#Fantastic Forest Fruits

[wikipediapictures]

Ramaria araiospora

“A fruitbody of the coral fungus Ramaria araiospora Marr & D.E. Stuntz. Photographed in Jackson Demonstration State Forest, Mendocino Co., California, USA.” - via Wikimedia Commons

[theblueflower05]

Mi Ti’ong(In Bloom)

A/N: Usually I try to keep my readers pretty ambiguous so that everyone can envision themselves, but this ones gonna be a little more distinct. If that isnt your jam, please dont read! No use of Y/N. Reader nicknamed Flora. Based on the character from Winx Club! And this art!

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: Size difference kink.Mature Language. Smut. Overstimulation. Oral sex(female receiving) Neteyams a munch, it’s canon now.

Summary: Neteyam can have anyone and yet he only wants you. A small human who can usually be found among the flowers. Neteyam x Human! Reader

Sugar, honey, iced tea. Bumble bee on the scene.

Yeah I’d give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie, ugh!

-See You Again, Tyler the Creator.

The forest is alive, the beating heart of Eywa felt in each and every leaf among the trees.

Every glowing piece of flora and fauna, every creature whose calls echo through the vastness.

This time of year is special and it's as though it is known. Deeply and primitively by all. The rains had come and gone, nearly a month of bruised skies that had bogged down the village and its daily life.

But as they always do the skies cleared, and the sun made its reappearance. Glittering and glimmering- triple rainbows breaking out in kaleidoscope like figurations. Beaming down with all of it’s warmth and vitality.

The earth is well fed and fertile, the soil rich and blooming with new life.

It’s that new life that brings the talioang(water buffalo like beasts) back. The creatures return in great migrations to the lush pastures of sweet new grasses to have their babies. The fish swim upstream, battling the roaring rivers, to spawn. The fruit hangs heavy and ripe in the trees. All around there is nothing but full bellies and joy.

This period of abundance is the Great Mother’s gift to her children.

It had always been Neteyam’s favorite time of the year.

Everything lush and bursting with life, the excitement a low constant hum amongst the tribe. The Great Hunt is coming and his father had given him the okay to take lead.

In his nineteen years, he had never been appointed with so much responsibility.

Jake tells him it will all be fine, nothing but easy smiles. This will be good. A fantastic way to show the clan that he’s ready to take on the title of Olo’eyktan once his father steps down. Although he manages to keep is calm and cool demeanor in public, he’s so fucking nervous he can barley function.

It’s why he’s here, trudging through the branches.

The village is buzzing with excitement. Everyone wants a moment of his time, their voices overlap as they wish him good luck.

Question his competence as head of the hunt.

Subliminally hint that hunters twice his age have never gotten the chance to do what has been so freely handed to him.

Remind him that their daughters are pretty. Unmated. Makes the best steamed Teylu. Are fertile and willing to give him strong children-

Fuck.

The moment he could, he’d slipped away. Disappeared into the foliage and had booked it deep into the trees, desperate for a moment alone. For a moment of silence and the peace of being away from prying eyes.

He doesn't even really know where he’s going.

Only that he just needs to be away. If only for an hour. He needs to recharge his ever draining social battery, to get his head on straight before tomorrow's hunt.

Neteyam has always performed his best under pressure.

Things that made others balk and cower ignited something in him. A need to fight. To prove himself- it’s not the prospect of high adrenaline and stampeeding hooves that makes him squirm. It’s all of the attention its garnering.

He know’s fully well that being the next Olo’eyktan means that attention comes with the territory. But that doesnt mean the thought of everyones focus on him doesnt make his indigo skin crawl.

He’s leaping aimlessly between vines when he remembers his sisters earlier proposition.

“Come with me and Flora to the watering hole today! The waterfalls are so pretty during this season- We’re going to go swimming!”

It’d been tempting this morning, and now it is even more so. He could use a dip in the cool waters and Kiri was always an ear to vent to when he got overwhelmed. He’d clear head and then leave-

He wouldn't get stuck staring at you.

Again,

No.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this happened.

It was like one night you were just another human at the Outpost. Another familiar alien face he’d grown up around. Just like Spider you’d stuck close with the Sully children. Your cheeks always flushed beneath your exo-mask and your fingernails always dirty and caked with mud from the hours and hours you’d spend tending to any and all plants that came in your line of vision. You were always so soft. Too soft for his liking sometimes. You’d cry at just about anything whether it be one of those old Tawtute movies the scientists played at the lab or the sight of an injured shimmyfly.

