#white sands warm the cold sea

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt20)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses. there will be kissing in some chapters. oh and ANGST sorry

Chapter Twenty: The Disaster

The trees that fall within the forest, catch on one another. Never a clean break, some take other trees with them, others remain suspended mid air, held by the strength of trees yet to be burned. 

Volim Nython makes it back to safety in time to watch the forest of ​​Kashyyyk fall into ashes. 

“Any trouble sir?” Colo Harik asks, standing beside the man in question. 

“None particularly, but even I can admit those clones are tenacious.” Thinking back to the clone he encountered. Wondering how long it took him before he abandoned the wookie child in favor of his own life, or if he had sacrificed himself such that the child would have a chance of survival. 

Either way, it is not as if it matters, it is not as if he will ever see them again.

The wookie child bangs on the door with their small fists as Hunters knuckles connect with the metal with a sickening crunch. Bruised, and cut bloodily, how his hands even manage to stay in form is a mystery. But the dent in the door is enough to keep the sergeant going. 

It is almost open. Is Hunter’s mantra, the door will give, the child will live, he will see his brothers again. 

It is almost open. 

With a particularly loud bang, the tree begins to break, and the door shifts on its hinges, bending outwards as his fists hit the middle once more. 

He pushes the young Wookie through without thinking. They give a small cry when they notice he hasn't followed. Hunter looks at the kid, at the gap, and rips his chestplate off. 

Even then he barely makes it through, foot catching and him kicking off his military boot, and losing a shin guard. Everything hurts, the metal is unforgiving on his body. And still, when he is through, he clings to the young wookie in fear, like he’s a shiny all over again. 

The wookie offers him his disgaruded helmet with scared eyes and soft hands. With a bare foot in the mud, the child held to his chest, Hunter takes off into the remnants of the forest of ​​Kashyyyk. 

He collapses into a ditch and hopes the separatists run out of ammunition, or that his corpse will protect the young wookie. 

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You wake to yet more yelling, but it is not between the five men as you would expect, there’s even more voices to be heard. The northern port of Naboo is somehow even busier than that of Alderaan, and from the sounds of it they’re pickier about the ships that dock there too. 

You wake with parts of your clothes still damp. They feel itchy and awful against your skin, but you ignore it to the best of your ability. And once again, your hair seems to be impossibly tangled. Combing through it with your fingers, and smoothing out your shirt, before dawning Hunter’s long, hefty jacket and stepping out of his cabin. 

For such a storm the night before, the port of Naboo seems insanely calm. The sky appears to be clear, and Wrecker passes you with a smile, and Gonk on his shoulder. 

“G’morning Araay!” He greets you cheerfully. 

“Good morning Wrecker,” You respond in kind, before your face falls. “Are we in Mustafar already?” You begin looking around, trying to grasp your surroundings. 

“This is the most north-east port of Naboo.” Tech interrupts, walking down the steps from the main bridge. “Hunter believed we should check for damage caused by the storm.” The man in the goggles explained skeptically. You hum in agreement to try and sound like you know what Tech would be referring to. 

“Has anyone seen-” You trail off when Crosshair also approaches, having climbed down from the bird's nest. 

“Your lover?” Crosshair interjects with a satisfied smirk. 

“We are not lovers.” You tell him pointedly. 

“Yes you…” He begins, 

“I think it’s cute” Wrecker interrupts 

“I think it’s none of our business.” Tech joins in. 

“Well they made it our business when they-” 

“Don’t be such a hard ass Cross’air”

“Do not tell me what to do. Wrecker.” 

“Stop being so childish, both of you…”

“Is anyone going to tell me where Hunter is?” You ask, before having to repeat yourself in a raised tone just to be heard over their arguing. All three of them continue to bicker quietly for a few moments. 

“He went on a supply run.” Crosshair says, frowning at his brothers. Watching you as you slip in between the three men and start heading to disembark. 

“He should be returning soon.” Tech tells you, you don't need to go get him is what he really wants to say, but given that you’re about as stubborn as a bantha, he feels like it would be a waste of breath. You look at him with raised eyebrows, Tech sighs and shakes his head.

“If you’re so concerned, come with me, in fact we could all have a lovely family outing.” You tease with a sickly sweet tone. 

“This is not a family.” Crosshair argues pointing to everyone.

“Of course it is!” Wrecker, once again argues. “If we weren't family, why would we put up with each other?” 

“Someone should stay with the ship.” Tech says walking away to check his holopad. Crosshair gives one last deep sigh, and resigns himself to his fate. Grabbing his rifle before following you and Wrecker down to the dock. 

“I will use this if I have to.” He tells both of you, “whether it is on you two or myself.” 

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Hunter finds himself completely out of his depth, standing in a women's clothing boutique. His argument is that you need more than one set of clothes, but he did not account for the sheer complexity of female fashion. And when he realizes he does not even know your measurements, the famed sergeant surrenders for the first time in his life, and gives up. 

Determined not to return empty handed, and fueled by a desire to get you something that is nice, he stops by a fruit cart, muling over his options, and the price of fresh food these days. Hunter is admiring a selection of Jogan Fruit’s when he hears an unfamiliar voice. 

“I didn’t know pirates were so interested in simple things.” Hunter translates the Kyuzo words subconsciously. And he puts the Jogan down slowly but firmly, in such a way that has the stall owner looking nervously from one man to the other. 

“Embo.” He greets, seeing the unmistakable hat. “I do not believe we have business together.” He tells him firmly. 

“The girl.” The bounty hunter tells the sergeant seriously. Noticing when his jaw clenches at the mention of you. 

“What girl?” Hunter tries to play it off, but the way his shoulders tighten gives everything away. 

“Where’s the girl?” Embo demands, and he can see Hunters mind racing through the possibilities. A Bounty Hunter as revered as him wouldn’t be asking the whereabouts of his prey. And if Hunter is not the intended target, why would Embo give himself away this easily. But perhaps it is not about the motives of the employed, but that of their employer. 

So what is it that Nython wants?

A scapegoat. 

Hunter comes to the conclusion all too late, he should have bolted the second he recognized Embo, he should have run while he had the chance. He never should have left your side. 

His viroblade connects with the metal of Embo’s signature hat, and Hunter finds himself receiving a foot to the chest, and collapsing into the fruit cart. This commotion is enough to scatter the remaining people in the busy street. 

He hears the way the hat slices through the air before he sees it, and manages to roll himself off of the debris in time. Hunter draws his blaster and fires three shots in quick succession, Embo is taller than he is, and Hunter knows better than to try and outrun one of the galaxy's fammed bounty hunters. 

All that’s left to do is fight. 

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Crosshair will not stop frowning, but you think he’s having a nice time nevertheless. Wrecker, having found some fresh food to take back to the marauder, is happy. He keeps offering some of his snacks to Crosshair, and ultimately giving it to Gonk when he’s turned away from his sour brother. 

You take in Naboo to the best of your ability, trying not to get too distracted by the hustle and bustle of the shops and people. And everything so lovely until the three of you hear the screams and gasps of a shocked crowd. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, when Crosshair grips your arm as the many people take off like a river of water flowing against the three of you. When the sound of a blaster rings through the air, the crowd starts moving even faster. 

“Wrecker!” Crosshair exclaims, pushing you towards his brother, clearly having seen something the two of you have not. Your eyes follow the sniper as he scales the nearest building. 

“Where is he going?” You ask, looking around frantically. You see Wrecker's face drop suddenly and you know he sees something you can’t. 

“We need to get back to the ship.” He’s trying to play it down, keep you calm, but he isn't a good liar. You turn to follow his gaze and that's when you see it. 

Hunter facing off against what can only be a skilled fighter, from the trouble he seems to be giving the sergeant. You flinch and duck when a sniper bolt connects with the man's metal hat. Crosshair has gone for the highest vantage point. 

“Get back to the ship.” Wrecker rushes out, pressing a pistol into your hand. “Find Tech, tell him what's happening.” 

“I cannot leave y-”

“Array!” Bile fills your stomach at the sound of Wreckers anxiety. “He’s here for you.” Another ping of Crosshairs rifle says he still hasn't hit his intended target. 

“Wrecker!” Crosshair shouts, before he falls into the cart that was tossed into the middle of the street. His rifle skittering to the side. Above him, Colo Harrik and his men surround the rooftops. Wrecker shoves you into the doorway you’re standing nearest. 

“I believe we’ve made our point, that's enough Embo.” Colo Harrik declares. Hunter, who resides at the unfortunate end of a sword hesitantly raises his hands. Wrecker and Crosshair are pulled into the middle of the square. 

“You are a tenacious bunch, aren't you?” He chuckles to himself in memory of the war, before addressing the sergeant. “Where is she?” When Hunter remains silent Harrik sends a swift kick into his chest that has him doubling over. 

“Go fuck yourslef Harrik.” Crosshair spits, prompting one of the men to push him into the ground. 

“So crass,” he responds disgustedly. “I really cannot fathom what she sees in any of you.” 

“Common decency perhaps.” Wrecker responds immediately. Colo Harrik scofs. 

“Decency. If she had any decency she would have returned to her husband by now.” 

“He is not her husband.” All eyes turn to Hunter, who for the first time since the ordeal began, is speaking. 

“So he does speak!” Harrik rejoices, watching his men struggle to cuff the man in question. “I wonder how infuriating it will be when she comes crawling back to him. When she tells the public of the horrors of her kidnapping. When she details the disgusting treatment she received from the Kaminoan clones, and how one of them even had the audacity to try and force her to love him.” Hunter struggles in earnest now. 

“She’s never going back to coruscant.” He tells him.

“We shall see,” He says before raising his voice. “Spread the word men! Bring back Volim Nythons wife, or the Clone pirates will hang!” Your blood runs cold. And you watch Harrik wave a circle with his hand before Crosshair, Wrecker and Hunter are dragged up and away.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @​vergol @Lackofhonor @itsagrimm

[writers-potion]

Could you give any advice for "descriptive" writing of any scene or action scenes or mapping out the scenery (Mountains, forests, streets etc) - i believe this is a struggle for Non-English speaking writers due to lack of vast vocabulary.

Common Scenery Description Tips

Vocabulary is clearly an important part of description, but it doesn’t have to be a limit. The most important thing about description in fiction is picking the right details to mention:

How does the details add to the mood of the story? A mountain ridge will be dark, gray and foggy if the overall mood is meant to be mysterious/brooding. In contrast, a mountain can be brilliantly snow-capped, lush green and “smiling down” upon the character if they’re out for a light stroll.

How are the contrasts/complementary aspects being brought out?

Are you using the five senses? You can even combine the senses, ie. blue ringing of the church bells

(If you have the POV character) what 

Some other tips for setting description:

Use similes and metaphors. Creative figures of speech always get my attention as a reader. 

Mention story-specific elements. For example, “The sky was the shade of Zoes’ eyes” or “the mountains looked like a group of trolls sleeping on one another” 

Be concise. Today’s readers don’t want to read paragraphs and paragraphs about one landscape. Outline the larger elements in the scene, their location and general mood. Add some details, then move on. 

If the same location appears multiple times, differentiate the description little by little as you write, instead of trying to lay out one scene in too much detail at once. 

That said, here are some helpful words/phrases:

Forests/Mountains

Color: bone-white, phantom-white, hazy gray

Sound: rumbling, booming grumbling, bellowing clapping, trundling, growling, thundering

Shape: crinkled, crumpled, knotted, grizzled, rumpled, wrinkled, craggy, jagged, gnarled, rugose  

Action: sky-punching/stabbing/piercing/spearing, heaven-touching/kissing, snow-cloaked/hooded/wreathed/festooned

Sloping sides, sharp/rounded ridges, high point/peak/summit

Majestic, gargantuan humbling, vast, massive, titanic, towering, monumental, mighty, vast, humbling

Mountains having faces, etc. 

Seas

Color: blue-green, crystal-clear crystalline, emerald, frothy, hazy, glistening, pristine, turquoise

Size: boundless, abyssal, fathomless, unconquerable, vast, wondrous

Sound: billowing, blustering, bombastic

Action: boisterous, agitated, angry, biting, breaking, brazen. Churning, bubbling, changing, brooding, calm, convulsing, enticing erratic, fierce, tempestuous, turbulent, undulating

Alluring, blissful, betwitching, breezy, captivating, chaotic, chilly, elemental, disorienting

Deserts

Sight: A landscape of sand, flat, harsh sunlight, cacti, tumbleweeds, dust devils, cracked land, crumbing rock, sandstone, canyons, wind-worn rock formations, tracks, dead grasses, vibrant desert blooms (after rainfall), flash flooding, dry creek

Sounds: Wind (whistling, howling, piping, tearing, weaving, winding, gusting), birds cawing, flapping, squawking, the fluttering shift of feasting birds, screeching eagles, the sound of one’s own steps, heavy silence, baying wild dogs

Smell: Arid air, dust, one’s own sweat and body odor, dry baked earth, carrion

Touch: Torrid heat, sweat, cutting wind, cracked lips, freezing cold (night) hard packed ground, rocks, gritty sand, shivering, swiping away dirt and sweat, pain from split lips and dehydration, numbness in legs, heat/pain from sun stroke, clothes…

Taste: Grit, dust, dry mouth & tongue, warm flat canteen water, copper taste in mouth, bitter taste of insects for eating, stringy wild game (hares, rats) the tough saltiness of hardtack, biscuits or jerky, an insatiable thirst or hunger

Streets

Dusty, fume-filled, foul, sumptuous, broad, bucolic, decayed, mournful, seemingly endless, empty, unpaved, lifeless, dreadfully genteel, muddy, nondescript, residential/retail

Bleach, flimsy, silent, narrow, crooked, furrowed, smoggy, commonplace, tumbledown, treeless, shady

The blacktop streets absorb the spring sunshine as if intent upon sending heaven's warmth back through my soles.

The streets absorbed the emotions in the air, the city as the steady and reassuring mother.

The streets were a marriage of sounds, from bicycle wheels to chattering.

In the refreshing light of early daytime, the streets had the hues of artistic dreamtime, soft yet bold pastels.

Cobbled streets flowed as happy rivers in sunlight.

Parties

Some extra tips for locations like parties, where lots of action is going around practically everywhere:

Focus on the important characters - where they are, who they’re with. 

Provide some overall description of the structure of the party scene (a pool, a two-storey house with yard?), then move on to details. 

Don’t try to describe everything. 

whirlwind of laughter and music, a symphony of joyous chaos.

It was a gathering that shimmered with the glow of twinkling lights and echoed with the rhythm of dancing feet.

The air was alive with excitement, buzzing with conversations and the clink of glasses.

Every corner held a story waiting to unfold, a moment waiting to be captured in memory.

It was a tapestry of colors, a mosaic of faces, each adding their own brushstroke to the vibrant canvas of the night.

Laughter cascaded like a waterfall, infectious and unstoppable, filling the room with warmth.

The night was a carnival of senses, with aromas of delicious food mingling with the melodies that filled the air.

Time seemed to slip away in the whirl of the party, moments blending into each other like colors on a palette.

The energy of the crowd was electric, pulsing through the room like a heartbeat, binding everyone in a shared moment of celebration.

It was a celebration of life, where worries faded into the background, and the present moment was all that mattered.

[willownwisp]

love on me

iv. you're exciting, boy come find me. (di!leon x fem reader)

author's note: yayyyyyy, fourth entry !

cw: NSFW MDNI. love hotels. p in v. oral (f receiving and m receiving).

part 4 of ree's leon valentine's advent

If he had been born under different circumstances, Leon swears he'd surely become a beach bum. Better an idle man rather than get smacked by bioweapons day in and night out, not only that, but have the top brass of good ol' U.S of A breathing down his neck constantly. Yet, he's a man who has seen things, he'd already vowed to protect whatever and whoever he can. Cold and cruel this life may be.

So he loves the warmth of the sun on him, lying down on a sun lounger sipping on dry drinks. Enjoy the view in the tropics of crystalline beaches and white sand on his feet, letting loose and relaxing himself.

Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights.

So here he is, you in hand, his cute girlfriend clinging onto his bicep like a bunny that hopped in excitement at every interesting thing you see because you're adorable to him like that.

You were extra flirty too, Leon had chalked it up to you being over the moon because you were finally in Japan after so long of dreaming it, he's smug and pleased with himself, he likes the good boyfriend brownie points, but you had other things in mind.

"Bunny, aren't you cold?"

Leon cocked his head to the side to take a look at you, in your skirt, crop top, and cardigan combo. He's not the type of man to control women and their clothing. Come on, don't people listen to Beyonce? Girls run the world. He doesn't really know who the fuck Beyonce is but he does know Sherry listens to the song.

"Nope."

You give him a cheeky grin, shaking your head.

"Besides, you'll warm me up anyway."

You say this with a wink as you both card through the busy streets of Tokyo as Leon gives you an innocent grin, oblivious to your intent.

"Of course I would bunny. I take care of my pretty girl."

He coos, before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead, you giggle at how he missed your innuendo before smirking.

"I wanna go somewhere."

You reply as you slide your hand to lace both your fingers together, his calloused ones enveloping your own as you all but drag him to the busy streets.

You turn him around to an alley, google maps pulled up on your free hand as you show him, what seems to be a rather flashy building illuminated by red neon lights and blinged up signs. It was like the establishment wanted to be purposefully flamboyant.

"What am I looking at bunny?"

You flash him a toothy grin, Leon knows that glint of mischief in your eyes as you reply.

"A love hotel."

Leon is floored.

"A what now? A motel? Bunny, if you were horny I'd be hauling your ass back to the hotel room right now."

He breathes out, smoke escaping from his lips as he quirks an eyebrow at you, but you giggle.

"This is different!"

No shit.

Leon thinks inwardly as sapphire eyes scan the building once more. Motels for sex used to be inconspicuous during his time. He really is getting old.

"You wanna check in bunny?"

You nod your head quite excitedly with a huge grin on her face, there's no mistaking it. Your eagerness, and Leon relents. Of course you would want a vacation and his cock. No surprise there.

Leon sighs and squeezes your hand, being the gentleman that he is, leading you inside of the garish establishment. He'd be lyin g if he says he isn't the least bit interesting, you were always the more exciting and free-spirited one.

On the reception counter, he waits for the key, with you standing just beside him, hands still entwined. As Leon grew curious, you grew embarrassed. The lobby was decorated with red. Red hearts, mirrors, sensual posters, and oh god, the brochures on a nearby rack that had photos of toys and costumes

You're fairly aware that love hotels are popular, but now that you're gonna experience this for yourself, bashfulness and your own eagerness had you blushing.

Leon could see you, feel how you'd gone and overheated in his arms and you both aren't in the room yet. He chuckles, squeezing you. You got him going now, as a shiver runs down his spine.

"Are you interested in a specific suite? You can take a look on our brochure here."

The receptionist asks and Leon shakes his head.

"We're fine with anything."

The receptionist nods, handing Leon the key as he cooly leads you to the designated room. Despite his laidback demeanor, Leon is already briskly walking, adrenaline in his veins. As you both reached the designated room, he eases the key in the lock as it opens with a low clicking sound. He leads you inside first, following behind but not before locking the door while you turn the lights on. Another clicking sound, the lighting is a kind of low red and Leon blinks as he follows in, you both inspect the room with amusement and fascination. There inside the center of the room is a queen round bed, with a heart-shaped headboard, covered in satin sheets and what seems to be a confetti of hearts on the foot of the bead, even the pillows were heart-shaped, and the most ridiculous part were the mirrors. Everywhere. Mirrors on the wall, on the ceiling, mirrors of various  shapes and sizes at each of the walls. Red, heart-shaped lounge chairs and a faux tiger rug. Gaudy as the room is, it certainly looks like a place to fuck alright. 

Your eyes slowly adjust to the light, but you were beaten by Leon, who is certainly not the least bit captivated by the interior choices. He did, however, wanted to fuck you in it. He's already dropped his coat on the floor before proceeding to toss his shirt away as he stares at you with an amused smirk while you stood speechless.

"You embarrassed now?

He asks while putting his hands on your waist before turning you around to face him. Face his smug face smirking at you.

"Who? Me?"

You reply with a cocky tone.

"Nah."

You wink at him and he chuckles, he takes your hand pulling you to him as he strides to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Figures," he shrugs "You always wanna fuck me. Don't you, bunny?"

He coos before kissing your palms, your fingertips brush across his lower lip, and he kisses your fingertips one by one, the small act only making you shiver.

"Is that a problem?"

You ask him as that familiar warmth pools in your stomach, he had just finished unbuckling his belt and is now rubbing his hands on your thighs, before peeling your skirt off of you.

He gives you that same handsome grin, there was a sparkle in his eyes and you blush. You take off the rest of your upper clothing to help him before Leon pulls you to sit on his lap, his pretty bunny.

He presses his lips into yours in a sweet kiss, before sweeping his tongue on your lower lip, a cue to open your mouth, proceeding to stick his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you and you sink into his lap. The kiss a passionate tango and as you both part for air, his lips connects to yours with a thin strand of saliva. He swipes it with his thumb before chuckling.

"You're so fucking pretty."

He breathes out before lifting you up, only to place you gently on the bed. Leon's eyes roam over your voluptuous figure, smirking at the dampness on your underwear, he kneels down, peeling that last pesky article of clothing off of you, already admiring how swollen your clit is already.

"So fucking hot too."

He murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses on your ankle, your knees, and up your thighs.

Your breath hitches on your throat, you feel yourself soaking the sheets with every kiss.

Your blissed out face doesn't escape Leon and he smirks, he presses another kiss on your pelvis, before he presses a kiss on your clit. It was like a greeting, in his silly mind.  

His cold breath against fans against your skin before he takes a long, languid lick on your pussy.

Your hands immediately reach down to grip fistfuls of his dark hair, pulling him closer as he licked over your slit, lapping at your essence.

"Fuck, Leon."

You whimper, tossing your head back and Leon smirks against your pussy. He always liked seeing you coming undone with his mouth. His tongue dips into your entrance, the wet appendage flicking and curling inside you.

He presses his thumb on your clit while his mouth still worked on you, relishing in your sweet taste and breathy moans while you could only shut her eyes closed and sob his name helplessly. He doesn't let up, he pulls his tongue out to wrap your clit in his warm mouth and sucking it, inserting two fingers inside your sopping wet pussy. Scissoring and curling inside you while his tongue flicks and sucks on the hood of your clit. It doesn't take look that you gush around his fingers in an orgasm and he smirks. He let's you breath, admiring your flushed face as he stood up. Takes his boxers off and his thick cock springs out, already erect leaking with precum. He stands beside your face. "Suck."

Despite his domineering voice, he looks at you with soft eyes and you turn your body to his direction, you sit up on the bed. With a lick of your lips, your fingers trail over his abs, before your tongue sweeps across his slit, swiping it clean with his precum and he grunts, his body tensing in your touch.

"Fuck yeah."

He hisses through gritted teeth as your tongue swirls around the head before engulfing his dick with your mouth. You dip your head, swallowing him deeper as your hands grab his waits, until his length reaches the back of your throat, knowing he was looking, you don't break eye contact and you suck his cock, thick on your tongue and rolling your eyes while he looks.

