#Assorted Gems

[snowyfrostshadows]

King Ghost is the only one having fun with the assignment. I can respect that.

GumBoo on the other hand, I hate with a burning passion. Impossible to track Hide-and-Seek is one thing, killer bats every five seconds is another.

Jerk.

[jacobeeva]

Anyways look at my clay Sableye with real Topaz, Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald*!

Ignore the big-ass ruby in the center, thats for the mega if I ever make it (he needs sumn to help him stand)

[belovedgamers]

Everyone say “thank you, Shubble”

And, if you’ve got time, I would say that while we should be worrying about deplatforming an abuser, supporting Shubble is really what’s most important!

I recommend watching a few of her videos to give her that boost! You can throw a like and a comment her way. Remember that content creation is a job and we can contribute even if just a little.

Her recent hide and seek video featuring Gem, Jimmy, Lizzie and Scott is incredibly cozy, her SOS video is cute and for a series that’s just barely started, both her empires seasons are solid (one link because they’re on the same playlist), her Witchcraft smp series is fun! She has a bunch of videos on other assorted games, and a small AITA podcast series featuring HBomb!

Send all the love to Shelby! Let’s put our time where our hearts are 💗

[st4rfckerz]

house sitter | anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: MDNI 18+, kinda non con ???, somnophilia, groping, unprotected sex, creampie, infedelity, mild degradation, fingering, oral (f receiving), age gap (anakins in his 30s, reader is an adult), anakin's a pervert.

summary: you watch over the skywalker's home while they're out on a date.

a/n: this might be all over the place so i apologize BUT this is actually the idea i was talking about when i posted "i just woke up with the horniest fic idea."

house sitting was without a doubt the easiest job you'd ever had. all you had to do was lounge around in expensive homes and watch out for intrusions, which, for the record, hardly ever happen.

the famous skywalker family had employed you to watch over their house while they went on dates, visited other planets, etc. you had gotten to know the couple pretty well, especially anakin since he was always friendly with you and often times would spend time speaking to you, although it was never anything more than just light conversation for him.

you noticed that anakin had spent more time talking to you lately and was starting to become a little bit more attentive towards you, he had always been kind and friendly but you felt his friendliness had become more... intentional, but maybe you were just imagining things.

padmé called you to inform you that she and anakin were going out to dinner and would be gone for the majority of the evening.

you've just pulled up to the skywalkers' driveway, parked your car, and started approaching the stone walkway. after a few knocks, anakin finally opens the door with a small grin plastered across his face. he couldn't help but feel a certain thrill at the thought of having you around again.

"hey, glad you could make it." anakin greeted you at the door, his dark blue eyes took you in for a moment before he steps to the side to let you in. padmé approaches you while still putting in her earrings.

"thank you so much for watching the house while we're gone," she beams.  padmé's enthusiastic behavior always made you smile. 

"of course, padmé. your house is in good hands." you replied with a gentle smile. anakin caught your gaze and you couldn't help but notice the way he was looking at you. his eyes had an almost dreamy but slightly lustful gleam about them. you choose to ignore it and bring your attention back to padmé.

"we'll be back at around midnight." as anakin and padmé bid their farewells and depart for their much-anticipated date night, you find yourself standing alone in the grandeur of their house. the silence envelopes you, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.

you take a moment to admire the opulence surrounding you, marveling at the elegant decor and lavish furnishings. the house was a reflection of anakin and padmé's status and influence, a testament to their power. as you explore the various rooms, you can't help but imagine the passionate moments that must have unfolded within these walls.

the master bedroom beckons to you with its inviting ambiance - a room that surely holds countless memories for anakin and padmé. you imagine them tangled in each other's arms, their bodies entwined, lost in a world of whispered promises and shared desires. a wicked thought creeps into your mind - a fantasy of being the one who arouses such passion in anakin.

shaking off the enticing daydream, you divert your attention to the rest of the house.

you stumble upon anakin's personal study. your interest is sparked because, although it was normally locked, it was slightly open. it was a room filled with ancient jedi texts and mechanical tools. it's here that his true nature is laid bare. the forceful fervor with which he delves into his studies mirrors the intensity with which he pursues everything else in his life. you can't help but be drawn to his passion, intrigued by the raw power that lies within him.

you come across a bookshelf filled with an assortment of literary gems. pulling out a weathered book, you settle into a plush armchair, relishing the tranquility. lost in your thoughts, you find yourself sinking into anakin's chair, surrounded by his aura.

you open the book slowly, the faint smell of aged paper wafting up to greet you. each word holds the potential to shape the very fabric of your understanding of the force.

as you begin to read, the words dance across the page, captivating your attention. the author's insights into the force captivate your imagination, revealing ancient practices and techniques that have long been forgotten. you find yourself engrossed in the descriptions of lightsaber combat, the delicate balance necessary to harness the power of the force, and the connection between the physical and spiritual realms.

lost in the world of the book, you almost forget the reason for your presence in this house. the vivid descriptions transport you to a realm where you are the jedi, wielding a lightsaber with grace and precision, matching anakin's own skills in the heat of battle. you imagine his presence beside you, his body pressed against yours, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses. your mind is left with the image, a luring invitation to give in to the craving.

a sense of guilt washes over you like a bitter tide. anakin is still married to padmé, having these thoughts feels wrong. thoughts of anakin, his intense gaze, and his tempting touch linger. anakin and padmé's love is palpable, their connection evident in every glance and tender gesture. you brush off your thoughts and pick up the book to divert your attention once more.

you make your way down to the living room, with the book in your hand, and you find a cozy spot on the plush couch. the room is dimly lit, casting a soft glow on the surroundings. settling into the cushions, you open the book, eager to immerse yourself in its pages.

as you continue to read the exciting stories within the book, a wave of drowsiness washes over you. the cozy atmosphere of the living room lulls you into a tranquil state.

your eyelids grow heavy, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the plush cushions of the couch. the words on the pages begin to blur, the lines fading into a hazy backdrop and before you know it, sleep claims you completely.

about an hour or so later, anakin arrives home unexpectedly. stepping through the door, an unexpected sight greets his eyes. there you are, sound asleep on the couch, his gaze drifts down to the book resting against your stomach.

"nosy girl." anakin mutters. his mouth curves into a sly smirk as a sinister thought starts to take shape. he sets the forgotten item aside, his attention now fixated on the curves of your body, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. slowly, he approaches, his footsteps barely audible against the soft carpet.

with a gentle touch, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingertips lingering on your skin for a brief moment. he contemplates waking you, but the feeling of his dick twitching from inside his pants leads him in a different direction.

you looked so peaceful, so perfect. anakin finds himself yearning for the sound of your voice, the touch of your skin against his, the taste of your lips.

anakin's hand reaches out tentatively. his fingers brush against your cheek, the touch soft and delicate. with each stroke of his fingertips, anakin's touch becomes bolder, his hand gradually sliding downward. his fingers trail lower, caressing the delicate curve of your collarbone before continuing their descent.

he runs his fingers over the top of your breasts, then reaches down to cup one, giving it a light squeeze. he groans slightly, feeling his growing erection press harder against the zipper of his pants.

anakin's hands began to slide up under your shirt, rubbing small circles over your hardening nipples. his fingers moved slowly along the soft skin of your stomach, grazing your hip bones before coming to rest at the waistband of your pants. he watched intently as your body responded to his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. with a confident yet tender touch, anakin begins to slowly slide your pants down your legs. his eyes devoured the sight of your panties.

a grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed the adorable pattern of small flowers adorning the white fabric, adding an innocent touch to the moment.

"oh poor baby." he coos. his fingers skimmed lightly over the fabric that covered your core. feeling the dampness seeping through the fabric, anakin's eyes sparked with desire. unable to resist, he carefully slipped his hand beneath you, skillfully removing the delicate fabric and stashing them in his pocket without disturbing your peaceful slumber.

anakin marveled at the sight before him, the delicate folds of your wetness glistening in the dim light of the room. he couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty. the sight of you laid bare, vulnerable and inviting, sent a surge of anticipation through his veins.

with a gentle touch, he traced his fingers along your inner thighs, relishing in the softness of your skin. his gaze locked onto your core, his desire burning hotter with each passing second. he wanted nothing more than to taste you, to bring you pleasure in the most intimate way possible.

anakin lowered himself onto his knees, ensuring every movement he made was as silent and gentle as possible. he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving your pussy.

as he prepared himself to taste you, anakin carefully parted your folds. with a controlled release of his breath, he lowers his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue tracing a path along your folds. anakin moans lowly as he inserts a single finger inside of you, feeling how tight and warm you were.

anakin's movements were gentle yet purposeful, each lick and slow curl of his finger intended to bring you closer to the edge of pleasure. he was careful to maintain a rhythm that wouldn't wake you up.

as his tongue danced across your heated pussy, he couldn't help but be entranced by the way your body responded to his ministrations. the twitches and shudders, the soft moans that slipped past your lips—each one only fueled his own desire to give you more.

anakin pulls himself away from your drooling cunt once he feels that you're getting close.

"not yet baby, i wanna feel you cum on my cock." he whispers while pulling off his belt and shoving his boxers and pants all the way down to his ankles. his cock stands proudly, a small bead of precum dribbling down his shaft. anakin strokes himself a few times before carefully positioning himself between your legs and entering your pussy completely.

a moan escapes his lips as he firmly thrusts into you. he moved cautiously at first, savoring the exquisite tightness of your embrace as he began a slow rhythm, each thrust drawing him further into a frenzy of arousal.

anakin reveled in the feel of your cunt gripping him tightly, the way your walls massaged his length with each thrust. he was lost in the intoxicating sensation, focusing solely on the raw pleasure that consumed him.

you gasp loudly in shock, finally emerging from your sleep, and anakin hastily turns to face you.

"anak-" anakin's large hand abruptly covered your mouth, silencing your words before they could form completely. his intense gaze bore into your eyes, his face dangerously close to yours.

"finally awake now huh?" he teases, his voice laced with a hint of delighted amusement. he allowed himself a moment to revel in the fear that flared in your eyes, the allure of pushing boundaries and igniting forbidden desires too tempting to resist.

as he continued thrusting into your abused cunt, his motions grew more purposeful and commanding.

anakin's voice, dripping with authority, took on a more degrading tone. "my little bookworm couldn't help herself, hm? just had to go snooping around." he nods in the direction of his office.

"been thinking about this pussy ever since i hired you," he pants in between thrusts. "i've seen the way you look at me. eye fucking me every chance you get, right in front of my wife too? dirty, dirty girl." anakin chuckles, shaking his head.

as your bodies entwined, he deliberately increased the intensity of each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls.

anakin felt a mixture of ecstasy and need flood his senses as your core compressed around his length, causing his breath to get caught in his throat. the intensity of the moment fueled his own arousal, pushing him closer to the edge of his own climax.

"cum for me baby, i know you're close." his words sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, fanning the flames of your arousal. anakin's hands gripped your body with an undeniable possessiveness, his body moving with an inescapable rhythm that drove you closer to the edge of release.

anakin's hand remained firmly covering your mouth, your moans muffled as you finally tip over the edge. he continued to thrust into you, his pace steady as he chased his own orgasm. anakin's body convulsed, his cock twitching deep within your pussy. you could feel his hot cum painting your insides. anakin's movements finally come to a stop before he pulls out of your sore cunt.

he swiftly pulled up his pants and underwear, his movements were tinged with a cold detachment. without a word, he threw your pants in your direction, his actions lacking the tenderness he had displayed moments before. the forceful gesture caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily stunned as she caught the garment.

"next time, we'll put that pretty mouth to good use." his hand gently cupped your cheek, giving it a few taps. his touch a mixture of possessiveness and affection.

with a last lingering look, he slowly made his way towards the door, leaving you behind, savoring the remnants of your passionate encounter. the room carried the heady scent of your intimacy, an echo of the fervent connection you and anakin had shared.

as you put your pants on, you see the book on the floor that you carried down from anakin's office. you close it after picking it up and place it on the coffee table in front of you. the weight of guilt bore down on you, tainting the air in the room with a mix of remorse and self-doubt. your head buried in your hands, you grappled with the conflicting feelings that threatened to overwhelm you.

the memory of your intimate connection replayed in your mind, it almost made you feel sick. a pang of empathy pierced through you. padmé flashed in your mind, her image haunting and filled you with concern.

you continued to house sit, carrying the weight of your guilt alongside your duties. in the midst of the forbidden desires that you and anakin shared, you sought solace in fulfilling your responsibilities, hoping that in time, the guilt would fade, and clarity would guide you towards a resolution.

[cyborb]

great news i have more random pokemon doodles (also featuring my oc percy)

further thoughts on weird little guy sableye include: more/less fluffiness, wild assortments of gem/mineral growth and how many ways that could look.... there's a lot of potential for sure

[vixstarria]

"Where my nice, simple plan fell apart"

This is my take on how Astarion’s romance might have progressed with a silly, chaotic energy bard Tav, who doesn’t really fall for his initial manipulation but rather humours it, throughout Act 1.  

There will be more – I want to flesh this out and write more ‘behind the scenes’ moments, and continue this into Acts 2 and 3 (I’m still only at the beginning of Act 2 as I write this!) 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  

Comfort, fluff, budding love, cuddling, humour, no spoilers, non-explicit, light angst 