And then suddenly gone was that snotty, teary little girl he’d always known. And in her place was…you. A woman grown. Beautiful and bold- and there was strength in your softness now. You’d proved him wrong so many times- made it clear that you weren't another responsibility he’d have to shoulder-

“I can take care of myself, Neteyam” you’d insisted, never letting him carry your heavy baskets or tend to your scraped knees.

It’s maddening, the way that you shrug off any and all of his advances drives him fucking insane.

Neteyam approaches the secluded bank of the watering hole that his family loves best slowly, keeping in the treeline. Just out of sight. Just like he’d expected he finds you and Kiri on the familiar sands. Kiri is lounging in the sun, eyes closed and humming a pleasant tune to herself-oblivious to anything around her. He’d have to chastise her about her complete lack of situational awareness later.

You’re knee deep in the lake- tending to the water lilies that grow close to shore. Your back is to him but he bets your nose is all scrunched up, just like it always is when you’re around anything green and growing. His eyes drink you in greedily. All of your sun kissed skin is on display in the tiny faded pink panties you don for swimming.

He’d never found humans particularly pretty before you. The intense differences in their bodies had never appealed to him-

But Eywa, are you something to look at.

Time had been kind to you, and as you’d grown your body had morphed into something goddess like. You’re a real looker, his father had claimed. Would��ve been a total knockout back on Earth.

You’re all plush curves. Your breasts are pert and sit like rip hanging fruit on your chest, your hips wide and thighs jiggly and thick. And your waist…he’s sure if he put his much larger hands around them, his fingers could touch. He could cage you in his hold.

That thought has him biting his tongue, hard enough to taste metallic. You turn a bit, your laughter chiming over the glittering water like soft wind at some dry joke Kiri made.

Your hair color is light, lighter than any Na’vi’s and falls down around your shoulders in thick waves. He can only make out the side of your face but your full lips are pulled into a coy smile and your light jade eyes sparkle and all hell. Neteyam is so gone on you.

You’re like nothing he’s seen and definitely nothing he’s had.

And since his Iknimaya he’s had his first pick of the women of the clan.

He’s tasted passionate huntresses and flexible dancers alike and none of them satiate his thirst. None of them are able to replicate what he can only imagine you might taste like. It’s almost pathetic how many women he’s had and how many times he’s almost called out your name as he emptied his seed.

Neteyam’s more discreet about his romps than his brother, that’s for sure- but still. It’s a known fact that he’s an unmated male at his prime and that comes with a certain appetite. He can have anyone he wants, any Omatikayan woman would be glad to spend a night with him.

Yet somehow he’s lurking, hiding in the bush. Watching you longingly. Simpering like a pre-teen and pining over the way that the sunlight plays in the strands of your hair.

He shakes himself from his embarrassing reverie.

No one would be able to tell that just moments before he’d been debating on stroking his cock to just the sight of you, lurking in the trees like a creep. No. As he approaches its with his head held high and a sharp smile on his handsome smile.

“Brother!” Kiri grins, sitting up once she clocks him.

“What are you girls up to?” Neteyam greets. Cool as a cucumber.

“Nothing much, just been here since dawn. The waters so high this year!” Kiri picks up a fruit from beside her, peeling at its tender meat “everyone’s been out here today-on the other side, but no one knows how to get to this spot so we’ve had the beach all to ourselves”

You’re coming in from the lapping shore, beaming at him “Look at all the paysul(waterlily) that’ve bloom! I’ve never seen this many- isn't it amazing?”

“They are very beautiful. The rains were hard this year. I’m surprised the flooding wasn't worse” Neteyam tries not to focus on how tiny your chest covering- the bra as you call it- is. He turns his attention to his sister instead.

“Where’s Tuk, I cant believe she’d miss a chance to swim with you guys”

“She’s with mom, stuck on weaving duty since she tore grandma’s favorite tapestry” Kiri snorts because her baby sister had thrown a complete fit when she had been told she couldn't come “What about you? I thought you we’re too busy to hang out with the likes of us”

“I was able to make a little time for my favorite girls” Neteyam jests, amused by your eye roll and Kiri’s scoff “Plus, Lo’ak told me you need some humbling. Seems you forgot who’s the best diver in the family”

“Oh, you’re on, Teylupil(penis face/dick head)”

After stripping down to only his cloth, his cumberband and com left on shore, he slips into the cool refreshing water with a pleased “Ah”. Enjoying the gentle current against his skin-only to be tacked under the surface by Kiri and all of her bony lanky limbs moments later.

The sun soaked afternoon is filled with laughter and splashing. It’s exactly what he needs.