"Shit, bunny. So pretty sucking cock like that."

Leon's voice is throaty and you know he likes what he sees, his dick practically jumped in your mouth and you moan. The vibrations make him shiver violently, and he grunts.

"Goddamn."

He breathes, patting your cheeks, A signal for you to stop and you peels yourself off him with a pout like he had just taken your favorite lollipop. Which is true, he is after all, your favorite lollipop.

"Don't be upset now. You suck cock so good, I won't last long."

You both laugh in unison as he breathes in to calm himself, while stroke his cock, he twirls a finger around.

"Turn around for me, bunny. On your fours if you wanna be good."

You hum in response, turning your back to bend over for him. You arch your back, with your ass perked up against him. In that moment, you understand why Leon wanted to fuck you from behind. The image of you bent over and him standing up, his dick plush on your ass is reflected in all of the mirrors on the walls and you let out a scandalized gasp while Leon only chuckles, sensing your embarrassment.

"Wanna see you moan while I pound you into that fucking mattress."

Leon winks at you from the mirror and you see his smug expression reflected everywhere. He kisses your ass cheeks, he's too horny out his damn mind now. He's inside you with one strong thrust, his thick cock all the way inside and he shuts his eyes close. Stilling for a moment to let you adjust to his sized as you close your eyes and whimper.

"Jesus Christ… no matter how many times I fuck this pussy."

He groans, sweeping his auburn strands before steadying his grip on your waist.

"It never gets used to me. Poor little thing."

The fullness makes you squirm and he savors the addictive feeling of your walls clenching on his cock desperate to get him to just fit. You're pressed against the mattress, your pathetic moans muffled by the sheets.

When he starts to thrust, finding that rhythm, your body jerks forward with every rock of his hips. His body moves to cover your own.

"Watch us baby."

He whispers, his tongue sweeping on the shell of your ear and you could only whimper. Clutching the sheets as he finds his rhythm with his hips rocking against yours.

"Look. Don't hide."

He raps before tugging on your hair to forcibly lift up your face while his free hand tug on your arms. You find yourself feeling small with Leon's muscular body covering you. The muscles on his arm flex as both his hands are now grabbing your arms and your hair. The way his muscles pulled and flexed as his hips slams against her ass, the way your ass bounced on him, the thin layer of sweat that coated his torso, the way his mouth hung open in ragged breaths, the way your breasts bounce at every thrust. You feel so turned on at the sight it was crazy. It looked so erotic. This only elicits louder moans from you, while you move back against him, meeting his thrusts.

"Shit!" Leon groans, clenching his jaw. This positions and rhythm was blowing his mind, coupled with how your face twists into pleasure and the heat that coiled in his stomach. This was so fucking hot, he really wouldn't last long.

"Come here" He whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder, before pulling out which makes you whine in displeasure. He chuckles, both his hands grab you, picking you up. Manhandling your ass to pin you down the mattress. "Shh," he coos. "Not done with you yet bunny."

He chuckles before kissing your nose, guiding himself back inside your pussy. You chuckle as you look at the mirror on the ceiling.

"You've always had a nice ass."

You tease, despite the breathlessness of your voice and Leon only cocks his head to the side in confusion before following your line of sight, remembering that there was a mirror atop the ceiling and he chuckles, a rush of desire running through his veins with the sight of tangled limbs.

"Yeah, so?" His tone full of sass as he smirks. "Jealous much?"

You laugh as he places his fingers under your jawline, bringing your face close before crashing his lips down yours in a sloppy kiss, before moving inside you again. His pace rougher and faster, cock slamming down your pussy like a freight train as you lock your legs around his waist tight, bringing him close before you bite down on his shoulder and Leon hisses a curse.

He peels your legs off of him first before hooking your legs above his shoulders. He growls, this position slips him in deeper, and you squeeze his cock tighter.

"Holy fucking shit!

He exclaims, it's no secret that you both are vocal in the bedroom. You both love verbally assuring each other that the pleasure is mutual, you were always the louder one, but this time it was Leon. Completely pussy whipped with every clench of your walls.

"Got me drunk on this tight fucking pussy."

He grunts and your hands reach out to grab his hips, slamming down on you rougher with every thrust. Your nails digging on the flesh of his waist and he moans. His jaw slacked, sweat dripping down.

"I'm gonna cum inside yeah? Gonna fill this tight pussy up for making me this rabid."

He laughs as his thrusts become erratic. He knows you're close, just like you know that he's close as well.

"Goddamn, got me addicted to pussy."

He moans and your toes curl as he slams into you one last time. His body tensing up, shooting ropes of his cum inside you as you both climax together.

"Yeah, bunny. So good for me. Creaming on this cock like a good girl."

He soothes you, kissing your forehead as you tremble beneath him in the intensity of your orgasm, he looks at you intently. Rubbing your body gently. Not pulling out yet as you gush around his cock.

"You're so pretty when you cum."

He hums. You both cuddle up for a minute to calm down before he pulls out.

Much to Leon's surprise, you whine.

"Lovey… don't pull out yet…"

Leon chuckles, pulling you into his arms to cradle your body.

"Yeah? Give me a minute. Have mercy on the lil guy."

You giggle softly, you were feeling fuzzy and the throbbing in your pussy suggests you were not fully sated yet, and with the way Leon looks at you like a hawk, he wants another too.

"There's nothing little about that."

You retort, giving his chest a little slip and he has a proud look on his face.

"Yeah? Maybe I'll compare it with those next time. Gonna use it on you."

He winks, pointing at the assortment of toys just neatly placed on the bedside table that went unnoticed in the heat of your lovemaking, as you both share a hearty laugh.

[anonymous-dentist]

Despite what Apa Roier says, Pepito knows a great many things about the world.

Like:

The Ocean is big. It's where Pepito and Apa Roier and all the other Pepitos live, but there's still room for SO MANY other Pepitos!!

Pepito's gills don't work right all the time, so Apa Roier and Pepito's other dads all have to swim slowly so they don't lose him. This is called "asthma", and Pepito is probably gonna grow out of it soon!

Water Pepitos live in The Ocean. Sky Pepitos live outside of The Ocean. Pepito hasn't ever seen a Sky Pepito before, but Apa Roier has, and he says that Sky Pepitos are all ugly and they smell bad.

Apa Roier will return Pepito to the bottom of the ocean and get a new Pepito if Pepito isn't a good Pepito.

Pepito knows that last thing very well. He pretends that he doesn't because it makes Apa Roier said every time Pepito mentions being traded in for a new Pepito, but it's true. It has to be! Apa Roier and Apa Mariana both say it, and they're never wrong!

So, when Pepito does the Very Bad Thing, he doesn't wait for Apa Roier to find out. He swims himself to the bottom of the sea, and he curls into a ball, and he pulls his glasses off so he can cry without getting them all gross, and then he cries.

There's blood under Pepito's claws; he can't get it out no matter how hard he scrubs at them with the sand, it won't come out and that just shows how evil Pepito is, because Pepito is a bad Pepito and now Pepito may as well just die. Apa Roier will get a new Pepito, and they'll be much happier together because that Pepito won't be a monster like Pepito is.

The bottom of the ocean is silent, because the only people who live there are lost little mermaids (like how Pepito and Sunny and Empi all used to be) and bad people. Bad Pepitos, just like Pepito is now.

The worst of the bunch is the Sea Witch, known for his eight long scary tentacles and his glowing white eyes and his evil magic. Apa Roier says that the Sea Witch eats lost little Pepitos, and Pepito believes him, because Apa Roier is always right.

Pepito sniffles and rolls onto his back, staring blindly up at the sun rippling above. It's blurry, and its light barely reaches the bottom of the ocean, but it's pretty. It looks... warm. And Pepito is very, very cold.

Normally when the water is a bit too cold, one of Pepito's dads or Ama Rivers will take Pepito into their arms and hold him real tight until he's warmed up. He always treats it like a hug even if Apa Roier doesn't usually hug back, but that's fine because all the others hug back.

("He's a good boy," Apa Roier says. He glares over Pepito's shoulder at Luzu. "Not a killer. Can you get that through your skull, hmm?")

Pepito's lip wobbles and he covers his eyes with his hands before he gets any bright ideas. He doesn't deserve bright ideas, he's a villain. He doesn't deserve the sun, he doesn't deserve to be a son. He's no better than a... than a... than a pirate!!

Pirates are evil, Apa Roier says so. He met a pirate once when he visited the Sky, and he says that he never wants to see a pirate again. They stink and their teeth are rotten and their nails are blunt and they don't even have tails. All they do is kill and steal and fight and they're horrible- villains!

Maybe that's where Pepito belongs, with the pirates, not in The Ocean. He deserves to have stinky breath and bad teeth and whatever the heck "legs" are (Pepito doesn't know, but Apa Quackity always starts laughing when he describes them, so they have to be stupid.)

The Ocean is where all the Good Pepitos live. Pepito isn't a Good Pepito anymore, so he needs to leave.

There's only one person who can make Pepito into a Sky Pepito, and he lives at the bottom of the ocean.

Pepito whimpers at the thought, but he quickly wipes his eyes and sets his jaw into a firm, determined expression. He slips his glasses back on, and he pushes off of the ocean floor and goes in search of the Sea Witch.

It's what he deserves.

-

The Sea Witch isn't too happy to see Pepito, but he lets Pepito into his house and sits Pepito down with a plate of fish on his couch, and he listens.

With a frown on his scary face, the Sea Witch asks, "Okay, but what did you actually do?"

Pepito's eyes start watering at the thought, but he answers anyway, because he has to if he wants the Sea Witch to help him.

"I... I did a Very Bad Thing," he whispers, curling in on himself. He wipes at his eyes and looks away to the side. "If I don't become a pirate, then I'll have to go to jail down here, and I don't wanna go to jail, Mister The Sea Witch. Pepitos aren't meant for jail."

"Pepitos aren't meant to be pirates, either. You're a good kid! What happened?"

Pepito just shakes his head in response. He's crying again, but that's fine. Apa Roier always cries, and nobody ever notices, so the Sea Witch probably hasn't noticed Pepito's tears. Maybe he's blind? He doesn't have any eye holes in his eyes (what are they called, pupils?)

There's quiet, but eventually the Sea Witch lets out a long sigh and nods.

"Fine," he says. "But-" (He cuts Pepito off as Pepito snaps his head up and starts thanking him.) "-I get to pick the pirate crew you go with. I know a bunch of pirates, I'll find a super evil one for you to go with."

That sounds... scary. But Pepito has to be a Brave Pepito. If he says no, then the Sea Witch might eat him, and Pepito doesn't wanna die. Pepito just wants to live in misery agonizing over his mistake for the rest of his unholy, evil life. That's all.

So Pepito nods and reaches out to hug the Sea Witch (it's how Pepito thanks his parents at home, and they like it well enough.)

The Sea Witch hums and hugs Pepito back. "There, there. It'll all be fine, Pepito. This big, scary pirate is going to take good care of you, I promise."

And that sounds scary, but it's fine! Pepito is brave!!

A moment passes, and then the Sea Witch pulls out of the hug and leaves to go get his spell ingredients.

Pepito sits on the couch, and he closes his eyes, and he imagines feeling the sun for the first time in his life, and he pretends that he doesn't already have a big hole in his heart from leaving his parents.

(But, really, they were going to leave him if he didn't leave them. So it's fine.)

-

(Meanwhile, Roier gets home from visiting Bobby's grave to find an empty house. He, of course, panics. Mariana and Quackity are both on vacation, and Rivers is across the reef sparring with Fit, and gods only know where Carre is, and Pepito literally doesn't go anywhere without one of his parents so. So.

Roier's halfway through searching the house when the entire reef shakes. He dashes to a window and looks out just in time to watch a huge column of light erupt from the drop-off point to the bottom of the sea.

He swears and grabs his bag and rushes out the door, not bothering to close it behind him.

Fucking BadBoy...!)

-

The sun is warm. Pepito thinks he loves it, and he thinks it loves him back with how much sunlight is on him as he and the Sea Witch walk through the Sky Pepito town.

It's a shame he can't say as much. His throat hurts, but it isn't from asthma this time. It's from magic.

"Remember, Pepito, you can't talk when you're on land," the Sea Witch reminds him. "I got you legs and lungs, but you had to give me something in return."

A pause.

"If your dad asks, it was your idea. Not mine. I had nothing to do with this."

Pepito nods, duh.

The Sky Pepito Town is huge, though! So many Pepitos, all wearing different outfits and with legs.

Pepito looks down at his own legs thoughtfully. He doesn't know what to think of them quite yet. They look goofy, but he almost likes them better than he likes his tail.

...Liked his tail. Because he can never go in The Ocean again. If he does, then the magic will run out, and he'll have to go home and watch his parents all interact with the new Pepito they'll have gotten while he was away.

But the buildings in the Sky are so tall! They're taller than even Apa Mariana, and he's HUGE!! And all the Sky Pepitos are tall, too! Taller than Pepito, anyway...

Maybe Pepito would be taller if he got shoes. The Sea Witch had managed to magic up some clothes for him before they got into town, but apparently shoes are hard.

Pepito wiggles his toes as he walks. He smiles. Now these? Really silly.

Pepito walks obediently beside the Sea Witch as the Sea Witch leads him through the town's winding streets towards the docks, which is where the pirates live. Supposedly.

"Now, remember, this guy is super evil," the Sea Witch warns him. "So you need to watch out."

Pepito nods, though he only halfway listens as the Sea Witch continues talking about this super scary pirate captain they're going to. Because, really, how much worse can the pirate captain be than Pepito? It's not like he did the Very Bad Thing.

Pepito isn't paying attention, so he doesn't notice the enormous ship in front of him until he's being led up to a bridge leading up to its... roof?

(What are the parts of a boat, again?)

"Cellbit!" the Sea Witch calls, one hand cupped around his mouth. "I have a present for you!"

Pepito winces at the volume, but he doesn't cover his ears. That would be rude, and he needs to make a good first impression if he wants to show how evil he is to the captain.

Pepito watches the ship's roof until he sees a sign of movement. And then... there he is. The pirate captain, the evil one. Captain Celbi.

According to the Sea Witch, Captain Celbi is the most wanted pirate on the seven seas. The Sea Witch says that Captain Celbi eats people, but he didn't say that Captain Celbi murders them, so maybe he isn't that evil after all. Pepito's probably worse than he is.

Captain Celbi looks small when he's on the roof, but he gets bigger and bigger as he walks down the bridge, and then he's huge when he's standing in front of Pepito with his hands on his hips.

He has a sword, is the first thing that Pepito notices. Second is the scar stretching across his face from his left eyebrow down to the right side of his chin. His hair is long, tied back and hidden under a bit, three-pointed hat; but where are his ears? His eyes are so blue that they remind Pepito of The Ocean.

He looks down at Pepito with his mouth twisted into a worried line.

Pepito tries to look intimidating. He puffs his chest out and stands up tall and furrows his eyebrows the way Ama Rivers does before one of her fights.

Captain Celbi looks to the Sea Witch with a couple of rapid, confused blinks.

"Bad," he says, "what the fudge is this?"

Pepito can't introduce himself, so he just waves. Evilly.

The Sea Witch answers for him, how nice!

"This is Pepito," he says, putting a hand on the top of Pepito's head. "He said that he wants to become a pirate."

Pepito nods.

Captain Celbi blinks again before looking back down at Pepito.

Slowly, the captain crouches in front of him, hands on his knees to brace himself.

"You really want to be a pirate?" he asks.

Pepito nods again, firmly. Evilly. He's evil, just like Captain Celbi is.

"It's very dangerous," the captain continues. "Can you handle that?"

Pepito nods a third time. He squeezes his mouth into a determined line. He's got this.

The captain stares at him, and then he stands and grabs the Sea Witch by the arm and says, "Bad, can we talk?"

The Sea Witch doesn't get a chance to argue before getting dragged away and into the crowd.

Pepito watches them go. There's... a lot of people.

A lot of people.

Who knew there were so many Sky Pepitos!?

Pepito steps backwards until his back is against a tall barrel. He looks down at his hands and immediately tears his eyes away from them because there's still blood under his nails even now that his claws have been dulled into weird beige flat things.

Suddenly, and for whatever reason, Pepito misses Apa Roier. He's good with people. He'd be friends with the entire town by now, because he's a good person. Pepito isn't, though. His only friends are going to be the pirates on Captain Celbit's boat.

Yay.

Eventually, Captain Celbi and the Sea Witch come back.

Captain Celbi looks... less confused, but he still looks a little puzzled. He looks at Pepito like he's the puzzle, which is silly. Pepito's Pepito! Nothing crazy about him.

The Sea Witch, though, looks pleased. He bends down and ruffles Pepito's hair briefly before standing and cracking his back with a wince.

"Welp, I'll be on my way. Pepito," he says, looking Pepito in the eye, "take care of Cellbit for me. He might be a super evil pirate, but he can be a bit silly sometimes."

"Hey!" Captain Celbi protests, lightly smacking the Sea Witch's arm. "Fuck you, man!"

"Language!" the Sea Witch snaps.

Pepito giggles, surprising both himself and the Sea Witch. Huh, guess the magic only took away his voice, not his noise.

Captain Celbi's mouth twitches. He blinks slowly, crouching again and extending a hand.

"Pepito, right?" he softly asks.

At Pepito's nod, Captain Celbi continues, louder, "After you shake my hand, you'll officially be part of my crew. There's no going back, okay?"

Briefly, Pepito considers going back home. He never said goodbye; his parents would've said goodbye before abandoning him for a new Pepito, at least.

But he bites his tongue and takes Captain Celbi's hand, anyway. His hand only manages to hold four of Captain Celbi's fingers, but that's fine. Pepito will be a big Pepito soon.

Captain Celbi nods, and he stands.

He looks at the Sea Witch and says, "Tell Foolish I say hi, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." The Sea Witch nods. He glances down at Pepito. "Be careful, okay?"

"Please," Captain Celbi scoffs. "I'm always careful."

The Sea Witch rolls his eyes, and then Pepito blinks his eyes, and then the Sea Witch is gone.

"What a creepy guy," Captain Celbi comments.

He looks down at Pepito and smiles- he has fangs, what!? So cool...

"Come on, Pepito, we should get on board before my crew leaves us behind."

Pepito's eyes widen in panic, and he runs off for the bridge up to the ship's roof, accidentally pulling Captain Celbi behind him because maybe Pepito forgot to let go of his hand. Maybe.

But Captain Celbi doesn't say a thing. He doesn't pull his hand away, either. (He has to be soooo scared of Pepito!)

Pepito gets to the ship's roof and gasps, eyes flicking from the ship's big stick to the big wheel to the group of people watching Pepito and Captain Celbi back to the big stick.

There's another kid in the group of people, Pepito notices. He's glaring, arms crossed.

Pepito shrinks back and steps behind Captain Celbi; he may be evil, but this other kid seems scary. Cool, but scary.

"Everyone, meet Pepito," the captain announces. He's still holding Pepito's hand despite the stares, wow, he's tough! "Bad brought him up from underwater so he can learn how to be a pirate."

A woman in the group raises a hand. "Are we pirates now?"

Captain Celbi shrugs. "I guess. Can't be that hard, can it?"

What?

Pepito snaps his head up to stare at the captain in shock. What?

But...

Oh! They're lying. Just like Apa Roier said pirates do, they're all scumbags and liars!

That makes much more sense.

Pepito pokes his head out from behind Captain Celbi and offers the most evil smile he can muster. He even waves, evilly; to his confusion, most of the other pirates smile back. Except the kid, who huffs and looks away moodily.

(Captain Celbi is the captain, but this kid must be the boss. Hmm...)

"Baghera, can you help Pepito find a bunk downstairs?" Captain Celbi orders. "I need to finish taking inventory with Pac before we can get going."

The woman who had spoken up earlier grins and salutes, stepping forward and taking Pepito by the hand.

"Come on, Pepito," she says. "You can sleep near me. Unlike some people, I don't snore."

The captain starts shouting in protest, but Baghera just giggles and skips away with Pepito by her side.

As they head down into the bowels of the ship, Pepito takes one last look up at the sun. He waves goodbye to it.

(He just wishes that he got to say goodbye to Apa Roier...)

-

(Meanwhile, Bad hums as he tends to his plants in his garden. He's just returned from dropping Pepito off with Cellbit, and he's exhausted.

He doesn't look up as a shadow falls over him.

"What the fudge did you do to my Pepito?" Roier demands.

He levels his sword at Bad's Adam's apple; its point digs in slightly, drawing sickly green blood.

Bad calmly pulls his neck backwards.

"Look up," is all Bad says in response.

And that's when the shadow of Cellbit's ship passes over them. They'll have been sailing for, what, an hour now? Just long enough for Pepito to have gotten settled in. (Hopefully, Richarlyson hasn't gotten jealous yet...)

"Fuck," Roier swears. He drops his sword into the sand and runs his fingers through his hair, pacing through the water in frustration.

In a flash, he turns back to Bad and demands, "Me, too. Take me up, too."

Bad hums. "I don't know, you'll have to give something up."

"Yes, yes, I know, just- take this."

Roier points to his bottom-most pair of eyes. (Honestly, Bad hasn't figured out what the heck kind of fish he is.) Without those, he'll be down to two eyes, and he'll basically be blind.

Eh, it'll work.

"Oh, fine," Bad sighs. He gives Roier a look. "But we'll have to wait until they make port again. I can't just stick you up there like this, it'll scare him."

Roier frowns. "What?"

That settles Bad's suspicions, then. Roier really doesn't know what Pepito did, huh.

Well. He's going to find out.

Bad just hopes Roier doesn't scare the poor kid when he gets to the surface and realizes that Pepito's new best friend is Cellbit of all people. All those feelings, ew.)

-_-_-_-

A/N:

Hey guys!! PLEASE reblog this! And leave an ask or a comment or a tag or a whatever telling me your thoughts and questions! Let me know if you want more, because there is more!

[patrollingboston]

141 Beach Episode // Cod x Reader

You know how in every good show there's a beach episode? Yeah this is theirs.

The 5 of you were sat in a truck with the aircon blasting. Price was dramatically fanning himself with his boonie hat. With one hand placed on the steering wheel. You had just finished a week-long mission and it left you all somewhere on the east coast with the sun beating down with no mercy. You were so uncomfortable, dressed head to toe in full gear practically sweltering in it.

“Not used to this bloody heat.”

  Soap sighed placing a hand to his forehead to relieve his brow of sweat.

“I’ve got the aircon.”

 Gaz smirked, of course he was fine he was sat in the front seat with cold air blasting directly onto him. You were squished between Ghost and Soap, plus he always wore a sunhat and sunglasses even in the rain.

“How ghost isn’t a puddle yet I have no clue.”

You stated, glancing over at ghost who was dressed in all black with his mask still pinned down onto his face yet he didn’t show a single sign of discomfort.

“Can you even breathe? Isn’t it like being trapped under a blanket?”

“I can breathe fine.”

