kunai to handling a real one, but because it would mean that he no longer has a place with you, will no longer be needed.

Kisame didn’t know he could need to be needed until he was.

So he bows his head and tells you. 

-

In the morning he grabs his stuff and pats away Suzume’s tears.

“Hush.” He says, voice gruff. “I’ll be back soon. Look out for your sister. Keep yourself safe.”

“I’ll miss you.” She hugs his leg with all the strength of an almost four year old kid.

“I’ll miss you too.” 

You hug him too, but it’s not the same as it is at night. You don’t give yourself up as wholly as you do in the darkness, hold back so much of yourself that it feels like hugging a stranger.

Nothing is certain in a world like theirs, but maybe, just maybe, Pain could bring forth a different one. One where Suzume doesn’t have to learn how to kill. One where you don’t have to be afraid of strangers. One where he can come back to you and stay, knowing no harm will follow him home.

-

Years have carved their marks into his skin.

Suzume will graduate soon, will wear her Hitai-ate with pride. 

She still calls him Fishy, still crawls onto his lap when he’s home. Still cries when he leaves eventually. She’s taken a special liking to Itachi too, has scrubbed his back in their bathtub and served him Dango on the few times he brought him over

Kisame blinks against the rain running down his face, doesn’t have to taste it to know it will be salty. Suzume will be heartbroken over Itachi’s death. If only he could keep it from her.

The closer they are getting to their goal, to the world that Pain has promised them, the less faith he has in it.

What good is a world that kills everything he loves? 

Kisame’s never been a coward, but he’s no fool either. This will kill him, sooner or later.

-

You welcome him back with a smile and a kiss.

There’s something different about you, but you refuse to tell.

Suzume asks about Itachi and he lies through his teeth, if only to have one more day of peace.

It’s only after dinner, in the warmth of a shared bath, that he recognizes all the signs.

The swell of your belly, the new kind of smile you carry, the gentle way you press his hands to your lower stomach.

It’s the best thing that has ever happened to him, and he can’t even be happy about it.

Tomorrow he will have to leave again. They still have to capture the Eight-tails and the Nine-tails. Who knows when he will be back, if ever.

It’s a testament to your strength and not his that you don’t cry.

Calmly you ask for details, and hold him while he crumbles.

“So you lost faith.” You say quietly when he’s revealed even the last secret. “I can’t say I ever had any.”

“But Amegakure?”

“I don’t think that Amegakure will be able to rise because of violence or pain. Just think of yourself, what kept you here? Wasn’t it our kindness? Kindness will always be stronger than any pain.”

You cradle his face in your hands and look at him in a way he’s only ever seen you do. Like you know him better than he knows himself.

“If you can, come home. It doesn’t matter if we have to run our whole life. It will be a better life with you in it. If you can’t, I will accept it. I will raise this child to think of you with pride. This is the gift I have for you. Do with it what you will.”

He leaves in the morning. The sun isn’t up yet and neither are you.

No one knows what the future will bring. Either way, he’ll have to make a decision.

-.-

You pull Suzume from the Academy before she can graduate. 

You resign from your position as a Chunin when your pregnancy becomes obvious. 

Kisame has made sure to leave you money with every visit and your savings will take you a long way if you budget right. 

In all of this, you keep hoping that he will return in time for the birth of his child.

But you give birth without him, Suzume the only one there to hold your hand through it.

As months turn into a year your hope changes. 

You hope that he returns at all.

You hope that he’s still alive.

You hope that he was granted a quick death, that he was allowed to die with dignity.

-.-

The rain is more than welcome.

It washes the dried blood off his face. Most of it is his own. 

Kisame still loved that about Amegakure, the way he knew he was coming home just by the rain alone. How it hugged him loosely as he walked through, called him home through the pitter-patter of raindrops.

-

Lanterns bravely defy the rain, their soft light ready to fight the coming darkness.

The village looks as warm and welcoming as the first night he walked through. Although much time has passed, barely anything has changed. When he stops to check his reflection in a window, something tumbles into his side.

When he looks down, two curious bright eyes peer up at him. A boy, maybe one year old, beams up at him, its smile filled with sharp teeth. He frowns, his heart shuddering with the implication.

The kid reaches for him with chubby fingers.

“Fishy!” He cries out joyfully. “Big Fishy!”

Kisame picks him up without a second thought, ignores the pain shooting through his back at the movement. 

“Haruto!” Your voice breaks when you recognize him. A choked sob bursts from your lips, then you’re in his arms too, your momentum almost tipping him over.

“Onee-chan, where are you- Ni-san!” Now’s Suzume hanging off him too. 

-

It’s way past his bedtime when Kisame finally puts Haruto down to sleep.

He cannot stop looking at him, cannot quell the guilt he feels for missing so many moments already. If things had been just a little bit different, he might never have come back at all.

“Let me look at your injuries.” You ask.

“How did I deserve you?” He asks instead. Your hair is in disarray, feeding Haruto dinner has left stains on your shirt, but you’re still his water lily, unblemished by the dirt of the world.

“By existing.” You tell him firmly, but your voice softens when you continue. “By coming home.”