The three of you play in the river like children. Neteyam and Kiri go at it like the always do- careful to be gentle with your smaller form as you join in. It’s easy to forget the looming pressure of the hunt while he’s jumping from the rushing waterfalls and racing his sister, discreetly preening when he wins and you cheer him on with little claps.

Eventually you all tire.

Kiri floats on the water and goes to that place in her head that she so often does. Completely at peace to be surrounded by nature. She claims it’s when she can best hear Eywa.

Neteyam keeps a bit of an eye on her to make sure she doesn't randomly fall asleep again. Hoping she’d have the sense to get back to the beach before that happened.

Water floods his face and goes right up his nose.

His head snaps to you, spluttering and wiping at his eyes, “What the hell?”

You just giggle innocently before disappearing beneath the surface.

Neteyam’s tail flicks with interest.

He decides to let you get your little head start. His heart speeds up with the promise of a hunt before he starts his chase.He might be bigger then you but you're quick and slippery. Your mask giving you the advantage of not having to come up for air like he does.

When he grabs your ankle, so sure he’s got you, you all but kick him in the face to get away.

You little shit.

Fine.

If you want to play dirty, then he’s game.

He allows you to think you have a chance. That you may be winning the little game. You’re heading for the waterfall, planning to hide behind it.

He’s bigger and more trained than you could ever hope to be.

It only takes one well planned move and you’re done.

He yanks a hold of you, secure. He holds you then, your back against his chest and his strong muscle corded arms wrapped around you from behind before propelling the both of you through the pounding waterfall and into the small, closed off cave behind it.

“Neteyam!” You whine, squirming in his hold like a fish and he just laughs because honestly. He can barely feel it. You’re trying to escape with all his might and he’s holding you the way he might hold a child throwing a tantrum.

He leans in close, burying his face in your wet hair, close to your ear “I win, Sylaung(flower)”

He feels you shiver in his arms and it just makes him hold you tighter. He could keep you like this forever, if you’d only let him. Instead he can feel without you even saying so how hesitant you feel about this

“I think I deserve a prize” he pushes on even further and you give him a confused, side ways look. He so graciously allows you to turn in his hold until your chests meet, face to face.

“Like what?” you wonder and you’re too cute. You’re looking up at him, struggling to treading water with your smaller legs- Neteyam lifts you higher, until you’re bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and he’s holding you above the current. Supporting you totally.

“Well what can you give?” His inquiry is almost condescending and you shrug.

“I’m fresh out of gold stars” you tease and he barks out a laugh. Do you think he can't tell? That he can't see the way your cheeks flush and your pulse hammers beneath the delicate skin of your throat?

“What about a kiss” he offers offhandedly and your face scrunches up in a glare automatically.

“You don't want to?...”

“Why do you make fun of me like this, Neteyam” It’s not often he hears your voice this hard, soured by embarrassment and self doubt.

“I’m not making fun of you” he insists with a sigh “I don't know why you always say that. When have I ever given you the impression that I’d do that?”

You won't meet his gaze. Your green eyes flick, anywhere but on him. Zeroing somewhere behind his back. All too interested on the rocky cave wall.

“If it wasn't for this damned mask” Neteyam husks, low and sincere “I’d kiss you right now”

Even still, you don't seem convinced. Won't look at him until he takes your face in his hand, his fingers gentle but insistent. They grip the mask at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Why don't you believe me?”

“I’m nothing like the Omatikaya women you’ve been with” you say plainly like it's so obvious. Like it's a problem.

“I know”

“You didn't even like me growing up. You thought I was annoying”

“That isn't true-”

“It is” you insist haughtily “you’d make fun of me for talking to my plants”

He doesn't mean to laugh, really he doesn't. It’s not the time for it and it just pisses you off even more. He doesn't let you out of his arms even when you swat at him. “Listen, I’m sorry. I think it’s very sweet the way you talk to your plants. I want you to talk to me just like that, please”

That earns him a little giggle and he feels very pleased with himself.

You play with his hair often, most times it's mindless. A way to distract yourself. Your small deft fingers twirl along his adorned braids. He craves the scritch of your manicured nails on his scalp.

“How do you want me to kiss you? If I have my mask on” The interest in your hair is only just veiled. Your attempt at being nonchalant fails.

“Hmm” Neteyam feigns thinking, face screwed up “I think I could come up with a few ideas”

A few thousand more like it. You were the star of all of his fantasies. You, twisted and contorted into positions that would surely make you blush. You, with your mouth hanging slack in pleasure. Screaming his name-

But you hadnt agreed to that. You only, just barely, agreed to let him kiss you.