He grunted not sounding amused by your questions.

“Look at tha’ ain’t it a pretty view.”

Soap said tapping on the truck window, everyone’s eyes glanced to meet where he was pointing. You were greeted with the sight of a gorgeous white sandy beach with the clearest sea water you had ever seen with families playing in the sand and surfers utilizing the waves.

“The things I would give to dive in those waves.”

 You said groaning, resting your head back in the seat knowing you had a hot and uncomfortable 6+ flight ahead of you to get back to base in England not to mention the drive to even get to the airport.

“Can’t we stop for a bit? The missions all done and dusted, surely, they don’t need us back that hastily.”

Gaz asked turning to face the captain with a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

“I could use a pint. I’m sweating like a fucking pig. We only have a few hours but I think we could all use a break.”

“Make that two.”

 Ghost’s gruff voice chimed in his mood perking up at the promise of a cold beer.

“I think everyone here wants a bloody pint.”

A few moments later the 5 of you were all stood on the beach boardwalk, you removed your boots and placed them by the railing before stepping onto the soft, warm sand.

“I have never ever stepped on sand so soft oh my-“

You wondered how long it had been before you stood barefoot on a beach. Probably not since you were a child on a day trip with your family.

“Shit the sands a bit hot ain’t it?”

Soap said as she stepped onto the sand beside you, shifting from foot to foot as he complained about the temperature once again.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks, find a spot I’ll come find you all.”

 Price said before stepping up the stairs and walking towards the crowded beach bar on the boardwalk.

Ghost, who was still dressed fully in his gear stomped behind you scouting the beach for a place to sit like it was the toughest decision he ever had to make.

“Here.”

He said pointing to a peaceful square of the beach, not too far from the shore.

You all placed your backpacks down and set a towel down for yourself. Ghost was wrestling with the beach umbrella to get it stood up.

“Whose going for a swim?”

Soap said with a huge smile on his face as he stripped off his t shirt leaving him in his cargo shorts.

“You go first mate, tell us how cold it is eh?”

Gaz joked, pushing soap slightly closer the seafront.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

“I’ll go!”

 You said, removing your jacket and vest leaving you in a tank top and some old cargo shorts dumping by your backpack them away from the shore so the waves didn’t steal them.

You jogged down to the water front stood beside Soap and Gaz.

“Whose going to make the first move then?”

You all stood in a line, hands on hips inspecting the water as it broke in front of you. As you spoke Soap dived headfirst into a wave like a goofy dolphin. He stuck his head up like an seal, running his hands through his mohawk and wiping the salty water off his face.

“Is it cold?”

 You shouted through the crashing waves.

“Nah, its refreshing.”

He shouted back before running through the water back onto the shore to stand beside the two of you.

“I don’t know if I’m that hot anymore you know-“

You said backing off after feeling the  ‘refreshing’ water splash over your feet and ankles sending little shockwaves through you.

With that statement Soap placed two hands on your waist and lifted you up into the air before placing you over his shoulder like a fireman would carrying someone out a burning building.

“DON’T YOU DARE SOAP, I MEAN IT.”

You screamed thumping his back in fear as he stepped into the freezing ocean once again. Gaz stood on the shore filming the entire situation laughing at your misfortune. Ghost sat watching from afar under a big shady umbrella pint in hand with Price sat beside him reading something, smoking one of his cigars as per usual.

“Ready?”

Soap teased as he began to hoist you up even further before throwing you into the sea with a huge splash. The cold water shocked you at first but after a few seconds, soap was right. It was kind of refreshing. You popped your head up out the water with a frown.

“I hate you asshole.”

“You weren’t going to get in I had no choice-“

You pushed a big wave of water his way aiming for his face secretly hoping the salt would burn his eyes.

“GAZ GET IN.”

Gaz stepped into the water with haste joining you and soap.

“We going play mermaids or what?”

You asked with a chuckle as the 3 of you treaded water in a circle.

“I would prefer to drown Soap.”

Gaz said before dunking soaps head back under the water.

About an hour later you sat on the beach wrapped in your towel, drying off in the sun.

“Been a while since I’ve been able to relax on a beach.”

Price spoke, he was leant back on a sun lounger his hat placed over his face shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

“Thought you were asleep old man.”

Ghost chuckled.

“Can we take a photo?”

You asked bringing out your super old digital camera you dragged around on every single mission.

The 5 of you gathered in closer. Gaz throwing up a peace sign. Soaps arm slung around ghost and a beer held loosely in the other. Captain Price sat up placing his hands on your shoulders. Your smiles were all wide (you would like to believe ghost’s was too) as the light of the setting sun glowed on your faces.

That day was a good day.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

the five stages | f. odair

masterlist

summary: a journey back to a golden period of time of polaroid pictures, white knitted sweaters, and lively sea-green eyes. why? because in the present, those same pair of eyes are ruthlessly unrelenting and you have no other chance of their escape.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, vomiting, implied smut, depression, maggots, hallucinations, relieving fluff, mild horror. I don’t want to spoil the story too much, so I won’t be adding any more warnings, sorry y’all. this could be very triggering so please read at your own discretion. some descriptions are quite graphic!

notes: I’m super proud of this one—it’s sorta based off “little talks” by of monsters and men and “on the nature of daylight” by max richer. this fic probably won’t get many views, so I’ll be incredibly grateful for any—if any at all—type of engagement! <33

word count: 8k

The bedroom was cold; dark; empty. Empty even though I still resided in it.

My alarm had gone off two hours ago, yet I hadn’t moved an inch. When I finally turned my head to the side, I found that the space beside me was vacant. Cold; dark; empty—I reached out my hand anyway.

Thirty minutes passed before I wrestled myself out of bed and started making breakfast downstairs. The otherwise warm and flavourful plate of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast left my mouth feeling dry and my throat lodged.

It used to be one of my favourite meals. At least, when he was around.

Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty and untouched. I sat on the couch, pondering whether today was the day I would finally get to cleaning them. It wasn’t. I couldn’t. We always did that together. I wondered—if I left them in the sink long enough, would he return? Even just for five minutes to help me put them away? One month and seventeen days had passed, and yet I still entertained this thought religiously.

I wasted an hour running circles round the same contemplations before deciding fresh air, as cliché as it was, might do me some good.

Grey clouds concealed the sun’s warm golden light when I stepped outside, but that was fine—I didn’t like anything golden anymore. But he would want me to leave the house at least once a day, so that’s what I would do. I would go down to the beach beside our—my house and feel the sand collect between my toes as I walked to the water’s edge.

But wasn’t that where he was when it happened? Wasn’t he in water? Didn’t those things pile on top of him? Didn’t they sink their fangs into his neck and tear at his flesh until he was blown to…

Bits of egg, yoghurt and stomach bile sat at my feet. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground in a sandy, tear-stricken heap. Since my lower body had refused to cooperate any longer, it took me until midday to crawl back up the dune and to my front doorstep.

Fuck. I needed to rest.

“I need you to rest, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I whined. “I’m not sick.”

Finnick placed a bucket on the ground beside the bed. The room smelled of lemon disinfectant—a joy I often found in being sick… That is, if I were sick, which I was not. I must have drunk spoiled milk or eaten something bad during breakfast. Nevertheless, Finnick was not having it.

“You’re throwing up everything you manage to get down, and you’re shivering like it’s the middle of winter,” he said adamantly, tucking the comforter up to my chest. “It’s summer, and you’re very much not fine.”

I sat up, ready to heatedly debate the subject, but the room began swirling, and my ears were hissing like a staticky television channel without a signal. A quiet whimper buzzed in my throat as I hunched forward. Damn him, I was sick.

The mattress dipped as Finnick sat beside me. His hand was on my back, rubbing it soothingly as he used his other hand to tuck away the curtain of hair concealing my face. I huffed, half in annoyance, half in an attempt to suppress the nausea rising in my throat, and then sunk back against the pillows.

“Not sick, she says,” he jested, smiling down at me. I rolled my eyes, though unable to hide the weak, betraying smile creeping across my lips. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said, a gentle command. “I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

The wooden flooring welcomed me with hard, cold arms as I hauled my sandy body through the front door. Images of fangs, bloody flesh, and panicked sea-green eyes flooded my mind.

More breakfast, more bile. No lemon disinfectant.

My knees were folded beneath my body; my body was hunched over my knees. I was sobbing now, so hard that I threw up again (was there even anything left in my stomach at this point?), creating a thick puddle of vomit and tears beneath me. Cries and gasps for air bounced around the house. To call me a mess would be an understatement. I was a disaster. A disaster wrapped up in an unmendable tragedy with a ragged, threadbare ribbon barely holding me together.

And in case I wasn’t aware of this fact, the floorboards were so shiny that they mirrored a reflection of myself. My hair was a being of its own, all wild and unkempt, and my face was another story entirely—a red, blotchy thing I wasn’t too interested in delving into.

But the most unsettling aspect had nothing to do with me, it was that there was someone else in the reflection. Two green balls of light were glowing above my head.

Dishevelled golden hair…

Dimpled cheeks…

My forehead was pressed to the floor as I screamed.

“I don’t want to make you sick as well,” I said, contrarily enjoying the feeling of Finnick’s skin warm against mine, hot blood flowing through his veins.

A day had passed since I first became unwell, and the sickness had continued to wreak havoc inside me.

We were both under the thick covers, our limbs tangled together as he held me atop his chest. (my body didn’t register the scorching summer temperatures. I actually felt as though my core temperature was a few degrees below freezing. Meanwhile, Finnick was characteristically toasty warm. It was perfect for me, but not so much for him, evident in the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Nevertheless, he made no complaints).

My body rose and fell with each breath he took. I was trying to inhale whenever he exhaled in a weak attempt to prevent the festering sickness in my body from entering his, and though it was a futile gesture, I did it anyway.

“In sickness and health, remember?” he said.

I smiled. “We’re not even married.”

“Yet, you mean,” he countered. “I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, sweetheart. You know that.”

My heart fluttered at the thought of spending an entire lifetime with him—waking up in each other’s embrace each morning, the warm sunlight peeking through the blinds of our bedroom; Finnick calling me “Mrs. Odair” or “My wife” at every opportunity because doing so made us both giggle like two moronic, love-struck teenagers; and being unable to prevent the deep smile lines on both our cheeks as we age, a constant display of our perpetual happiness.

“Sixty more years of having and holding you,” he continued with a gentle musing in his tone. “For better or for worse... For richer or for poorer.” He then stroked the side of my face and brushed away the sweaty strands of hair sticking to my forehead. “In sickness and in health…”

“…Until death do us part,” I finished, my voice slow with fatigue.

Two fingers sat beneath my chin and tilted my head upward. My eyes connected with Finnick’s. They were soft. Heartfelt.

“Not even then. I’ll love you beyond the grave,” he murmured. Then his lips were slowly curving into a pensive smile. “When we’re both ghosts and haunting the next owners of this house.”

I was now smiling, too. “I’d hoped you would say something like that.”

How could he lie like that? There was no we. There were no next owners. There was only me, alive and alone in a comatose house. And mind you, I was sane enough to know that it wasn’t actually his ghost haunting me, though I wish I weren’t because having that knowledge was even worse. It meant he was truly erased from existence.

“Go away,” I whispered to the reflection on the floor.

He didn’t. His vacant green eyes kept staring down at my crumpled figure.

I shot off the floor and spun around, hot tears streaming down my face. “Go away!” His face remained expressionless. He looked like himself, only colder. “You said sixty more years! You said we’d be together!” I mindlessly picked up and flung a small picture frame at him, only for it to pass through his body and shatter on the floor behind him. “Why did you lie to me?!” My voice was frayed with fury, though underlined with grief.

He said nothing, did nothing. All he did was watch.

My legs buckled, and I was on the floor again. I was whispering, half-sobbing, the same question over and over until the words slurred together. “Why’d you lie? Why’d y’lie?” The only time I stopped was when my tongue grew too heavy to move anymore.

To my surprise, he eventually came and sat beside me, remaining cold and silent—as I too had become.

Glass fragments from the picture frame were scattered across the floorboards. The photo within had fallen out and, ironically, drifted towards me. I didn’t bother acknowledging him as I moved onto my hands and knees and began crawling forward—my palms slicing open and blood seeping out—until the photo was in my hands. My shins had granules of glass pricking into them, but I couldn’t feel the pain; all I could do was stare at the memory in my hands.

The picture had been taken in District Thirteen, a day before he signed up for… the mission.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sudden bright flash lit up my eyelids.

“Oops.”

Heavy eyes fluttering open, I was met with a small camera pointing down at me, which was being held up by a lengthy muscular arm, which was connected to an even more muscular and broad shoulder, which was connected to—okay, sorry, I think you get it.

“Finnick!” I shrieked, pulling the covers over my naked figure.

He laughed, the vibrations rumbling deep within his chest, beneath my ear. A soft whirring sound accompanied the polaroid sliding out of the camera, its black film hiding the doubtless embarrassing picture beneath. He placed the film on the sheets beside him, letting the photo develop in darkness.

“I was supposed to cover the flash,” he said, still chuckling.

I rubbed my eyes, which were twinkling with little sparkles of light. “I think you blinded me.”

“Lucky you,” he jested. “You’re finally free from my repulsive exterior.”

I started to reach for the picture beside him—“You’re an idiot”—but then he was rolling us over until his arms were pillared on either side of my head and he was hovering above me.

His hair was a mess, a testament to the night before (and very early hours of the morning), and he was sporting a beautiful, lazy grin. “Yeah? Well, you’re engaged to an idiot,” he said, tilting his head in an arrogant manner. “So what does that make you?”

The sea-glass ring hugging my finger gleamed in the lamp’s dull light as I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips brushing along the edges of his pronounced jawline. Tangled strands of hair and a beaming smile were reflecting back at me in his eyes. No one had ever loved anyone as much as I loved Finnick—disregarding the one exception that was staring down at me.

“Blinded by love,” I whispered.

Brief yet poignant emotion trickled through his features, his eyes. Then, like a flick of a switch, he covered it up and lowered his face into my neck, groaning the words, “So corny.”

My fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him close to me. “Liar,” I laughed. “You loved it.”

“I love you, which is why I put up with your corniness,” he murmured into my skin.

Even after all this time, my heart still leapt whenever he said those three words, even when he was being a jerk about it. I kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too.”

We laid like this for a short while longer—Finnick keeping his face buried in the warmth of my neck, his arms curled beneath my body; me playing with the golden waves of his hair that were somehow softer than my own. He was so heavy on top of me that it was starting to become difficult to breathe, but in no universe would I ever tell him to get off. It was a blissful sort of suffocation.

A sort anyone would snap a picture of just to keep as a reminder of how beautiful it feels to be smothered with love. With that being said, the picture that lay awaiting beside me was brought back to mind.

“Oh no,” I moaned, picking it up and taking a short glance at the developed photo. I covered my face with my hands, repeating the words, “Oh no.”

The photo was plucked from my fingers, and Finnick began humming contentedly to himself.

In the photo, my face had been nuzzled into his bare, muscular chest, eyes closed in sleep-drunken serenity, hair thrown over my shoulder and spilling across the pillow. My hand rested on his contoured stomach with just enough of my upper arm and low light to conceal my breasts. Finnick had a delicate hand draped over my waist. He was gazing down at me with a smile that was just… full of pure love.

I had to admit—it was a beautiful picture. Despite my initial disapproval.

“Beautiful,” I heard him echo my thoughts, his eyes still scanning the photo. Then his brows furrowed, and his head slightly inched forward as though he had just noticed something peculiar in the picture. “Oh, and you are too, I guess.”

My head tilted back against the pillow with an abrupt laugh. I shook my head, looking back at him. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning in closer.

His lips were on mine for what must have been the millionth time in the past few hours. The bedside clock announced that breakfast was soon approaching, though it was clear neither of us would make an appearance within the next hour (or two).

“You love me,” he whispered as he slid inside me.

And I did.

I really did.

The muscles in my cheeks were straining due to how hard I was smiling.

It wasn’t my idea to keep a picture of us half-naked in the entryway of our home. He always was a bit unusual like that. Completely unashamed of who he was and how he acted. Sometimes a little too boisterously, but that’s what I loved so much about him—how confident he was in his love for me, so much so that nothing else mattered, no one else’s opinion.

God, I love him so much.

Love…?

Wait.

That’s not right.

Shouldn’t it be “loved”?

And why was I smiling? I didn’t have anything to smile about anymore. He was gone. Our wedding never occurred. Our faces never wrinkled with smile lines. Our clasped hands never weathered with age. He was gone.

The polaroid slipped from between my fingers. My hands were covered in glass and blood, blood that had painted a dark red splotch in the middle of the shiny film. Figures.

After a short while of staring blankly at the scattered debris decorating the floor, I finally found it in myself to start climbing back onto my feet. My straightened legs wobbled and ached beneath me with the little energy I had. That’s what happens when you can barely stomach food anymore: no energy, always sleeping, always swamped by nightmares or bittersweet memories—at this point, they were one and the same.

Not a strand of gold or a fleck of green was in sight when I glanced over my shoulder. For now, at least. He liked making an appearance once or twice a day.

Pieces of glass crunched beneath my bare, stinging feet as I made for the stairwell. A mess for another day, I reasoned. Just like the dishes. Sticky red footprints stamped each wooden step I ascended, growing less prominent as I reached the second floor.

After taking a right down a short hallway, the encompassing walls littered with magnificent seashells and dried ocean flora, I turned the knob to the furthest room and entered. The floor was landscaped with mountains of clothes which drenched the room in a familiar, all-consuming smell. The scent kind of reminded me of receiving a warm hug, albeit from someone you know you should let go of in more ways than one.

His hair, golden and tousled, caught my eye as I passed the wall of string-hung polaroids in our… sorry, my bedroom. His smile was all dimpled and brilliant, and he had his tanned arms wrapped around my middle. Just moments after the picture was taken, he had tackled me into the water and rightfully earned a smack on the back of the head. In turn, he did it again.

But before that, we were both looking into the camera with the most joyful expressions—huge grins, bright eyes. Frozen in time.

I never let myself look too long at that picture anymore. And I never, ever looked into his eyes. Green used to be my favourite colour. I didn’t have a favourite colour anymore. It was safe to say I didn’t have a favourite anything anymore; everything favourable was a reminder of him.

I picked up a white knitted sweater off the ground and tugged it over my head, staining it with splotches of dark red. Knowing him, he would wear it regardless—whatever was mine, was also his, and was equally the same in reverse, even things as grotesque as blood.

Well, he would have worn it, I should have said.

The sweater had been specifically tailored for him. I remembered how the soft sleeves hugged his arms so well that every fluid curve of his biceps was visible, similar to a building wave before it crested. On me, the sleeves swallowed my arms whole, which I liked to think in their own unique way had also been unintentionally tailored for me, like someone out there knew one day I would need some way to drown in him when he was gone.

Finnick’s fingers tugged at the silk ribbons, unwrapping the opulent gift box that sat on our dining table. Capitol devotees would send extravagant parcels weekly, turning up in abundance on our doorstep. Sometimes Finnick didn’t even bother opening them; sometimes we opened them together just to get a good laugh out of whatever ridiculous item was inside.

He never, though, opened the perfume-scented letters marked with lipstick stains.

“Oh,” I said in surprise as he lifted the lid. Inside was a folded piece of fabric, knitted and cream-white and intricate, though still simple. It was soft to the touch; thick enough to retain warmth. I held it up with two hands, admiring the hand-sewed threads of cotton. Whoever’s handiwork this was, it was nothing to laugh at.

Holding it up to Finnick’s torso, I smiled and said, “Try it on.”

“What?” He shook his head and smiled quizzically. “No.”

“Yes. I think it will look good on you.” I pressed it further against him with conviction. “Try it on.”

He tilted his head and exhaled deeply through his nose, giving me a begrudging, squinty-eyed look. From that, I already knew I had won him over, and watched as he snatched the sweater from my grasp and tugged his shirt off with one hand. I averted my eyes, feeling the tips of my ears flush with heat—we’d been together for over a year now; you would think I’d have grown accustomed to seeing him shirtless.

His head slipped through the neckline and he pulled the sweater down his body. I was right. It looked really good on him. Perfect, actually. The measurements were so precise that the fabric sloped off his shoulders like a compact mountain of snow. The thick-knitted collar dipped into a deep, uneven neckline that partly revealed his chest and made his neck look like a strong, contoured pillar. He looked at me expectantly, as though to ask, “Well?”

“It makes your neck and shoulders look really nice,” I blurted out, instantly cringing inside.

His expression contorted into something of amusement and surprise as he took a slow step towards me. “My neck and shoulders, huh?” he said, grinning devilishly. Oh, now I’d done it. Leave it to me to rocket Finnick Odair’s already atmospheric ego. “Anything else?”

I began backing away, but his prowling strides were so long that the space between us only shortened. When my backside hit the edge of the dining table, I knew I was done for.

“You know,” I began, avoiding his unrelenting stare. “I think it was just a momentary lapse of judgement.” He was closing in now, placing his hands on either side of my body to trap me in place. “It—It actually looks terrible on you,” I said, feigning sincerity and adding a little nod to help further my case.

His eyelids drooped as he gazed down at me, lips curving into that seductive smirk he had mastered long ago. “No takebacks,” he purred, voice low and gravelly. Dear God, I could only pray I wasn’t going to melt into a puddle on the floor. He always did this—took every opportunity to flirt and render me a stuttering, bashful mess. It was his favourite game to play. “This is now my new favourite shirt. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

But, given the right timing and ever-wavering amount of confidence, I liked to play too.

I inhaled deeply, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray me. “Maybe you should take it off then,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “So you don’t ruin it.”

His mischievous expression revealed his next words before he even spoke them. “Maybe I will,” he said, and then he was tugging his sweater over his head, and I was tearing off my own. As his hands slipped beneath my thighs and lifted me onto our dining table, I prayed the wooden legs wouldn’t collapse under the weight of our next actions.

My fingertips ran over the soft, rippling patterns on the knitted sleeves, my arms crossed in a self-soothing manner. After that day, the sweater had become a sort of good luck charm—or so we agreed upon as we lay panting on the tabletop. He started wearing it to a multitude of events and parties in the Capitol (basically any place in which he needed a pick-me-up, a reminder of what he had to come home to, who he had to come home to).

He even wore it the day we got engaged.

So many happy memories were associated with this one white sweater. So many times, those cloud-soft sleeves were wrapped around my body, suffocating me in the scent of him—if nothing else, at least that remained.

The last time he had worn it was the day of the Reaping for the Quarter Quell; the last time our lives were ever semi-normal. I had fought tooth and nail to reach him before he was escorted onto the train, despite being ordered, “No goodbyes,” by one of the Peacekeepers. In modest terms, I had significantly decreased his chances of reproduction.

When I reached Finnick, he had brought me into a kiss so harsh and fervent that my lips were bruised the next day. He then yanked off his sweater, leaving his upper body completely exposed to everyone around us in complete disregard for his trauma-induced fear of doing so, and shoved it into my hands.