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

~~~~~

“Let’s find our own little piece of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness.” 

“Astarion, you insufferable trollop, what piece of cheap pulp did you fish that line from?!” you squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, wait, let me guess... Madame Scarlett?” 

You watched his face turn from indignation to irritation, to finally settle in a resigned amusement, in a rapid succession.  

“My, a fellow connoisseur of the vulgar arts? The Madame’s been dead and out of print for over a century. But yes.” 

“A professional interest – a bard must be able to entertain all kinds of audiences, with all kinds of material” 

“And would you indulge me with your expertise tonight? But I do much prefer show to tell...”.  

This was the beginning. You did end up sleeping with him that night, despite his initial soppy attempt at seduction. And then it happened again another night. And then it kept happening... 

You tried to be discreet about it at first, but of course it wasn’t long before the other members of your party noticed your nightly disappearances, and there was no point trying to conceal it.  

You were vexed by their reactions – just about everyone found it necessary to at one point pull you aside and express their concerns about the vampire, asking you to be careful. This was, perhaps, justifiable – Astarion was admittedly quite stab-happy and had an inclination for bloodthirst (literally and figuratively). But he was on your side! And damned if you needed anyone’s approval for your choices in whom to bed! 

By that point you and Astarion had turned the cliched language of poorly written erotica novels into an inside joke. Casually addressing each other in increasingly mawkish and over-elaborate terms had turned into a game. Once the secret of your escapades was out, you weaponised this game, turning it to deliberately exasperate everyone around you with your antics. 

With your shared penchant for dramatic flair the two of you became utterly insufferable.  

You would shout corny names at each other across camp: 

“Oh precious, it’s your turn to set up the campfire! And no, I don’t care that you won’t be eating with us” you called out as the group stopped for the day to set up camp, but no answer followed. “My silver lynx..? Starry?? Snickerdoodle??” 

“Your snickerdoodle wandered off to slaughter another bear!” came an exasperated shout from Wyll. 

Strangers weren’t safe from your hijinks either:  

“My sun, my beating heart, flame of my loins, ache of my head. All my riches, at your feet”, he declaimed to you in front of a confused and embarrassed vendor, as he rummaged through and shook out his pockets and sleeves, spilling an assortment of semi-precious gems, silver cutlery and somehow even an entire silver tray, pilfered from an abandoned manor you came across earlier. 

Just to make the others uncomfortable, you would unceremoniously plop into Astarion’s lap at any given opportunity, including in your morning meetings to establish your itinerary for the day.  

One evening, as you all sat around the campfire to enjoy a shared meal, Astarion (who would ordinarily stay away during this time, or sit nearby with a book) sank down next to you, lifted your hand towards his mouth, and nonchalantly sank his fangs into your wrist and began to suck, slurping.  

“Oh, so I can’t enjoy a nice meal with everyone else, and have to be excluded? Bigots, the lot of you!” he chided, your blood dripping from his lips, to the sound of everyone’s shouts of shocked revulsion. Surprisingly, this was the closest you’d ever seen Lae’zel come to laughing.  

(You and Astarion had arranged this prior, of course. Ever the gentleman, he always asked before he bit.) 

Another night, as you were having a quiet chat with Shadowheart at her tent, while everyone else lounged at the fire, she asked: “So what is it like with him, really..? How is he?” 

Suddenly finding yourself abashed by this genuinely intimate question, you covered it up with pomp and bravado. Winking at Shadowheart, you stood up, threw your head back and began to orate, making sure your thundering voice would be heard by the fire, which you had been separated from by a distance and some bushes: 

“HIS MAGESTIC MANHOOD, WHEN UNSHEATHED, IS AN OBELISC OF MASCULINITY AND GLORY. IT IS A WONDER BIRDS DON’T CRASH INTO IT WHEN IT IS FULLY E- Ow! Who threw that?!” 

A projectile salami from your camp supplies came flying from behind the bushes, and slammed into the side of your face.  

All hell was breaking loose back at the campfire, as Wyll, Gale and a smug Astarion convulsed and shouted through poorly concealed laughter, blaming each other for the missile, as Karlach shook in hysterics and Lae’zel complimented the mystery thrower’s accuracy.  

Gale did look more sheepish than the rest once you started to develop a black eye from the impact, promptly healed by Shadowheart.  

What was it like with him? 

Despite the flowery epithets and exaggerated displays of affection you awarded each other in public, in private you had a mutual understanding that it was all frivolous, no strings play. You had a parasite that could turn you into a mind flayer at any given moment, twisting in your brain. Every day bore violent encounters. Since the nautiloid crash, you hadn’t gone a single day without something trying to murder you. You didn’t want to have to worry about anything other than survival, and you took life day by day. Distractions were welcome, but actual romantic attachment would be a burden, you told yourself. 

You thought of it as being friends with extended benefits.  

You let him feed (well, snack, really) on you, of course. It wasn’t sexual, not since the first night. He used your wrist, so as not to be overwhelmed by the blood flow. He ended the sessions by healing you himself, assisted by a magical trinket he’d picked up somewhere on your journey. You made sure not to let Gale get his hands on that one.  

In battles his arrows always picked off foes in your immediate vicinity, before they were directed to other targets. You’ve yelled at him for this, saying you were more than capable of holding your own, whilst you’d lost count of the revivify scrolls you’ve spent on Gale.  

“Yes, well, the way the man goes on about his ‘natural talents’ and ‘mastery of the weave’, you’d think he’d put that big wise brain of his to developing a strategy for not getting stabbed so often” - Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m just encouraging him to improve, really. And besides”, his eyes narrowed, “only I’m allowed to spill your blood, darling”. You frowned at that last bit, as he flashed you a sweet and almost innocent smile, and stalked off.   

As for the other ‘benefits’ - the sex was intricate, if somewhat mechanic, almost too skillful on his behalf. Wanting more passion than efficiency, you eventually asked him to talk dirty to you. That made it nearly too intense for you to handle, and seemed to keep him more... personally engaged. During daytime you had to force yourself not to get caught up in flashbacks of his red eyes watching you writhe as he described what he was doing to you, what he was going to do to you, or how you looked while he worked your body. 

The night that you, wanting to reciprocate, asked him exactly how he wanted to be pleasured and what he liked was a fiasco. You didn’t understand why. First he said something about being able to please you being his greatest reward and satisfaction (which you immediately shut down). Then he grew flustered and irritated, becoming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. You tried to divert the conversation, but the mood was unsalvageably ruined.  

There was one takeaway from that debacle, however. After abandoning the idea of sex for the night, you laid next to each other, talking about nothing in particular: Baldur’s Gate, places you were both familiar with, comforts you were looking forward to having again. At one point he looked at his jacket, which you’d been lying on, and lamented that he couldn’t find any gold thread to fix the embroidery. You laughed and rolled over to give him a hug, and simply never let go. He wordlessly pulled you closer once it was clear you had no intention of leaving. That was the first time that you fell asleep and slept through the night in his arms. 

This became somewhat of a ritual, or another game with unspoken rules. Once you were done with each other, you’d pretend to quickly fall asleep with your face nested in the crook of his neck, or to otherwise be too exhausted to get up and make way to your own tent or bedroll. He pretended not to notice the regularity with which this was happening. You pretended not to notice the soft kisses he started leaving on your neck or forehead once he thought you were really asleep. It seemed... important, somehow, that you both pointedly refused to acknowledge any of it. You sensed that otherwise a certain line would be crossed. 

Last night, you were too exhausted to even think of anything but sleep by the time everyone started turning in for the night. Yet rest wasn’t even on the horizon for you – you remembered that you’d neglected to clean your weapons and carry out the well overdue maintenance on your equipment, which you did not allow anyone else to touch even when offered. You were planning to venture into the shadow-cursed lands the following day. You couldn’t afford to be sloppy. You begrudgingly set about your tasks. Astarion was as tired as everyone else, you figured it was needless to say you’d spend the night apart. And yet...  

“I guess I finally get my bedroll all to myself tonight, how delightful” you heard behind you. “No one to wrap themselves around me, no one nuzzling into my neck... Only free, undisturbed personal space” You heard a hint of dejection beneath the sarcasm, and something in your stomach flipped, giving you pause.  

“I’ll come back for a cuddle if you say please” you murmured over your shoulder. 

“Never!” he rasped in a perfect imitation of Lae’zel when you asked the same of her before freeing her from a tiefling cage, and disappeared into his tent. 

Over an hour later, as you collapsed into your own bedroll, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from across the camp, tent flap ajar. You held Astarion’s gaze.  

“Please”, he mouthed soundlessly, smiling as he lifted the edge of his blanket.  

Within moments, you slipped into his embrace, pressing your lips against his. But his kisses were gentle and feather light, lacking the usual persistent neediness.  

You pulled away from him, locking eyes as he softly ran his hand down your cheek, brushing your lower lip with his thumb. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful” he breathed. 

That night he fell asleep with his head against your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.  

Your breath caught in a silent sob as you were overwhelmed by a bittersweet realization of how much you really stood to lose if you failed in the journey still ahead of you. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier or more miserable before in your life, as you hugged him tighter. 

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3

[olenvasynyt]

Random Lucien headcanons, let’s go!

1. Lucien’s favorite alcoholic drink is whiskey. He likes old-fashioned, Summer-style whiskey lemonade, whiskey sours, Autumn-style hot toddy with cinnamon and honey, in his coffee, etc

2. He has insomnia and struggles to fall asleep. Probably gets 4-5 hours a sleep on a good day.

3. Is a big morning person: will call 8 am “sleeping in”. (Day Court heir rises with the sun!)

4. He is very fashionable (of course, we all know this) but he loves wearing mismatched socks. He has the biggest assortment of socks ever, including the fancy dress socks, hiking socks, fuzzy sleeping socks, and socks so old he sews patches in them

5. Knows how to sew and is pretty good at it. LoA taught him embroidery and he’ll embroider random leaves on his clothes when he’s bored.

6. Collects trinkets and always has a random assortment of things in his pocket: a cool stone he found; a key he stole from his brother and refuses to give it back after 200 years; a gem that popped off his knife handle; a rabbit’s foot, etc. He’s a lil crow for sure

7. Loves sleeping in hammocks. One of his go-tos when he goes camping by himself

8. Can juggle. Yes, I know, but picture him shirtless with his hair draping over his bare chest, his muscled arms moving elegantly as he juggles 5 flaming balls of fire 7 feet above his head…

9. Could not sit still as a kid. He was always running around and fiddling with stuff, kicking his feet when he sits, etc

10. Has his ears pierced (tbh I headcanon that most fae have their ears pierced. Fancy, excessive is a High Fae fashion)

11. Loves interior design. Constantly argues with Vassa about how to decorate the manor they occupy in the human lands; he HATES her taste

11.5. Modern headcanon: Lucien loves thrifting and always looks for vintage furniture, wall decor, etc at second-hand stops and estate sales.

12. Never liked hunting as a kid (family hunts were always torture for him) but he grew to appreciate it as a survival skill, as well as a way to enjoy and respect nature.

13. Was raised to worship the Mother, but disliked how his father’s court used it to oppress people. Lady of Autumn is religious and taught him the kind and true side of religion. The Mother and the Cauldron became a way for him to connect with his mother, especially after he ran from Autumn and couldn’t see her.

14. His love language is gifts (obviously) but also physical touch. He loves giving massages and can warm up his hands with fire magic to give heated massages for cold feet, hands, etc. He is clingy and loves to hold hands and cuddle.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR DARK TUNNELS, NARROW PASSAGEWAYS, HIDDEN DOORS, THICK JUNGLES, AND LOCKED TOMBS *  assorted dialogue for all your cliché adventuring needs, adjust as necessary, send "reverse" for the reversal of the prompt

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

look there! i think i see daylight!

we're not getting out of here alive.

help me get this door open!

we don't have time to argue! we have to move!

can you see anything on the wall?

i can't read that, but i know someone who can.

hold the light steady.

i think we made a wrong turn back there.

where do we go from here?

oh no. i'm not going first.

what if we can't find a way out in time?

the room's filling up with water!

have you ever seen anything more beautiful in your entire life?

according to the map, we should be headed in the right direction.

we should set up camp here.

is that a waterfall i hear?

let's take turns keeping watch.

do you know what we'll find in there?

i recognize this symbol!

you'll have to go ahead without me.

move! it's a trap!

the floor is moving!

there has to be another way out.

did that wall just move?

snakes. why'd it have to be snakes?

whatever you do, don't touch it.

this treasure has been lost for centuries.

maybe there's a reason nobody ever found this place.

i think we should turn back.

ACTION PROMPTS

[ jungle ] sender and receiver navigate through a lush jungle

[ elbow ] sender accidentally elbows or leans on a button or ancient mechanism in the wall, which opens a secret door nearby

[ steal ] sender and receiver steal an ancient artifact from a museum in order to return it to where it came from

[ map ] sender and receiver locate a map that points them in the direction of lost treasure

[ return ] sender and receiver return a stolen artifact to the spot where it was taken from

[ bridge ] sender and receiver carefully cross a rickety bridge over a huge canyon and/or a huge waterfall, take your pick

[ pressure ] sender accidentally steps on a pressure pad on the ground and sets off a deadly trap

[ decipher ] sender and receiver decipher mysterious, ancient writing on the wall

[ treasure room ] sender and receiver step into a massive treasure room filled with gold, gems, and ancient artifacts

[ awake ] thanks to sender and receiver poking around where they're not supposed to, an ancient evil is awoken

[ crypt ] sender and receiver navigate a dusty, cobweb-covered crypt

[ squeeze ] sender and receiver ease their way through a very narrow passageway

[ trapped ] sender and receiver watch as the door they just came through suddenly closes, leaving them trapped and alone

[ patch ] after receiving a nasty wound durng their adventure, sender carefully patches up receiver's injury

[ swim ] in order to reach the next room, sender and receiver have to swim their way through an ancient passageway beneath the water

[ stranded ] sender and receiver's plane crashes in the jungle, leaving them stranded and alone

[ stuck ] sender and receiver are stuck on different sides of a locked door

[ rescue ] sender fights off an evil creature to save receiver's life

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare Part.6

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Description: Aemond comforts his new wife when she is rebuffed by the other ladies of the court for her low birth. When the succession to the Lord of the Tides is put to question, an insult from Lucerys Velaryon to his wife prompts Aemond's anger.

Previous part

Writer's note: basically Aemond and Y/N getting accustomed to married life but this part follows ep 1x08 Lord of the Tides. Starting to get into the plot of S1 now.

Crediting @cinderkaliningrad who is a gem and let me use their idea that Aemond would allow those he trusted to be on his left side.

Warnings: female reader, sexual innuendo, angst but also fluff, hurt/comfort, fainting (I would too if I saw Vaemond's head like that) swearing, bit of violence.

Aemond had not thought it possible to experience such happiness as he had in the weeks following his marriage to Y/N. He had never imagined that such unconditional love would be directed towards him, having been largely ignored by his family and feared by members of the court all his life. The slightest touch from Y/N was enough to set his skin alight and he burned for her alone. He was grateful his little wife did not seem to mind the fervour of his affectations, still sometimes feeling like that lonely boy from his youth who'd craved the love of his family to no avail. It filled him with pride to see Y/N wear the dresses he had made for her in varying shades of blue, for her to wear the sapphire necklace he'd had commissioned against the elegant curve of her neck, as if she were carrying a part of him with her. He could never forget her thoughtfulness to match her wedding dress to the sapphire which replaced his eye, which he supposed spoke to a degree of possessiveness in him, but in his mind he belonged to Y/N as much as she did to him. Indeed, it was still the eyepatch she had mended on their initial meeting he continued to favour for it had been her delicate hands that had graced it with her touch, and it was almost as if he could feel her tender caress against his cheek and carry her complete acceptance of him along with him as he wore it. 

It filled his heart with joy to see the evidence of her presence in their shared chambers. Though it had been strange for Y/N at first to consider the chambers she had spent months cleaning as her own, and he'd had to stop her several times as he'd caught her tidying and arranging items on his desk as if she were still his handmaiden. With time she had begun to make her own mark on the chambers, a hairbrush here and a ribbon there. He had expressed to her his wish for her to see his chambers as her own and to make any changes she would like. And it pleased him to mark subtle changes and improvements such as the vanity table now positioned close to his desk, holding an assortment of her belongings, to know she had taken him on his word. If it were not for the news that his half sister and her spawn would be arriving to King's Landing in mere days to settle the question of the succession of Driftmark he should be entirely content.

Y/N could scarcely believe that the man she'd been so wary of upon their first meeting could be such a gentle and loving husband. She blushed to think of how affectionate Aemond was with her, always touching her in some way. A hand on her thigh under the table as they broke their fast with Helaena each morning, an arm wrapped around her waist as they walked in the gardens of the Red Keep, reaching for her leg to drape it across his body each night and pull her as close to him as possible as they slept. Aemond seemed to crave her touch as if it were the very air he breathed and she thought that it provided him a degree of comfort that had always been denied him, each caress an assurance that she loved him as he loved her, that they were two souls intertwined as one.

He had been determined from the first that she should see his chambers as their chambers going forward and that he wished for her to make any changes she liked, whatever the cost. It had been a challenge at first to adapt to the drastic change of her status upon their marriage and to feel comfortable considering Aemond's chambers as her own. But she noticed the ghost of a smile lighting Aemond's features each time he saw one of her belongings on a side table or on his desk. It was only when he explained what it meant to him, that she were truly his, that she began to accede to his wishes and make her small mark upon their shared space. It had been Helaena who had convinced her of her need for a vanity table to house all of the gifts Aemond insisted on bringing her. Feeling that it was too great an expense and encroachment on Aemond's space, she had prevaricated on the subject for a time.