When he leans in its slow. Slow enough to give you time to push him away.

The waterfall roars in the background, white noise, but even it can't drown out the thunderous beating of your frantic heart.

Then his lips are pressed against your throat, gulping in the sweet scent of you. He cant kiss your mouth, but he can kiss the sweet, smooth column of your neck. Your clavicle. Your quivering shoulders. The heavy flesh of your breast. His kisses are open mouthed, his rough textured tongue dragging over your skin, leaving saliva trails in their wake-

You gasp sharpley when drags the skimpy fabric of your bra down so he can get at your pebbled nipple. He’s just about to suckle, when the moment is broken.

“Guys! Where’d you go?!”

It’s Kiri. Obviously awake from her nap like meditation time.

Your eyes go comically wide and Neteyam reluctantly releases you. Not wanting to get caught with an armful of pretty, half naked human. He’s thankful for the cold water and the way that he can hide the hardness tenting his tweng.

He catches you by the wrist before you can dip beneath the falls-

“We’re not done here, Sylaung” the promise leaves his lips fevor laced and full of heat.

You can only gulp and nod dazed, “I still owe you a kiss” your sweet voice reminds, before you’re ducking back under the water.

Leaving him dazed and buzzing for a moment before he gets it together and follows.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days later he still hasn't gotten his prize.

Although he’s celebrated by his clan, praised for his successful hunt, he feels like something is missing.

The Harvest Season and its celebrations are well underway. Every night there's dancing and singing around the large bonfires we’re fragrant spiced tailong meat roasts. Neteyam is highly decorated; feathers adorn his freshly braided hair and he's donned his most ornate cumberband. He’s hauntingly handsome

Spider and Lo’ak are sat near the main fire, laughing heartily and sharing a leather gourd full of liquor between themselves.

Spider’s obviously drunk and eyeing Kiri hungerly as she dances with Tuk- he’d never do that sober. Not with Neytiri so near. Lo’ak is lounged out, an attractive female in his lap. She giggles madly at whatever filth his little brother whispers in her twitching ear.

Jealousy bubbles acidicly in Neteyam’s belly and again, he wonders where you are. Why you arent here, in his lap. Letting him woo you.

He figures he’ll have to go to you then, if you won't come to him.

First thing to do is find you.

“Hey, Spider!” the human man is the best place to start. Spider’s eyes are glassy under his mask and still. His friend is excited to see him, greets him with a hand shake and a small hug.

“Neteyam, man! Where have you been all night?”

“Around, you know how it is” Neteyam shrugs, sitting sown on the log, accepting the gourd and taking a swig of the thick sticky sap inside. It burns all the way down.

“This partys essentially for him- I’m surprise you we’re able to get away from dad” Lo’ak shit-talks, like he always does. It’s good natured for the most part “I thought he might throw you a parade or something. Call in the clans-”

“Fuck you, man” Neteyam chuckles, shaking his head at Lo’aks theatrics. “Don't be jealous”

“Jealous of dad? Nah” Lo’ak “Now the women you’re getting? That I might be jealous of”

“Hey!” the girl in his lap, a weaver from a modest family, squrims, pinching at his shoulder “You’ve got all the woman you need for the night, sayrip”

She squeals when Lo’ak squeezes her tight around her middle and blows wet raspberry kisses into her neck.

Neteyam just rolls his eyes and shares a little look with Spider. By the next eclipse, Lo’ak wouldve moved on. He has a knack for loving and leaving.

“Why arent you out there, bro? I saw Amitsa giving you the eyes! She’s so hot and she doesnt ever give anyone the time of day” Spider juts his chin and sure enough. The woman is giving Neteyam longing looks from across the fire. She’s a pretty thing and her sultry voice is renowned in the tribe. He’d be lying if he said he wasnt attracted to her “You’re not gonna go try to get at that?”

No. He’s not.

“Uh” Neteyam scratches the back of his neck “I was actually looking for Flora, I havent been able to find her around lately”

Of course, that sets of a exactly what he knows it would.

His brothers are assholes and have teased his merciesly since discovering his obsessive crush. Spider knocks his much smaller shoulder against Neteyam’s and Lo’ak hoots with laughter.

“How someone can be pussy whipped for pussy they haven't even had is beyond me” Lo’ak snorts and Neteyam gives him a warning growl, his lips snarled up.

It’s nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Lo’ak finds it endlessly amusing that Neteyam had his eye on you, the tiny human he’d grown up so lukewarm about. It had always been his siblings; Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk that were close with you growing up. Neteyam had never shown a speck of interest until your figure had grown curvy and supple-

“Piss off, I wasn’t asking you” Neteyam gives his best big brother stare down. His golden eyes hard and unimpressed before looking to Spider, hairless brows raised “You know where I could find her?”