I had just stood there frozen in bewilderment, watching as he called out, “I love you, sweetheart!” Two Peacekeepers were forcing him onto the train, but he too fought for the last word. “Don’t forget—I’m always with you!”

That statement had never been truer than it was now. For better or for worse.

My vision unblurred as I returned to reality. Dismal, grey light was peeking through the shutters that formed the balcony doors, the daylight hours seeming to tick away at a snail’s pace. I used to wish for the days to be longer, for time to move slower, so I could savour the moments I had of happiness and sunlight which used to be plentiful.

Why do wishes only come true when you grow to desire nothing but the opposite?

Slothfully, I crawled onto the unmade king-size bed, my limbs crumpling and balling to my chest as the side of my head hit the pillow. The imprint on the mattress beneath my body didn’t match my own. It was much larger and broader. How long would it take for the springs to forget his body weight and recoil back into place as though he never existed at all?

I inhaled the sweater’s scent with every breath I took (and I tried not to wonder how long it would take for his scent to disappear as well) and hugged my arms around my waist. No pain was worse than the fleeting moments I forgot the embrace was my own and not his.

Hours passed, and so did the evening. A beautiful orange sunset hadn’t slipped through the shutter’s cracks because the clouds never dissipated. Night-time brought no consolation either. Not even the stars or moon made an appearance. Everything that once gave me a shred of optimism was hidden behind a veil of gloom.

I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any different—the weather, my mood, his absence. Because the end of autumn was closing in, and the days were becoming bleaker. Trees would start shedding their leaves; the leaves would start to die.

I hoped I would too.

I was still curled up on my side, my body aching with stiffness, when my face began scrunching into this ugly, twisted mess of despair. My tears were slow yet heavy, synonymous with the day I had incurred.

But then something strange happened.

Someone called my name.

No. That couldn’t be right. I was the only one who occupied a house in the Victor’s Village; the others had either relocated after the war or were… dead.

But there it was again—my name, distant and eerie, yet spoken with a tone people often used to beckon over and aid a frightened, injured animal. My vision blurred, both from tears and concentration on the voice.

“Hey.”

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my surroundings transformed into a kitchen, just that they had and that I was no longer in my bed but standing upright.

Ahead of me, in the distance, the sun was beating down on the crystalline water, and white frothy waves were cresting on the smooth, golden sand. It was a perfect day; not a cloud was in sight. The only blemish that smeared the blue sky was the reflection staring back at me from the window I gazed out of.

In my hands was a soup bowl and a damp dishrag.

“Sweetheart?” That once distant voice, concerned and beckoning, was standing right beside me.

Blinking, I snapped out of my daze and turned away from the window.

He stood tall beside me, despite being half hunched over the kitchen sink and scrubbing the last of the few dirty dishes stacked neatly on the bench top. His head was turned towards me, his enamoured sea-green eyes peering into my own as though he was searching behind them for what troubled me.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, standing up straight. His touch was warm and gentle as he reached for my hand, leaving soapy bubbles on my palm and fingers. “Where’d you go?”

Three odd things seemed to occur at once: first, I flinched away from his touch, overwhelmed by its paradoxical unfamiliar familiarity; second, I felt an inexpressible relief from seeing him standing before me, seeing his cheeks painted with a soft pink hue as though blood-red roses were hidden just beneath his skin.

The third was an onset of disorientation. I couldn’t tell you why I felt disorientated standing in my own kitchen with the love of my life, just, simply, that I did. There was an answer—it was close by, right under my nose, yet unreachable. We did this every day, didn’t we? We would eat meals together and then wash up together. So, why did I feel so unsettled?

I shook my head, dispelling the confusion that muddled my brain. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened.” I laughed uneasily, without a hint of mirth.

He laughed too, not to poke fun or because he found my obvious turmoil amusing, but rather to comfort me, so I would feel less alone in my unease. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

Neither of us addressed what had happened; we simply resumed our routine of washing and drying in domestic silence. And as seconds turned to minutes, and as the sky remained sunny, I found myself smiling. All that mattered was that he was standing beside me and that the sun was beaming in the sky. So, I kept smiling.

After I finished drying the last dish, we began placing the plates, bowls, and an abundance of cutlery in their assigned drawers and cupboards, weaving past each other and giggling anytime we got in one another’s path. I was carrying a stack of white plates, eyeing the high cupboard they needed to go in, but before I could even attempt straining onto my toes, the plates were out of my hands and taken into another much larger pair.

The smell of sea salt and expensive cologne wafted from behind me as he towered over my shorter frame and placed the plates in the cupboard.

“I could have done that,” I said, smiling as I turned around to face him.

He had a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, right. What are you, like, four feet tall?” he joked.

It was an extreme exaggeration since I was no way near that height, but I suppose everyone was miniature in comparison to him, being over six feet tall and all. I feigned open-mouthed offence, to which he gave the side of my head a quick, playful kiss of apology.

He then leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “Plus, when was the last time you actually put these dishes away? I’m surprised you even remember where they go.” He was grinning at me in a teasing manner, but every ounce of humour had drained from my body.

My eyes drifted to the floor.

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it—when was the last time I put the dishes away?

I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t remember what had happened this morning or the day before. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what we were doing before the dishes.

To be standing in a room, in a place you call home, and have a sense that nothing is in its right place, even though that is where everything has always been, is a disconcerting feeling beyond belief. To be perplexed by your own state of being—your existence—is even worse. I could almost describe it as a nauseating bout of vertigo.

My hands found the counter’s edge behind me, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

He stepped in front of me, one large and gentle hand reaching up to cup my jaw. “Are you okay?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with shallow worry lines as he inspected my face. I hated that. I hated that I worried him so much. Sure, partners were supposed to lean on each other for support in a relationship (as he too did with me when needed), but I always felt so guilty doing so. Hadn’t he already suffered enough… pain in his lifetime? Who was I to cause him any more?

A sunbeam suffused the room, oozing across his face. The illumination lightened his eyes into a refreshing mint green, though, in contradiction, unearthed a pain that had been previously been concealed. Pain from what, I wasn’t sure. From concern regarding my unusual behaviour? Maybe a thought that was troubling him? Or perhaps he too was enduring a spell of confusion and had an inexplicable feeling that he was out of place.

Whatever his pain regarded, seeing it had rattled the deepest structures in which held my mind together.

It was then that I suddenly realised I hadn’t answered his question, so I gave him a wan “I’m-not-too-sure-myself” smile and then began slinking back to the sink window.

He followed behind me. I could feel him staring into the back of my head, could feel his brows draw together and his lips pull into a tight line, patiently waiting for a further explanation, though I wasn’t sure I could offer him one.

I hadn’t noticed before, but on the windowsill was a small picture frame containing a polaroid picture of us in bed—I was lying on his chest, half-naked and asleep, and he was looking down at me, smiling fondly yet with a sort of mischievous knowability. Running down the middle of the protective glass was a small, jagged crack.

I plucked the frame from the windowsill, inspecting the picture in my two hands. It seemed to uncover a place in my mind—once clouded by disorientation—I’d forgotten. Whether this place was real or imaginary was beyond me, but the fear I felt upon its recollection was incandescently genuine.

“Do you think,” I spoke tentatively, “people can have nightmares while they’re wide awake?” My thumb ran over the crack.

I might have heard him inhale a quiet, sharp breath, but it also could have just been the waves breaking on the distant shore. “Like a flashback?” he asked, an unidentifiable unease in his tone.

“No, not exactly.” I searched my brain for the right words, the right way to tell him how I was feeling, but it was difficult when I could only conjure vague fragments. And it was all I could do to tell it to him elliptically, as I knew saying the words in any other manner would shatter my heart.

“I had this vision,” I began, my words apprehensively staccato, “where I was somewhere else.” My eyes flickered over the picture. “Somewhere… bad. Everything was grey and heavy, and I was alone. Sometimes you were there, but you—you weren’t really you anymore.” I paused and looked up to find him staring at me in the reflection of the window. He looked pained; it was then suddenly hard to recollect a time when he didn’t. My throat started to constrict. “You were gone and…” my voice quietened to a broken wisp of wind, “you were haunting me.”

The room was silent.

He said nothing in response

The transparency of his reflection in the glass was so familiar—so haunting—and it was like another forgotten matter had been dredged from the depths of my mind. Stinging tears brimmed my waterline, and, due to my inability to bear the sight of his translucent appearance, I forced myself to turn around.

I glanced up at him, smiling weakly as I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head as if my need to apologise was nonsensical (even I was unsure of what I was apologising for), and he then pulled me into a tight embrace. His chin rested atop my head; my face was buried in his chest, and his arms held me like I was some dilapidated structure that relied on his support to remain upright. Part of me knew this sentiment was correct.

I expected his next words to be ones of consolation or reassurance, maybe an “I’m right here, sweetheart” or an “I’ll never leave you”. Instead, I felt his head turn and heard him say, “Think it’s going to storm?”

With a sniffle, I turned my head towards the window. The arms wrapped around my body tightened as if he somehow knew I would need the extra support. Because when I saw the wall of dark, opaque clouds rolling through the sky towards us, an unshakeable dread zapped through my heart.

My hands clung to the fabric of his cream-white sweater, which then brought to my attention that an inexplicable tingling sensation was spreading down the fingers of my right hand, numbing them.

Lightning flashed on the horizon, and the once serene waves began cresting violently on the shoreline. The dread grew.

Before my attention could drift too far, my name was called again.

I looked up to find those green eyes gazing down at me, swelling with tears. He was crying. Why was he crying? And why was his hair wet? His usually golden strands had darkened to a deep brown and were drenched with cold water that dripped onto my cheeks, and his hair was swept haphazardly across his forehead, a reflection of someone who had just endured an intense storm or had just been fighting for his life against a swarm of—of—

No.

My own eyes began to burn.

“It’s killing me to see you this way,” he spoke, every second word breaking and wavering in volume.

The world seemed to tilt on an axis. Return did the disorientation, ravaging my mind more violently now. “What do you”—My chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths—“What? What do you mean?” My lower lip was quivering, and my eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. His words replayed in my head: It’s killing me to see you this way.

It’s killing me.

His hair was dripping—no longer with water, but with a thick, red substance that both dripped down and clotted on his skin. He didn’t look pained anymore; he looked like he was in pain.

It’s killing me.

But that can’t be right, can it?

It’s killing me.

Why?

It’s killing me.

Becausemy Finnickwas already dead.

I staggered backwards and out of his, no, this imposter’s arms. He stared at me as blood streamed down his forehead, pouring over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. I was going to be sick. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a newly invented punishment from Snow. But that wasn’t right either: Snow was dead too.

“F…Fi…” I tried saying his name, my top teeth prodding the inside of my bottom lip, but I couldn’t make a sound.

He took a step towards me, and I almost stumbled onto the floor. “Remember what I told you?” he asked, though it sounded more like an urge.

I frantically shook my head. No, I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember anything.

Something dark and mountainous appeared in my peripheral vision, and an odious smell singed my nostrils. My head snapped to the left. Stacks upon stacks of plates and bowls mounded the kitchen sink, each crawling with maggots that were falling to the floor in white, wriggling heaps.

Nausea boiled in my stomach; horror brimmed my eyes.

I quickly turned away, my eyes meeting green again. His face was no longer stained with blood, and his hair was dry, shiny, and golden with life. I was as speechless as my face was drained of blood.

He took one more step toward me, but this time I didn’t back away, either frozen with fear or desperation for one last experience of closeness with him. My heart thrummed as he reached out to cup my face. It isn’t him, it isn’t him, it isn’t him, I repeated madly in my head. Oh, but it felt so much like him when his warm hand met my skin.

“I told you I’m always with you, sweetheart,” he murmured. And I knew engaging with him, in whatever form he took, affirmed my mental unwellness, but I couldn’t stop from leaning into his touch anyway. “Remember that.”

My cheeks were wet with tears. “I love—”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder boomed throughout the house.

I was back in my bed.

My eyelids were heavy with sleep as they fluttered open. I felt detached, destabilised, and unsure of my existence in the world for I wasn’t sure which of the twoI was currently in. Real or fake?

A few minutes went by before I managed to get a grip on reality, which, in fact, was the real one. The Somewhere Bad. I pinched the corners of my eyes, not only finding them damp with fresh tears but also realising that my right hand—previously tucked beneath my head—was numb.

None of it had been real…

The entire time, my body was trying to alert me, to save me from the inescapable heartache I would feel upon waking. He hadn’t held me in his arms. He hadn’t cupped my cheek nor helped me wash the dishes. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere (not even in his own marked grave because there was nothing left of him to be buried).

Even despite seeing the familiar tall outline standing in the doorway, his features illuminated with each flash of lightning, I knew it wasn’t really him.

Rain was pummelling the roof, almost loud enough to subdue the perpetual rumbling of thunder (apart from the one sky-splitting thunderclap that had woken me). In another time, I would’ve been scared—of the raging storm, of my phantom lover who was watching from the shadows of our bedroom. But not now.

In recent months, I had found that no emotion, not even fear, surpassed the soul-crushing realisation that you have irretrievably lost the one thing you lived for.

On a defeated whim, and for the first time since his death, I let the singular, weighted word breeze past my lips.

“Finnick.”

It was a trembling plea, a desperate beckon.

And he indulged.

His footsteps were silent as he walked towards the bed. I couldn’t see his legs from my position, prompting me to wonder if he even had legs at all. Or did he only have legs when I could see them? That would then insinuate that if I couldn’t see him at all, he didn’t exist.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? In my case, the answer was simple: no, it didn’t.

It wasn’t really Finnick. It wasn’t even his ghost. It was my mind.

He reached the bed’s edge, and I scooted over to my side of the mattress, allowing him enough space to lie down on his. His weight neither dipped nor shook the bed as he laid down and turned on his side to face me. His eyes were sad, and I’m sure mine were too. We stared at each other for a long, long time, long enough for my fatigued body to start playing tricks on me.

If I focused hard enough, I thought I could hear the sound of his breathing (the wind was picking up outside), feel the warmth of his skin spreading onto the sheets (the remnants of my own body heat were left behind each time I moved), and smell the musky scent of cologne and sea-salted hair (the sleeves of his sweater were tucked beneath my nose).

Maybe for a moment—just one sickly, self-indulgent moment—I could pretend it was really him.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you would haunt the next owner of this house,” I whispered as light-heartedly as I could, my voice obscured by the heavy rain pouring onto the roof.

He smiled, and it was one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful things I had ever seen. I think I might have given him one in return, though I couldn’t be too sure because the concept of smiling had become so foreign. The last time I was truly happy was… the last night we spent together. In each other’s arms, safe and warm and together.

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Cressida, whom I had only spoken to once in Thirteen when the war ended, was the one to tell me how it happened. Katniss was too personal, too close to him; Peeta’s instability rendered conversation futile. So, I had asked Cressida to tell me every detail—every expression on his face, every word he screamed. I don’t know why. Maybe it was so I could cling onto those last few minutes where he was still alive and breathing, despite dying and bleeding; or so I could replay the moment over and over in my head, as if somehow, someway, I could change his fate.

“He talked about you all the time,” she had told me. “Actually, I don’t think he ever spoke of anything but you. No one minded, though. While we were out there, no one ever really smiled, but every time your name was mentioned, Finnick would get this great big grin on his face, and it was impossible not to look at him and start smiling as well.

So, we all started asking questions about you: ‘What colour is her hair? Her eyes? Where did you meet? What are her hobbies?’—just to see him smile… A week passed, and it was like we all knew you inside out. It was all we could do to hang on to some shred of happiness, even if it meant talking about a girl who, to all of us, was a stranger.”

I was inconsolable after that.

She kept talking, but my sobs had drowned out most of her words, so much that I had asked her to retell me everything later in the day, despite inducing the same outcome. So, she told it to me again, just as she did the day after that and the day after that and so on until I returned home to District Four.

“He also spoke about how you never felt comfortable living in the Victors Village. He had this idea that the two of you would move somewhere far away, outside the borders of District Four­, though he emphasised remaining by the sea was very important—something about how you looked while swimming during sunset and the water was all sparkly around you.”

At this point, she had been holding my hand, knowing full well how debilitating it was for me to hear. Then she had spoken with a quiet incredulity and a facial expression to match, as though she’d never encountered a love like ours before. “He wanted to build a house for you…”

He wanted to build a house for you.

And now he never would. Our love was too ephemeral for that to happen; destined to remain history; to be a memory.

Finnick's eyes stared into mine, the green hue now a dark grey from the overshadowing dimness of the room.

“I would’ve gone anywhere with you,” I whispered to him, placing my hand on the sheets between us. “I would’ve travelled thousands of miles away from this place. Would’ve lived in solitary, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives.” A warm tear tickled the bridge of my nose. His eyebrows scrunched together in shared anguish. “God, Finn, I miss you,” my voice broke. “I miss you so much.”

I contemplated crying, sobbing, screaming, or begging for him to come back, but I was just too tired. All my energy had been spent on grievance throughout the following day, and my eyes were growing heavier by the second as my body was sinking further into a state of relaxation.

Between slow blinks, I watched Finnick’s large hand move to rest atop my own, and at that point, I knew sleep would soon catch me because I swear I could feel his warm touch.

Images flashed through my mind—incomprehensible and melting together, yet somehow still graspable.

Sky blue water rippling with calm waves, the surface glittering in the setting sun. A white stonewall cottage fronted by soft, white sand and tall palm trees. Two plates of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast. Three pairs of footprints in the sand, one larger, one smaller, and another between them so delicately tiny I could fit them into the palm of my hand.

Sea-green eyes above me. Golden hair tangled between my fingers. Finnick standing in the wooden doorway of our white stonewall cottage wearing a cream-white sweater and rolled-up slacks. Finnick grinning deeply and then throwing his head back with laughter. Finnick standing in front of our bed, taking my hand in his and guiding me towards him. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick.

Finnick holding our child.

I was between worlds now, both indistinguishable from the other. My eyelids were drooping, and I was quickly growing insensate. Just before my eyes closed completely, I saw Finnick’s—he who wasn’t really my Finnick—lips move. It wasn’t in my bleak reality in which I heard him speak, but rather in my mind, and God, did his words offer the sweetest relief.

“I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

[saekkas]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

summary: in which someone catcalls you and he's there to defend.

includes: isagi, nagi, reo, yukimiya, rin, sae, kunigami, kaiser, karasu, bachira, aiku.

note: i split it into two this time because i honestly can't see them doing anything else.

𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 as if he doesn't know you, even with his hands clearly around your waist. does it to out of love above anything else, it's his way of trying to make you comfortable. will try to be playful with his actions and words but if anyone takes a step towards you? it's on. (you know that, "wear whatever you want, babe. i can fight." that's him atp)

reo, aiku, kaiser, bachira, karasu

the sun's bright overhead, not too blinding, with just the right amount of heat to tan. he sighs in content, the sand underneath his bum perfectly warm as you lather sunscreen on his back. a beautiful beach and a gorgeous girl running her hands down his back? this better be the view he sees at the pearly white gates of heaven.

the hand on his back is smooth and he groans when you gently massage the knots out of his neck. "keep doing that and i might just marry you sooner."

he hears you snort before anything else. there's no other reply and he relaxes once more, leaning his head onto your shoulder. he squints at the sun shining directly into his eyes.

"careful there, hotshot. you might get wrinkles. and i don't want to marry a wrinkly, 68-year-old looking guy."

something blocks the sun from his vision, and he has to blink multiple times, letting his eyes adapt to the change of scenery. he sees you grinning down at him, your face upside down, and the sun's halo shinning behind your head.

"hi, gorgeous." the smile on his face is nothing but awestruck, his eyes molding into the shape of hearts. "missed you and your beautiful face."

there's another snort from you and he yelps at the feeling of cold sunscreen hitting his face.

"me and my beautiful face have been behind you this whole time, loser. who knew you were such a simp."

the droplets on his face are cold but the warmth of your hand rubbing them into his skin makes it all better. his eyes gaze up at your face before trailing down your body, drinking in the sight of your bikini. "you should wear that more often. every day around the house often."

he yelps, scrunching his nose when you playfully bite it.

the touch of your hand on his body is soft and warm, a complete contrast from the rugged sand beneath you both and it has him shivering. "what? can't i compliment my favorite girl?"

he smiles when you plop down on his lap, laughing at the roll of your eyes.

"i'm your only girl," you say, body relaxing into his hold. "well, i better be."

he can only laugh in response, wrapping his hands around your waist and playing with the strap of your top. "i'm only yours, angel. i'm hurt that you'd even think otherwise."

there's a strong gust of wind, blowing sand everywhere as the trees sway in their place. he tightens his hold on you, letting you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

when it subsides, he's quick to place his hand on your cheeks, softly looking into your eyes. "is my baby okay? need me to blow away the sand from your eyes?" his tone is sweet, playful. the pads of his fingers rub circles on your cheeks, and he leans in, placing his forehead against yours. "need me to kiss it better?"

the sound of a high-pitched whistle drowns out your sassy reply of just say you want a kiss and go. a rowdy pair of teenagers stand by the ocean's shoreline, grinning madly when his eyes land on them. their shouts of pretty lady you got there, wanna share? and stop being a hog, let us in on some fun, eh? falls on deaf ears as he looks down at you with a wink.

"no but they're right, eh? i've got such a pretty lady on my lap." his eyes are gentle and calm as the sea, they reflect the worry you feel inside. his hands ground you, picking you up easily to switch positions so that you're covered by his back, safe from prying eyes. "should we go back home for some more fun? what do you say, angel?"

he lays your head down against his chest, letting you hear the gentle thud of his heartbeat. "this beach is overrated anyway. it doesn't even have a lifeguard." he nudges your forehead with his nose, smiling cheekily. "honestly? never mind. that's a good thing because if i were a lifeguard, i'd give you mouth-to-mouth all day long."

his smile widens just a fraction when you giggle, happy to see that your eyes are starting to show their shine.

"you're awful at this," you giggle, pushing his shoulder playfully. "what kind of pickup line was that?"

"oh?" he pretends, widening his eyes as he points at the center of your forehead. you know it's all theatrics, but you fall for it either way. "what's this? do you have a sunburn?"

he trails his finger down your arm and onto your belly, stopping at your thigh when you look at him with confusion.

"what do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head with a small smile. "i put on sunscreen earlier."

he's quick to lean in, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "yeah, you're right. it was just your usual self being hot." the smile on his face widens into a grin when he hears you laugh, and it drives him to nuzzle his nose against your neck.

"there's my angel. or should i say sandcastle? because i want to build my dreams around you."

he leans back, trying to dodge your hand only to laugh as you both fall onto the sand. he looks at you, letting his hand trail down your cheek as you hover above him, matching grins on your faces.

"what was that for?" his laughs have trickled down into low chuckles. he lets himself fully immerse in the sand, propping a hand behind his head. "am i that irresistible, angel?"