But before long it became essential she should have her own space as every surface in their shared chambers became littered with trinkets Aemond thought she might like. She noted his proclivity for gifting her dresses and jewels in shades of blue to match his sapphire, all of which she wore with pride, knowing the private significance the colour held for him. She had been nervous as carpenters had moved the vanity to their chambers and positioned it close by Aemond's desk, concerned it took up a greater space than she'd been anticipating. But Aemond had smiled at her so brightly upon seeing it, she was glad she had risked it.

Despite the blissful beginnings of their marriage, Y/N could not shake the sadness she felt at the continued judgement she felt from her fellow courtiers. She had tried to speak with the other ladies and befriend them if she could but had been met with only cold politeness, icy looks, and murmurs they either did not think she could hear or did not care to hide. She was aware Aemond could not spend every moment with her and she had to make her own way, but she began to worry that in time even he might regret their union and be ashamed of his choice, since she had failed to forge a place for herself at court. She felt almost like a shadow, relegated to the peripheries of courtly life, as she succumbed to her own dark thoughts. Before Y/N could stop them, tears started cascading down her face and she quickly shifted to the edge of the bed, trying to muffle her sniffles with her arms so as not to wake her husband. She did not wish to bother him with her concerns.

Aemond blinked awake confusedly, trying to ascertain what had woken him. His fingers grasped at air as he sought out Y/N, the sound of muffled cries snapping him out of his dazed state as he turned to find her curled up at the very edge of the bed, crying into her arms. His chest restricted at the sound, heart falling at the thought of his wife being so upset and trying to conceal it from him. Shifting closer to her he wrapped an arm around her waist and turned her to face him, gently pulling her towards his chest. Y/N's fingers automatically curled against his heart. "What is it, my love?"

Y/N sniffled but, he was glad to see, did not reject the comfort he offered as she placed her face in the crook of his neck.

"I did not mean to wake you." He had to tilt his head down to hear her as her voice was muffled against his skin, and he tried not to pay attention to the way her soft lips grazed his collarbone.

Aemond shushed her gently. "I would not have you rebuke yourself. I wish you to always feel safe coming to your husband with your concerns."

Y/N let out a shuddering breath.

"The other courtiers don't accept me. I fear they never will."

Aemond felt anger course through him, if some bastardly courtier had insulted his lady he would have their tongue.

"Tell me who has caused your tears, my sweet girl. I'll have their head."

Y/N placed a delicate kiss to his shoulder.

"I would not have that on my conscience Aemond. Though I appreciate the sentiment. I cannot find a place for myself with the other ladies of the court. They are as polite as they need to be but keep me at a distance and I know how they speak of me when they think I cannot hear. It makes me feel very alone."

Aemond tightened his arms around her. He had known what it was to be lonely since childhood, felt the gaping hole festering within him until he met Y/N, and he hated that she should ever have felt that way. Kissing the crown of her head, he rubbed his hand up and down her spine. "You are not alone, nuha prumia. It does not matter what they think, you are my princess. Spend your time with me instead."

Pulling her away from his chest so he could see her face he kissed her tear stained cheeks. "I always want you close to me. Have I not told you as much? Come with me to the training yard tomorrow."

He peppered her face with kisses, planting them against her eyelids as they fluttered closed, her nose, the corner of the mouth, his kisses growing more haphazard as Y/N let out a giggle. Smiling at her, Aemond brushed the hair that stuck to her face back. "That's my girl. Pay them no mind. You are worth more than the lot of them combined."

Y/N smiled at him with a watery smile "I think your mother and the other nobles might have something to say about you shirking your duties to be with me. I cannot always be joined to you at your hip."

Aemond smirked, grasping her hip and pulling her closer, causing her to gasp "I beg to differ. Indeed I forbid you to part from my side."

Y/N laughed in response to his antics and Aemond delighted in having elicited the sweet sound from her.

"I love you, Aemond."

His gaze softened and he brought a hand up to stroke her cheek. "And I love you."

Y/N snuggled back into his chest and eventually her breathing slowed so Aemond was sure she had fallen back to sleep. Stroking her hair, he considered what he could do to make the other courtiers more accepting of his wife so she should not feel so lonely when he was not by her side. Perhaps he could discuss it with his mother, she might be better placed to select some ladies as his wife's companions. He had long since grown accustomed to the stares and whispers of the nobles as he passed them. The one-eyed Prince they called him. And he could care less for their opinions, but it was clear that Y/N did and anything that mattered to her mattered to him.

Only a few days later Y/N was stunned when several ladies of the court introduced themselves to her, one taking her arm to guide her over to their party. She was not used to such friendliness and was more than a little suspicious, but she enjoyed conversing with the ladies and thought them sincere in their offer of friendship. Y/N could not but assume that Aemond had had some hand in this new development given his inquisitive line of questioning about her day later that evening. Although she felt a small degree of embarrassment at needing his assistance even to forge friendships at court, she was gladdened at the prospect of company and was grateful for his attentiveness to her needs.

Aemond was relieved to see his wife's mood improve day by day, and that she had taken to the cohort of ladies his mother had singled out as potential companions for her. He enjoyed hearing her speak animatedly of her day each evening, as it seemed to him that she was beginning to feel more comfortable with her elevated position. He could nor bear it if marrying him had cost her her happiness. The corner of his lip quirked up at the sounds of children giggling as he turned the corner to his sister's chambers, hoping to find his wife in the knowledge that she spent so much of her time with Helaena and her children. He wished to distract himself from his half sister's impending arrival the next day, knowing he would have to face the tormentors of his childhood oncemore.

The Prince's heart leapt at the sight that met him as he entered Helaena's chambers. Y/N's face was flushed with laughter as she carried Jahaerys on her back, bearing him where he pointed, his twin Jahaera in a fit of laughter at them both all the while. His smile broadened as he watched his wife interact with his little niece and nephew. A passing image of Y/N holding their own child swept across his mind. He had not thought of fatherhood before, but he felt his heart swell at the prospect of having a little Y/N running around. He knew he would love them fiercely. When Jahaerys yanked on strands of Y/N's hair as if they were reigns on a horse and he saw her wince minutely, he stepped in to rescue his wife. Plucking his nephew off Y/N's back he placed him gently down by his sister before ruffling his silver hair. "Daor, play gently little nephew."

Y/N turned to him at feeling the weight removed from her back, her own smile broadening at the sight of him. "Husband."

Aemond had not yet tired of hearing his beloved address him as her husband, indeed he did not think he ever would.

"Wife."

Helaena's voice broke through his reverie as he found himself lost gazing at his beautiful wife.

"Oh good, you're here Aemond. Let me show you my new pet."

He had to tear his eye from Y/N's face to allow Helaena to pull him towards whatever new creature she'd adopted.

Aemond was sparring with Ser Criston when he spotted the unmistakable brown hair and distinctly non Targaryen features of his nephews Jacaerys and Lucerys from across the training yard. He threw himself into the duel with increased ferocity as they approached to watch, eager to show them he would not be such an easy target now he was grown, all the while mindful of his Lady wife amongst the circle of spectators. As Cole's mace shattered the wood of his shield he carelessly tossed it aside, swinging at him and looking for any openings in the Knight's stance. Turning to clash his sword against Cole's mace, he wrenched it from his grip and had his sword pointed at his throat in seconds to the cheers of the onlookers and, he noted with a satisfied smirk, the wary expressions of his nephews.

"Well done, my Prince. You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about Tourneys." Aemond made sure to keep his eye trained on his nephews as he spoke.

"Have you come to train nephews?" A fight would be little challenge, but he could not resist taunting them with his own proficiency in his swordsmanship. A true Targaryen prince should have mastery of the sword.

Not a moment later a horn sounded, announcing the arrival of the Sea Snake's brother and his entourage. Sheathing his sword, Aemond went to Y/N's side, wrapping an arm around her waist as she stood on tiptoe to press a tender kiss against his cheek. "Well done, husband." He smiled affectionately at her before returning his gaze to Vaemond Valeryon, his mouth upturned though his eye held no mirth as the lord levelled Lucerys with a piercing glare. It would serve the bastard right to lose his inheritance. He was glad that Y/N had not seemed to notice the tension that crackled off him, not wishing her to be privy to the darker turnings of his mind when it came to this particular side of his House.

Y/N stood by Helaena and her husband as Lord Vaemond made his petition for his right to Driftmark. She was surprised by the brazenness of his allusions to the parentage of Princess Rhaenyra's children, but admittedly their features were clearly not those of Targaryens like her husband. She discreetly studied Rhaenyra's sons, unable to stop herself from taking an immediate dislike to them despite never having spoken a word to either. She did not think she could ever forgive them their treatment of Aemond. As Rhaenyra took Vaemond's place to make her own petition, heads snapped up at the sight of the heavy doors of the throne room opening, followed by a knight announcing the King's presence. Y/N had only met the King once and it had been an unpleasant experience, which left her shrinking into Aemond's side presently. He had tried to introduce her to his father but the King's illness seemed to have addled his mind and he alternated between rebuking Aemond for the match or forgetting who she was entirely. Y/N did not think it right that he should be so judgemental of Aemond's choices when he had scarcely acknowledged him his whole life, instead favouring his nephew's begotten out of wedlock. She did not like to judge Rhaenyra, but she hated the double standard. King Viserys stumbled with great difficulty towards the throne, mounting the steps only with the aid of his brother Prince Daemon, who struck Y/N as an intimidating figure.

She felt Aemond tense beside her as the King called on the Princess Rhaenys to express Lord Corly's wishes, ultimately asserting the validity of Lucery's claim to the Driftwood throne. Y/N subtly brushed her arm against Aemond's in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. He had spoken little of his nephews since their visit to King's Landing had been announced, but she felt his discontent in his silence nonetheless. She supposed that to Aemond Lucerys losing his inheritance of Driftmark might in some way make up for the loss of her husband's eye, and she could understand his dissapointment now. She hadn't counted on Lord Vaemond taking such a belligerent stand against the King himself, jumping as his voice boomed across the throne room.

"They are bastards!"

Her eyes flitted up to the face of the King, who looked positively murderous.

"I will have your tongue for that."

She regretted looking back to Vaemond to garner his reaction as Prince Daemon unsheathed his sword with lightning rapidity and cleaved Vaemond's head off, leaving the ghastly sight of a tongue lolling out of an empty neck socket.

"He can keep his tongue."

She shrieked and turned her face into her husband's chest as he moved to shield her and Helaena from the gorey scene. Y/N had never seen such violence before and felt physically sick as she recalled the squelching sounds that had followed Vaemond's beheading, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in an attempt to fend off the nausea. Her actions were to no avail as her stomach churned and she began to feel light headed, swaying slightly where she stood.

Aemond, like everyone else who'd witnessed Daemon's act of brutality, was shocked by the escalation to violence. And yet he could not help admiring his uncle for his daring and loyalty to his Lady wife. He must know surely that his nephew's were in fact bastards and Vaemond had only spoken the truth. He did regret that his own wife and sister had witnessed the spectacle. Not anticipating Daemon's actions, he had not turned quickly enough to block their view. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked down at Y/N to find her looking positively green as she swayed on her feet. Checking that his sister was well, he took a firm hold of his wife's elbows and led her quickly from the throne room. Directing her to a bench just outside the chamber so she could sit, he knelt before her and caught her torso as she fell forward onto him. Aemond held her head against his shoulder as she breathed deeply trying to ward off her nausea.

"I apologise, I'm acting silly."

Aemond would not hear of it. Y/N, like his sister, was a gentle soul and he would never have wished her to see such violence. He stroked her hair, relieved to see colour returning to her cheeks as she continued to sit and breathe deeply.

"It is I who should be apologising on behalf of my House. You should never have seen such brutality. Daemon is a rogue with no care for the sensibilities of ladies."

Y/N laughed softly but it concerned him how weak the sound was.

"Do you know before I met you I overheard some handmaidens gossiping about how you wore your eyepatch so as not to upset the ladies of the court. I thought it very chivalrous of you at the time. Is that true?"

Aemond's heart was warmed to know that his beloved had thought of him so positively even before they had met and he had fallen for her. She was of course correct, he did not wish to disturb any of the ladies of the court with his wound but was grateful to have found the one lady who would not shrink from him.

"That may have been so at one time and it gladdens my heart to know you think your husband chivalrous. But I fear I must disappoint you, my love."

Y/N's brows furrowed in confusion as she looked at him quizically. Thankfully her breathing had somewhat returned to normal and she seemed to be feeling much better, no longer slumped against him but sitting up straight. He leaned forward to brush his lips against hers.

"There is only one lady I think of now."

Y/N was nervous as she chatted idly with Helaena, her eyes continuously flitting from her husband as he stood by Aegon to the other end of the table where Lucerys Velaryon was seated. It was a cause of anxiety for her that they should be seated directly opposite one another. She only hoped this evening's dinner would not descend into violence with tensions brimming to the surface. As the King was carried in by several knights, Y/N went to take her seat by Helaena to the right of Aemond, and was surprised when he gently directed her to the seat on his left instead. Y/N had quickly realised that Aemond preferred her to remain on his right side with his good eye so he could see her, always switching sides with her as they'd walked through the gardens of the Keep. She thought it sweet that he always wished to have her in his eyeline, but it saddened her that this was necessary.

Aemond seemed so capable that it was easy to forget his sight impairment, and she couldn't help the animosity that rose up in her towards Lucerys Velaryon as the perpetrator of the act which had cost her husband his eye, even if he was but a child at the time. As such, it seemed strange indeed to Y/N that Aemond should specifically want her to sit on his left side. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his jaw clenched slightly, so she did not question it for the moment.

She cast a glance towards the other end of the table when she heard her name whispered quietly along with the words "wife" and "handmaiden." Heat rose to her cheeks and out of the corner of her eye she saw Aemond stiffen as he turned the full force of his stare on his nephews. He must must have heard their mutterings and she could not help feeling embarassed and dejected, as if she were an outsider intruding on a family affair. Aemond placed his hand palm upwards on the table, holding it out to her in invitation. As she placed hers in his she noticed he did not avert his gaze from Lucerys though he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The sound of a chair scraping silenced the whispers as the King rose to address his family. Y/N's mouth fell open briefly as he pulled his mask from his face, revealing the gnarled cheeks and hollow of his eye socket, though she quickly schooled her features so as not to cause offense. She watched Aemond's face carefully as his father spoke, his expression softening as King Viserys pleaded for an end to the fractious infighting that plagued the two halves of his family. Y/N felt the tension easing in her shoulders as Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra toasted to one another. Perhaps this evening would go smoothly after all.

This hope was short lived however as not a moment later Jacaerys was on his feet, eyes blazing in Aegon's direction, for what reason she knew not. Aemond released her hand a moment later and was also on his feet, staring pointedly at Jacaerys. The animosity was palpable between them, as if Aemond was daring him to have the courage of his conviction. The young Prince looked fearful of Aemond and, clearing his throat gave an awkward speech before sitting down. Y/N reclaimed Aemond's hand and he reluctantly sat back down as well. The intimidating and cold front Aemond was fronting was not a side of her husband Y/N was used to seeing, though she had been all too aware how willing he was to protect those he loved. She found his quiet defence of his brother admirable.

"Come, let us have some music." Minstrels immediately started playing at the Hand of the King's command. She startled as a hand appeared in front of her, her eyes tracing the path of the owner's arm to be met with the face of Prince Jacaerys. Y/N had little experience dancing, but the Prince looked sincere and she did not wish to offend him by rejecting his offer. Aemond's fist clenched against the table but he nodded tersely as she glanced at him, so she accepted the Prince's hand and allowed him to lead her to the centre of the room. As they danced she felt Aemond's gaze boring into her back and hoped he would not be too put out with her.

Aemond did not try to hide the scowl on his face as he watched Y/N dance with his nephew, his knuckles turning white as his anger and jealousy contended for dominance. His ire was reserved solely for his insolent nephews who he'd heard whispering about his wife under their breaths and though Jace seemed to be behaving amicably enough with Y/N, he was suspicious of his intentions in asking her to dance. At the same time a possessiveness rose up in Aemond, though he knew it was childish. Y/N was his love, his person and he misliked seeing Jace touch her, his mind swimming as they interlocked arms and brushed their fingertips together.

He made a concerted effort to relax his posture and unfurl his fist as their dance came to an end, not wishing Y/N to think him angry with her. It irritated Aemond to no end to see Jace offer his hand to his sister Helaena next, prompting Y/N to weave around the Prince and make her way back to him from the other end of the table. He felt a sense of disquiet at her having to pass by Luke, though he knew it was inconceivable that he would harm her. His continued distrust of the boy who'd maimed him had prompted him to have Y/N sit on his left side, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in having the person he most trusted on his vulnerable side where he could not see. His feeling of unease was not groundless however as Luke pointedly held his cup out to her.

"I have need of a refill."

Y/N stopped in her tracks and Aemond watched with fury as a look of confusion passed across her features. He saw plainly what Luke was playing at, observing the petulant boy's barely repressed smirk. When she didn't reply Luke twisted to face her, feigning surprise. "Apologies my lady, I mistook you for one of the servants."

Aemond slammed his own goblet down on the table hard enough for it to shake the dishes and silence the hum of conversation.

"A final tribute to my nephews. Jace, Luke, Joffrey. Each of them handsome, brave..."

Aemond looked directly at Luke, wishing to convey the full weight of his insult and for him to know exactly who it was directed at.

"And strong."

Aemond felt Y/N brush her hand against his as she returned to his side, though he could not see her.

"I dare you to say that again."

Aemond was amused by the Strong pup's gall as he advanced on him, coming to meet him halfway.

"Why? Do you not think yourself strong?"

He had to admire his nephew's bravery as his fist connected with Aemond's Jaw, though it did not carry enough force to have the intended affect. Aemond did not spill a drop of wine. Hearing his wife gasp in alarm he shot her a cocky grin to let her know he was unharmed before shoving Jace to the ground. It did not serve him to fight his nephew, Jace was no match for him. The dinner descended into chaos as Luke rose to aid his brother and was roughly slammed into the table by Aegon.