“Listen man, she said wasn’t interested in hanging out with anyone tonight” the human man starts with a sigh and Neteyam’s growl is low and warning “-but I’m sure you can find her where she always is”

Neteyam wracks his brain for a moment “The Greenhouses?”

“Bingo” Spider nods, an almost sympathetic look in his eye as he watches Neteyam jump to his feet and set off.

Lo’ak sniggers and the girl in his lap scoffs and mutters something about “shameful, being that twisted up about a tawtute” but Spider says nothing.

Instead his plixr hazed eyes focus on the figure dancing close to the firelight. Kiri lets out a twinkling laugh at something Tuk says and yeah. Spider understands Neteyam. He understands being completely obsessed with something you’ve never had.

Instead of taking a note from his much braver brother, he lifts his mask and takes another shot of the acidic syrup.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Neteyam could make the trek through the forest to Hells Gate in his sleep..

He’d spent a good chunk of his childhood retracing these exact steps, headeded for the familiar concrete fortress that made up the last human outpost on Pandora.

Neteyam had always been far too similar to his mother, for countless reasons. But his distaste for everything industrial was one of the main reasons. As he got older he spent less and less time here. Couldnt be found in the cold echoing hallways like Lo’ak and the girls coul

But even he could admit.

There’s something beautiful about the Greenhouses.

With their dome like structure, the big glass buildings are a fortress for the humans. Inside they’re as hot and humid as the Pandoran rainforests- but circulating Earth air so that the fruits and vegetables that are native to Terra Firme can grow, even on this alien planet.

Neteyam makes his way inside, plugging in the codes into the keypad and letting himself in through the pressurized doors that slide closed right behind him. His eyes are peeled, taking in all of the foreign greenery, hoping to catch a flash of tanned skin or light hair in the cracks between trees.

The Greenhouses are huge. There’s orchards of apples and oranges and long deep garden beds full of root vegetables. Enough to feed the Hell’s Gate settlement throughout the year, to trade with the People of the Omaticaya.

No matter, he’s a blooded hunter after all.

He hones in on that training as he tracks your path. Your footprints along the cement floor are light, and really you barely leave any trace of yourself at all. You float along with light steps and Neteyam truly thinks if you had been born one of the People you would’ve made a fine huntswoman-

He finds you in the shade of the orange trees. You’re up on a stool, gathering the plump fruit and humming a pleasant little tune.

You’re ethereal in artificial sunlight.

You’re something out of the books that Norm used to read to them when they were kids. His favorite had been the one about the boy who would never grow up and the island of Neverland. And the tiny golden dust covered pixi that flitted from page to page.

A fairy.

A being not quite real. Too gentle and feminine to exist.

He likes the tawtute clothes you wear. The small top that clings to your breasts like a second skin and the flowy patterned skirt. Of course if it was up to him you’d only ever wear the garments of the People- or even better, Nothing at all.

You reach too high, strained up on your tippy toes and Neteyam feels irrational fear at that. At all of your delicate skin and breakable neck-

He’s beside you in an instant and he doesn't need a ladder to reach the high hanging fruit you’d been struggling for. He grabs the fruit with one hand while the other stabilizes you, his big palm spread out across the small of your back.

You gasp at his warm touch. Your head snapping in his direction and legs going wobbly.

“Neteyam!”

“Flora” He sighs as he urges you down from the ladder, takes the heavy bucket of fruit from your hands “You really do need to be more careful”

You splutter for a moment, still shocked at his sudden arrival “I- ugh! I was fine!” you insist haughtily “It’s not like I don't do this all of the time. You didn't need to come help me, I can manage perfectly fine on my own”

“Need to help you?” Neteyam cocks his head a bit.

“Yeah…I mean. Why else would you be here?” you ask, scratching awkwardly at your arm for a moment “Tonight's the celebration. You really should be back with the clan-”

“As should you” He cuts you off firmly. Not liking the way that you’re trying to separate yourself from the tribe. From him “I have not seen you for days. Do you not want to feast with our people?”

You sigh, looking away from him. Biting at that plump ever pink bottom lip of yours. Always shy, he knows he needs to bring you out of your shell. You’ll find a way to run away from him again if he doesn't.

“I didnt come here to help you” Neteyam admits because he’s selfish and because you’re too beautiful. Even more so, since you’ve been hiding from him. Avoiding his attention.

“Oh really?” you’re not coy by nature but there's something in your eyes. In the way you’re looking up at him “Then what are you here for?”