"you're such-"

"oh? what's this?" the two boys from earlier watch you with crooked smiles and bad intentions clear in their eyes. they move forward, starting to close in. "should we join in-"

"back off." his eyes are dark, and his voice is low. there's a clear line of annoyance in his tone as he stands, pushing you behind him. his stance is intimidating, clearly protective with the glare set on his usually always smiling face. he quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk appearing on his lips. "or i'll make you."

they back off at his threat, bowing their head to you as they leave.

he holds you in his hands, nuzzling his face into your hair as if he wasn't initiating a fight just a few seconds ago. "let's go, angel. i'll buy us some ice cream." he takes your hand, winking as he playfully taps your bottom.

𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘. he's the type of guy who will not realize someone's bothering you, honestly. if anyone asks why, it's because his eyes and entire being is fixated on you, and you only. why should he even care about some random ant on the street? it's just you and him, his baby, his world. nothing else matters in his eyes.

sae, rin, nagi, yukimiya, kunigami, isagi

"it isn't too crowded today." his words are blunt, a matter of fact that you can't help but giggle at. he eyes you, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips at the sound. "we should go in before it's too busy."

he takes your hand by your side, slipping it into his as you make your way into the cat cafe. he hums, scrunching his nose and withholding the need to sneeze as he lets you take everything in. the cafe is spacy, a big section for the cats to play in that's separate from the food corner.

he takes a seat near one of the scratching poles, leaning his back on the seat. his eyes are locked in on you, watching as you squat down to pet a cat on its head, chuckling when you startle as the cat jumps to one of the higher beams.

"you're so mean for laughing." he watches the syllables form on your lips, takes in the color and shape of your mouth. it's only when they form into a smirk that he moves his gaze back to your face. "you promised to play with the cats, remember?"

he only blinks up at you, similar to a cat himself, before sighing at your puppy eyes. nodding his head, he sets onto his feet to follow you deeper into the room, looking at the trail of cats that have begun to follow you both.

there's an empty bench that you lead him to and he sits dutifully, letting you plop a cat onto his lap. his motions are mechanical at best, he pats the cat's head, scratches under its ears, and stays away from its tail, the way you showed him how. anyone who's watching can clearly tell the cat isn't his main attention, it's you.

he feels the cat purr in hips lap and continues stroking it, but his eyes are never far from you. he sees you buying a packet of treats, watches as you squat down to feed the little white kitten by your feet, admires as every other cat suddenly comes swarming in. he chuckles to himself, so wholly focused he doesn't realize that someone's come to sit beside him.

"that's such a pretty kitty, mind if i take her home?"

he doesn't answer. not at first. he simply observes you, from the gracefulness of your movements to the sweetness of your smile. he only tears his eyes away to look at the stranger when he laughs.

"can i help you?" his tone is dull, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. he looks at the stranger for a few more seconds before turning back to you, the cat still peacefully asleep in his arms.

"not at all. i just wanted to know whether your cat's for sale."

he doesn't catch the underlying meaning of the stranger's words. you've got a beautiful persian with discolored eyes in your arms now, cooing the name Oscar at the thing. he tilts his head, wondering whether you'll do the same to him for taking you here today.

"i'd like to take her home. play with her until i'm bored, ya know?"

he watches from the corner of his eyes as the stranger leans back against the bench, a sickening smirk on his face. he realizes belatedly that the stranger's looking at you.

anger simmers in his eyes as he looks at the stranger with his coldest eyes, tone uninterested. "you wouldn't be able to take her. she's a feisty one, needs a man to take care of her. not some sleazy bastard."

he watches with boredom as the stranger clenches his fist. there's a hint of a smirk on his face as the stranger starts to stand up, clearly wanting to fight, only to step on cat vomit.

"oh no, oscar!" you gasp from behind the stranger, looking at the cat in your arms worriedly. "are you okay? you sick, baby?"

he watches in amusement as the stranger turns to leave the cafe, his face red. all the while, you remain blissfully unaware, concern swimming in your orbs as you cradle the cat closer to your chest.

"do you think we can adopt?" he sees the confusion on your face, chuckling at the little tilt of your head. he nods to the cat. "oscar's pretty cute. i like him."

he chuckles when you squeal, smiling happily as you place oscar down to pepper kisses on his face.

[jiejies-corner-store]

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

[kykyonthemoon]

Where The Ocean Whispers

Happy Rafayel's Day!

𓇼— The Lemurians use special seashells to transmit messages from their heart to one another. Would you like to try?

𓇼— Soft fluff, birthday fluff, confession

𓇼— Masterlist

𓇼— Request a fic

The waves brought layers of white foam to the shore, erasing the intertwined footprints, sand arches and tiny seashells covering two pairs of bare feet almost touching each other. Then, as if to wash away every worry, the cold water faded, leaving behind nothing except a sense of calm and coolness, with a sense of longing for the next wave. The crimson sun glistened well below the horizon, akin to a priceless ruby gradually sinking to the ocean floor.

"Look over there. The sea is swallowing your sun!”

A long finger of his gestured forward. Your gaze followed as you smiled. He was still reminded of the narrative you told about your childhood when you thought that every night, the sun would sink into the sea and rest.

“Now the whole ocean will be warmed, in red and orange, right?” You replied. That was what he said after hearing your story. He seemed so happy and content that you could still remember it and recite every word.

“Maybe we can't paint the sea the color of the sun,” your voice continued, “But we can do this…”

All of a sudden, you hurled water high with your foot. The cool water reached him, splashing a bit on his white shirt. He rolled his eyes at you.

“So you do enjoy being playful like this?”

He bent down, gathered the entire ocean in his hands then flung it in your direction. Like a very gentle wave, seawater fell on your hair and light garment.

After the celebration was over, he and you raced outside to catch the sunset over the sea, leaving your coats and shoes behind. Both of you were drenched.

"That's not fair!" You gave a loud shout. “Did you do that on purpose?”

With a big chuckle, he answered, "That's what we refer to as the blessing of the sea." You have to accept it all.”

“You are the birthday boy. Here, take it all!”

You kept splashing him with saltwater. He persisted nonetheless. Before long, your entire bodies was soaked.

“That's enough, Rafayel. I give up!”

You surrendered by raising both hands. You felt a bit chilled by the breeze. Rafayel hauled you right up to the shore. You had no idea when he had a big towel ready there. He wrapped it around you.

“Hurry. Dry yourself.”

You obediently did as told. Then you gave him another glance. Water dripped from his dark purple curls, framing his small, flawless face. You couldn't take your eyes off the damp shirt that adhered to his body, exposing lines that made you flush. Rafayel took one look at you and immediately covered himself with both hands.

“I'm aware that my beauty can stun others. But if you keep staring at me like that, it would not be proper anymore."

You hid your embarrassed face behind the cotton towel. With a smile, Rafayel enquired:

"So? Do you want to go back inside?”

You gave him a firm shake of your head. “I want to stay here a little longer.”

Not that Rafayel objected. He accompanied you on your beach stroll. You remained quiet. You did not want to go back partly because you could not bear to see the day ended.

It was Rafayel's birthday. You had carefully prepared for an intimate party, with only a few people from his studio and family members attending. You personally made the cake for him and prepared everything yourself. But your heart was still restless as you kept carrying the feeling that this was not enough. You had yet to give him what he truly needed.

You continued to ponder. Rafayel needed what? He was wealthy and famous. He was exceptionally gifted, and he may have lived an extended lifespan. Giving something to someone who has had everything is impossible. If you could give him your heart, you would do so. In a symbolic sense.

Between you and Rafayel was a feeling without a name.

You started off as merely his reluctant bodyguard, someone to take care of his errands. You were not sure when exactly, but the image of him planted roots in your mind like the way he frequently appeared in front of you, provoking you. He was adorable and obnoxious all at once. Although he posed a threat, being around him gave you a sense of security. But you never, ever dared to speak it aloud. Perhaps you were afraid. You feared that the relationship would fizzle out like sea foam the moment you began seeking to give it a name. You made an effort to suppress that emotion, but it kept returning, much like waves finding their way back to the shore.

"What's off?" Rafayel enquired. He came to a stop. His expression was undoubtedly showing concern.

"I'm alright." You dismissed him with a shake of your head. Your heart raced whenever you were close to him. The feeling of being on cloud nine, at the same time realizing that a bottomless black hole was waiting at your feet made you about to lose your mind. You hated this feeling, yet also addicted to it. Like the way you were addicted to his very existence. Perfect like a dream.

His cool hand was placed on your forehead. He frowned and said:

“It seems your temperature is a bit high.”

You retreated a step, rejecting his touch. It was as if there was poison from his body that would seep into your heart, and you would drive yourself to a slow death if you could not touch him again.

“I'm fine.” With a resolute reply, you took a seat on the sand, a little wet from the waves. “I'm just a little tired… Let me sit here for a bit…”

Rafayel looked at you with a puzzled expression. He was curious to know what else you were planning to do. But you hid your face in the white towel. He sighed.

"I'll go fetch you some exquisite seashells then. Maybe it will make you feel better.”

You gave a little nod, glancing at Rafayel's back as it absorbed the last bit of sunlight on a peaceful day. This scene was a bit familiar, like the first time you had by chance met him on the street.

Rafayel knelt to get something that the waves had just carried. He held it tenderly in his palm, studied it for a moment, and then came over to you.

“Look what I've just found.” A fairly large shell weaved together in shades of orange-red and ivory-white was what he held out in front of you. You had never seen a shell with such a special hue like this before.

"So beautiful!" You exclaimed as Rafayel plopped down next to you on the sand. Your heart raced again as he sat so near.

“You know, the Lemurians often use shells like this to transmit messages to each other.”

He twisted it in his hand to examine it more closely before placing it in your palm.

“Do you want to give it a shot?”

You raised the shell quite a bit. Its hue was nearly identical to that of the horizon's sunset. You said:

“Show me how to do it.”

“Just tell the seashell what you want to say the most right now.”

“Is that all?”

“Yup. That's all. But what you say to it must come from the heart. It will find the person whom you want to send this to, no matter where they are.”

You looked at Rafayel. He appeared so honest, but this story was too much of a fairy tale and not very realistic. You did not know if he was just making this up to tease you. Then again, you once thought the Lemurians never existed. But here he was, sitting next to you.

You put the seashell to your lips, gave him another glance, and then murmured something to it.

Once you were done, you gave it to Rafayel.

“It's yours.”

His lips curled into a dazzling smile, as though he knew you would give it back to him.

“Hmmm.” Rafayel took the shell and leaned it close to his ear. He gestured as if he was concentrating hard to listen. Then he said with disappointment evident on his face: “I don't hear any message.”

"What? How is that possible?" You were impatient.

“Do you want to try again?”

He returned the shell to your hand. This time, you took a deep breath and looked at him while whispering your thoughts.

“Still nothing.” After listening to it for a second time, Rafayel said. “Are you sure you sent the message with all your heart?”

You replied sullenly: "Of course... Maybe since I'm not a Lemurian, I can't make it work."

Rafayel held your hand and put the shell in it. “Try it once more?”

"I doubt that anything will be different this time around." You gazed at the shell in your hand with boredom. “I was just going to… give you one more gift to make your birthday special…”

“My day is already quite special.” Rafayel's bright smile made the distant sunset dim, and suddenly you caught his warmth. “Thank you so much, for organizing a party for me. To be honest, though, I don't like partying as much as going to the sea with you like this."

Listening to his words, you found yourself smiling. You took off the towel that was wrapped around you, letting it fall freely onto the sand. You held the brilliant seashell in your hands, this time determined to let him hear your heart out.

Rafayel nodded and smiled at you as encouragement. You closed your eyes tightly, and lips slightly parted. You had a feeling that it could read my thoughts whether you said them out loud or not.

I really like, really like, really like Rafayel.

I like the way you concentrate when holding a paintbrush, as if the whole world is spread out before your eyes.

I like your terrified look when surrounded by cats.

I like it when you overdo things or act like a drama queen just to get my attention.

I like the bright colors you paint in my sky when it's gray.

I like the way you tease and then comfort me.

I like how your gentle touches are enough to keep me up at night.

I like everything about you.

Maybe, I love you, Rafayel. So much.

The shell was brought towards Rafayel, but halted midway. You wavered. Once he knew your feelings, would he still be by your side? Or would he throw this shell into the ocean along with your heart, letting it dissolve into bubbly white foam?

Rafayel looked at you and smiled. Even though he had laughed many times, you'd never seen him as happy as he was at that moment. There was an increased shine in his eyes, as if pearls were rising to the surface and ready to burst out the corners of his eyes. Happiness. You had never captured such a genuine moment of pure happiness like this.

He took the shell from your hand, but there was no need to listen to it anymore. He leaned closer to you and whispered:

“The words from your heart have been received by the person you wanted to send them to… You have no idea how long he waited just to hear those words… I love you too. So much."

When you felt soft lips touching yours, little did you know; that Lemurian man had heard what you said the first time he put his ear to the shell. He merely wanted to hear it one more time, and another. He wanted to hear you confess being able to confess to you; this day, the day after, and the day after that...

Until the ocean runs dry.

[devieuls]

ˋ Moonlight ☾

Neteyam Sully x Metkayina Albino Reader ( ONE SHOT )

Synopsis : The elders told the clans that the children of Eywa were born with unique peculiarities and abilities, sent to the clans to bring wisdom and prosperity. But when you were born, no one saw you as a blessing of the Great Mother, but as one of the demons of heaven, being despised by most of the clan just for your appearance. But when, nineteen years later, a family from the forest arrives on the island of Awa'atlu, you will finally find someone who will be able to see you beyond your outward appearance.

Warning : Fluff (at the beginning), many sweet parts; SMUT MDNI: Praising, dirty talk, overstimulation, unprotected Sex, Dom Neteyam, reader not totally submissive a little rude but loving, hickeys, multiple orgasms?, Explicit content.

Lenght : 9.3k

Notes : This was supposed to come out on June 27, my birthday, but my friends have kidnapped me these days to go out. I hope you like this one shot, I really wanted to write it because I always liked the idea of the Albino reader, so with a diversity that I could adapt to some sentences about the moon (my beloved).

NETEYAM: 20 y.o / Y/N: 19 y.o

NA'VI WORDS : OARE: Moon ; YAWNE: Beloved ; TSMUKE: Sister

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

The elders told the clans that the sons of Eywa were born with unique peculiarities and abilities, sent to the clans to bring wisdom and prosperity. Therefore, these newborns were raised alongside the Tsahìk, so as never to lose their bond with the Great Mother.

The day your mother announced her pregnancy to the Metkayina clan was a joyful day, the clan congratulated her and blessed her maternal womb, knowing all the pitfalls she had been through and for her unfortunate infertility. Ronal was the most joyous, knowing that her sister had waited so many cycles before having you. You were a miracle, the whole clan thought that when they saw your mother, thinking that Eywa had blessed her for her infinite goodness.

Nine months later you were born in the water, because Tsahìk had a vision of your birth in the gentle waves of the ocean that surrounded the island of Awa'atlu. Unfortunately, like the sea, your mother’s labor was stormy, leading Ronal to think that she could not give birth to you.

"Sister, you’re losing a lot of blood… The only way is to save only one of you" Ronal said in tears, as he found a way to save both. "If you keep pushing, you’ll tear your body apart, ma Sorewn-" your mother stopped her before she screamed in pain. "My baby… Save.her!" She said with all her strength in her body as she squeezed her sister’s hand, looking at her displeased as the water seemed so icy around her and the sand so rough. After minutes that seemed like hours, you came to light, the warm waters welcomed your warm body that reflected the colors of the eclipse.

"Is she okay? Ronal… is my daughter okay?" These were the desperate worries of a mother who was giving her life to give it to her daughter. "She’s fine, ma tsmuke…" Ronal whispered with sadness, knowing that soon her only sister would be gone.

Your mother looked for your body, clutching it weakly as she looked at you with love "y/n… This is her name, sweet breeze… and moonlight, she’s beautiful, isn’t she…?" Sorewn died shortly after uttering, dropping her lifeless body on the sand, but holding your little body still warm, as if she wanted to protect you until her last breath.

Ronal’s screams were desperate as she took you flickering from your mother’s cold arms, allowing herself to cry on her body, knowing that her only sister would never wake up from that eternal sleep again.

The day of your birth was less joyful than the day when your mother’s pregnancy became known, even though the slight joy of knowing that the firstborn of the sister of the Tsahìk was alive and well. But the emotion and joy of the clan ceased to exist when people saw you, the white skin like pearls that were at sea, but associated with the typical complexion of the sky demons.

"She’s cursed," "a demon…", "Look at her skin." Similar murmurs struck the mourning Tsahik’s ears, who in response growled against the clan, silencing them as she continued her walk to her Mauri.

From that day on, nineteen years passed, Ronal raised you as her daughter, never stopping to talk about how much your mother loved you and how you were blessed by Eywa despite your white skin, loving you in the way Sorewn would. Your aunt often told you that you were special, that there were other people like you and it was the Great Mother herself who sent you, trying not to make you feel different from others.

Unfortunately, the sweet words of the Tsahìk didn’t help much, especially because of the children of the clan they used to tease and bully you when you were still a child, not stopping even when you grew up. "Daughter of demons", "Demon", "Cursed Blood" that’s what they told you, and slowly you began to identify yourself in the same way.

The only friends you had were Ao'Nung, Tsireya and Rotxo, the first two because they grew up together with you, while Rotxo respected Ao'Nung and your family too much to offend you, so he became attached like a brother. Ao'Nung and Rotxo often found themselves defending you from the village boys, and Tsireya did the same with the girls, even though she was younger than you.

You were often teased because of your sensitivity to the sun, caused by your albino skin, and because you could only get out after the eclipse, raising suspicions and rumors that you were really something like sky demons. For this reason you spent your days in the marui, distancing yourself from the world that seemed not to want to accept you, hiding you from evil languages and from those who just wanted to hurt you.

It was a morning like any other on the island of Awa'atlu, the two suns that blessed the beaches with their warmth, the children who rejoiced and ran to feed the Ilus, the screams of fishermen and hunters who called to bring the fish to the clan. But you didn’t participate in such activities, your task was to follow the Tsahìk and help her in everything she did, you were not the Tsakarem, but you were always told that you were special, that your connection with Eywa is stronger than any other. Therefore, just like today, your days took place inside the Marui of Ronal, while you helped her with some herbs and medicines that might have been useful.

The tranquility of the village was interrupted by some strange screams of call, and strong steps running on the sand to head to what was 'the entrance' of the clan, you heard some tribal screams and curiosity pervaded you.

"Ma parultysip, what’s going on?" asked Ronal, rising from the ground, to approach you who had looked at the door.

"Ma Tsahìk! Be careful, you are still in the first cycle of pregnancy…" yYou said, stand by the door, then walk up to Ronal and accompany her. " Foreigners… They arrived with Ikran from the sky" You didn’t finish talking that the matriarch rushed right where the foreigners had landed. You followed her both out of curiosity and to take care of her.

Once you arrived at the place, Ronal made room in the crowd that opened around her, you found Tonowari already standing to welcome the strange blue-skinned Na'vi. In the distance you noticed Tsireya, Ao'Nung and Rotxo, and you tried to understand the situation as you looked at them, Tsireya’s eyes made you realize that she was at least as unaware as you. Your eyes were immediately captured by those of one of the newly arrived boys, his eyes yellow as the suns, with some green reflection, long braided hair, a confident headshell and a body hard to miss. You also noticed the battle band wrapping around his abdomen, letting you know he was definitely a warrior. You were out of breath for a few seconds while you were studying him from afar, noticing that he also did not look away from you, intrigued by something, perhaps even enchanted. Your heart started beating faster, almost out of control. The butterflies in your stomach woke up, creating a strong tingling that spread into your body. The cheeks that were colored with a tender blush, betraying your expression.

You hid in the crowd, feeling insecure for a moment, thinking that that boy was looking at you because of the color of your skin and hair so different from others. Only to disappear because of the sun’s rays that were burning your sensitive skin, while Neteyam was looking for you with his eyes, trying to figure out where you had gone, fearing he had put you in awe.

The day passed quickly and you never saw that boy again, yet you knew that both he and his family would stay on the island, and that gave you a strange sense of comfort.

"Y/n! Y/n! You had to come with us to help the newcomers. Their children are very kind indeed and-" Tsireya said once she joined the part of the marui that she shared with you, still sticking to the main marui of the family.

"And? Let me guess, you like the younger one?" You joked, then noticed her blush and embarrassment as she hid behind her curly hair. "Oh ma Eywa… do you like the blue guy!?" You said laughing and then feeling Tsireya’s body on yours, trying to shut you up while you laughed.

"Y-y/n! Stop it! I-I" You stopped her still laughing. "C'mon, Tsireya, you’re 18, it’s normal to have a crush. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at each other, his 'hey' and your chuckle. It was so obvious" She looked at you red again and then laughed with you.

"I was so obvious?" she asked, sitting next to you on the carpet. "Too obvious, ma tsmuke" replied smiling and then hearing everything she had to say about that strange family, assimilating all that information as she spoke with dreamy eyes.

"Oh, and I’ll be teaching the Sullys, the younger ones, of course… along with Rotxo and Aonung, but they don’t like the idea like I do. You should help me, those two idiots would be able to ruin everything and fight with them" You watched her take your hands.

"Oh… I-I don’t think that’s a good idea, I mean… No. I have to be with Ronal, plus-"

"You’re afraid they’ll criticize you for your skin, aren’t you?" she interrupted, understanding where your fear and insecurity were. "They don’t seem like the kind of people who would. You know, Neteyam and Lo'ak said that Kiri is a bit like you too, she is also connected to Eywa" you looked at her slightly uncertain and then heard the name of that 'Neteyam' echoing in your head with some interest.

"Neteyam?" you asked more about this person’s name than her whole sentence. You knew Lo'ak was that kind of Tsireya's crush, so if the math was right, Neteyam must have been the guy you made eye contact with.

"Yeah, he’s the biggest Sully, maybe you saw him. He was the one with the warrior belt and the purple loincloth… Long hair, tall, you know, right? The one who looked down at Ronal while she caught Lo'ak’s tail and hands" you blushed slightly and nodded, only whispering a subtle "Oh… yes, maybe I understood"

Tsireya looked at you weirdly and then looked at you surprised and smiled with emotion. "Oh! DO you like him?" She cheered, making you blush in the same way you did with her. "N-No! It was an 'Oh' to say 'Yes, I get it'. I mean, you get it. Not an 'Oh… that na'vi with hypnotic eyes', you know?" You started stammering and scrambling to escape that. "You never said 'oh' like that and then 'hypnotic eyes'. I'm screaming! You’re so clumsy now" Continued Tsireya, teasing you, then stopping when you close her mouth with your hand. "Think of Lo'ak! Girl, he rizzed you with an 'hey' and a smirk" you had taken it down playfully, just to change the speech. You continued on the same line until you fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up without Tsireya, realizing that she had definitely gone to give lessons to the newcomers, while you spent time with the Tsahìk, peeping every once in a while from the window of your aunt’s Mauri. "Y/n, focus" Ronal said, bringing your attention to her, "Yes, sorry, auntie" you whispered, and then you concentrated and watched her handle some medicines.