His mother's voice broke through the cacophony of shouts and scraping chairs.

"Aemond, why do you say such things?"

He pulled his arm from her grip, irritated that it was him being reprimanded once again when it was his nephew's who had insulted his wife. His retaliation was surely to be expected. "I am only expressing how proud I am of my family, mother. It appears my nephews are not so proud of theirs." His tone was laced with venom as he glared at Lucerys. It was not enough for him to take his eye. That he could have forgiven. But he had to revel in his lack of punishment and embarass his gentle wife too. This was a transgression he could not ignore.

As Jace made to rush at him again Daemon stepped in between them and Aemond struggled to decide whether he would stand his ground. The soft feel of Y/N's hand against his as she interlocked their fingers decided it. He stormed from the room, Y/N in tow.

Y/N did not dare to say anything as she stumbled to keep up with Aemond's long strides. He released her hand only when they reached their chambers, stalking away from her to lean against his desk. She worried he might be angry with her but she could not bear to see him so distressed, his head downcast so that his silver hair formed a blanket around his face, his knuckles gripping the edge of his desk so tightly they turned white from the strain. Tentatively approaching him she came to stand between his legs and moved his hair away from his face. Her fears were dispelled as he only grasped her hips and pulled her closer towards him, hands splaying across her waist. "I will make no apology for defending my wife."

Y/N brushed her knuckles against his cheek and Aemond immediately brought his hand up to hold hers in place.

"I would not ask it of you. Indeed, I am glad to have such a protective husband. Though I am sorry that Jacaerys hurt you."

She trailed her fingertips across his jaw lightly, not wishing to press upon a bruise which must surely be forming. Though she could confess inwardly to a degree of girlish embarrassment that after the initial moment of shock and concern at seeing Jacaerys punch her husband, she'd found it attractive how little it had affected Aemond.

Seeming to realise she would not reprimand him for his comportment, Aemond smiled beatifically at her.

"I am unharmed, my love. I have to admire my nephew's spirit, but despite his parentage he has not the strength to match it."

Y/N quirked an eyebrow up at him. "Have I not told you to reign in your arrogance before, husband?"

Aemond's eye lit up with mischief at her light scolding, and he brought a hand to the small of her back to press her closer still. "Tell me again."

Y/N brought her hands to his chest to steady herself as she leant fully against him, heat pooling in her stomach at the way Aemond was looking at her. Noting how his gaze fell to her lips she gladly titled her head to bring their lips together.

Valyrian Translations: Nuha prumia-My heart

Daor- No

@jjkysnk

@ieieibhibu8

@skymoonandstardust

@truly-abysmal

@idonotknowenglish

@leonesimp

@hyacinthesiss

@nanawaffles

@callsigncrushx

@bitchyfestivalbouquet

@void21

@sapphiresandferrari

@pinkykats-place

@superintenseart

@youknownothingjohnwatson

@iportes-22

@misspinkonmars

@zoetje2004

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

[cerys-scribbles]

sweet on the tongue

Halsin x f!Reader A bit of fluff and yearning Wordcount: 1.5k

You always looked over the abandoned wagons and backpacks. 

It was an old habit, born of a time when coin was scarce. You’ve always had an eye for shiny things - the gleam of jewelry, the graceful curve of a gem, and the glitter of a bottle. You never knew when you might find a small treasure.

Some of the others mocked you for it. Astarion, in particular, seemed to enjoy the sight of you rummaging through crates. “Your pack is so full you’ll have to find a rothe to carry it,” he called, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth. 

“I can carry my own pack,” you replied, with a dismissive wave. “And what do you care?”

“Merely concerned for your posture, darling. If you become a hunched over crone in your thirties, it would be a tragedy.” 

You snorted. “That’s rich, coming from the one with the outdated vocabulary and the white hair.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “It’s not white, it’s silver.”

“Children,” called Gale. “You’re going to get left behind if you dawdle.”

The others had continued on. The path wound through the mountains, toward the Githyanki creche. Lae’zel was far ahead, her long strides carrying her forward with a grim determination. It was no wonder she was eager; the prospect of ridding yourself of the tadpole was an intriguing one. But even so, you felt the pull to pick through every crate. 

Your diligence was rewarded when you found a gleam of gold tucked within a sack. You pulled it free. It was a jar.

“Come on!” called Astarion, and you hastily shoved the jar into your own pack. You would look at it more closely later. 

*

It was hours after, once camp had been set up, that you investigated your finds. You picked through the small trinkets, sorting through which ones could be sold and which ones discarded. You were so single-minded that you didn’t notice the smells of food or call to dinner. It was only when someone stood over you that you looked up. 

Halsin towered over you. The sunset gave his hair a golden cast, and he was smiling. “You’ve been busy,” he said mildly.

You sat back, only now feeling the ache in your lower back. “Oh. I was distracted.” You gestured at the piles of trinkets, feeling mildly embarrassed. Would he think it was silly? “Did I miss dinner?”

“I set some aside for you.” Halsin put the plate down on a fallen log. It looked like a surprisingly tasty stew. “It’s a little cold.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Thanks for bringing it.” It shouldn’t have surprised you that Halsin was the one to notice you weren’t eating; he was observant in camp, quiet and watchful. His tent was pitched along the outskirts. Part of you wondered if it was because he wished to remain near nature or to make himself the first line of defense should anyone attack camp. It was likely both. 

He squatted down, eyeing your finds. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?” He reached out, gently sifting through the knotted chains and one half of an earring.

You flushed. “I just… you might have noticed I tend to pick things up.”

“I had noticed, yes,” he said, a touch of dry humor in his voice. But there was no mockery to it. “Do you sell them?” 

You shrugged. “It helps. I can buy a little food, maybe weapons or medicine for camp. We can hunt, of course, but we still need things. And it’s not as though we have a noble patron.” You snorted. “Well, we do have Wyll, but I know he’d protest that title.”

“He would,” agreed Halsin. “He seems far more happy being the Blade of Frontiers rather than a duke’s son.” He tilted his head, gaze flicking over the assortment of trinkets. “Can I help?”

“I mean,” you said, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His gaze met yours and you felt another flush rise to your cheeks. “It’s better to have something to do with one’s hands.”

You both began to work, untangling chains of necklaces and sorting through your findings. There were coins from several cities, jewelry that was junk and one piece that might sell, along with forgotten letters. You set those aside. “I’ll give them to a messenger or the like if we reach Baldur’s Gate,” you said, when you caught Halsin’s eye. “Maybe those letters will reach their destination.”

“That’s kind of you, to carry them without any hope of reward.” 

You gave him a little shrug. “It’s not as though they weigh very much.”

“Still,” he said. “You have a good heart.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Halsin disarmed you in a way that none of the other companions could. There were no deceptions, no games to played, no secrets to ferret out. Halsin was simply… Halsin. He was undemanding and kind. 

And all right. He was gorgeous—you’d admit that to yourself. You’d had a few fantasies of him picking you up and kissing you, but you tried to tamp them down. You didn’t want your desires to leak into your conversations and make him uncomfortable. You were friends and that was more than enough.

Finally, you pulled out the jar. You had almost forgotten about it. “What is that?” asked Halsin. 

You held it up to the fading sunlight. “Preserves, I think. Whether or not they’re edible… well, I’m not sure how we find out.”

Halsin chuckled. “Opening it would be the first step.”

It took a knife and a fair bit of prying to get the jar open, but the moment you did, your mouth watered. 

Raspberries floated in a thick, golden liquid. They had been preserved in honey. The sweet scent floated out of the jar and you swallowed. 

“Well, well,” said Halsin. “A pleasing find, if my opinion matters.”

You remembered what he had said when you tried to get to know him better: that he enjoyed sweet things. “You can have it,” you said, holding out the jar. 

He shook his head, a smile on his lips. “We’ll share it.”

You didn’t have a spoon, but Halsin had a few carved ones in his pack. He unearthed it and you gasped. It was intricate and beautiful—a woven pattern made up the handle. “It’s gorgeous.” You knew he whittled, but this was a work of art.

He looked pleased but embarrassed. “I’ve had much practice. It’s yours, if you like it.”

You dipped the spoon into the honeyed raspberries. Then you popped the spoon into your mouth. Tart sweetness spilled across your tongue. You closed your eyes and moaned softly. Perhaps you should have found a loaf of bread or something else to cut the cloying sweetness, but you did not care. It had been weeks since you enjoyed anything so luxurious. 

 “Oh, it’s amazing,” you said, holding out the jar to Halsin. “Try some.”

His gaze was not on the jar—but on you. “You have some,” he said quietly, holding out his hand. “May I?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but even so you nodded. You trusted him. 

His thumb—warm and callused—slid across your chin. A small tendril of honey had stuck there. “Oh,” you said, laughing a little. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” He licked the honey from his thumb—and you could have sworn his pupils dilated as he looked at you. “It tastes all the sweeter.”

Heat churned in your stomach. You knew you should break that gaze, look away before this became all too intimate, but you didn’t want to. Your breaths quickened, and you thought you saw his gaze fall to your mouth. Was he going to kiss you? At once, your lips ached for it. You needed his touch more than you needed air or warmth or even a cure. 

His fingers brushed your cheek. But before he could utter a word, a voice rang out from across camp. 

“I can see you eating something over there!” called Astarion. “If you get sick from fare you found along the road, I am not carrying your pack.”

The mood was broken in an instant. You looked down, half-wondering if you had imagined the moment. 

“You won’t have to,” called Halsin sounding as good-natured as ever. “I’ll carry it for her.”

You swallowed. Perhaps you hadn’t imagined it, after all. 

End

[raimi]

8 free android games with no ads and no in-app purchases

(note for those using screenreaders: all images in this post are screenshots of the game currently under discussion. unfortunately i struggle much more with describing images than with games.)

1. CoffeePack

you know those addictive little merge-style games that are fun except for being completely overloaded with ads? it's like that, but without the ads. trays of coffee come in three at a time, and you put them into the grid to make full trays of six of the same kind.

you can download CoffeePack here.

2. Fast like a Fox

this one's a fun little platformer with a unique control method—you make the fox run by tapping the back of your phone! (there is an option to change that to something more normal, though.) true to the name, speed is very important here. you're not on a timer unless you're trying to get the third gem of a level, but the game keeps track of your record times.

you can download Fast like a Fox here.

3. Simon Tatham's Puzzles

it might not be visually impressive, but there's no funny business here. you came for puzzles, and that's what you're getting. there's a huge number of puzzles included in the app (under different names from their usual, admittedly), and you can customize the difficulty all you want.

you can download Simon Tatham's Puzzles here.

4. Stray Dog: Bone Quest

this is another puzzle game, but it's more timing based. you need to maneuver the dog around each level to collect all the bones on the ground while avoiding hostile cats and humans.

you can download Stray Dog: Bone Quest here.

5. Unciv

it's civilization 5 for your phone. i'm sure you know what civilization 5 is.

you can download Unciv here.

6. WordSmith

word game fans, don't think i've forgotten you! in WordSmith, you're given an assortment of letters that are color coded as starts of words, ends of words, intersections (taking priority over starts and ends), and middles of words, and tasked to put them all into a crossword. there are several difficulty settings, and the timer in the bottom right corner is completely ignorable if you so choose.

you can download WordSmith here.

7. Cobble Climber

this one's very simple! your character climbs up the wall on the side of the screen, and you tap to have them jump to the other side to avoid rocks. the goal is to see how far you can go!

you can download Cobble Climber here.

8. Curve Quest – Endless Game

in this game, you control a ball that travels along a line, switching directions whenever you tap the screen. the line starts out straight, but becomes more and more curved over the course of play. you're also under constant bombardment from obstacles you need to protect your ball from, and there are occasional power ups on one end of the line or the other.

you can download Curve Quest – Endless Game here.

[shepscapades]

OTHER DRAWINGS

This is an extension of the DBHC Masterpost.

The links below contain art that have collections of dbhc characters and aren't necessarily relevant to any specific character's narrative. I will do my best to update these extensions of the Masterpost with every new major post I publish, so feel free to keep checking this original post (not reblogs, which will not retain edits) for new content!

As mentioned in the base Masterpost, the below links are organized in NARRATIVE CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER, not by the order in which they were posted/published. ♪ = This symbol next to any of the links below refers to posts or drawings that were made inspired by music (in most cases, music from dbhc characters’ playlists)!

POST LIST

Hermit a Day May features most of the dbhc cast! #HermitaDayMay

[x] Xisuma, Ren, and Bdubs’ Reactions to Deviancy Ask Doodle [x] Valentines Assortment, Including dbhc ranchers and ethubs [x] Pre-Deviant Mumbo and Decked Out Tango Design [x] [x] [x] Decked Out Doodle Collections [Bdubs|Tango|Etho|Hypno|False|Doc|Xisuma|Zed|Gem|Grian|Ren] [x] Secret Life Doodles [Etho|Bdubs|Cleo] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] Trick or Treat Doodles– Previews and Sketches [Etho|Bdubs|Xisuma|Doc|Tango] [x] Large Collection of DBHC Secret Life Doodles[Etho|Mumbo|Skizz|Tango] [x] ♪ Hermitgang [Doc|Wels|False|Impulse|Xisuma|Ren|Mumbo] [x] RvB ref: AI… What’s the A Stand For? [Scar|Doc] [x] [x] [x] DDLC DBHC ???? [Etho|Bdubs|Joel|Ren|Cleo|X|Doc] [x] Xisuma Featured in my 'Characters I like' drawing meme! [x] Wild Life Begins! [Jimmy|Ren|Bigb|Lizzie|Martyn|Joel|Skizz|Cleo|Gem|Mumbo|Bdubs|Etho]

[writtenbyafan]

Chance Meeting

David x fem!reader

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

As dusk settled over Santa Carla, Y/N stepped onto the boardwalk, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. The cool night air was a refreshing contrast to the day's heat, and the boardwalk had transformed into a vibrant tapestry of colorful lights and sounds.

Neon signs blinked cheerfully, guiding her toward an eclectic mix of shops. She wandered into a vintage bookstore, where soft music played, and the scent of old pages lingered in the air. She ran her fingers along the spines of worn novels and discovered a cozy corner with an assortment of local poetry. After chatting with the friendly owner, Y/N left with a book of local legends and a smile.

Next, she was drawn to a colorful kiosk selling hand-spun cotton candy in every imaginable flavor. Y/N chose a cloud of lavender-blue cotton candy and let its sweet, sugary strands dissolve on her tongue.

The distant laughter and music led Y/N to a bustling section of the boardwalk where the rides were lit up like fireworks against the night sky. After waiting in line, she climbed aboard the Ferris wheel. The rides slow, rhythmic ascent offering a panoramic view of the twinkling town and the dark, shimmering expanse of the ocean. At the top, the gentle sway of the gondola felt like floating on a bed of stars, and Y/N’s heart soared with the realization that her family’s move to Santa Carla might be full of new possibilities.

Y/N disembarked the Ferris wheel and strolled past the carnival games, where the rattle of game balls and cheerful shouts filled the air. She tried her luck at a ring toss, and though she didn’t win a prize, the friendly banter of the game operator made her laugh.

As she paused in front of a booth selling glowing trinkets and costume jewelry, something caught her eye—a figure leaning casually against a wooden railing. He had a magnetic presence, his ice-blue eyes sharp and observant. His demeanor was calm, almost too calm for the lively boardwalk atmosphere, and there was an air of danger that clung to him like a shadow. His platinum blonde hair shined like a beacon when pair with his dark attire and the dark backdrop of the night sky.

Y/N, feeling a sudden burst of boldness, approached him. "Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve got a pretty sick style. What’s your take on the boardwalk tonight?" she said with a friendly smile.

The boy's gaze shifted to her, and a slow, enigmatic smile spread across his face. "I'd say it's a pretty average night. I've never seen you here before though. Are you new to town?" he replied, his voice smooth and intriguing as his eyes drifted over Y/N’s form.

Y/N tilted her head, curious. "I’m Y/N. I just moved here. Are you here to enjoy the boardwalk too, or are you just observing?"

He chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to resonate with the night’s cool breeze. "A bit of both, I suppose. I’m David."

They struck up a conversation, and Y/N found herself drawn to David’s mysterious charm. They wandered together, David offering her insights into the boardwalk's hidden gems—like the best spot to catch a glimpse of the fireworks or a lesser-known food stand that served the most incredible burgers.

Time slipped away as they talked and goofed around. They even had to make a break for it when David stirred up some trouble with a group he called the Surf Nazis. Y/N found David's company oddly comforting, even though he carried an air of melancholy. She felt a connection with him that she couldn’t quite explain.

As the boardwalk grew quieter and the rides started to wind down, Y/N glanced at her watch. "I should get going. I need to find my brothers and head home."

David's eyes seemed to grow darker, though the moonlight softened his features. "Of course. It was nice meeting you, Y/N."

Without much thought behind the action, Y/N gave David a quick hug goodbye. Although the contact was brief, Y/N felt the coldness of his skin beneath her touch. "Maybe I’ll see you around?"

David nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. "Perhaps."

With a parting smile, Y/N slipped into the crowd, her thoughts still lingering on the evening's encounter. Unbeknownst to her, David watched her disappear into the sea of people, his gaze thoughtful.

As she vanished from sight, David's demeanor shifted. He straightened and turned, heading towards the shadows beyond the boardwalk. With deliberate steps, he moved towards a secluded alley where his vampire brothers awaited. The night was ripe for hunting, and Y/N’s chance meeting with him was a mere prelude to the night’s true purpose. David will later admit to himself that he very much enjoyed his time in Y/N's company.

David gathered his brothers, their presence marked by a quiet yet palpable sense of anticipation. The boardwalk, now a mere backdrop, held secrets that stretched far beyond the colorful lights and cheerful noise. And as the vampires set out to find their meal, the night’s dark promise unfurled, leaving behind the fleeting echo of Y/N’s laughter in the cool, crisp air.

[bungalowbear]

Abalone

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x f!reader

Word Count: 8.9k

Summary: You and your small family relocate to the coast when your husband secures a job as a lighthouse keeper. At first your new life seems peaceful. But after your stepson nearly drowns, more of the ocean’s dangers begin to reveal themselves.

Warnings: established relationships, child nearly drowning, mentions of a parent’s death, piv smut, MDNI

A/N: This is my entry for the lovely @storiesoflilies Whimsical Summer Event. My inspiration was the painting “Lighthouse Hill” by Edward Hopper. Thank you so much for hosting, Lily! I hope you enjoy!

Playlist

A clear blue sky touches down on the horizon to meet the seemingly endless length of highway. One lone car travels along the winding coastal road.