“My kiss”

Your pupils expand, just the tiniest bit but he can see it. He can see it all. Every inch of your pretty face, unbridled by that cumbersome mask you usually are forced to don. He can see every freckle and blemish- and the way that a blush creeps across the apples of your cheeks.

“A deals a deal” Neteyam insists at the prolonged silence. At your nervous flicking gaze.

“Okay” is your sweet reply and he can only stare at your plump lips. A man with one thing and one thing only on his mind.

You don't protest when he reaches for you. When his big hands go around your waist and tug slowly until he’s enveloping you in his chest. You fit so perfectly, right under his sternum. Stare up at him with wide eyes that flutter closed the closer he inches his face towards yours.

The kiss is wet and electric and Neteyam wants to eat you whole.

Any awkwardness that comes from the size difference is soon overcome by the desire that simmers between you. You let him lead, always so willing to go with whatever flow he may give. Let him nip at your delicate bottom lip until he can almost taste the metallic twang of blood. Let him stick his much bigger tongue into your warm mouth, and then down your constricting throat.

As you make little gasping choking sounds, he imagines it's his huge pulsing cock stealing the air from your lungs instead.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, as he trails kisses down your soft jaw. He cant stop, wants to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin. He know it must be overwhelming- if your heaving breaths and mewls are anything to go by, he knows you’re feeling every inch of the mind spinning need that he is.

Still,

No matter how much he gropes at you with rough hands and drags spit soaked kisses over your neck and chest, youre so good for him. Such a good girl. Holding on for any ride he might take you on. Your fingers twined in his silky braids arent there to push him away, but to pull him closed.

When he grasps you by the back of your thighs and hoists- you wrap your legs around his slim waist, your ankles hooking at his lower back.

The helpless noise you make goes straight to his groin.

Neteyam lies you down on hard floor. He’d rather have you in the warmth of his Kelku, or under the stars, but at least here he can get at your maskless face. At your bare lips. Once he’s cradling your head safely and tucked in between your spread thighs he's at you again. Ravenously.

You’re so docile, so eager to let him take whatever he wants.

“Flora” he husks into your hair and you shiver.

“Yeah?”

“Flora” Neteyam brings your little body even closer.”You have no Idea. I have to have you. I need-”

You squeak needily “You can have whatever you need” and gasp when Neteyam kisses your cheek. Your lips. Your jaw. Your neck. Your nerves are on fire and your hips grind against his.

“I need this body. I need to see all of it, you drive me crazy” Neteyam armits as he tugs on your top and you help him pull it up over your head. You dont wear a bra, why would you? Your pretty rosy nipples are all on display for him. Pebbled and begging for attention, He laps slowly with his wide textured tongue at the puffy nub.

He suckles like a newborn until you’re chivalry and making hurt little sounds, until your pretty chest is covered in blooming bruises.

And then he’s dragging his wanting mouth down. Past your heaving ribs and over your soft belly. Neteyam hikes the flowy material of your skirt up high, until he can bend down and poke his head underneath.

“Oh!” you gasp, writhing a bit. Your thighs trying to close on instinct.

You’re so wet for him, the smell of it is thick and heady and he digs his nose into your inner thigh and snuffles. Its mouthwatering.

And it bit mortifying, from your end. Having the large man with his head buried under your skirt as he sniffs at your core-

When he licks a fat stripe over you, wetting up the thin material of your panties you cry out. No ones ever touched you like this and here he is, licking at your clothed pussy. Over and over until the fabric is translucent and sticky with your flowing juices.

“Please” you mewl, gathering the fabric, yanking until you can see him.

Its filthy and erotic. The sight of his hulking blue body between your trembling tanned thighs. So alien. So taboo-

“Please what, sylaung?” Neteyam taunts, his golden eyes meeting yours. They shine with mirth, and lust. So much lust. When he noses at your pink flowery panties you throw your head back, eyes squeezed closed. Unable to take the sight any longer “You want me to take care of you?”

“Yes” you sob because you’re pulsing and you can barley breathe you’re so horny “Please take care of me with your tongue”

Neteyam strips you then, out of your skirt and cute little panties and you’re lying under him. Naked and flushed and wanting.

He shoulders himself exactly back where he wants to be. Where he’s always wanted to be.

“Don't worry, I’ll take care of this sweet pussy for you”

Oh god. Your head is spinning.

You can barely think as he kisses on the jiggling fat of your thighs.

“I’m sorry” you gasp.

Neteyam hums right against your core and you can feel the vibrations throughout your entire body “What for?”