After a few hours you remained alone in the marui, since Ronal had to leave for commitments with Tonowari. Unfortunately, when you came to the window again, the boys were gone, so you dedicated yourself to classifying and arranging the herbs you had used for the lesson with the Tsahìk. Now that Tsireya was busy teaching the young Sullys, the lessons with Ronal had become heavier and more boring.

"Umh… is it allowed?" an strong unknown voice made you wince while you were behind, then turn around and see the guy from the day before. 'Neteyam', you remembered the name and looked at it while keeping your distance.

"Umh… yes, yes. If you were looking for the Tsahìk, she just left" Your voice was almost a whisper, because of your shyness.

"Oh, I understand. Emh, well, it’s because I needed something for superficial wounds." His voice was at least as warm as Pandora’s suns. He smiled at you slightly and you noticed the split lip leaking blood, and some scratches on his chest and bruises on his face.

"I’m just a student, but I-I could do something… sit there." You pointed to the carpet lying on the ground, and then you turned around and took some herbs to make something like a ointment. You felt his eyes on you the whole time, and you felt slightly uncomfortable, sure he had something to say about how you looked. You started mixing and grinding herbs with some liquid plant extracts, trying not to make you weigh his curious eyes. Not knowing he was admiring you enchanted.

"I am Neteyam anyway…" he began, interrupting the silence, trying to put you at ease.while his head leaned to the side to look for your look

"I know, you are the firstborn of the Toruk Makto and Neytiri of the Omatikaya clan" you whispered again with a thread of voice, without looking at him. " Your father’s title is great, all the clans know him…" continued you, hoping not to seem strange.

"Yeah, it is… What’s your name?" he asked as she approached, stopping when she noticed you drifted away slightly.

"Y/n. just y/n" You answered and then looked at him for a second, before you approached him cleaning the dried blood with a cloth, and then put the natural ointment on his wounds, feeling him wince slightly. "I'm sorry, it burns a little, it has some nettle plants inside it" Your heart began to beat more and more in your chest, noticing how his eyes did not fit even for a second from your face. He wasn’t looking at you like the other kids did, they were sincere and innocent eyes, slightly curious but definitely without malice.

"y/n? is a beautiful name, does it mean anything?" he asked curiously, lowering his voice just like you did.

"Gentle breeze and moonlight, so I've been told." You continued to whisper as you applied the ointment to his lip, keeping your eyes fixed on his lips, finding them strangely inviting.

"It’s definitely a name that suits you," he whispered, making you blush slightly before leaving.

"Why are you whispering…?" you asked to change the subject, trying to cool the fire that was happening on your pale cheeks.

"Because you do, too, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with my tone of voice being too loud, so I turn it down" he said sincerely, as his eyes continued to explore your whole person.

"O-oh… no need to do it, i-it’s just my tone," you admitted a little embarrassed.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked nicely, always keeping his tone down, noting how you felt a little more comfortable with him.

"Umh, sure, tell me so" you wiped your dirty fingers from the ointment you just put on his torn skin.

"It’s just… well, your skin is-" you stiffened to those words, moving even further away from him as you stopped him from saying anything else.

"I know what you’re going to say… please, can you leave? I finished with the ointment, you should be better in a short time" your voice let shine a veil of fear and discomfort, making him feel a total idiot for having started talking.

"No, it’s nothing bad, i swear… your skin is beautiful, you are beautiful. I mean… ah!" He passed a hand in his hair, embarrassed to feel so clumsy right now. "I mean… you’re very beautiful, that’s…" he whispered in an even lower tone, making you blush.

You looked at Neteyam with flaming cheeks, while your hands were joined at heart level, observing him in silence. 'Does he find me… beautiful?' you asked yourself in your mind.

Your heart bounced through your chest as the boy’s kind words rang out in your incredulous ears. The insecurity that you always felt about your skin and appearance seemed to fade away for a moment, and a shy smile spread across your lips. That insecurity, however, gave way to a strange emotion: joy. A spark of happiness crossed your face for the first time, and his eyes lit up. You felt a feeling of warmth spreading through your chest, as if your heart was about to explode with gratitude. You felt seen and appreciated, and that created an intimate bond with the guy who gave you that unexpected compliment.

"Oh…" you whispered, finding no other words. Your mind began to sow doubts, making you wonder if the boy is serious or if it is just a way to joke, just as other had done in the past. The fear of being teased or misunderstood the boy’s intentions made its way into your mind, momentarily clouding the joy you felt. This Neteyam noticed it because of that light that went out with the same speed as it went on.

"Sorry… I’m just not good with words. But I think you’re really very beautiful, but I think that’s something everyone tells you, so you probably think I'm just one of many idiots… Then I go, I don’t want to make you feel any more uncomfortable than I have already done" Neteyam smiled at you shyly as he stood up to leave as you had asked him.

"N-no… they don’t tell me often." You whispered before you stopped him by taking his wrist. He turned to look you in the eye, smiling slightly as he felt your soft touch around his skin.

"Uh no? Too bad, you are the most beautiful Na'vi I have seen so far" you swallowed to his words and smiled shyly, feeling again warmth on the cheeks. You took your hand off his wrist and handed him a small jar covered with a cloth that served as a lid. "Use it before going to sleep and in the morning, it should accelerate the healing process of the wounds" He smiled noticing the shy smile you had made him and carefully took the vase from your hands.

"Thank you-" Before he could finish the sentence, Ao'Nung and Rotxo also entered the Mauri, who were in a bad way, worse than Neteyam.

"What… did you fight each other? Again?" you supposed, approaching Rotxo touching his face, slightly stroking his broken and bleeding cheekbone, passing your hand over his chest. Neteyam looked at you feeling a sense of jealousy being born in him, not yet knowing that Rotxo was just a close family friend, and that you saw him as a brother.

The boy began to talk with your cousin, being silenced immediately thanks to a nod of your hand, making him understand that they had to shut up. "Not a word. Sit there, right now." you said with a slightly more authoritative voice, making the two boys sit down. Neteyam looked at you mesmerized for a second and then took leave with a formal greeting that you reciprocated.

From that first encounter your life was in love crossed with that of Neteyam, he became your good friend and began to discover every little part of you, always interested. He knew you couldn’t stay in the sun too much and often asked you out for a walk or a swim when the eclipse was already in phase, and when he saw you during the sunny hours, he always tried to find a place in the shade for you. If you were sunburning your skin, he had learned to apply a ointment that Ronal always kept available in case the children or you needed it. He knew that your eyesight was poor because of albinism and that you were particularly sensitive to the great sources of light, and even in this case he made sure to shade you with his hands. In addition to these small things that inevitably led you to have a crush on him, the thing that unfortunately led you to spend more time together was the fact that you never back down to fight with anyone who offended you or teased you, therefore it had become a secure presence in the Tsahìk’s Marui.

During that day’s eclipse, as was increasingly the case, Neteyam looked out the window of your part of the marui. "Pss. Ma Oare, do you want to take a ride to the beach?" he asked you gently, making you wince with fright. "Ma 'teyam, one day you’ll make me die doing this" you said, blushing, making him laugh playfully. "I missed you, today I didn’t see you at all" his tragic voice made you laugh innocently, while hiding your smile with your fingers.

"But if you came to pick up Tsireya here this morning, and I greeted you." You replied, still laughing, while Neteyam made sweet eyes at you, not knowing that behind these same eyes there was a deep enchantment for you.

"It’s not the same, come on. Just an hour, then I promise to let you go." He gave you his hand, inviting you to follow him.

"You always say that and then I come home at dawn or when the stars almost finish their cycle with the moons." He laughed at your words nodding, knowing it was true.

"I promise, if you want to go home, I’ll bring you back myself. Just for today, please, ma Oare." You looked him in the eye for a few seconds, before smiling gently and nodding.

"Just because I want to collect new shells, not for you." To your words he smiled, content to be just a walking companion for you.

He waited for you outside the marui, giving you time to change and settle, knowing how insecure you were about your appearance. What you didn’t know was that he always found you charming and perfect, no matter what your hair or clothes were like that day, his eyes in love would always be enchanted by you. When you came down from your home, he was stunned, watching you without speaking, taking some deep breaths before blushing slightly and scratching his neck.

"What’s wrong? Are you okay?" you asked Neteyam, laughing, as you approached him, holding the small bag you used when you went to collect objects or herbs.

Then you start walking towards the beach, while you pick up some shells and beads that were on the shore or in the still warm sand. Neteyam undertook to look for the most beautiful objects to give to you, knowing that your eyesight was not very good and perhaps you would not notice them, inspecting the most perfect shells and the brightest and most colorful beads. He usually hated doing these things, categorically avoiding accompanying his beloved sister Tuk to collect items for jewelry, following her only when she was about to cry or when his sense of elder brother was turned on and worried about the safety of little Tuktirey.

With you was different, he was content to help you and follow you, really trying to find only the best and then give it to you, because he loved to see your shy smile when you saw the small objects he brought you.

Neteyam remained silent, picking up some shells behind you, watching you from time to time, and then finding you both sitting exhausted on wet sand. You soaked your feet in water as you squinted your eyes and bent your head back to watch the sky greet the end of the eclipse, taking long deep breaths, not noticing Neteyam’s eyes on you.

In his eyes, one could perceive a deep admiration. Observe your features with a mixture of awe and respect, while you look up at the stars, reflecting their own light on your skin. He saw your inner and outer beauty, silently loving everything you did; recording in his mind every detail, even the smallest, making it the main object of his attention, as if he wanted to imprint it in his memory. If only you had looked at him, you would have understood how much love he wanted to give you, if only you had understood that his attentions were not only in friendship, the way he took care of you and protected you, all because he had a deep interest in you.

There was also a touch of desire in his eyes, and he was slightly ashamed of that, because he saw you as a pure being. His eyes moved on you with a slight intensity, as if he wanted to discover every aspect of you, even the most hidden, where you hid your desires. His looks lingered on your lips while you were breathing, your eyes turned to the sea or the stars, or any part of you that fascinated him. It was a kind desire, born from the desire to know and approach a person like you that makes his heart beat. He cursed himself when his thoughts were lost in thinking about how nice it would be to have you, to feel your warm skin shaped by his fingers, your whimpers, whiny breaths, and your lips that seemed ever more soft and inviting.

However, the boy made an effort to hide his emotions, keeping a discreet and respectful look at you, because you deserved to be respected. And when your eyes met his, it might seem like he was just looking at randomly, with no particular interest, but underneath that mask was a whirlwind of feelings that kept him awake at night.

"Your father is from one of those stars, isn’t he?" you asked, pointing at some stars that shone less than others. Neteyam’s hand met yours and moved it to a blue star, slightly blurry.

"There, my father comes from there. It’s called earth, it’s a planet like Jupiter, not a star, ma oare." He said, smiling softly, while his hand remained wrapped towards yours, to show you the exact spot of that planet. You looked away from him to the point he was pointing with your hand.

"Earth… what a strange name" you whispered, slightly laughing, observing the strange planet. " Blue? Does that mean it’s full of water, 'Teyam?"

"My father says that once upon a time there were great forests, like those of the Omatikaya clan, but the people of the earth destroyed everything, letting the land die and be covered with water. It is now filled with large iron structures above sea level" he replied, not looking away from your face, noting your slightly glassy eyes.

"Once upon a time? Why would those people do that to their Mother? Eywa would cry if she knew that one of her sisters was treated this way." Your voice was bitter and you tried not to cry at the thought of constructions that replaced the beautiful forests and went to ruin marine life in that way.

Neteyam looked at you with a soft smile, you were so beautiful when you became emotional about things like that, they showed him even more how beautiful and pure your soul was. "Ma oare, don’t think about it. Unfortunately it’s another culture, they didn’t have the same connection that we have with Eywa. For that matter, they all spoke different languages and often fought each other. There is no peace in their soul, because they never approached their Great Mother" You leaned on his shoulder, nodding as he gently stroked your white hair.

"I don’t even want to imagine all that pain… it’s good that your father found peace between us" you whispered, only to feel the little shiver that ran through Neteyam’s skin when you leaned on him.

"Don’t imagine it, think that you live in a place where the Great Mother sees us and protects us…and that you are one of her favorite" he said, as he wrapped an arm around your body, sighing with relief in silence, realizing that you didn’t mind his touch.

Your eyes suddenly stared at him with a fascinating curiosity, as if they wanted to discover every detail of his being. The look was tender, intense and deep, despite being shy and lascivious. All the sun you couldn't take for obvious reasons, he imprisoned it and brought it to you, warming your heart and all your body, cheering up even your darkest days. Despite the great crush on him, you hid your feelings, keeping your eyes discreet and delicate, trying not to reveal too much your true feelings for fear of being misunderstood or rejected even by the only person who understood you so deeply. Whenever your gaze fell on him, you did so with an intense desire to make him understand how special he is to you, hoping to be reciprocated.

Unwittingly you were both waiting for each other, hoping that one of you would come forward first, sharing the same fear. But Neteyam’s heart was beginning to weigh more, after all those months of repressing every single feeling outside of friendship, convinced that you were destined to Rotxo.

"Y/n… May I ask you something?" Neteyam asked suddenly, drawing your attention. You nodded kindly, waiting for his question. "I’ve been here for months, and all the young Na'vi have mated with their mates, I was wondering when you would do it with…Rotxo" An innocent laugh ran from your lips, making your nose curl, while Neteyam watched you not understanding the reason for your laugh.

"Oh, ma Eywa… what makes you think I’ll mate with Rotxo?" you asked with tears in your eyes, caused by loud laughter.

"Well… I-I mean, I’ve seen you guys together all the time, during the meetings at the bonfire he is always near you, plus he brings you food and follows you around… Spending time in the marui where you spend your time" he replied embarrassed as he looked away.

"Yes, because his mother was my mother’s best friend, we grew up together. He is a brother to me, he does what Ao'Nung also does, he takes care of me but we are not paired. For Eywa's sake" Your voice was still amused, not knowing that in the same tone you brought the hope he needed. "Rotxo have a crush on Kiri, don’t you see him looking at her or buzzing around her? It just seemed so obvious. I’m not paired with anyone, my skin is cursed, it scares. The clan thinks I’m descended from one of the sky demons." You whispered as your tone went from amused to sad. You leaned against him again, to avoid his gaze. "I am not a good match for anyone, besides with all my problems inherent in my sensitivity to the sun, people increase rumors about my birth. My mother died in childbirth because of me, while my father ran away immediately after seeing me for the first time." You sighed sadly and then put on a fake smile when you noticed Neteyam’s eyes sorry for you. "Don’t look at me like that. The tsahìk says that I am descended from Eywa herself, so I will give my life to her, no matter if I am not paired. It’s a good thing, I’ll be a woman free from any restraint," you tried to cheer him up, despite your eyes pointing down with a little sadness...?

Neteyam laid a finger under your chin, gently lifting your face, bringing your eyes together "Y/n, listen to me… You are beautiful, full of light both inside and out. Your skin is not cursed, don't think it even for a moment. It's shining just like you, isn’t there one thing about you that might be vaguely similar to that of the sky demons. Ma Eywa… but have you seen yourself? You’re unique, radiant, just perfect. Only a fool would not want to mate with you, they're blind because you are dressed in stars, under your skin the moon lives, believe me, ma oare. You are pure light" Your eyes were enchanted and chained to his, unable to speak. "They should be grateful that Eywa blessed them by sending one of her stars to walk among us. Why can’t you see how damn beautiful you are? You’re so intoxicated with those fake words you can’t even see… Why can’t you see how I fall apart when you look at me with those eyes? Don’t you feel my heart losing beats every time you smile or laugh? Don’t you understand how you can mesmerize me with every single thing you do? Ma Eywa, I would give anything even what I don’t have, just to have you… Can’t you see how much I’m in love with you…?" His loving gaze was a mix of sweetness, desire, adoration and frustration, a subtle invitation to discover and reciprocate those feelings that had come out without him wanting it. Didn’t realize he’d just confessed.

You had spent days and nights fantasizing about possibilities, dreaming about the moment when he would finally find the courage to open up, or when you would. And now, that long-awaited moment had come. Your heart pounded as you listened to the words coming out of the lips of the Na'vi you liked.

A myriad of emotions poured into you like an overwhelming wave. Initially, the surprise took over, as the confidence of the boy had exceeded all expectations, noticing only after the fact that he was not done it on purpose. Then, like a fire that lights up slowly, the euphoria spread into your being. You could not help but smile, feeling an indescribable joy pervade you. Finally, the confirmation that Neteyam had feelings for you, that they weren’t just dreams for you, that your feelings were reciprocated, was a tangible reality now. That uncertainty that tormented you had been dispelled, leaving room for an unprecedented feeling of happiness.

"Neteyam…" you whispered without a voice, and then you saw his jaw stretched out, because he felt like an idiot for saying that.

"Y/n. I-" his voice was full of insecurities, but you could silence him by pressing your lips on his. When your lips touched, a shiver of emotion went through both of you. The feeling was electric, intense and extraordinarily sweet. Before you completely surrender to the kiss, forgetting all that was surrounding you at that moment. Your hands, uncertain before, intertwined gently, seeking support and confirmation of the authenticity of that moment. As your bodies drew closer, they could hear each other’s heartbeats in tune with their own. The fingers of your free hand lay timidly on his neck, while his around your waist. His tail intertwined with yours, wrapping it gently.

Time seemed to suspend, and every other worry or doubt vanished into the irresistible and desperate kiss. The lips moved with grace and passion, needing to be consumed, exploring the unknown and revealing an attraction that had always burned beneath the surface of 'friendship'.

"I waited so long for this…" you whispered, once detached from the kiss, still feeling Neteyam’s warm arm around your body. You looked into each other’s eyes, smiling with dignity, knowing that from that moment on you would walk together, hand in hand, towards a future they had only dared to dream of in their own little.

"I thought you weren’t interested…" You two said at the same time, and then looked at yourself with a mix of shock and disbelief. " I was sending you signals" "I was so obvious!" you said together again, laughing at the synchronized timing.

"Signs? You did not send me signals, and if you did, they were confused, ma Oare," said Neteyam, stroking your hair and moving a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Me? Mixed signals? You weren’t obvious at all. I thought it was just affection, just like with Tsireya, ma 'Teyam." You whispered shyly, before looking down and feeling his finger under your chin again that made you raise your head.

"Y/n, really? Why do you think I took so much care of you? I’ve liked you since day one, ever since I saw you in the crowd, emanating that beautiful light that represents you" He said, looking at you gently, touching your noses. "And all those compliments… Do all the things you asked me to, to accompany you everywhere, I was making you understand that I was choosing you" You blushed, curling your nose.

"Why didn’t you tell me before?" he laughed softly at your question.

"I thought you were paired with Rotxo, and I was afraid I wasn’t to your taste. It would have been enough just to be your friend, if it had been so. But the fact that you belittle yourself and say you’ll never find a partner makes my blood boil again. Because I am here, waiting for you to see me…" his hand slipped on the back of your neck and approached you again to him. "…that you choose me" he whispered on your lips, as his eyes peered at you.

"I-I’ve already chosen you… and I was hoping you’d choose me" you said, whispering, loving that he didn’t use the same tone he used with others with you. Remembering you hated loud noises because of hearing sensitivity.

"I see you, ma Oare," he said, stroking the back of your head. "I see you, ma 'Teeyam" you replied gently. Your eyes stuck on his and then you join again in a kiss.

This time it was more passionate, more carnal. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your warmth and appropriating your soft flesh as he pulled you over his legs. Shudder at the direct contact with his skin, placing your hands on his neck, clinging to him like a life saver in the middle of the ocean. Neteyam’s tail, though slimmer than yours, wrapped yours with impressive ease, locking it against the sand, making you squeak into his mouth.

Your hands went down his chest, colliding with his sculpted body just as the waves were crashing into the banks around you. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, feeling the need to feel more, to get more out of him. He hoarsely panted inside your mouth, making you smile as you collided your pelvis with his, crawling with little innocence your body on him.

"Ma Eywa… If you keep this up, I don’t know if I can control myself, ma Yawne," he said in an exasperated voice when the kiss stopped.

"I don’t want you to control yourself, 'Teyam… I want to feel you" you bent over his ear to whisper those words, making him more excited than he thought. The way he had imagined this scenario was slightly different, thinking that you were chaste, pure and innocent, but now you were revealing yourself quite differently. A hidden part of you that only he would ever see, and that turned him on.

Neteyam turned his face towards you, again meeting your eyes with curiosity. He bit his lip when he noticed your eyes full of desire. "Hmhm, not here… It’s not the right place, ma yawne." He said first to drop his gaze on your lips and then down to your collarbones, passing his tongue on his lip.

"I want you now, 'Teyam… so much" Your words were needy and eager, you whined before approaching his neck, leaving some kisses and hickeys on the boy’s sensitive skin, making him grunt for pleasure.

Neteyam shivered when you broke away from him, enjoying the sensation of your saliva on his neck. Your pelvis collided again with his, swinging back and forth over his covered intimacy, feeling already so wet and in need of him. "Ma yawne…" he sighed frustrated as his head bent backwards.

The boy’s hands ended up behind his body, supporting his body thanks to the support on the sand, unbalancing himself backwards and contracting his muscles. Your hand landed on his chest, arched your back to press your chest against the boy’s. "Don’t you want me?" You whispered as your lips began a path down his chest, causing him chills. You were tempting him, and he knew it, but he was trying to resist you because he wanted to take you someplace more private, and gently proceed with the act. But it seemed so complicated to him to resist you, while you warmed his cock so needy of him and laid your warm lips all over his body "I need you so much, now" you whispered before passing your tongue over the beginning of his abs. Your hips continued to rub against his, making him feel your needy intimacy and leaving wet spots on his loincloth, not helping him to repress the erection that was being created between his legs.

"Shit! ma yawne…" His hoarse, frustrated voice made you smile maliciously. Your hand fell to the height of his loincloth, starting to play with the top, teasing his skin.

"Please~" Your voice and your movements were damning him, but the way your eyes looked at him now, those were enough to make him feel stiff beneath you.

Neteyam approached you, taking you gently from your neck and then turning your head so that it spoke to your ear.

"Do you know how to do that, baby?" his desperate and eager voice made you shudder as you squinted. " No…" you whispered before biting your lip.

At that moment you felt Neteyam’s other hand resting on your loincloth, casually moving it to the side, rubbing your warm fingers on your pulsating and needy intimacy, feeling already wet for him. " Oh, you’re already so wet for me? what a good girl" He teased you. Your hands grabbed behind him, feeling the first chills creeping up your back, a heat blazing over your lower abdomen and the desperate need to feel something more. You started riding his fingers clumsily, panting for pleasure, carrying your forehead on his shoulder. "Hmhm… that’s right, move your hips more slowly, ma yawne. I am here for you" His voice clashes with your neck, feeling you are even more needy for him, still following the advice he gave you.

Neteyam after a few minutes, took his fingers out of your intimacy, savoring your juice with pleasure.