Your little family of three, five if you count the dogs, is less than an hour away from your new home: a lighthouse. Your husband secured the job as its keeper only one month prior, but preparing for the move wasn’t as stressful as you imagined. The house you’re moving into already has the basic furnishings. So the small boot of the car is filled with boxes of your books, Megumi’s toys, and Toji’s eclectic assortment of personal items. On the roof is strapped a wooden trunk nearly five feet wide that you managed to fit everyone’s clothes in and boxes of kitchen and bathroom supplies.

You turn in your seat on the passenger side to look into the backseat. Your eight-year-old stepson is asleep, cheek smushed against his seatbelt and both arms outstretched to accommodate the large dogs he’s sandwiched between.

Toji’s large hand floats from the steering wheel and onto your thigh. He gives a squeeze and you turn back around to take his hand in both of yours, placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. There’s a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks as he checks the rear view mirror to make sure Megumi is still asleep. You smile at your husband’s brief embarrassment. 

The rest of the ride is silent, but you keep his hand secure and resting in your lap.

When you finally arrive, Toji slowly rolls onto the humble dirt driveway. The engine is turned off and he’s the first to exit. His head and shoulders are out of view from your spot in the passenger seat, but when he raises his arms the hem of his shirt lifts and exposes his lower stomach. You bite your lip in a brief moment of distraction before you realize Toji’s already begun undoing the restraints of the luggage on top of the car.

You reach your hand into the backseat and gently shake Megumi’s knee to wake him. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to slowly open. Little green gems emerging from the darkness of their caves. 

“Are we there yet?” Megumi asks, blinking sleepily at you.

“We are,” you say. The dogs stir. A white muzzle nudges the boy’s face and gives his cheek a lick while a black tail swipes the window as its body extends in a deep stretch. “Wanna help them get out? They probably need to go, yeah?”

Megumi nods his head. Both dogs begin to whine as he unbuckles his seatbelt. They crowd the space around the door and immediately bound out when Megumi opens it. He hops off and languidly follows after them.

You get out of the car and shut the door behind you. Raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, you take your first look at your new home. You’re immediately drawn to the massive circular structure with walls made of white stone and black metal grating at the top to fence in the currently inactive revolving beam. The lighthouse is a wonder, almost eerily so as it looms quietly above you.

Your gaze then moves to a small cottage to the left. It’s connected to the lighthouse by an outside corridor with wooden beams evenly spaced out to support the flat roof. The corridor leads to a door to the west side of the home, which itself is rather quaint. The white paint of the wooden exterior is chipped. There are a few shingles missing from the dark brown roof. You’re thankful that the red-bricked chimney still stands strong. You’re told there are two bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen, and a small living room. It’s a charming little place. Perfect for your family.

Taking a deep breath, you inhale the salt from the ocean just on the other side of the property. The breeze blows against your face and your lips curve upward ever so slightly.

Toji calls your name and you’re taken out of your trance.

Megumi already has his backpack on and is unloading the smaller items from the backseat. You meet them on the other side of the car and Toji hands you the box labeled bathroom. The large wooden trunk with all of your clothes is hauled onto your husband’s shoulder and he takes the leading step into your new life, with you and Megumi following right behind him.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Three weeks pass. Your family has quickly adopted a weekly Saturday morning habit of going a few miles inland to the small nearby town. 

You help Megumi wrangle the dogs into the backseat while Toji locks up the house. Once you’re all in the car, Toji starts the engine. You fasten your seatbelt then look behind you to check if Megumi’s done the same. Your stepson gives you a thumbs up from his spot between the dogs who’re already sticking their heads gleefully out of the open windows.

Looking to Toji, you nod your head and he pulls out of the driveway.

In less than ten minutes you’re driving down the main street of the town. There are already other cars on the road and people milling about the sidewalks. You pass a bookshop, a hardware store, and even the elementary school Megumi will be attending after summer break.

Grocery shopping is the primary goal for today. But before you keep on toward the supermarket, you stop for breakfast at a corner cafe. You choose a table outside so the dogs can stay with you. The waitress greets you, pulls out a notepad, and writes down your order. She leaves with a promise to be right back with your drinks.

While Megumi asks Toji if he thinks the supermarket will have the brand of dog food you always get, you catch the eye of an old woman sitting by herself one table away. She has grey hair and a kind face. You smile at her politely, and to your surprise, she rises from her seat. She abandons her food and approaches your table.

“Good morning,” she greets with a soft voice.

“Good morning, ma’am,” you respond.

“I don’t think I have seen your faces around here before. Are you the new family that moved into the lighthouse?”

“Yes, we are.”

“I see.” The old woman’s face suddenly grows serious. “Then I must tell you about that horrible place.”

“Oh?” You look to Toji, but he simply raises an eyebrow. “We’re still tidying up, but I wouldn’t say it’s horrible.”

“It’s not just the house itself. Those waters are cur—”

“Aina-san.” The waitress appears with your drinks on a tray. Her voice is surprised, almost panicked, as she addresses the old woman. “I think we’d better leave these nice people alone now.”

“They moved into the lighthouse. Did you know that?”

The waitress gives you an apologetic look as she places your drinks down on the table. She then turns to Aina-san and places a gentle hand on her shoulder, patiently leading the old woman back to her table.

“You food will get cold if you don’t eat it soon,” the waitress says.

“But I haven’t warned them yet about the last people who lived there. How they went mad and were sent to the mental hospital.”

From your table, you can hear the entire exchange. At the mention of the mental hospital, you try your best to act casual as you take a sip of your drink. Megumi, sitting beside you, hides his face in your arm and peeks at the old woman who’s now frantically speaking about water demons. Toji rolls his eyes across the table from you.

“Crazy old lady,” he mutters.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

The midday sunshine floods in through the open window above the kitchen sink. You have a perfect view of Megumi and the dogs digging into the sand on the beach down below.

Today you’re disinfecting all of the glass jars and organizing the kitchen cabinets. The radio on the counter is tuned to a random station that you hum along to while you use a pair of tongs to place the jars one by one into the pot of boiling water.

You place the tongs down beside the stove and make your way toward the cabinets on the other side of the sink. As you pass the window, you take a quick glance out onto the beach, expecting to see Megumi where you did last time. Instead, you see the discarded pail and shovel in the sand with no boy or dogs in sight.

After turning down the radio you brace yourself on the edge of the sink and lean closer toward the window. You think you can hear the sound of barking, but it’s distant and muddled by the waves crashing onto the shore. You call out to Megumi and wait a few seconds for an answer. It doesn’t come. You tell yourself not to panic when another shout of your stepson’s name goes unanswered, but you can’t fight the feeling in your gut that something is wrong.

Without anymore hesitation you speed out of the house. You shout for Toji as you run through the outside corridor and toward the entrance of the lighthouse. Your husband is already bursting through the door, reacting to the distress in your voice.

“What?” He meets you halfway, in front of the wooden stairs that lead down to the sand. “What’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t see Megumi anymore,” you explain. “I tried calling for him, but he didn’t answer me.”

Toji immediately dashes down the stairs. The creaky old boards groan and squeak under his weight as he takes them two, three at a time. Toji is faster than you, already running through the sand while you have another third of the stairs left to descend. You follow as quickly as you can while he’s closing in to where the dogs are barking at the waves further down the beach.

Toji’s nearly at the water’s edge, stripping himself of his heavy boots and his coveralls along the way. Your eyes scan frantically across the expanse of blue, white froth lining the tops of wild waves. Miraculously, you see Megumi’s head bob above the surface, but then get pulled back under as he flails his arm in an attempt to stay afloat.

“There!” you shout with a finger pointed in the air.

Toji sprints through the shallows and dives into deeper waters without hesitation. You wait with bated breath on the shore. Surrounded by your husband’s discarded clothes and two pacing dogs, you wring your hands tightly as your eyes stay glued to the spot where you last saw Megumi. 

Guilt takes root in your chest. You should have been more vigilant of the young boy who’s been entrusted to your care. You love him so dearly, as if he were your own. So how could you let this happen?

You don’t know how long Megumi has been in the water or how long he’s been struggling against the tide. It feels like a lifetime since Toji dove after his son, but it’s likely only been a minute or two. But just as suddenly as they’d disappeared both father and son breach the surface. You exhale in relief as Toji begins to swim back to shore with Megumi securely in his arm.

Toji stomps out of the ocean with Megumi in his arms. The boy’s eyes are closed and his arms and legs hang limply from his father’s hold. His skin is pale as he’s gently laid down onto the sand. You carefully get his head into position and start administering CPR. His chest feels so fragile beneath your hands, but you don’t cease the compressions and breathing air into his lungs until Megumi eventually coughs up water and rolls onto his side.

Tension flees from your body and you slump back onto the sand. But the moment of relief is short-lived when Toji suddenly grabs Megumi by the shoulders. A pair of large, sturdy hands clutch tightly onto thin and frail arms. 

“What were you thinking?” There’s a wild look in your husband’s eyes. Green flames stoked by fear. He raises his voice when Megumi only stares up at him with a blank expression. “You aren’t supposed to go into the water without us. What if she hadn’t noticed you were gone?”

You place a hand on Toji’s arm, softly saying his name. His hold on Megumi lets up, but the boy remains silent as his chest heaves with the effort to regulate his breathing. You’re starting to become concerned at Megumi’s passiveness when you see it.

Moisture gathers along Megumi’s bottom lashes. His chin starts to wobble and his nose scrunches in an effort to keep the tears at bay. But they come flooding out when he finally speaks.

“I’m sorry!”

In the last five years you’ve known Megumi you’ve come to realize he’s not as expressive as other children. He rarely cries, but when he does it’s never as intense as this. It’s understandable given the circumstances but it still takes you and Toji by surprise. Your stepson turns out of his father’s grip and pushes his face into your stomach. Sobs wrack through his small frame as he repeats his apology.

You share a worried look with your husband as you hold Megumi in your arms, his usually unruly hair now weighed down by saltwater drenching the front of your shirt.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

While you take Megumi to the doctor in town Toji and the dogs stayed behind at the house. The doctor evaluates Megumi and declares him healthy and in no danger of any complications.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the doctor’s office, you ask Megumi if he’d like to eat before heading back home. He nods. You hold out your hand and he takes it before you walk a few blocks down to the familiar corner cafe. You’re sat inside this time and a different waitress brings you your drinks and takes your order before leaving the two of you alone again.

“Megumi,” you begin carefull, “do you think you can tell me what happened today?”

“I didn’t mean to go in that far.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. His gaze is fixed on the bubbles that float to the surface of his dark cola. He wears a mask that you think to yourself he’s too young to have perfected that hides his true emotions. “But…something pulled me in.”

“Pulled you in?”

“I didn’t see what it was,” he quickly supplies. Most likely to discourage anymore questions.

“You’re not to be on the beach without one of us for a while. Okay?”

Megumi nods in agreement. He still hasn’t looked at you.

“Gumi…you know your dad loves you, right?”

He hums, picking at the discarded straw wrapper.

“He didn’t mean to yell at you like that. He was…he was—”

“Scared?” The shock must be clear on your face because the eight-year-old boy sends you a frown from across the table. “You can say it. I know grown ups get scared, too.”

“Yeah, your dad was scared,” you concede. “So was I.”

“Remember at our old house when me and dad came back from the park that one time? After I tripped and fell down the hillside? I wasn’t awake when he found me, but I remember the look on his face when I opened my eyes. It was the same look he had today. Like he’s scared of me not waking up. Like how my mom didn’t wake up.”

Megumi looks away again, at the hands in his lap. He sniffles and your heart breaks for him. He’s only a child but he’s already been through so much.

“Your dad loves you,” you repeat and Megumi’s eyes peer up at you. “He loves you more than anything. He just…has a hard time expressing it sometimes.”

He sighs. “I know.”

“And you know I love you, too?” He nods. “I love you so much, and I’ll always keep you safe, Megumi.”

He smiles at you. A small, barely there, curve of his lips. Then his eyes widen as if he’s just remembered something.

“You were a swimmer before, right?”

“You remember.” You reach out to fondly tap on the center of Megumi’s forehead. His cheeks flush pink. “I haven’t swam in some time, but I still make sure to keep my CPR certification. Just in case.”

“I’m glad you did.” His face burns a deeper shade when he adds, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

The bell above the cafe door chimes, signaling a new customer. You don’t think to look over to see who’s entered. You’re so focused on Megumi that you don’t realize there’s someone approaching your table until they’re already standing right beside you. 

You look up from your seated position to see that you recognize this person. It’s the same old woman you’d encountered on your last visit to the cafe. You fix a polite smile onto your expression.

“Good afternoon, Aina-san.”

“I saw you through the window.” She points to the wide pane of glass fixed into the wall. “I saw you and your boy. I didn’t know when I’d see you again, but I’m glad I found you. I must tell you now.” 

“Tell me…” you glance briefly to Megumi and he’s looking at the woman with curious eyes, “what?”

“About the lighthouse,” she says urgently. “Where a man and woman lived before you. He tended the lighthouse and the woman tended to the sea.”

“She tended…the sea?”

“Yes! She was ama! She belonged to the women who harvest pearls and sea creatures. Every summer she would give offerings of abalone to the dragon king who rules over the sea. But five years ago her and her husband passed, and since there has been no diver to perform the offering, water demons haunt the lighthouse and its waters to lure humans as offering instead for their king.”

“I—” you start, but another voice cuts you off.

“Aina-san?” Your waitress calls from behind the counter. You look over and she’s coming around the counter and in the direction of your table. “I didn’t know you were coming in again today.”

“Don’t ignore what I’ve told you.” The old woman grabs your arm. Her voice lowers to a whisper, urgency in every syllable. “They’ll come for the boy first.”

The old woman releases your arm and flees from your side, leaving you speechless. She’s out the door before the waitress gets to your table.

“That’s odd,” the waitress says. “Aina-san usually only ever comes in the mornings.”

You only nod your head when she lets you know your food will be out in a few minutes, struggling for the right words to say next.

You’re preparing to dismiss the old woman’s words as superstition, but then you see Megumi. His back is rigid and his mouth forms a tight line. He stares across the cafe at the door where the old woman escaped, and the terror swimming in his wide emerald gaze urges you to heed the old woman’s warning.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

A crescent moon hangs in the sky that night. Its faint light enters in through the open windows of your and Toji’s bedroom, enough to keep the room from being cloaked in complete darkness. The curtains billow with the gentle breeze. A rhythmic squeaking softly fills the space.

Your hips don’t rise too high, cautious of how much force will affect the volume of the metal frame beneath your bodies, but you make up for it with a sinful swivel of your hips. This earns a pleasured groan from your husband beneath you.

Toji’s hands grip your waist as you ride him, helping you keep your pace. Your breathing is labored and heavy from both physical exertion and swallowing moans to not wake up Megumi in the next room. It’s proving difficult with the way Toji’s girth fills you. It’s a delicious stretch that makes you just a little dumb. You have no idea what you look like, but if it’s in anyway the same as Toji’s wrecked expression, you’re certain neither of you will last much longer.

You fall forward and support yourself with your forearms planted on either side of Toji’s head. He gazes up at you, midnight locks plastered against the white fabric of the pillow and heated puffs of air escaping his pink parted lips.

“Doing so good, angel,” he softly coos. One of his hands drops to take a palmful of your ass, pulling you closer to him with every one of your thrusts. “All for me, yeah?”

“Yes.” You drop your forehead onto his. Your hips begin to stutter, long deep strokes now becoming short and choppy and desperate. “For you. Only for you.”

You’re nearing your climax and clenching hungrily around him. Toji jerks his hips upward and strikes a sensitive spot inside you and an involuntary whine climbs up your throat. His head rises to catch your lips in a rough kiss. He swallows each of your muffled sounds of pleasure as you both continue to grind against each other. The bed frame squeaks louder, and just before your release, Toji wraps his arms around your back and pulls you down onto him. You’re chest to chest with your hands tangling in his hair and gripping at the roots when you come. Toji’s chest vibrates with a deep, satisfied groan when he empties himself inside you.

With a heaving chest, you roll yourself off your husband but still land half on top of him on the full sized mattress. Warm cum slowly trails out of you and onto the sheets. Normally you would mind, but you’ll be washing all the sheets in the house tomorrow so you let it go. You should clean yourselves up though. But that thought is swept aside when Toji turns to face you, slotting a muscled thigh between your thighs and hiking your leg around his waist. He traps you with an arm across your back and the other cradling your head to his chest.

“We need a bigger mattress,” he whispers, voice gruff from exhaustion.

“Toji?”

“Hm?”

“I love Megumi like he was my own son.” Your voice goes even quieter. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do. Why’re you saying that?”

“I just…I was remembering what you were like when we first met.” 

Toji stiffens. You can hear the effort in his voice to keep it steady. “I’m not that man anymore.”

“I know, baby. I know you’re not,” you say. Toji’s hold tightens around you and he presses his lips to the top of your head. “Today was scary.”

Your husband releases a heavy sigh. “Yeah. It was.”

“I’ll always do my best for you and Megumi,” you promise. “You don’t ever have to be that man again.”

“I love you.” Toji’s voice is tender in the quiet of the bedroom. Every word is a vow he doesn’t intend on breaking. “I’ll always take care of you and Megumi.”

“I love you, Toji.”

You shut your eyes and breath in your husband’s familiar scent, the sweat accumulated from your lovemaking giving it a salty edge. You burrow your nose deeper into his chest and let sleep take you.

When you wake hours later, still dark outside, you untangle yourself from Toji. He doesn’t let you go at first. Only when you whisper that you have to use the bathroom does he let you go, rolling over on his side in the opposite direction.

You grab your oversized sleep shirt off the floor and pull it over your head. Your underwear takes another minute to find in the darkness but you do, holding the cotton garment in your hand to put them on after you’ve cleaned the dried spend between your thighs.

You open the door and step into the hallway. The restroom is directly across from your bedroom, a short trek you could make with your eyes closed, but you halt when you step in something wet. Looking down, you see a wide trail of liquid on the old wooden floors. The subtle shimmering substance leads from the front of the house and toward Megumi’s room further down the hall. You crouch down and swipe a finger over the clear liquid. Cautiously, you bring it to your mouth and realize it’s saltwater.