“I’m so messy” you whisper, that pink blush blooming all over your body.

Groaning, Neteyam can't wait any longer. Your flavor bursts along his taste buds. Tangy and earthy and decadently sweet. He’s had his fair share of cunt before, but he’s never tasted a humans and he’s shocked at how saccharine it is. It’s sticky and coats his mouth and throat. His lips and nose and chin as he digs in.

“Neteyam!” You wait.

“Fuck. Oh, Eywa. One Second” Neteyam sits up and adjusts himself where his painfully hard under his tweng and the ache in you deepens. You try to be good, try to be still as he leans in and licks at you again. Kisses your pussy in that same beautiful passionate way he kisses your lips.

He’s good. Too good at this. He’s had too much practice and you never had a chance againts that oversized mouth.

“Holy fuck” the words sound even more vulgar in your honeyed voice “Fucking hell, Nete. Nete. I’m almost there”

Neteyam grin is hidden between the lips of your pussy. He doubles down, letting you hump and soak his face. Then lapping back at inside of you in a repetitive and ceaseless rhythm, One that has you shaking, arching up off the ground. Your plush thighs closing, clamping around his head as you come.

Your orgasm cinches tight and rushes around you, inside of you, out of you with a gush of slick. It’s so deep. So strong, that it takes a moment for you to truly peak and it leaves you in a daze. Out side of your body as you fuck up againts Neteyams mouth like a wild animal.

You’d never come so hard in your life and it takes a while for you to recenter.

Once youre able to focus past the rushing in your ears, the first thing you notice is Neteyam’s face streaked with wet. Your blush blooms across your cheeks as you both breathe unevenly into the quiet.

“Did that feel good?” Nereyam knows it did, but still. He needs to ask. Needs to hear you say it.

You giggle, girlish and airy as your dainty hand releases his hair and cups at his cheek “So so good. I’ve never felt anything like that before”

His grin is all too feline and seeing those white canines gleam so close to the most sensitive part of you is a little alarming.

“There’s so much more to come, yawntutsyip” Neteyam promises, leading back down. His fingers play with the jiggle of your thigh- so different then any of the Omaticaya women he’s had You squirm a bit, clearly overstimulated, but keep your legs spread anyway.

Neteyams long digits prod gently at your pussy lips. You’re oddly pretty here. All red and rosy and inflamed, like that blush he loved so much on your cheeks. He spreads you with two fingers so that he can look at you inside. At your quivering pink folds and your tiny little hole that clenches when he runs his finger along it.

“You’re so small here” he whispers, completely hypnotized by it “So fucking tight. You’ll never be able to take me”

You whimper unhappily “Don’t say that. I want to- please just try”

“Shh,” Neteyam soothes your cries. Your dazed worries. He distracts you with his tongue, as it swirls over your throbbing clit. It feels a bit like sandpaper to your nerves, but you can get enough.

When his finger begins to breach you, you hold your breath.

Its big, but youre so loose from your first orgasm, so desperate to be filled that he sinks in until the hilt.

Its maddening after that and you grind the back of your head into the hard concrete under you- your eyes closed and your mouth hanging open. The sounds you make are feral and raw-

Neteyam fucks you open with one and then two fingers until its easy. Until the sweet stretch doesn't burn- instead its slippery and wet.horribly wet as Neteyam feasts on you as he fucks you with his fingers-

“Too much-Fuck” you weakly try to pull away from the assult of pleasure but he he’s too strong. Pins you down. Makes you take whatever he wants to give you.

When he lifts your hips up even higher to take a curious lick at your puckered asshole you white out.

This orgasm isnt like the first. You sink under the waves of this one. Your muscles cramp with the intensity. You cant come back to yourself, you can’t cling to anything but Neteyam. You cant even scream.

He’s everything, as he soothes you. As he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“H-hurts” you whimper, eyes filling up with tears. Pussy aching.

“Just a little more baby” Neteyam huffs as he licks at you and stuffs the hand that's covered in your cum down his own tweng. It lubricates the fast and furious pumping of his fist along his rock hard cock.

He cant fuck you tonight, thats something the two of you will have to work up to. He’ll teach your tiny body to take him. To crave penetration.

But with his tongue buried in your pulsating pussy and your scent all around him its easy enough to pretend. Easy enough to imagine shoving himself into you slowly. Stretching you’re ruined. Your hole would never be the same. You’d forever gape because of him-

Neteyam comes with a roar and dirties his loincloth up like a teenager.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later, after he’s cleaned you both up the best he can and gathered you to his chest. After he’s taken a sip from the breathing mask and nuzzled ar your wispy soft baby hairs that are plastered against the side of your sweaty head-

That he has the urge to read that book again. The one with the fairies. As he watches your slumbering face, your nose scrunching and lips pursing, he thinks the onlt thing missing is the gossamer wings,

His own little fairy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

AAAAAAND we’re done.