"You are so sweet even between your legs" You blushed at his compliment, then feel the boy’s hands open your legs and letting them spread over him. One of his hands accompanied you as you sat on his ready-made cock, the red tip and the side vein pulsing with desire. "Slowly…yes, so it’s perfect, baby…oh shit." he said as you came down with a mind-blowing ease on his cock. You only had to stop a couple of times before you took it all, feeling already so full and tired on him, his cock was throbbing inside you, sending electric shocks up your soft and sensitive inner walls.

You whimped over his cock, holding you firmly on his shoulders as your fingernails stuck into his flesh. He admired you, he felt so good inside you, wet and hot while some internal spasms squeezed his cock making him moan with pleasure. His pupils dilated when he noticed your red face and how you looked like a mess right away: your eyes closed but so relaxed because of the pleasure of the new presence, your half-open mouth gasping and trying to welcome as much air as possible, panting so as to hit Neteyam’s ears too careful. It was his definition of heaven, seeing you so fragile and needy of him, it only excited him more.

"You needed me, right? Now ride, ma sa'nutsyìp" His voice contained some mocking tones, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to move right away, but at the same time he was warm and flirty. "I-I can’t…" you sighed, trying to move on his cock, feeling already too much pleasure for small movements. Neteyam’s hands wrapped around your hips, showing you how to ride his cock, enjoying every second of your twitching and whining due to the movements. You didn’t understand if you were feeling him on your stomach or it was just your impression, but you knew that some tears of pleasure turned your sweet face.

Neteyam’s tongue took a few salty drops from your eyes, moaning with satisfaction. Your soft thighs felt so heavy and tired as you rolled over his hot dick, it was hitting the right spots so well. Neteyam’s hands stopped helping you with the motionless, remaining only to guide you from time to time.

Your moans mingled with the sea breeze, the noise of your bodies colliding were muffled by the waves that seemed to get louder and louder, while the faint night light illuminated only slightly your bodies, making the bioluminescent freckles shine in the dark. You felt Neteyam’s soft lips mark your body, listening to your choking moans and whining as your hips clashed vehemently against his cock, trying to get as much pleasure from that warmth that seemed to flare up with eyes pop of skin. You started to tighten his cock with your walls once you felt more confident, making him moan with pleasure and making his grip on your hips tighter.

"Keep it up… you’re doing so well, ma yawne" his voice was broken with pleasure, it excited you to hear him praise you like this, you felt so well above him, with his hands clasping your body, while your nails scratched and pulled the skin of his body. Your legs started shaking, suddenly feeling all your weight, but you couldn’t stop looking for pleasure.

Neteyam put his hands behind your back, making you lie on the sand, with the water that you wet your hair, at that moment he had to get out of your now red pussy and more and more eager. "You were so good, let me take care of you now" he whispered, leaning over your ear, keeping your legs open before grinding his erection between your folds, entering only with the tip, making you whine and pant, eager to feel his presence again. "How much do you want me?" You bit your lip, hearing his words almost growling at you, just feeling more excited. "So much… please" you meowed in heat, eyes still full of tears. Neteyam smiled and then put his weight on his knees, sliding his strong hands along the line of your thighs spread apart to your torso, causing small electric shocks all over your body. One hand stood around your neck, caressing your sensitive skin and pressing lightly, while the other stood around your jaw, pushing his thumb between your lips.

You took his finger between your lips, started sucking and licking it, making him smile as you looked at him with eyes clouded with lust, gently mumbling before it entered you with a single push. Your breath missed to feel its entire length come back in a single blow, arching your back upwards, while a soft groan came out of your throat, and some tears of pleasure came out of your eyes that rolled backwards right after.

He began to grind inside you with a heartbreaking slowness, as your legs tried to close for the too much pleasure it was giving you. "Keep your beautiful legs open for me, baby" Neteyam growled softly as he watched his face reddened and beamed with your fragile body around him.

Your vagina began to tighten and suck Neteyam’s dick, as if to encourage him to move and stop torturing you like this. The rapidity with which he stuck your hands over your head when she saw you were going to touch your clitoris was amazing. You missed his hand around your neck, but getting your hands locked over your head while he forced you to keep your legs open was another form of excitement. "Good girl" he said sensually, as he began to speed up the thrusts, hitting where you felt most needed, grunting when your walls welcomed him particularly well.

When he realized where your g-spot was, he started hammering continuously at that point as his tail let yours loose just to start tickling and stimulating your clitoris as you wished. Your little desperate screams and the way you moaned his name, crying again as an outlet for all the pleasure that accumulated in you.

The freckles in Neteyam’s chest made you bite your lip with frustration, wanting to touch every inch of his body, exciting you at every contraction of his chest or abdomen. You manage to slightly scratch his hands, until he twisted your fingers, gently tightening the grip, continuing the thrusts until you both reach the coveted orgasm. He poured into you with a hoarse and deep groan, catching in his mouth your orgasm, eating your lips with a passionate kiss. He left his grip on your hands and laid his own on the sides of your body, on the wet sand. Your hands scratched his back, dragging your fingers up to his shoulders, then latched onto his braids to find comfort after orgasm.

Your ogasm was still dripping on his dick, mixing with his hot cum, while he continued to sink and grind inside you, feeling as your already too sensitive walls welcomed him and warmed his dick even more. Your moaning and whining did nothing but excite Neteyam even more, who took you from hips and brought you back above him, letting your legs rest on the sides of his pelvis. The boy’s hands explored with adoration every inch of your body, helping you ride him again and give you the pleasure you wanted after orgasm, while one of his hands found place in your hair. He squeezed your grip and pulled them back slightly, just to get you off his lips, as a line of saliva joined you, his wet kisses fell down to your neck, where he immediately began to brand every clean inch of your skin again. "You look so beautiful with my marks on, ma oare"

You squinted, moving on his still-pounding dick. "Oh, my good girl" he whispered raucously, while his free hand went to caress your back, passing your fingertips all along your spine, making you shiver "You have no idea what you’re doing to me…" You didn’t understand why, but those words turned you on, and he knew you needed them, especially because you showed this pleasure by holding his dick.

Your breaths got heavier as your fluids lubed up for your hops, feeling better and better at rolling your hips over him as Neteyam moaned and growled because of the excessive pleasure you were giving yourself. You came to the point of cumming again, and again you didn’t move away from his cock, leaving it comfortably inside you as you sat on his chest.

You breathed hard on his chest, your face was still red and you let yourself be pampered by the arms of Neteyam and the delicacy in which he touched your hair or your overstimulated body. "You were so good, ma y/n" he whispered, accompanying his words to the sound of the sea waves. "Now you’re mine…" he said, leaving a sweet kiss on your head.

You closed your eyes, taking long breaths as you listened to his heartbeat against your ear, smiling softly. Your fingers were drawing on her chest, wanting to be stuck in that moment forever.

"Are you okay? Is everything okay, y/n?" he said, looking down at you, taking your hand and kissing your back, making you look up.

"Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. That was great… I was just thinking," you stopped and bit your lip. " What were you thinking?" he asked nicely.

"Umh… well, now we are, I mean, emh.." you blushed as you searched for the right words and hid on his chest.

"Mate, I’m yours y/n. If you want me, I’m yours." His hand caressed your back, as he smiled kindly at you.

"M-mated? Are you serious? I mean, I like the idea, but aren’t you afraid that people will judge you? or-" he stopped you with a frustrated sigh.

"Hmhm,but we will make Tsaheylu in a more special, more romantic and perfect way, you deserve only the best. To be honest? I’m more afraid of losing you, no matter what they say about me. I’d like to hold you like this every day, make you smile like a child, make you feel loved like you deserve, protect you from everyone and take care of the splendor you are. And Eywa will forgive me, but I would like to hear forever those sweet sounds you make when I’m inside you. Hearing you call my name, seeing your most lustful side, feeling your hands digging into my skin and then seeing the results of our love on our skin. Let me be the person who will stand beside you for eternity," Neteyam said, caressing your body, letting you feel his warmth as you shuddered under his gentle touch.

"What if… what if our children come out cursed like me? They’ll go through what I’ve been through, don’t you mind having children different from others?" you asked with fear.

"If Eywa blesses us with beautiful children who look like you, I will love them the same, if not more. I would love our children regardless of their color, and teach them to love their particularities. One day they will find a person who, like me, has fallen in love with their inner and outer beauty" he said with confidence, making you laugh softly. "Seriously, they wouldn’t be cursed. You are not cursed, y/n, you are pure light and I am so honored to have you only for me" Your eyes met again.

"I love you, ma y/n. With all my heart and soul, and I'll make you love yourself, I promise you."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes II:

I hope you enjoyed this one shot. I wanted to write it for a long time now and I’m glad I finally managed to write it. <3

TAG LIST (?): @riatesullironalite

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　

[vilhelios]

— SWIM WITH ME / I THINK I CAN SEE THE BEACH;

( i need you here with me / but we're out in the open. ) ; romantic headcanons for abysswalker!rafayel ♡ more under the cut!

CW: spoilers for rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth + general abysswalker rafayel lore ; fluff ; angst ; hurt/comfort ; mentions of blood, injury, and self-harm (rafayel plucks off his scales) : might feel a little ooc because it is abysswalker and not main story rafayel ; quite the word dump (bc i rattle my cage for him)

— as the morning light of the desert creeps into the dim of a tent, two bodies lay tangled in the warmth of each other. RAFAYEL sleeps light and wakes early—hours before the sun peeks over the golden dunes—and although the habit irks him, it does offer him a wonderful sight as compensation: the sight of you, bathed in the soft, rose-gold light of morning, hair a mess, marks littering your skin from where the sheets pressed up against you.

overcome with a love that warms him like molten gold, the young god cannot help but litter your face in butterfly kisses. two to the apples of your cheeks, one on the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips, the middle of your temple. when you shift in your sleep, groan at his ministrations, rafayel can only chuckle, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. he thinks he can hear amund yell for his presence. he couldn't care less.

— RAFAYEL sees himself as the sword at the hilt of your belt, the dagger in your hands that you should use as you see fit, the steady hand guiding your own, drawing your bowstring. he is your ever faithful shadow, always at your side, a watchful gaze always on you. it is only natural for one to protect the keeper of their heart... which is why you and the medical kit from the nurse's tent have gotten well acquainted with each other.

"one of these days, you're going to listen to me." you sigh, gently peeling aside the torn leather of his garb. rafayel does not wince; you don't think you've ever seen him do so, not when he ripped that arrow from his shoulder, or when he stumbles back to your tent with a bloody gash on his chest, or when he's brandishing new bruises on his knuckles. the royal guards seem intent on tracking you down, crossing all of philos's 30,000 zetameters of sand to lock you up in your gilded cage again.

rafayel seems equally intent to ensure that doesn't happen, even if it means throwing himself into their line of fire.

"if i listen to you," the lemurian starts, violet gaze trained on the gentle workings of your fingers, "they'll take you from me again, back to the palace." his breath hitches the slightest—at the thought of you leaving him again, or at the too-harsh tug of the bandage, you're not sure.

— some nights, RAFAYEL is awoken by dreams—horrible, lifelike nightmares. it's sudden, a jolt that has him taking in rapid breaths, a tremor in his hands. "a nightmare", he tells you, when you stir awake and ask him what's wrong in a groggy voice that makes his heart ache, "just a nightmare, sweetheart. nothing to worry about." he waits until he hears your breathing slow once more, pressing kisses to your temple all the while, before slinking out of the tent and into the cold desert air. he'll return to your side before the sun rises, but for now, with still-stuttering breaths, he just needs some time to clear his head.

in his nightmares, a butterfly flaps its wings just the wrong way and rafayel is landed in a world where he is as cold-blooded as amund wished he was. he is back in the ruins of the isle of songs, your hand guiding his own (white-knuckled, dagger brandished) to the place where your heart thrums beneath. and unlike himself, rafayel takes the chance: takes back what is his, what was never yours to keep. the god of the sea was a foolish, lovesick man. he would not make the same mistake.

the dagger sinks into your flesh, the ease of it wrong. your blood flows onto his palms, gets into all the creases of his gloves, spills onto the barren earth and dyes the returning sea red. it is so, so warm against his skin, warms the fire in him that threatened to fizzle out. (he has always been a selfish man, he knows. it is only right that he is no better than bloodthristy philos.) the look dream-you gives him, before he awakes from this cruel world, sears itself into the back of his eyelids. he can see it still, when he looks at the dark of the night sky: reverent, loving. (how could you not, when he has freed you yet again?)

— often, you ask RAFAYEL to tell you tales of the ocean; more specifically, its creatures! what were those rays he spoke of, or the sharks, or those star-shaped things? do the lemurians actually eat them? your lover finds your boundless curiousity incredibly endearing, chuckling whenever your eyes seem to light up at the mention of some new deep-sea fish.

"this is a whale shark." rafayel says, and you watch as the scale in his hands transforms into a small purple apparition. it's as long as his pointer finger, heteroceral tail flicking as it swims in the flame currents, light purple spots patterning its black back. "they are gentle things, despite their size. they only ever eat plankton. i used to have one as a pet, long ago."

"how cute!" you laugh, waggling your finger in front of the shark and watching it follow. "did you have other pets?" and at that, he procures another silver scale, places it into your palms and covers it with his own. a barreleye manifests, and you grin when it's luminous purple eyes stare up at you.

(rafayel ignores the sting in his arm, pinpricks of blood soaking his garb from where he'd plucked some scales off. the wonder in your eyes is more than worth it.)

— helping the LEMURIANS with their daily chores within the camp comes like second nature to you. there is always so much to do: collect jars upon jars of water from the nearby oasis, prepare food, feed the camels, record the state of the camp's supplies... all the while, you feel RAFAYEL'S eyes on your form, your ever cautious vassal. with a little smile, you pretend you don't notice his lavender gaze, if only to spare him from the flushed ears.

it's surprisingly simple, making that lemurian cake: tapioca flour, camel's milk, a healthy dash of sugar, and citrus rind... when the sweet old woman you've spent the afternoon baking with feeds you a slice, you think you've simply ascended. back then, rafayel had fed you one that was cold and a little stale—probably as it was a part of his rations for long journeys. perhaps he'd like one that was far fresher, and baked with love?

... which is how rafayel found himself with a wicker basket full of cake shoved into his hands, and an awaiting you in front of him. "you've been training a while, haven't you?" you smile, taking one of the soft slices and bringing it up to his lips; "try it for me, please!"

and as obedient as ever, rafayel takes a bite, sweetness and citrus on his tongue. "it's good," he hums, kisses your fingertips, "tell me when you're making it next time, love. i'd love to help."

— the LEMURIANS, you remember, were masters of the arts: singing, painting, poetry... so it's no surprise, then, that they celebrate their craft almost every night: children crowd around a charming poet, hooked on every word of their newest bedtime story—his newest fable, that is (something about a fish and a bird, who wished to visit a bakery); the musicians have already begun their newest improvised song, a lively version of an old elegy, it seems; the bonfire in the centre burns high into the night sky like it was trying to reach the stars itself, and when the lemurians dance around it their shadows are long against the sands. you don't know how, but you're eventually dragged into the dance yourself. the glee is infectious, and you find yourself instinctively looking for your beloved.

RAFAYEL doesn't indulge in dancing often, as fun as it may be. he knows the steps, his feet still tapping to the rhythm of the tambourines even as he nonchalantly leans against the tent pole in the distance. it is second nature, now, but his eyes always find you, even in the crowd of people—you, laughing and twirling around without a care in the world. it makes his heart race, a smile creeping onto his own features. he watches you dance with his people, linking arms and being spun around; for a moment he wonders if he should join just to be your one and only dance partner.

... he doesn't notice when you've escaped his gaze, but before he knows it, you've snuck up on him and wrapped a shawl around his neck, dragging him towards the crowd; "dance with me, rafa!"

and how can he refuse a shared moment that transcends lifetimes—across shimmering oceans, and marble floor ballrooms, and golden sands? rafayel's stumbling forward into you until his arms take their rightful place around your form. his hands find the small of your back and yours hold onto his shoulders, shawl long abandoned on his neck. this is second nature, galaxies colliding, two souls becoming one.

— after all of the night's festivities are said and done—the musicians pack up their flutes, lyres, and tambourines; the children cover up their yawns with still-red palms from clapping to tonight's tunes; the remaining food is safely packed away for tomorrow—it's just you, RAFAYEL, and the dwindling embers of the fire he'd just stomped out. "i do believe even your highness is not exempt from curfew," he hums, takes your hand in his, and presses his lips to the knuckles.

and in the silence of your tent, coveted in the silver hues of moonlight, rafayel sits you down before him, your back leaning against his chest. his arms wrap around your frame, his chin resting on the crook of your neck. this is your ritual, on too-cold nights: rafayel lights a flickering flame in his palms, the black and violet embers cold as ever. you both stare into this dying fire—you both know what is to come.

sometimes, when the ugly concoction of guilt and sorrow prick at your very soul, your hand reaches up to entwine with his own, just as they did to guide his dagger to your heart. "i won't." rafayel says, and you know what he means. "i will never hurt you." he doesn't complete the sentence, the words dying on his tongue, but you know the rest (there is no other end to this story): i would rather die.

a/n : i need abysswalker carnally it's not even funny anymore 🤩 these were. not supposed to be this long (they are like little fics in themselves omg). but i love this rafa so much i think he deserves it. thank you for the love on the previous rafa content <3 it makes me so happy seeing people who also love this lil guy. the dancing with rafa hc is very much so inspired by "through heaven's eyes" from the prince of egypt! <3333

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 23/23)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses. there will be kissing in some chapters. oh and ANGST sorry

Chapter Twenty-three: The Epilogue

“Uncle! Uncle!” The children call to the graying long haired man, little arms reaching out for affection. He knows what they want, to be perched on his lap and to listen to him recount memories of times gone by. 

“Yes ad'ika?” he coos to them, hoisting them closer to him, balancing the two growing kids. 

“Tell us a story before bed?” The youngest of the two asks, her curious eyes wandering to make sure her Buir has not noticed neither she or her brother are in bed as they are supposed to be. 

“A short one, I do not wish to face the wrath of your papa.” He relents, never being able to deny either child. “Which one would you like to hear?” it is a rhetorical question, he knows exactly which tale they want him to recount. “Perhaps about the time we rescued a baby Rancor? Or maybe-” 

“The story of the pirate queen!” He gets cut off by the children simultaneously. 

“Alright, alright.” He agrees, leaning back into the chair, wrapping his arms around the kids. “Once upon a time, there was a princess of Coruscant, she would spend her days, kept away in her castle, reading and teaching herself about the history of this world, but never experiencing it. Until one day, she was to be wed, but not by her wishes. And so very bravely, she ran from her castle, and down to the docks of Coruscant, but where would she run? Who could she trust? And so in the matter of only a few moments, the gorgeous princess of Coruscant, became a stowaway on a ship crawling with pirates. And she hid, very well for a short time, but she was discovered by the pirates who were furious at her trickery, for she was so well disguised they did not recognize the princess at first.  One pirate wanted to throw her over board, one suggested they return her to coruscant…” 

“And one of them threw her in the brig.” A sly voice interrupted as he walked by the trio. “Aren't you Womp Rats supposed to be in bed?” he added. 

“Shhhhh we’re getting to the good part!” The young boy hushed. 

“And the princess does get thrown in the brig,” the storyteller continues. “But she is determined, and stubborn, and so she wriggles out a nail and by the miracles of the force, breaks her way out of the brig. And tells the pirates that if she can escape the vile prince who wishes to marry her, she will pay them mountains of treasures. And so the pirates agree to help her run from her royalty. But soon they discover that the prince, filled with rage, has hired armies to track down the princess. And the pirate captain is captured! But what the evil prince does not realize is that through her journey with the pirates, the princess has broken down their hard shells and wriggled her way into their hearts. Pirates, you see, are fiercely loyal, the prince’s fatal mistake was underestimating this. And the pirate captain has fallen in love with the princess of Coruscant, and perhaps, he believes that she may have fallen in love with him.” 

He pauses for a moment to see if the children have fallen asleep in his lap as they usually do. When he is met with their small faces, hanging onto his every word, he smiles and continues. 

“The pirate vows to return to his love. But before he can make his escape, the princess herself returns to Coruscant, leading his brethren in tow…” “What does brethren mean?” The young girl whispers to her brother. 

“It is like his brothers.” He whispers back before shushing her for interrupting the story. 

“And she storms the castle, determined to return her pirate captain to her arms. The prince has underestimated the princess, she has metamorphosed into a queen, but not just any queen, the queen of the pirates…” 

“What does Metamorphosed mean?” she asks, getting hushed b y her brother again. 

“She is almost unrecognizable to the Coruscanti prince, and she gives him a choice. Return the pirate captain to her, or death.” Behind him where his quick witted brother is gathering the children's blankets, he rolls his eyes with a sigh:

“So dramatic” 

“Well is that not how the story goes?” his Vode counters, earning him another eyeroll. “Anyways,” he continues. “The prince realizes he is horribly outnumbered and he surrenders to the pirate queen. Her captain is returned to her, and they sail off with their brethren to rule the seas. She makes a name for herself as the bringer of justice within the oceans. Her captain by her side, and the pirates who are finally able to find a place to call home. The end.” He finishes the story. 

“But what happened to her? Is she still out there, the pirate queen?” The young boy asks, just as nosy as his uncle, and the man he is named after. 

“I am sorry Ad’ika, the pirate queen lived long ago, her story is hundreds of years old.” 

“I bet she was a jedi as well.” tThe young girl says in awe. “She can't be a pirate and a jedi.” Her brother argues.  

“But the jedi lived long ago so she must have at least known the jedi!” She counters, her brother goes to argue with his little sister as per usual, but they both fall silent when their father walks in, hands on his hips. 

“I do believe I sent you both up to bed,” He states. “Your mother is going to be very upset with me.” He sighs, holding out his arms, and pulling them both up to carry them to bed. 

“I'm sure they’ll be fine.” The storyteller says, standing to place a kiss on both of their foreheads, bidding them goodnight with a smile.

A smile that only grows when he hears a door creak open, and you walk by, as if you’re a siren in the night. Caressing the tiny faces of the children and giving them a soft kiss before bed, not breaking stride in order to dump the collection of Meiloorun fruits that need chopping for breakfast tomorrow. The door shuts as the children are carried away, and you do not have to turn around to know whose arms are warping around your middle. 

“You know one day they will figure out that, that story is grossly exaggerated and did not take place many many moons ago.” You chide the captain. 

“I have never grossly exaggerated anything in my life.” He says, kissing your cheek. 

“Mmhmm.” You muse, unconvinced, turning into his touch. 

“And you are my queen.” He concurs, the hands on your hips flip you so you’re facing him and he can lift you onto the counter. 

“Hunter.” You warn him, only a little peeved that he interrupted your breakfast preparation. One of his hands snakes into your hair pulling your mouth to his, ignoring your protest and kissing you deeply, hungrily. Every kiss is just as frantic as the first one the two of you shared. 

“I do believe we need more than two little ones running around.” He whispers to you, forehead pressed to your own. 

“Those two aren’t ours, you can have that  conversation with your brothers should you want more.” You sass, moving to get off the counter, but he steps closer, keeping you pinned. 