You stand up and slip on your underwear. With slow and careful steps you follow the trail of water until you’re at Megumi’s door, which is wide open. 

Your breath catches at the sight of a figure standing over Megumi, sound asleep. Water flows silently along its form, but it doesn’t lose its shape. Its human shape.

Looking around the room, you don’t see either of the dogs, which makes you anxious because they always stay in Megumi’s room at night. You step forward, the creaking of the floorboard catching the figure’s attention. You freeze when its head turns sharply in your direction. 

“L-leave.” 

Your voice shakes, but it’s forceful. The figure doesn’t respond. At first you think it might not understand you, but then suddenly it charges at you. You shield your face with your arms and brace for a heavy impact. Instead, the figure passes through you.

When you lower your arms, it’s only you and Megumi in the room. You are completely dry and there are no traces of salt water left on the floor boards.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

You sit on a folding chair on the beach. Megumi is a few yards away in the middle of the sand digging for shells while the dogs sniff the ground around him. You’d found them outside last night, scratching at the door on the west side of the house.

A shudder rips up your spine. Part of you can’t believe what you saw last night was real. Aina-san’s stories linger in the back of your mind. Sea kings and water demons sounded like ancient ghost stories yesterday, but your visitor is making you less skeptical. Unfortunately, without any evidence left behind that’s all they are for now: stories.

Maybe it was real, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the stress of almost losing Megumi is affecting you more than you realize and you’re starting to lose it just a tiny bit. Whatever the case, you’re hoping a day on the beach will clear your head and settle your nerves.

White puffy clouds float easily across the sky. The sun’s rays beam down between them, warming your skin. The roar of the waves is steady and powerful, a constant presence, as they invade the edge of the shore.

You peek your eyes over the top of your book to check on Megumi, satisfied that he maintains a good distance from the water. He didn’t show any fear of the ocean when you both walked hand in hand to the edge earlier. He didn’t argue or complain when you  told him you wouldn’t be going any deeper than past your ankles. He simply held your hand and gazed out at the endless blue, curiosity and caution lurking within his emerald irises. 

You return to your book and continue reading. The story is actually quite interesting. However, your mind is preoccupied with the urge to take another glance at Megumi every couple of pages. You hold out until you finish the current chapter before dropping your book into your lap and checking on Megumi again. You tell yourself it’s not good to worry so much, and there’s nothing to stress about because he’ll be right where you last saw him.

Except he’s not.

You jump up from your seat, eyes frantically scanning the beach. His shovel and pail are discarded. Your feet move at once to the follow the three sets of footprints in the sand, one human and two canine. You sprint forward when you realize they’re heading toward the water.

“Megumi!”

You shout his name as you draw nearer. The dogs each have the back of his shirt and shorts between their teeth, keeping him from going any further into the ocean. You call to your stepson again but he doesn’t acknowledge you.

When you finally reach him he’s knee deep in the water. You scoop him into your arms and trudge back to shore. You hear the dogs growling behind you as they follow. When you’re at a safe distance again, you set him down on his feet. You’re about to scold him for going further in than he’s allowed, until you take in his expression. 

“Megumi?” You gently hold his face between your hands. His gaze is distant as a thin grey film spreads across his eyes, turning the vibrant green murky. “Can you hear me?” 

He doesn’t respond and panic starts to churn in your gut. You shake him lightly, careful not to hurt him, and fortunately that seems to be all it takes.

Megumi’s eyes clear and he blinks once, twice. His expression turns confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Your lips part, but you don’t even know what to say.

“D-did it happen again?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. You turn your head back toward the ocean. Aina-san’s warning echoes in your head.

They’ll come for the boy first.

You turn back to Megumi, his vulnerable gaze fixed on you. Words continue to fail you and so you gather him in your arms again. Megumi doesn’t object when you rise. Instead, he clings to you with his head on your shoulder as you trek up the wooden stairs toward your home.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Your attempt to convince Toji that Megumi is being haunted goes as unsuccessfully as you expect. Your husband has never been superstitious, only believes in practicality, so needless to say he doesn’t believe you. He tries to be gentle about it, even when he implores you not to let the old woman get into your head.

Anxiety starts to creep up on you. If Toji’s not on your side, what chance is there to beat whatever this thing is? 

You go to bed that night more troubled than before. You toss and turn until finally you fall asleep.

The next time you open your eyes Toji is shaking you awake. Blearily, your lids peel apart to take in his expression, serious and smooth except for the deep crease between his brows. Megumi is on his hip.

“Toji?” you question as you sit up and pull your legs over the side of the bed. There’s no light coming from the window. It’s still early in the morning. “What—”

Your mind snaps awake when your feet touch down into a pool of water. It’s already above your ankles when you stand, and rising quickly.

“The house is flooding,” Toji says, grabbing your arm and leading you out of the bedroom. “There’s no time to check where it’s coming from. We have to get out now.”

Your legs splash and kick up water as you try to keep up with Toji as he pulls you across the short hallway and into the kitchen. The dogs wade toward the door, barking for your attention as they nose at the wood.

Toji hands Megumi over to you and trudges to the door. He turns the knob and manages to get the door open, but it takes noticeable effort as the water continues to rise. It’s now  up to your knees. Toji manages to get the door open halfway but a sudden surge of water catches him by surprise. The door shuts closed again. Toji growls in frustration before reaching forward in another attempt.

Megumi whimpers and you hold him closer to your chest. Your heart beats frantically in your chest as you watch your husband struggle with the door. His arms, huge and defined by cords of hard-earned muscle, are taut as he slowly but surely inches the door wider. When he can get in front of it, he uses all of his body weight to keep it fully open.

“Go!” 

Toji shouts and motions for you to pass through first. You immediately do as he says and start forward. The sudden rush of water leaving the house threatens to topple you forward, and it nearly does as Megumi’s weight makes you lean forward, but your legs carry you swiftly into the outside corridor.

Toji keeps the door open a little longer to let more water escape your home. It cascades down the wooden stairs, down the hillside, and onto the beach in a giant stream. When it’s all nearly gone, Toji comes up to you, right hand on your waist and left hand on Megumi’s back, and his eyes scan you both for any signs of hurt.

“We’re okay,” you assure him. “You got us out. Thank you, Toji.”

He pulls you into his embrace, placing a kiss to both your foreheads. He lingers longer against Megumi, who turns in your hold on your hip and lunges for his dad. Toji’s expression flashes briefly with surprise before he lets himself relax with his son’s face pressed into his neck and short arms spread across his broad shoulders. You release Megumi into his father’s embrace and smile to yourself, mostly out of relief, but it makes your heart swell to see the two share a tender moment.

The dogs are near the top of the stairs, shaking off water from their coats. You go over to check on them. Kneeling down, you take each of their heads in your hands to check their eyes, ears and muzzles. Next you inspect their paws, but you stop short when a shimmer on the top board of the stairs catches your eye.

The moonlight shines down on the lingering water. But it’s not the presence of the water that troubles you, it’s the direction it’s flowing. Instead of heading down the stairs it’s trickling up into the corridor. A small puddle is already forming.

“Toji…”

You stand, tugging on the dogs’ collars, as you take several steps backward. Your sudden awareness seems to have an effect because the puddle is rapidly growing in size and trailing each of your footsteps.

“Toji,” you repeat. “Something’s not right.”

“Huh?” He comes up behind you, making you stop, following your gaze to the floor. “It’s just a puddle, angel.”

“No, look.”

You move from side to side and the puddle follows your movements. Both dogs start to growl. Toji takes a step forward, Megumi still in his arms.

“What the—”

A wave of water suddenly shoots out from the stairs and you and Megumi shout. Toji reaches out to you and pulls you backward with him. Your gaze sweeps down the stairs and toward the beach. You gasp, seeing the source of the water is coming directly from the ocean.

The water crashes into the roof of the corridor and falls onto the ground, speeding in your direction. Toji is quick to pull you toward the door of the lighthouse, calling for the dogs to follow. But when you reach the door, Toji lets out a curse.

“What?” you ask.

“The key is inside the house.”

“What do we do?”

You look to the driveway, the dirt dry and untouched, where the car is parked. You’d have to climb over the railing while dodging the water. It’d be risky, but if you couldn’t get into the lighthouse what other choice did you have?

“Dammit,” Toji grumbles. “After I just fixed the hinges on this thing.”

You’re about to question what the heck he’s talking about when he sets Megumi down on his feet and takes a large step back from the door. You pull Megumi into you and watch in awe as your husband lifts his right leg and slams it against the door. The wood creaks against the abuse, but your husband takes that as a sign to give it another. Two more powerful kicks are all it takes to send the door flying off it’s hinges and across the foyer of the lighthouse.

Toji doesn’t waste a second as the water travels rapidly across the long corridor and is now at your heels. He pulls you both inside, pushing you toward the foot of the winding metal stairs. The dogs surge forward while you follow them. Megumi is behind you and Toji is at the rear. Your lungs work in overdrive as your legs and thighs burn the higher you climb. You keep looking over your shoulder to make sure your family is still behind you. They are, and so is the rising salt water. It’s filling the round structure, as if it were a water tower instead of a lighthouse.

You’re almost to the top now, just one more flight. You keep your thoughts on the singular goal to reach the top, but a thump from behind makes you stop. You turn and see Megumi fallen on his knees. You go to help him up, but Toji shouts at you.

“Keep going! I got him!”

Toji effortlessly curls his arm around Megumi’s middle and hoists him up into his side like a doll with his arms and legs dangling in the air. You turn and run the rest of the way up. There’s a small landing at the top with a couple chairs, blankets, and a lantern. This was meant as a watch post, not a place to survive a tidal wave. You look around but there’s nothing to help you escape.

Toji herds you all against the farthest edge away from the rising water. There’s only three rungs left before the water reaches the landing and then it will completely overwhelm you.

Even in Toji’s embrace, the safest place you’ve ever known, you tremble. Megumi clings to both of you as he buries his face in his father’s chest. The dogs cower at your feet as they too look frantically for an escape. You try to steady your breathing, to ready yourself for the inevitable.

The giant ignited lamp of the lighthouse rotates dutifully. You hadn’t fully registered its presence in your mad dash up the stairs, but now it’s glaring. Its powerful yellow glow gives the water an ominous aura, as if there’s something lurking within. You swear you see a figure in the water, but you blink once and it’s gone.

They’ll come for the boy first.

Aina-san’s voice fills your head. Is this what she meant by haunted? Water figures and the ocean coming to drown you? You did all you could to keep it from claiming Megumi, but now it seems it was all in vain. You’re all going to drown at the top of this lighthouse.

You look at your husband one last time, accepting your fate, and place a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you.”

Toji’s expression is hard. You can see the calculation in his green orbs. Always trying to find a way, never giving up on keeping his family safe. He’s better than you could ever be.

“Don’t say it like that,” he huffs.

“But—”

“We’re not dead yet,” he insists, fixing you with a passionate stare.

You gather enough nerve to match his expression, giving him a nod in return. Your eyes return to the stairs. One rung left until your safety is invaded. Again, your eyes scan the space but you fail to find any life saving uses from two chairs and some blankets. Think. Think, think, think, think—

“The water,” Toji whispers. “It stopped.”

Your gaze jumps to the edge of the landing, where the water has indeed stopped rising. You watch the way it rocks to and fro, trying to go higher, but it can’t. That’s when you notice the lines carved into the stone floor.

You stand and take a step forward, stopped when Toji grabs your wrist. He reluctantly releases you when you tell him you’ll keep your distance, you just want to check something. The closer you inch toward the stairs, the more the carvings become apparent. They’re etched deeply into the floor. Patterns made of straight and curved lines that are unrecognizable to you, and they’re all around the inner edge of the circular landing.

Your eyes float from the carvings to the water. A thought flashes in your head that these might be some kind of sigil or warding to keep the water at bay.

You rejoin Toji and Megumi, relaying to them your theory about the markings in the stone. Megumi looks over in wonder while Toji’s features still harbor skepticism. 

You grab the blankets and drape them over your huddled forms, still in your sleepwear, while the dogs curl up next to your feet. Your little family has no other choice but to wait this out.

Toji rests his chin on your head, his gaze fixed out the giant panes of glass. He’s seeing for himself what you’ve already realized. Something has flooded the lighthouse and trapped you inside while keeping the outside completely dry. You do your best to stay awake, but Toji’s voice coaxes you to sleep.

The next morning, you wake to find the lighthouse is free of water. Toji takes the lead going down the stairs. Once he’s sure the metal staircase is still structurally sound, he motions for you all to follow him. You follow him all the way down until you’re outside in the chill of the summer morning air.

Although the water has receded, you still feel surrounded. The ocean to your right and the lighthouse to your back. Even the small home you’ve come to love feels as if it’s no longer safe. You hear only one voice in your head, and it’s begging you to listen.

You look over at Toji who’s looking down at a still sleepy Megumi slouched against his father’s leg. 

“Toji.” Your husband raises his head when you say his name. “It’s Saturday.”

“It is.”

“You hungry?”

He looks over his shoulder, down the long corridor toward your home, and then back at you. He shrugs. “Yeah. I could eat.”

Toji lightly jostles Megumi awake and places a large palm on his son’s head to steer him in the direction of the house. You jog ahead toward the door, still ajar, and slip into the kitchen. You grab the car keys off the counter and toss them to your husband, who then steers Megumi toward the truck in the driveway. You go deeper into the house to grab a bra for you, pants for Toji, and a light jacket for Megumi. You quickly gather the items, as well as a pair of shoes for each of you, before you head back outside with full arms.

The drive into town is the same as always. The same fields of grass, the same light jostle of the truck onto the paved road, and the same storefronts that line the streets all the way to the diner.

This is the first time you’ve come here and actively seek out Aina-san. Megumi leans against his dad’s side, fighting off sleep, and the dogs lie with their heads on their paws beneath the table. You sit across from Toji and crane your neck for any sign of the old woman. Your family is here earlier than usual, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your waitress when she pointedly avoids drawing attention to your very casual wardrobe, but you don’t have to wait long after you give your order to catch sight of Aina-san.

It only takes her one look at your appearance to realize something has happened. Aina-san approaches your table and this time she takes a seat. You tell her about the night you’ve had, and she listens without interrupting.

When you finish you and Toji share a look. Most of his skepticism was washed away last night, but you can tell he still holds on to some strings of rationality. One of you has to since you’re already halfway into the deep end, waiting with baited breath for Aina-san’s verdict.

“You’ll need to perform an offering,” she says.

“What kind of offering?” Toji asks before you can.

“Abalone,” the old woman answers. “The sea king prefers abalone. You can find a bed of them a mile down the coast from the lighthouse.”

“That’s perfect,” you say.

“How do you know so much about this?” Toji questions, tone unabashedly suspicious.

You kick his shin beneath the table. He pays it no mind as Aina-san answers him easily.

“I used to be ama.”

“Ama?”

“Women divers,” you cut in, remembering her earliest words to you. “They dove for pearls and sea creatures. They also did the offerings, right?”

“That’s right. Which is why a woman must be the one to do it again.”

Toji narrows his eyes at the old woman. “I don’t think so.”

“Toji—”

“No.” His gaze jumps to you. His words are insistent. “I’ll do it.”

“A woman must do it,” Aina-san repeats. “Otherwise you’ll have a repeat of last night’s events. Maybe even worse.”

Toji doesn’t take his eyes off you. Green pits of fire blaze passionately, desperately, for you to pass this burden onto him. Your husband begs for another opportunity for redemption, but he’s more than shown you how much he’s changed since you first met. He’s no longer the hollow shell of a husband who lost his first wife, neglecting his young son and living a life avoiding responsibility, drowning in his deep sorrow. 

Toji calls you his angel because you came into his life when he and Megumi needed it the most, but to you Toji and Megumi are the biggest blessings you’ve ever received. You’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

With a fierce resignation, you turn your gaze to Aina-san.

“What do I need to do?”

Toji lets out an indignant tsk and leans back in his chair. His eyes continue to bore into you while you speak with Aina-san about the breathing technique used by the ama. She’ll have to train you before you make the dive. Then she pulls out a pen and pad of paper from her purse to show you patterns to sew into megumi’s clothes and draw on sheets of paper to ward off the water demons. You realize they’re the same ones on the floor of the lighthouse landing.

You pay close attention to her every instruction and feel hope bloom in your chest.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

You devote yourself to diving training for the next week. Your background as a swimmer is an advantage, but even with Aina-san’s guidance you aren’t able to perfect the breathing technique in such a limited amount of time. 

Each day that passes, you become more and more aware of the heavy presence surrounding your home. The warding Aina-san showed you at the diner is nailed to every side of your house as well as the door to the lighthouse, newly repaired by your husband. It’s only through the warding that you suddenly become acutely aware of the energy that’s always been present.

When the day of your dive arrives, Aina-san arranges a boat to take you both out into the water. Toji and Megumi are here on the beach to see you off while the dogs run around in the sand. You crouch down and give Megumi a hug, and he whispers in your ear to be careful. You give him a kiss on the cheek and promise you’ll be back soon.

Your husband’s arms are crossed. His expression is petulant like a child’s, has been since you said you would do the dive. But you also see the fear lingering in his eyes and the guilt heavy on his brow.

“I should be doing this,” Toji says.

You shake your head. “Aina-san said—”

“I don’t care what that old lady said.” He’s pouting now. You’d tease him for how cute it makes him look if the situation weren’t so serious. “It’s my job to take care of you and Megumi. It should be me going into the water.”

“You already have,” you remind him. “You saved Megumi once. Now it’s my turn.”

You reach up and gently coax his massive arms apart. You step into the newly created space and bury your face in his chest.

“You don’t have to do it all yourself. We’re a team.”

Toji rests his cheek on top of your head. “Just…come back to me, angel.”

“I will.”