“That is my point, they are not ours.” 

“Hunter, have we not had this conversation? And mutually decided that for now at the very least we do not need children?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Does the pirate queen not need heirs to her legacy?” He teases, kissing you again. 

“Perhaps…” You look into his eyes, taken with them as ever. Before reaching out to pull his lips to yours again. 

Outside the Havoc Marauder rocks in the waves, quietly lulling everyone to a peaceful sleep.

the end

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @​​vergol @Lackofhonor @itsagrimm

[brewed-pangolin]

Fine I'll send another. Captain MacTavish ON THE BEACH. 🥵

I love the beach. I live on it during the summer. It's my second home, I swear. And the way the sea salt air and warm waters can cure the soul is something I just can't ignore with this man. I love this ask so much!!!

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

You sat alone, comfortably in your beach chair with a cold beer in hand under a magenta colored sky as the sun set beyond the horizon of a turquoise painted surf.

The rhythmic sound of the waves synchronizing with the beat of your heart as the scent of sea salt and sunscreen etched itself into your skin.

The air was still warm, yet it carried a cool breeze off the waters edge as the slow curtain of dusk crept over the white sanded landscape.

It was perfect. A picturesque conclusion to a hot summer's day.

And off in the distance, with a Yeti tumblr of whisky in one hand and a cigar permanently clutched in his mouth, Captain MacTavish cast out his last line into the crashing surf and placed the warn grip seamlessly into its plastic holder dug into the sand.

The beach had done wonders for him since his retirement only a few years ago.

Soothed his war torn psyche with the constant ebb and flow of the tide. Molded his scars beneath a layer of sun kissed skin that further accentuated the seascape blue of his eyes and made every woman swoon with just a mere glance and a smile.

Yet it was here, under the blanket of encroaching night that you saw the man he had truly become.

A man at peace with himself. Letting the setting sun and roll of the tide absolve him of his past and breathe fresh life into his lungs at dawn's first light.

You couldn't pull your eyes off him anymore, and you were no longer ashamed about how your stare lingered on him.

The loss of sunlight elongating the shadows within the curves of his musculature. Accented by the seafoam swim trunks that hung perfectly on his hips. Creating a more defined sculpture of his frame as he effortlessly strutted along the sand to take his place beside you.

"How long you gonna fish for tonight, John?" You asked quietly, rim of the beer can caressing your bottom lip.

"As long as you'll let me, m'lass."

You smiled, watching him raise his tumbler in cheers to take a healthy swig while gently tapping the ash of his cigar into an empty can.

"Guess we'll be here all night, then."

"Aye. Looks that way."

As he relaxed back in his Tommy Bahama chair, your hand reached out to instinctually cusp the back of his head. Thumb and index finger pressing into the back off his skull, pulling a slight groan from his chest as your touch soothed his sun drenched soul.

"Careful, lass. Y'know what that skillful touch a'yers does to me."

"Mhmm. It's a good thing we brought the boat."

Soap rolled his eyes, glancing between your smirking expression and the vessel anchored just beyond the last sandbar.

"Which one ya love more, hm? The boat, or me?"

You raised a brow at his testing inquiry, firmly pressing into the back curve of his jaw with your fingertips as a hushed murmur fell from your lips.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to, John. Won't get you anywhere."

Soap growled in response. Placing his hand on your thigh and giving your flesh a firm yet playful grip.

"May have ta shorten th'fishing trip then. Looks like I gotta assert my claim over you again."

"Claim over me, John?"

"Aye. Ain't no way I'm losing you to a gas guzzling bàta."

-

You both lasted no more than another twenty minutes before loading everything into the skiff and jetting back to his prized vessel. Where Soap MacTavish made good to his word and staked his claim over you once again.

Spreading you over every flat surface beneath the bow and docking his thickened cock repeatedly into the deep cove of your cunt.

Master of the Swell Masterlist

This is but a taste of the new WIP I have in store for you, Soap Squad. Johnny's got the 4Runner, the Captain's got a yacht. And goddman, do I have plans to rock that boat.

Tagging those who showed interest. Let me know if you liked to be tagged for further posts. Much love 💛

@deadbranch @ohgeesoap @astraluminaaa @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @d3athtr4psworld @ghosts-goldendoodle @homicidal-slvt @shotmrmiller @glitterypirateduck @macravishedbymactavish @sofasoap @tacticalanxiety @random-thot-generator @writeforfandoms

[jpnriikicore]

Paul Aron as your best friend core

paring paul aron x reader, word count 994, genre fluff, warning roughy translated estonian, authors note sorry, for not releasing this faster i was writing other works for charles and lando <3 ( masterlist )

beach days.

you spend a lot of time on the beach in your free hours lounging around. go off swimming in the ocean. the sun is like a warm blanket wrapped around your body that came fresh out of the dryer. filming him on a cam-recorder when he backflips from a cliff. he somehow tricks you onto the cliff with him occasionally.

late night on the beaches or watching the sunset is the best part. your sides bumping into one another as you walk barefoot along the shoreline feeling the warm sand between your toes and chill seawater slash up onto your ankles. he swings your sandals back and forth from the straps of your sandals since he offered to carry them for you knowing that you hated carrying them yourself. admiring the sunset ahead of you or the moon above you.

boat days.

the sun shone on them basking in it's warmth. a good way to celebrate a podium win for paul. you hit the sea together for a weekend to be still and peaceful in just nothingness. away from his fast life to just have a moment of tranquility together. it’s makes moments like this more special. your legs spread laying onto top of his as your back leans against the comfortable plush white cushions of the boat. his hands soothing rubbing up and down your legs. his pink swimming trunks clad against his thighs after taking a dip into the water. his initials on a chain around your neck.

supporting him during races. through thick and thin and high and lows.

you're always spotted in a secluded corner on the floor of the prema truck. you’re seated together his jacket draped over to you keeping the chill off of you. if qualifying doesn’t go well that day you would sit in comfortable silence whilst reassuring his negative thoughts and feelings through physical touch. your head resting against his shoulder, your slight grazes over his hand, the feeling of you fiddling with his fingers, or the traces on the lines of his palms. just a reminder that everything will be okay. a feathery kiss on the top of his head with a whisper of praise makes him believe that he can do better tomorrow and make all his nerves disappear into thin air.

quality time ( exercise ver. )

you wake up tangled limbs in the sheets of your shared king-sized hotel room bed. the waves crashing on shore was heard from the cracked open balcony doors. seagulls flying around in the early morning blue sky. you vaguely remember him mentioning earlier that morning that he was going for a run before pressing a gentle kiss on your temple before leaving.

some mornings or evenings you would attend runs with him and karl. even staying with him when he works out in the gym maybe getting a mile or two in on the treadmill. he enjoys quality time with you. so, even if you're just sitting crisscrossed on a yoga mat watching him he enjoys it.

he’d convince you that he needs a spotter. even if the weights are a bit too heavy for you and you could help him only very little if you needed too. he still enjoys having your company and letting you feel included. he lightens the load of his weights when you finally do agree on spotting him.

"nii lõbus ei tohiks trennis olla. ( exercise shouldn't be this fun )."

traveling to tallinn and races with him when you can.

traveling around northern italy on a vespa, him driving you around as your arms are wrapped around his torso. towards the end of the night you ride towards a fancy friendship dinner date.

you settled in flimsy chairs on the balcony of your shared hotel room trying out different pastas and slices of pizza from restaurants attempting to find the best one in the country that you’re visiting.

while visiting his home in tallinn he would ensure to bundle you up in thick coats for the cold estonian weather. crunched snow underneath your boots a trail of footsteps in the white left behind you as you take a walk in the snowy weather around midnight.

his siblings.

during, your friendship with paul you’ve become close with his siblings, anna and ralf. anna is like a sister to you. ralf gives you lots of advice and shows embarrassing childhood pictures of paul. which for the record you find oh-so adorable and he finds incredibly embarrassing. you’ve grown expectably close to them due to tagging along on family vacations occasionally since him and his family seem typically fond of your presence. him and his extended family tend to have dinners when his finally back home leading to you practically being apart of his family since you sit in with so many of his family dinners and get to know his close and distant relatives.

"meil peres juba uus ralliäss kasvamas ( we already have a new rally ace growing up in our family )."

teaching you phrases in estonian.

after expressing that you wanted to learn how to speak his native language to speak to his family in the most comfortable way for them and show gratitude towards his parents for raising him the way that they did. he taught you simple phrases, to begin with just enough to get you around his home country without being completely lost.

dino and ollie.

after getting introduced to dino and ollie during the first race you attended with paul you’ve become quick friends with them since it was so easy to speak with them. your often spotted joking around with dino and ollie. just chilling on the floor of the prema truck goofing off with them even walking around the track with them. especially, dancing around with dino to whatever song that plays from his playlist on rainy qualifying days. you was there with the prema team supporting ollie’s debut in formula one.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2024

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

gojo always seems to be off in a world of his own.

a little detached, you think. awkwardly long limbs constantly on the move, eyes stuck in a direction no one else can follow, a trajectory you don’t think even he knows. one blink and he's gone, just like that. too far ahead, too far above, even on the occasions he slows down and lets you catch up.

flimsy, maybe. like he’ll get carried away by the breeze when spring rolls around. like he’d turn into seafoam if you reached out and touched him.

satoru gojo is an anomaly, a blurry cluster of stars. or maybe more like a planet, big and blue, spinning around its own orbit, out of reach for every single star in the sky. 

high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. but there's a softness to him when he's alone, you’ve come to learn; something that almost seems fragile, under the light of the moon, when the dark sky casts a shadow to obscure the contours of his face and no one’s around to notice if his smile isn't as big as it should be.

no one except for you, anyhow.

(you wonder if your presence is really that inconsequential to him.)

the beach is entirely empty, save for you and gojo. and summer’s ending, burning into little cinders, sputtering out before your very eyes.

tokyo is just beginning to dip its toes into autumn, the frost and chill, the hiss of the biting wind. the rusting of leaves, contaminated by a muddy hue, turned orange and brown and red beneath your heavy feet; littering the murky, empty streets of the rainy towns you cross. smelling of rotten apples and cinnamon, old books and burning wood.

it’s dark out. painted a thick gray, the sky is blanketed by heavy clouds, the entire world hidden behind that coating of wool. not a single sliver of starlight slips through, but there's a comfort to it, that feeling of being cocooned — safe and warm. a feeling cruelly stripped away by the nipping of the wind at your bare skin, but you digress.

everything smells of saltwater. a little like rotten fish. every breath you exhale turns into a flurry of vapour, mingling with the breezy seasalt of the open air; scattering away into the thin layer of mist all around you, until you can’t tell which is which. 

and a sense of foreboding sinks into your veins.

(you look out at the jagged rocks piercing the surface of the sea, and dully wonder how they’d feel piercing your skin.)

something shivers, to your right. a flicker of movement, a barely audible chatter of teeth. and then, a white puff of vapour.

”man, it’s cold.”

gojo looks displeased. 

only vaguely, a little crease between his eyebrows as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his puffy baseball jacket. moving his feet a little, to warm up, snowy tufts of white hair tousled by the ocean breeze. his shoes are muddied by the wet sand, but he doesn't seem to mind.  

a soft scoff leaves your lips, mostly harmless. maybe just a little smug. ”told you,” you click your tongue. 

gojo whines. his sunglasses are starting to fog up, you notice. ”it’s still summer!” he pouts. ”i thought the sea would be nice and breezy!”

an unimpressed look smooths over your features. gracing him with a raise of your brow, you don’t fully manage to bite back the soft smile that follows. don’t even really attempt to.

it’s been a long day. evidently not long enough for gojo, seeing as he dragged you down here — even though he knew it meant missing the train you were supposed to board after successfully finishing your mission. he just had to get a closer look at the sea. just for a moment or two. 

and he was insistent, persuasive. awfully whiny. assuring you that he’d be quick, that you wouldn’t miss the next one. 

(what made you agree was simply the thought of spending some more time with him. not like you could ever tell him that, though.)

so there you stand. two juveniles, shivering and shifting from foot to foot, on the brink of nightfall, the edge of summertime. watching the sea stretch out into infinity, across the gap between this world and the next. a murky blue. easy on the eyes.

the noise of the sea fills your ears; waves crashing into sand, the whistling of the wind, seagulls crying out in the distance. and faraway, the chatter of a rattling train. a cacophony of sounds, buzzing and crackling, melting together. scattered across the beach are countless tiny white seashells, and the occasional green glimmer of drift glass — mermaids’ tears, shed for lost sailors, or so you’ve heard.

you wonder if the mermaids ever shed tears for lost sorcerers. probably not.

a shiver runs through your body, down to your cold hands, the tips of your fingers. reddish and itching for warmth. you tuck them into your pockets with a breathless exhale, still shaking a little. 

in truth, you and gojo aren’t very close. you’d like to call him a friend, but it's kind of hard; when he's so enamored with suguru, so animated around shoko. with you, he always seems kind of —

stiff? 

or maybe more like bored.

he doesn't laugh as loudly, doesn’t act as cocky. doesn't flaunt his knowledge on sorcery, and isn't as clingy as he is with the other two.

(you've never liked people touching you. it's not hard for others to discern, with how you flinch away when they get close.

still, you can't help but feel a little jealous when you see him tugging suguru and shoko around.)

deep within your chest, like a stunted seaweed, sprouts a tiny pang of disappointment. it’d be nice if you could grow closer, you think. just a little would be fine. 

”i like the sea.”

you turn your head.

gojo looks a little lost in thought. gaze trained on that expanding ocean before you, those splotches of blue and gray, the waves that bruise the edge of the sand. forlorn, maybe.

a hum buzzes in your dry throat. ”do you?”

”mm.” little white breaths slip from his lips. you wonder if they’d taste as salty as the air. ”’ts nice.”

a silence stretches out before you. delicate, like a sheet of glass. gojo picks at a piece of lint on his sleeve, and you shift from foot to foot. then he closes his eyes — a flutter of his dewy eyelashes.

”kinda makes you feel like everything’s about to end, huh?”

you look at him, but don’t see anything. a single glimpse of his closed eyes is all you gain from the glance you cast his way, but it’s not enough. not enough blue to fall into, no expression to savour. he looks the same as always.

but you’ve never heard his voice sound like this before.

”… end?”

and with that, they flicker open. there it is, you think. that vibrant blue. only to be obscured once more, when he turns to you fully, a smile playing at his glossy lips. ”don’t think so?”

a second passes. you look forward.

what you see is as follows: waves upon waves upon waves. the same blue and gray, as far as the eye can see. a sea big enough to drown each and every one of your worries. 

something comes over you. a sensation of loneliness, something close to longing. a feeling of being rather lost. searching for something. your heart feels heavy, an anchor sunk to the bottom of your gut. little fish nipping at your ribcage.

your eyes trail over those jagged rocks, again. the mermaids’ tears, that all-consuming sea, right in front of you. like it could open its maw and devour the world.

you think of the lost sailors.

(one jump and it’s all over.)

a breath. salty on your tongue. ”… i guess i get it,” you whisper. a soft murmur, mingling with the mist. 

silence.

out of the corner of your eye, you see gojo shift. one moment he’s looking at you, the next he’s staring at the sea. in tandem, the two of you, stuck within that shade of blue. and you think he looks a little mesmerized, like he’s seeing something not even he can fully comprehend.

(maybe he just hasn’t had many chances to go to the beach before. something to do with being a clan kid, maybe?)

but then he clears his throat, hands moving to brush some sand off his puffy jacket and jeans. turning on his heel, hair ruffled by the breeze. he tries to sound chipper, but there’s something else there. you don’t know what it is, but…

”anyway,” he chirps. ”let’s go. we can still make it to the next train if we hurry.”

you look at him. his retreating figure, a head of white hair, surrounded by mist. a little like an apparition. then you turn towards the sea.

”… nah, that’s fine.”

a pause.

gojo stills, just about to take the first step forward. but you stay rooted in place; unmoving, staring at the blue before you, a deep longing reflected in your eyes. 

”let’s stay a little longer,” you hum, unsure of where the words came from. but you know you aren’t ready for the moment to end, just yet. that you aren’t quite ready for summer to pass.

…

all he does is stare, for a second or two. attempting to find some humour in your voice, you assume, any signs that you might just be joking. but he doesn’t find it. uncharacterstically silent, gojo stays frozen in place. 

then he puffs out a breath — amused. 

”you wanna freeze to death?” he grins, and you can hear it in his voice. you turn to face him, almost smiling. a little cheeky.

”you’ll warm me up, no?”

the words fall from your lips before you can think to reel them in. meant to sound a little snarky, you think, something akin to a chuckle — but instead come out sounding a little too much like an honest request. 

the tips of your ears feel a little warm, suddenly.

a sense of surprise smooths over the contours of gojo’s face, and his grin falters. you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if they widen or not, but his lips part, and you note that they look soft. 

and it’s back. that grin. toothy, boyish. his cheeks are rosy, from the chill of the air, or so you assume. then he’s taking a couple strides forward, broaching the distance between you.

he throws an arm over your shoulder. a heavy weight against you, grounding, causing you to stumble. friendly, tugging you close. into his orbit.

(no infinity, you note. you can feel his body heat seeping through the fabric.)

it's nice. he's tall, and he's warm. cozy, protecting you from the bitter cold, like your own personal furnace. no wonder suguru never catches any colds, with someone like this draped over him all the time.

gojo speaks. there’s a sweetness to his voice, a mellow kind of contentment; bubbling up like seafoam, spilling from his glossy lips. you can feel his warm breath on your skin.

”well, duh.”

when your gaze falls on him, he's already looking at you. leaning closer, sunglasses slipping a little further down the bridge of his nose — enough to expose the blue of his eyes, the tiny splotches of white scattered across his aquamarine iris. like a cracked marble. or a summer sea.

he’s speaking again, and you almost don't hear it. distracted by those cracked marbles, the strawberry red of his cheeks, the warmth shared between you. the pitter patter of your heartbeat, like waves crashing against the sand. mesmerized. not daring to look away.

almost like you’d cease to exist, were he to close his eyes. like your existence hinges entirely on the blue of those irises.

(and maybe it does.)

he nods towards the sea, and grins. a mischievous glint in his eyes. ”wanna take a dip?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. it makes you laugh, either way.

”do you want to freeze to death?” you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. subtly angling your body closer to his, hoping he won’t notice.

gojo honest to god giggles, at that, and you fear your knees might give out beneath your weight. fuck, has he always had dimples? why are you only noticing them now? 

”hehe. i just think it'd be fun!” he chirps, still draped over you like an overgrown cat, and you almost find yourself saying yes. just to keep the summer from ending, keep him from being swept away by the breeze.

but summer is ending. slipping away, second by second, like two juveniles drowned by an ocean wave. never to be found. and in comes autumn, the smell of rotting apples, the crunch of sand beneath your feet; an arm over your shoulder, an intake of breath. the taste of nice, crispy air on your tongue. 

a chuckle flows from your lips. all you see before you is blue, a murky shade, a vibrant hue. you think you could drown in it. you’re not sure you’d mind.

”maybe next time,” you whisper.

gojo’s eyes widen. ever so slightly, barely enough to even notice, until they bloom — with a kind of bubbly excitement. unconcealed giddiness. there’s something awfully precious about it, like a child buying cotton candy at their first fair. it makes you want to tuck him into your pocket. keep him safe.

you like him, unfortunately. inevitably. you think you may even like him a lot, a little more than you should. a little more than he could reciprocate. 

satoru gojo. high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. a seaborne boy with his very own orbit, born to carry the weight of the world, spinning so close that you can almost delude yourself into thinking he feels the same. 

almost.

(gojo glances at your lips. he wonders if they’d taste as salty as the air.)

[griddymasterr]

AUGUST ✿

pairings: bada x fem!reader

cw: angst, smut, fingering, readers first time, bada in her mid 20s and reader in her early 20s, bada calling reader pretty.

Synopsis: you were taken to bada’s house on the beach as you two shared an intimate moment that only you remembered.

♫ August - Taylor Swift ♫

────────. ﹒★﹒﹒────────

~but i can see us lost in the memory, august slipped away into a moment in time~

(reader pov)

August of 2023,

I still remember the day you took me out, the bright sun as it illuminates against the sea, the sand between my toes as a gentle breeze blew against my hair. I looked up to see those deep brown eyes as they stared deep into my own, flushed cheeks and your hands on my waist as we stood near the ocean water. Before I could register,  you took me to your white beach house, as you held me near. The soft waves still heard inside the small house as our hands intertwined, while you dragged me into a medium sized room behind a white rusted door.

I felt warm hands carefully caressing my back as I stared into your eyes, looking down, your smile was soft and gentle as you whispered a soft “are you sure?”.

“Never have I ever before”, I answered as you gently picked me up by holding my thighs and walked us towards the mattress.

As I laid down on the soft mattress and watched you undress yourself until the only piece of clothing left was your underwear. You slowly hovered your body over mine as my shirt was ripped away leaving me naked.

“Have you done this before?” Bada asked as you grabbed a bottle in the bedside drawer. “No, you’re my first”, I answered looking into your eyes, giving you all my trust.

A soft laugh was heard from you as you said “Okay.. I’ll be gentle”. I squirmed as you squeezed my waist while giving me wet kisses against my neck.

“Bada… It tickles”, I told you. I felt you smile against my neck.

(3rd pov)

“Can I start now?”, Bada asked, as you opened the bottle and squirted a clear-sticky substance onto your fingers.

I nodded my head and felt cold fingers against my entrance. “Spread more for me?”, I spread my knees, giving you more access into me.

“I’ll go in now”, Bada said as she inserted her two digits in me. A slight sting was felt and your face scrunched in the unfamiliar feeling.

“It’ll feel good, just give it time”, Bada said. Her fingers moved in a slow motion, allowing you to adjust to the feeling.

Once she saw your face filled with lust as you pushed your hips onto her fingers thats when she gradually started going faster.

“A-Ah.. Bada.. More”, you let out as soft moans spilled from your lips. Bada moved her fingers faster and harder as she leaned in to kiss your lips.

Loud moans came out of you, a sign telling her that you were near, Bada noticed and fastened her pace. Your eyes rolled back from the feeling as your hands clawed against her back.

Before you knew it, you gushed out like a fountain as your body spasmed agains the matress.  Bada kept her fingers inside to let you ride out your orgasm.

“B-bada..”, you said with teary eyes. Bada hummed in response as she cleaned you up with a towel and laid beside you.

“Go to sleep, pretty”, Bada said, patting your back lightly as you  drifted off to sleep.

Summer holiday passed and you were back in college. The same old routine that you knew of so well came back. Except you had one secret.. Bada.

You saw her in class and the halls but she never noticed your presence. As if you were invincible to her. You were tired with the way she acted and you decided to call her.

“Bada!” you shouted in the crowded hallway as her and her friends turn their head towards you. They stared whispering with eachother and Bada’s gaze left you. Thats when you knew that it was probably only a one time experience that will remain a memory.

August slipped away into a moment in time.