You lift your face and angle your lips so that he can give you a kiss. You reach up on the tips of your toes to place another kiss to the corner of his mouth and then his cheek before you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze. His arms curl around your waist and he squeezes back. You pull apart when Aina-san calls your name from inside the boat. You give each of your boys one last kiss before you climb the short ladder onto the small vessel.

The early morning waters turn rocky as the boat gets further away from the beach. You look back and watch as your husband and stepson’s figures get smaller and smaller on the shore.

When you reach the spot for the dive, the boat becomes stationary. It rocks to and fro as you idle in the middle of the ocean. The sky is clear. Sunlight reflects off the water’s surface, a mirror for the sun. 

You sit on a bench nailed to the side of the cabin in a diving suit, more warding sewn into the fabric. Aina-san helps you secure your flippers while you adjust your goggles to fit comfortably over your eyes and nose. You’re going in without an oxygen tank, as it’s traditionally done, so it’s up to your body to make the nearly fifty second dive.

You thank Aina-san before you carefully step up to the side of the boat and then jump into the water. The cold temperature shocks your body but you can already feel yourself adjusting. Your head resurfaces and you look up at Aina-san where she’s holding out a long netted bag for you to take, which you do.

You tread water the next minute as Aina-san coaches you one last time, reminding you of the mechanics of the breathing technique. When you’re ready you turn away from the boat and take a deep breath, conscious of what Aina-san taught you, and then you dive.

𓏸𓈒𓂃𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Your family sits around the low table in the living room as Toji, tongs in hand, carefully eyes the mollusks being prepared over the charcoals in the tabletop grill.

Your dive was successful, having harvested four abalone in total. The first, and largest of them, will be offered to the sea king, then there will be one abalone for each of you to eat after you’ve offered up your prayers.

“Are they almost done?” Megumi asks, hands looped around his father’s neck as he hangs off his back. Two emerald gazes watch the grill.

“Almost,” Toji says.

Your eyes too are glued to the abalone, remembering your descent into the ocean. The hardest part was focusing on your breathing. You had to resurface twice before you could keep your nerves steady enough to reach the ocean floor. But when you did it was a wonderful sight. Such diverse life beneath the water’s surface. It was difficult to find the abalone since they camouflage into their surroundings, but you’re grateful that you found at least one. Lucky to find three more.

You were running out of breath by the time you found the fourth, so you were quick to turn your body toward the surface. It was only as you were ascending that you noticed the figure. The same one from that night in Megumi’s room. Only it looked more solid now. They kept their distance, most likely due to the warding on your wetsuit, and merely watched as you exited their domain. 

Toji declares the abalones are done, pulling you out of your thoughts. You stand as he places three of them on a plate and keeps the largest one between the tongs to transport it over to the altar in the top corner of the room. He carefully reaches up to place it on the small plate Megumi had helped you set up along with the seashells and dried seaweed he’d collected from the beach.

The three of you stand below the alter. Three pairs of hands clap twice, and three heads bow. In unison, you recite the prayer you’d practiced to give thanks and honor to the sea king. After a few seconds you raise your heads and exchange glances, silently hoping this will ensure your family’s safety.

You return to the table, where the dogs are laid out underneath. Megumi sits between you and Toji to watch as you slice lemons and your husband begins to melt butter in a small pot over the grill. The quiet of the room is slowly pushed out as your voices take over. Megumi will start school in another month, Toji still has plenty of projects to complete around the lighthouse, and you’re considering taking up Aina-san’s offer about continuing your ama training.

The three of you find comfort in each other as you talk about the future. One that feels more real when you enter the living room the next morning and find the abalone on the altar is gone.

i do not have a taglist. please follow @bungalowbear-archive and turn on notifications.

[a-998h]

Natlan Festival

The original version of the festival post for my SAGAU series was written before Natlan was released. Now that Natlan is released I decided to write about the festival held for the Creator by Natlan's people. There will be split for tribe specific activities.

Xihuitl Sitlallin Papaqui (Nahuatl: Turquoise Star Celebration)

Time of year: Winter

How Long it Lasts: 21 days/ 3 Weeks

Origins: It started out as a way to the winter solstice and dragons. As the tribes became more connected, traditons were passed around and the festival grew into an intertribal affair.

Week 1

Day 1: Each able bodied member of the tribe prays, leave flower and gem offerings at the tribe's respective shrine.

Nanatzcayan tribe: shrine is built into the side of a nearby the western wall of Tequemecan Valley and leaves offerings of Saurian Claw Succulent and Iridescent Opals.

Meztli tribe shrine is located on a small artificial island and the people leave Sprayfeather Gills and Varunada Lazurite.

Huitztlan tribe shrine is built on a large hill and they leave offerings of Quenpa Berries Nagadus Emerald.

Collective of Plenty tribe shrine is built near the volcanoe and the people leave offerings of Saurian Claw Succulent Agnidus Agate.

The Tlalocan shrine is a small open air temple on a mountain and the people leave offerings of Brilliant Chrysanthemum and Vayuda Turquoise.

The Mictlan tribe shrine is in a secure cave with the people leaving offering of Brilliant Chrysanthemum and Vajrada Amethyst.

Day 2: The tribes gather together to watch act one of a three act performance, which is about different creation myths.

Day 3: Those able to make the trip go to the large shrine in the main city and leave the respective flower and gem offerings, along with food and drink offerings of chocolate, Glittering Gemstones, Tatacos, Strength Tonic, and Xocoatl.

Day 4: The tribes listen to how the Creator gave gifts to the founders of each tribe, and other assorted stories.

Day 5: New plants are planted and mature plants are decorated to thank the land

Day 6: Alters are set up in homes to honor the loved ones, both animal and people, who have passed away

Day 7: People set up a feast to share with the tribe in a potluck fashion

Week 2

Day 8: At sunrise people leave paths of flower petals

Day 9: The tribes come together for the second act of the performance, which is about the Creator's adventures in Natlan.

Day 10: Decorating shrines is a whole tribe affair, using flower garlands, colorful animal figures called alebrijes, which are said to come to life at night and act as shrine guards, and wooden dolls to act as shrine servants.

Day 11: The tribes perform local dances and music.

Day 12: People of all ages have important symbols painted onto themselves

Day 13: People go to the Stadium of Scared Flames for ceremonial battles overseen by the Pyro Archon. The winners from each tribe are titled as Ipixkiuh in Xihuitl Sitlallin (Nahuatl: Guardians of the Turquiose Star).

Day 14: Games are played, often among the children, along with adult foot and saurian racing.

Week 3

Day 15: The main city shrine is decorated by everyone who wants to, with garlands of each tribes flower, alebrijes, and wooden dolls to act as shrine servants

Day 16: The Pyro Archon leads a pseudofuneral for the Creator, which involves the cremation of an effigy, cutting a lock of the effigy's hair, leaving offerings of chocolate and Mora, and dividing the effigy's ashes into six urns for each of the six tribes shrines.

Day 17: The six tribes come together for a large potluck feast, leaving a seat of honor for the Creator, decorating the throne with flowers and a single candle.

Day 18: A day of pray and mourning, lighting candles at the shrines to lead the Creator to the shrines

Day 19: The people of the tribes play games, dance, and play music together, along with having foot races

Day 20: Stories and myths from each tribe are shared with the other tribes, along with jewelry and food.

Day 21: To end the festival, the tribes return to the outdoor stage for the Serpent of Fire Dance while wearing floral skeleton face and body paint.

[prncssie]

ever since you’ve became friends with hobie, he makes your insides feel all weird. he’s got to know what this feeling is. he can probably help you with it, right?

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, mentions of religion, reader is super sheltered, set in a college setting, black fem reader, fingering reader receiving, oral reader receiving, corruption kink mayb just barely, hobie is real gentle, everything happens on a desk, blushing is described but can’t be physically seen, unrealistic description of coochie juice we all know it doesn’t actually taste like that hobie is just obsessed, the smut section is a littleeee bit short but i def think i could expand on this in the future pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie has been a good friend of yours for a few month now. it all really started at a party at the college you attend. with it being your first year, every experience is a new one. your sheltered childhood only further added to it.

it was easy, hobie always claims, to tell you didn’t belong when you stood in the room, eyes wide and frantic. not to mention, you were fully dressed in jeans and a sweater. he didn’t understand how you hadn’t passed out, yet.

he walks up to you that very same night. your panic only became more evident when he’s introducing himself. “you alright, love?” and he’s truthfully concerned. you’re nearly shaking, hands clasped together.

you explain to him what happened. that the group of girls you came with disappeared, that you don’t know anyone here, that you’re extremely overwhelmed.

it’s hobie who leaves the party early, despite enjoying himself. he escorts you back to your room and stands outside your door until it’s clicked shut and locked. he also leaves his number in your phone that night with the innocent promise to help you with whatever you need.

the reaction from your parents is expected when you tell them what happened. you receive a scolding for going to the party and indulging in secular music and sin, as well as trusting a man and allowing him access to your room. you can argue that you didn’t invite him in but your parents won’t and don’t listen.

you’re used to it, used to their lectures that you actually heed their warnings. all your life you’ve been living by their rules. no boys and no parties. church every sunday, home at nine. you’ve even accepted the routine phone checks every night with no back-talk. this has been your way of living since forever.

so of course the big, gentle, temptation himself intrigues you to no end when you’re presented with such an open gateway. you’re sure if your god-fearing parents saw him, they’d have a heart attack right on the spot.

six five and exactly what your parents warned you against. piercings galore, stick and poke tattoos decorating his skin. his hair is assorted into wicks, which you don’t mind but your relatives would have called him sloppy. not to mention the clothes he wears, decorated in spikes and chains. sometimes the gems in his belt catches the sun in just the right way and he glows like an angel.

hobie gives you butterflies and not just in your stomach but in other places as well.

you don’t know what to do about the fluttering in your pussy when hobie’s had grazes your thigh when he bends to pick something up. even the word pussy has your face warming up.

at first, you thought it would be a one time, unrelated thing. the wet mess in your panties shocked you after spending your evening with hobie. you made a mental note to stop by the doctors in case it was something serious and went about your night.

and then it happened again and every night since. coincidentally, you’re with hobie every night, only to return to the safety of your dorm and deal with the same heated feeling.

that’s exactly how you find yourself in this dilemma tonight. you’re as quiet as a mouse, strewn across his bed. the strip led lights cast a blue shadow on the room. hobie is across from you at his desk, clicking around in some music making site you wouldn’t even try to comprehend.

his headphones are over his head, stretched to the biggest setting to accommodate his hair and his fingers, nails painted black, tap against the wooden desk. hobie can’t hear you with the noise filling his ears. he hums softly to the beat.

you’ve been staring at him for a while, now. originally, you were working on some homework due that night but your gaze found him and his sharp jawline that’s just barely visible from the diagonal angle he’s sitting.

before you know it, your eyes have wandered downwards until you’re looking at his legs, wide and manspreeding. your downstairs area does that weird pulsating thing.

you lips form into a pout and you shift to remove the discomfort. you never actually made it to the doctor, having realized this is only something you experience around hobie. despite this unusual situation find yourself in, distancing yourself from him wasn’t an option. oddly enough, he’s one of the few people that didn’t make you feel other.

“come listen to this.” hobie swivels in her chair to face you. he pops the headphones off his head and waves you over. “was thinkin’ about submittin’ it as my project.”

you sheepishly shake your head. your cheeks burn at the possibility of him catching you. “oh, i don’t think you want me to.” it makes you nervous to partake in the creation of something so vividly can nonreligious. you're already laying in his bed, unsupervised and alone with him. all your teachings let you know it could lead to other things.

he tilts his head, dangling the headphones off his fingertips. you can hear the punk rock melody blaring from where you’re stationed. “you never wanna listen to my music. scared or somethin’?” he doesn’t wait for a response, already slapping the bluetooth headphones back over his ears and turning back.

hobie already knows the answer but he’s uncaring, regardless. he’s become accustomed to your thinking and even though he feels it’s distorted with reality, he doesn’t judge you for it. nor does he blame you.

you’re back to staring at him and the way his hands dance across the keys. his hands are so big, you think. each finger is slender and long and could probably swallow you whole.

you take your lips in between your teeth with a disgruntled sigh. all these impure thoughts are driving you up the wall. you can’t even blame him because he’s doing nothing to provoke it. you, apparently, just can’t control yourself.

with hobie’s back to you, you’re able to silently pack your stuff up. your laptop is tucked away into your bag and you grab your spiral notebook. he doesn’t notice you’re preparing to leave until you softly slide off his platformed bed and shove your feet into the soles of your matte mary janes.

“where are you going, duck?” he pushes the left side back until it’s no longer covering his ear, rapidly glancing at you.

“my room.” you grab your hello kitty lanyard off his desk. “i’m going to do my work in there. can’t do it here. i’m too distracted.” you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“shit, is it me? hobie pauses his track. he’s rapidly hanging his headphones on the stand and jumping to his feet. “at least let me walk you back.”

hobie stuffs his feet in his traditional black boots. he doesn’t care enough to tie the blue, ladder laced laces. he’s already grabbing that loud, extravagantly pinned vest before you have a chance to blink.

“no, you don’t have to do that.” you nervously fiddle with the blue ribbon tied at the base of your braid. “i don’t want to inconvenience you and it’s not the far from your room.”

he merely tsked and rests his hand atop your head, right in between the pigtails. “darlin’ there’s no chance i’m lettin’ you walk your little self back alone. you of all people? fuck no.”

“hobie!” you chastise, hands flying up to cover your ears. the keys dangle and bump again your cheek. your mom always told you that anyone who says adverse words is going straight to hellfire. you didn’t want to be apart of that.

he opens the door and motions you through, a hand on the small of your back. “you’d follow a man to his truck just ‘cause he said please.”

the warmth from his fingertips spread throughout the nerves on your spine and you feel like you’re on fire. you pout and it can easily be mistaken for your opposing opinions on your naivety.

“sorry but it’s true.” the door clicks shut when both of you have stepped outside it. hobie shoves his keys inside his pocket and begins down the hallway to the elevator. he hasn’t noticed you trailing behind him, teeming with explanations as to why your core throbs at the sight of him.

you do this all the way until you’re out the door of the men’s dormitory. you haven’t uttered a word, thumb rubbing against the warming metal of the cross dangling around your neck.

it’s not like you’ve ever felt this feeling before. not even around the other boys you’ve been around. granted, your hangouts were never like this. it was always under adult supervision, even in your older years, and you mostly saw each other during youth groups and summer camps. this, what you’re feeling now, is an entirely new and uncharted territory.

“hobie,” you start. the warm summer breeze ripples across your skin and leaves behind a chill of the promised winter to follow.

hobie lifts his head. the rock he kicked scattered off the sidewalk and into the grass. he hasn’t spoken to you. either. that’s the best thing about him. he doesn’t ask questions, letting you process things your own way. hobie is all too aware of your differences and has no problem letting you take your time.

“i have a question. it’s kind of personal, i think.” you take a brief pause before each word, meticulously picking them to match your uncertainty.

hobie is still silent. at some point, you would have begin to question if he’s even listening to you if it weren’t for the way he lazily shifted his gaze over to you.

“are you . . . have you ever gotten this feeling in your stomach? like a hot one.” you wet your lips. your heart is about ready to stop beating. how do you explain this to him? are you just supposed to tell him he makes your no-no square all fired up? do people say that?

“what are you goin’ on about, lovely? has my stomach ever burned? yeah, if i eat enough dairy.” he chuckles with a small shake of his head. unbeknownst to him, that is not at all what you’re referring to and you are too ashamed to ask him again.

“never mind,” you say with your head hung low.

it’s your parents fault and the way they neglected to teach you about your body. it’s not like you’re a complete idiot and you know sex can lead to children. however, you were taught that sex is bad and children are blessings so it’s fair to say you’re a bit clueless on the contrasting beliefs. not to mention this weird feeling a boy invokes. the boy that might as well be the son of satan himself.

you sigh, heavy and drawn, pulling your keycard out your lanyard. it scans and the lock beeps, allowing you both entrance into the girls dormitory.

hobie lifts an arm and holds the door open over your head. he’s confused. it’s obvious you’re mulling over something, putting so much energy into it that you don’t notice the weight of his eyes boring into the back of your head.

it isn’t until you’re standing in front of your door does he speak his mind. “what’s keepin’ your head so busy?”

your hand is steady on the handle but you have yet to turn it. you can feel the heat from his body standing so close to yours and just once you wish for him to reach forward and put his hand — oh no.

“m – maybe you should just come inside.” you yank your door open and pull him behind you. it’s a drastic decision on your part. never have you ever invited any man in your room, not even hobie. at best, he got glimpses of the shared living space but never of your room down the hall. he’s always walked you back, stood at your door until you were safe inside, and made his exit. always.

even when he’s come to walk you to class, your roommates would open the door and invite him in but he’d stay planted right at your welcome mat. hobie knows you, knows what silly boundaries you have but he follows them strictly because as long as you’re comfortable, he’s comfortable.

“hold on, look at me.” hobie finds himself abruptly stopping in your living room. he yanks his arm until you’ve spun back around and settles his hands atop your shoulders. his eyes fall on your lips, caught between you teeth and nearly knawed raw. he doesn’t miss your hands clenched into tiny fists by your side. “are you okay? this isn’t like you to act so . . . erratic.”

he has to stop his curiosity from getting the best of him and drink in the interior decorations you’ve done. out the corner of his eyes, he can tell just what you contributed, different nooks and crannies filled with pink trinkets and round eyed figurines. you’re the sweetest thing all worked up and making rash decisions. he doesn’t like where this is leading.

you give him a small nod of your head, eyes downcast and on the tops of his worn boots. the grime is welcoming. better than looking in his eye and having him see how unnerved you are.

as if you aren’t shaking under his grasp.

“dove, don’t lie to me. if there is somethin’ wrong, you need to let me know and i need to hear you say it.” his hands drop to your elbows, fingertips just barely touching your skin. hobie knows you’re avoiding him, avoiding addressing something big but welcoming him in your personal space. the contrast is enormous and it’s especially a big deal for you.

“i’m f – fine. i just . . .” you timidly shift your feet, sweatered arms going to wrap around yourself. you’re clutching your cross again, attention boring into the floor. “. . . can we please talk about it in my room. it’s not something i want to say here.”

he’s hesitant to let you go, drawing in a breath. you’re going to be the death of him, he decides, with the way you concern him but he’ll take your word for it. maybe, maybe just maybe you know exactly what you want.

he allows you to take him back to your room, pushing the door open. immediately, he gets a good whiff of the clean linen wax you have burning in your wax warmer.

your space is tidy, but not necessarily clean. you’re a bit of a maximalist, soft blankets and frills draped around your room. you have posters and paper hearts hanging on your wall, a my melody rug laying in the floor beneath your chair.

there’s a couple flower cushions strewn about and plenty of stuffed animals to go around. you have fairy lights across the wood of bed, casting the room in soft yellow lighting. there’s a rack in the corner full of lacey clothes that he assumes you’re planning on wearing soon.

you look so comfortable, fitting right in. of course you do, considering you decorated it yourself. hobie lingers at the edge of the room while you go through your routine of taking off your shoes and putting your bag by your desk. you’re putting your earrings in the strawberry shaped jewlery holder when you finally address him.

“you don’t have to stand there like that. you can take your shoes off and stuff,” you speak with your back turned to him. you know it’s weird, having him in here. it’s weirder when hobie acts as if his presence in your room will turn it into an active landmine.

hobie licks his lips, hands deep inside his pockets. he doesn’t even want to let his eyes linger too long on anything in fear he’s taint your purity, full of innocence and hope. “what am i here for?”

you rest your hand against the cool, light colored wood of your desk. you feel feverish, the topic making your palm sticky with sweat. the room suddenly gets hot and you’re clearing your throat while motioning for hobie to close the door. “um, well . . .” you trail off, tapping your manicured fingers loud enough to fill the silence with quiet clicks and clacks. “i have something to ask you.”

“ ‘nd you needed to bring me here to ask me?” his head tilts in deep skepticism. hobie leans against the white wall next to your door. he doesn’t want to go any further. he doesn’t belong here.

you’re irked, hands flying to wrap around yourself. the ruffles at the bottom of your dress rub against each other like flower petals in a spring breeze. “just listen! i have something serious to ask you and you’re being awkward. it’s making me awkward.”

hobie lifts and drops his shoulders. he’s tense when he crosses the threshold of your room and takes an uncomfortable seat at your desk chair. “sorry doll but we both know i’m not supposed to be in here. what do you want to talk about? make it quick so i can go.” he leans back as far as the chair will allow, eyes up and on you.

his question demands a straight forward response, one that you cannot provide. you don’t know what is happening, yourself. you’re back to your silence, grasping for words to form an explanation. “remember when i asked you if your stomach ever burned before?”

“not this again. i thought we already talked about –”

“no! listen.” you’re shouting at him again, lips pressed into a pout. you’re just barely working up the courage and you need to get it out before it goes away. “lately, i’ve been feeling like that but not in my stomach.”

you’re speaking so fast, hobie can barely understand you. he just catches your words, suddenly sitting up with his brows knitted together. “are you okay? sick?” he presses his hands flesh against your cheeks and forehead but your skin isn’t warm to the touch.

“n – no. not that i know of.” you nearly whine when his fingertips brush along your waist as they’re lowered back to his side. “it’s a little uncomfortable.” you rub your knees together in an attempt to satiate the ache between your thighs.

hobie has enough experience to recognize the little shuffle you do, accompanied by the needy glint in your eye. it startles him. not you. anyone but you, miss purity herself. he’s seeing things. “then what?”

he’s terrified of the way you look at him, eyes glossed over. the cherry colored blush dusted across your cheeks appeals to your cherubic state. this is his worst nightmare and best dream, that you would entice him like this.

it isn’t easy to ignore the chub of your ass that you’re unaware you carry and the softness of your breasts when you grab his arm and press your body against his. it especially isn’t easy to ignore the sweetness in your voice when you plead and chastise him for his vulgar words and behavior. oh how badly does he want to twist your brain but he won’t. he can’t allow himself to. you’re too good for that and that’s the problem.

“i feel weird inside around you, hobie. only you and . . . i don’t know.” you’re meek and quiet, face advert and back in the ruffled hem of your white socks. you cross and uncross your ankles to satisfy your need to stir and wriggle. “i wasn’t going to say anything but i don’t know how to make it stop and sometimes it hurts.”

you look so pitiful and pretty like this, almost begging for his help. it doesn’t take a genius to understand what you mean but hobie can’t bring himself to act on it. it feels so wrong on so many levels. he can’t take advantage of your unawareness like this.

“aw baby,” he has to curl his fingers into his palm to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing you. that’s why you were so insistent on coming to your room. “you don’t want my help with that.” he keeps telling himself he has to be the bigger person, the one who thinks clearly.

“i do,” you insist, daring to take a bold step closer until you’re slotted between his knees. it’s a lot for you, coiling in on yourself to find comfort despite acting out your comfort zone. “i can’t take it anymore. you don’t understand.”

his hand comes up to rest against your cheek, following an empathetic shake of his head. “no, you don’t understand. you don’t even know what you’re talking about. what am i supposed to do if you can’t even tell me what you’re talking about?”

hobie stands, presumably to take his leave. he pushes you away from him by your waist. he’s stopped when you wrap your hand around his slender wrist, staring up at him with big, entreating eyes.

“please? anything? please, hobie. i’ll take anything just help me do something. tell me what to do, i don’t care. it’s terrible and uncomfortable and i can’t bear it anymore.”

he takes one look at you and is met with your waterline, gathering in tears of desperation. all his resolve slowly breaks until he’s cupping your cheeks with a soft sigh. “you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? babblin’ about shit you don’t even understand.” he’s gentle, backing you up until your knees are knocking against your desk. he sits you up there, hands resting on either side of you.

“hobie,” you reprimand him again for his words out of habit, hands going to cover your ears again.

he stops them, much larger ones enscasing yours with a tut of his tongue. “don’t even. you don’t get to complain about me sayin’ shit and fuck and whatever else. not right now.” he presses your palm against his lips, piercings warm against your skin.

your mouth falls open, only to wordlessly shut. you don’t know what to say, what to do. all you know is you’re slightly overwhelmed with the future possibilities. what’s about to happen? what is he going to do?

“i don’t even know what to do with you. you sure this is what you want?” hobie doesn’t feel he needs to ask with the way you were begging him but he can’t help it. you’re such a sweet thing, asking him to do something about your aching cunt. you don’t even know what you’re asking him.

you nod, eyes widening when his hand falls over your knee. it’s a respectful distance but you’re anxious, already wiggling under his gaze. “you keep asking me.”

“i know darlin’ but can you blame me? just gotta make sure.” hobie ever-so-swiftly slides his hand up your thigh until his thumb is brushing against the front of your panties. he isn’t interested in beating around the bush and quite frankly, it would be so much better to just get the first touch done for. break the ice just enough.

your body immediately reacts, legs pressing closed as far as you can get them. your eyebrows knit together as your nerves crackle and pop with a sudden desire you haven’t felt before. “i’m s – sure.”

“never had this pretty pussy played with before have you? ‘course not. you’re a good girl.”

you hate the way he’s talking to you. it’s not quite derogatory but it makes you feel otherworldly in a negative way. as if you have no clue what he’s talking about. you don’t. and his words are so unclean.

“not gonna fuck you tonight. you’re not ready for that, yet.” he aids your legs back open with a firm grip, holding them in place. “you know what that means, yeah?” hobie doesn’t mean it as an insult, circling his thumb around your already puffy clit.

“mhm,” you’re wiggling again, lip caught between your teeth. you’ve heard the phrase in passing, understanding the word and its context. never have you used it, yourself. you’re clueless, not dumb.

hobie bunches your white dress up by your hips. he’s greeted with a view of your black panties, dark enough to conceal the dampening spot but he can still feel it beneath the pad of his thumb.

your glittery lip gloss has begun to spill over your plump lip and dribble down your chin with how much you quiver. he swipes the excess off, lightly chuckles at the way you fawn and fall over.

just over the clothes touching has you like this, mewling and hiccuping and doing your best to conceal it. it’s endearing, the way you try to maintain his level of composure.

he continues toying with you, a bit hesitant. it’s not like him but hobie knows he has to take his time with you. he can’t rush. he has to prep you thoroughly, get you used to his touches. this is what you want.

“and you’re not gonna act all shy when i take these off, are you?” his finger hooks through the leg hole, snapping the fabric back until it pops against you when it’s released. “or are you still trying to be a little angel?”

the thought of hobie pulling your underwear down and seeing what no one, let alone a man, has seen. your private jewels that you’re sure are soaping wet the way they are every other night. your cheeks heat up and you squeeze your eyes shut, knees trying to do the same. “no, i’m not.” you’re trying to be so brave, it’s cute.

“don’t worry, dolly. not yet. just gonna rub your cunt, just like this.” he pushes and pulls on your clit, hot underneath the pressure of his thumb. it has your hips shuffling in an attempt to rut against him. he doesn’t know if you’re aware, the way you stare at him like he hung the moon himself. “could make you cum like this, i bet. you ever done that before?”

a particular jerk of his finger has you gasping and grabbing whatever part of him you can get to first, his forearm and his shoulder. “i never –,” your chest heaves with a broken moan, partially restrained, “n – no. i don’t.”

as far as you know, premature sex and masturbation is a sin. you have never been tempted before even meeting hobie. not only would he be the first to touch you but he’d be the first to make you cum.

his boxers get increasingly more tight at the thought. you’re so pure and he’s so lucky, being the first, even before you, to dip his fingers between your folds. he can barely restrain himself.

hobie plants himself in your hair, his gruff groan vibrating your scalp. he can’t help the way his thumb jostles your clit. it’s nearly primal, how badly he wants to draw an orgasm out of you and he knows you’ll do it so easy with how pent up and inexperienced you are.

“you don’t gotta hide it, baby. let me hear you, dove. tell me what you like so i can make you feel good.” your hair smells of vanilla and shea butter. it makes hobie want to devour every part of you, his long cock leaking with precum but he has to remember to take his time. he has to.

“hobie . .” your weak whine fills the hazy spot in his brain that’s indulged so deeply in every part of you. you don’t have to tell him for him to know, it’s obvious in how you’re unable to be still, nails stabbing into his skin. “i f – feel weird.” you’re so wound up.

hobie pulls his head back. he feels heavy with need as he tilts your chin towards his face. he just wants to see you, that’s all. he just needs to see the expression you make the first time you cum. “don’t fight it, sweet girl. just let it happen. it’ll feel real good.” his thumb strokes your jawline, coaxing you to give in to the growing lust filled pit in your stomach.

hobie knows you cum simply because he can feel it. your pussy spams so hard, he swears he can hear it. he doesn’t even have to put a finger up to your entrance to feel the pulsating. it’s almost as if your hole is searching for something to suck in.

your mouth has fallen open in a tiny o, working your body into hobie’s through your experience. he was right. it felt so good, satiating the need and burn of your body. it’s almost addicting, the way your body reacts to his touch. your brain is becoming mush with each throb. “oh my goodness.” you speak in between breaths, finally releasing hobie and drawing back your nails.

he only chuckles, rubbing at your thighs. “that was good, wasn’t it? did it help your little problem?” he plays with the bottom of your dress, conflicted between pulling it down to set you free and suggesting another round. you offered a starved man a seat at the table.

you smile shyly at him. you don’t know what to say now, what to do. your friend just made you cum after you begged him to. how do people do this casually? “yes, thank you. i’m deeply sorry for being so forceful.”

at this, hobie laughs out loud. it’s genuine and booming against the walls. it seems he has yet to break you in but he supposed he was too hopeful. of course he couldn’t turn you into something like him just from rubbing on you a little bit.

“you’re all good, duck. you weren’t being forceful, at all.” he pulls out the desk chair and takes a seat, getting comfortable in the flower shaped cushion. his limber fingers are back to picking at the side of your panties. he’s a bit hungry, he thinks.

his eyes, dark and narrowed, do something to you. you don’t understand. you can still feel the sticky mess in your underwear but something is stirring inside you, again.

you both stare at each other in a heated silence, thinking the same thing but waiting for the other to say it first.

“you want me to eat you out?” hobie is the first to speak with his head tilted. he’s far more impatient and bold to play around. when he wants something, he’ll take it.

at first, you believe you heard him incorrectly. “do i want you to what?” you feel stupid having to ask but you’re truly at a loss. “i’m sorry. hobie, i don’t know what that is.”

hobie is the luckiest man in the world. if he could whip his cock out and slide it inside you, he would but having you on his tongue would be the next best thing, especially when you’re asking him what that is. “you’re about to find out.” he murmurs, pulling you to the edge of the desk.

you’re surprised when hobie yanks your underwear down, lifting up a hip at a time to get it down your legs and tossed across the room. both the cool air and his dark gaze has you snapping your legs shut. there’s too many things to hide from and you’re unprepared.

“no, no. don’t shut me out like that.” he has his hands hooked under your knees and props them on your shoulders. his excuse is that it would be better for you to manage but truthfully, he does it to get an eye to cunt view. he pulls you even closer until your lower body is dipping into his lap and you’re relying on him to hold you up. “you’re gonna like it, i promise.”

“oh, i don’t know about this.” you grip the edge of the desk, still sitting up and getting a perfect view of the carnal look in hobie’s eye. he actually licks his lips, flicking his attention up to you for only a second.

“just once. just try it once and if you don’t like it, we can stop. you have my word.”

you don’t know how much you can trust him like this but his warm breathe is just tickling you in all the best ways. it’s hypnotizing enough to have you nodding in agreement before you know it. “o – okay.”

hobie has enough sense, what little he has left, to put a hand in your tummy and pushing you down until your back is against the cool wood. he doesn’t have to tell you to stay there. he just knows you will, especially when you’re gasping at the feeling of his hot tongue on your cunt.

your sap is sweet and unbelievably so. like cherries and strawberries and mangos on a warm summer day. he’s delusional, drunk already and nose deep in your cunt.

his tongue finds your entrance as the source of the sweetness all to easy. he’s addicted to it, each suckle and slurp persuading more of your cream to pour out your hole.

it doesn’t take you long to start writhing, hand all in his hair, tugging in every direction. each swipe of his tongue and bump of his nose in your clit has your back arching. it’s better than you could have ever imagined. you can’t believe you were about to turn this down, or the fact that you didn’t allow yourself to experience such pleasure simply because of your parents fears.

you cry and sob, legs shaking on his shoulders. you can’t decide whether or not you want to tighten your legs around his head or open them wider to accept more of him. “hobie, p – please!”

hobie almost doesn’t hear you. almost.

your words just barely float around his brain but your pleas stick just enough for him to push your legs up by the bottom of your thighs. he keeps you hooked there so strongly, he’s able to grasp your hand and maintain his hold.

it sounds so wet that it’s humiliating. you can’t believe these sounds are coming from you, that hobie’s tongue is deep in you, that he has you folded like this. you didn’t know this was possible.

your body is all warm all over again. you’re fortunate there’s no excess clutter on your desk with the way hobie has you. your hands fly to the metal structure holding your bed together, mouth drying from how long you’ve held it open.

you swear it comes faster than it did before. it occurs to you that you’re a ticking time bomb. the previous orgasm has your clit feeling like each touch is a hot stone.

it’s as if hobie steals your breath with your growing cries at your approaching release. you don’t know what to do with yourself, where to put your hands. it’s overwhelming, your second orgasm and the first time anyone has ever “eaten you out”.

“feel weird again!” you say through broken sobs. you’re met with hobie’s acknowledging hands massaging into your skin. he’s coaxing, encouraging you without having to remove himself from his new favorite spot in the world, right between your thighs.

it gives you whiplash with how quickly your orgasm comes, pushing out of you as if the first one never happened. it’s just as strong, if not stronger. your body trembles with your spurts of cream. it’s weeks worth of sexual frustration to know end and a confusing search of a solution, all washed off you in one night.

you’re so sensitive, you have to push him off with your feet at his chest and chest heaving for air. “fuck, that was good.”

“did you just say fuck?” hobie leans over you, bringing the bottom of his shirt up to wipe your sheen off his face. he’s well amused, almost snorting at your response. that had to be his influence.

“did i?” you cover your mouth with quick regret. you didn’t realize it rolled off your tongue so easy.

hobie grins, pulling you to seating and then to your feet. he tries not to ogle at you too much. it’s difficult when your lower half is completely exposed and he’s still so desperately horny but he puts your needs first, closing his eyes and clearing his throat. “you got somethin’ to clean you up with? wipes or somethin’ until you shower?”

you open your desk drawer and pull out a pack of baby wipes. you present the package to hobie, who pops it open and takes one out.

he doesn’t ask you to move, merely just lowers himself to the ground and with gentle hands, wipe up the mixed mess of saliva and your juices.

you whine, presumably from the unavoidable ache that accompanies your sensitivity.

“i’m sorry, lovely. have to,” hobie tries to be as quick and harmless as possible, soothing you with kisses to your inner thigh. they’re well mannered and innocent, until you’re clean enough and he’s throwing the baby wipe away. “are you okay, though? you don’t regret it, do you?”

you watch hobie straighten out your dress again. his gaze is as polite as it can get, avoiding any look at your pussy, although its right in front of him. instead, he meets your eyes until he rises to his feet. “um, no.” you’re back to being quiet, hands clasped and fumbling with each other.

you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing but it’s short lived when hobie is making his way back to the door to put his shoes on.

“i’m gonna go because i’m sure you want to process that and get your space and whatever else, yeah? but don’t worry, i’ll answer your texts and your calls.” he does feel bad, as if he’s fuck-and-dashing you but in reality, if he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll be too tempted to try and actually fuck you. “i’ll be back tomorrow to walk you to class, doll.”

you’re speechless as you watch him gather himself to leave, grateful for the space because you could probably explode right now. you also miss your panties just barely peeking out of his pocket.

“and feel free me to ask me again if you ever need my help.” and with that, he’s gone with a soft click of your door.