First and foremost I want to give the wonderful @oakbuggy her accolades. Her Neteyam x Flora art inspired this fic 100%. A couple months ago I actually messaged her begging her to let me right this for her because I just couldn't get over this crackship of dreams. Thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you enjoy that overstimulation, baby!

PLEASE GO CHECK OUT HER ART. It’s sooooo delish.

This was a monster to write because I just had so many different ideas of what I wanted to do with the two of them and couldn't pinpoint where exactly I wanted the plot to go. Even now its a bit messy but still. I’m a fucking sucker for Neteyam x Flora and I would be more then happy to write more of them if thats something everyone would be into.

Please give me some feedback. What did we think about this writing style? Do we like the Y/N route more?

Until next time sweet honey bees!

[the-immortal-restless]

I have a cute headcanon/au that in certain hidden places on FFM, there are murals of Macaque. They are old and some of them aren’t finished.

Here’s where the angst is. (I’m writing this in more of a story way that in first person)

When Wukong started painting his shadows face, it was massive and heavily detailed, all from memory. It was a portrait he’d made in the deepest throes of grief.

He’d killed him not long ago… he’d killed His Moon… what was he thinking? Why could he hold back? What was wrong with him that he killed the only other person who could understand him?

He’d kept painting. Soon enough grief turned into frantic, he spent years on them, perfecting everything. He even placed candles and incense around them as if it was an altar to his precious moon.

Though he rarely remembered where, they were always hidden. Hidden from the world so that no one would take the last thing he had to remember his beloved by.

Until he realized something… He dropped the paintbrush in his hands in horror, he’d could believe it.

He didn’t remember, even just for a moment. He couldn’t remember what color his lovers ears were. His beautiful Moon’s most precious feature.

He began painting more frantically, worried he’d soon forget everything detail he’d once memorized. He tried to retrace his steps, find the other paintings, but Wukong had terribly best himself, not even he could find them. Soon enough, the worst came.

He couldn’t remember his lovers ears, his eyes, his laugh, or even his smile. He’d cried for weeks. He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember…?

Soon enough every being that occupied Flower Fruit Mountain told the others of their species about the Kingly Sun and his Warring Moon.

How the Sun had killed his lover by mistake, how the Sun had painted fantastic painting and built altars to beckon his Treasured Moon home. How the Sun had played in the fields and forests with his Moon in years past, how he’d come home arms filled with gifts for the Moon to be lavished in, how it ended with one blow.

How the Sun wept when his lover left his mind. They called it the Wailing Silence, when the only thing that ever came from the’s home was the sound of a mourning wail, when nothing and no one could cheer the Sun.

Eventually the Sun would break from his immobile grief. There was a heaviness to him but he learned to carry his unending grief and sorrow with a smile.

But then, centuries later, the stories twisted.

Soon, inhabitants of the mountain began to tell of how the Moon watched the Sun from the depths of his shadowy realm, from between trees and behind rocks. The Moon had risen, many tried to show the Moon to his altars, believing him a god or spirit brought on by the Suns devotion. But the Moon stayed stoic and ignored them, whether he understood them or not, was a mystery to them.

Eventually a Star appeared.

He looked strange, some of the onlookers would say, others saw him wielding the Sun’s Gold-Banded Staff and wondered if he was the Moon and Suns kin, after all the Sun had burst from a rock, who truly knew.

The Star had brought the Sun past the horizon, and the Star had met the Moon and brought him out of the shadows. Eventually both warmed to his light and taught him what they know.

And soon, the Star shined like they did.

[shishishi-sunny]

SPOILERS FOR ONE PIECE CH. 1138

Vibes for this chapter:

Now that my hands have stopped shaking, here are my main take aways. This is gonna be a super long word vomit, so just be prepared:

Shamrock is aware of Shanks (they might have met) and seems disappointed that Shanks likes chilling with ✨the commoners✨

If Shamrock’s sword has the Cerberus-Cerberus Fruit, that means that the theory of Blackbeard having it is debunked

The Shiki-looking figure made a reappearance when Luffy was talking about Shank’s family and seems to be approaching the castle, so we might meet them soon

THE MURAL AND HARLEY

I wonder if there will be a specific character that made the mural, who we’ll be introduced to later. Ripley’s line about “a child’s dream” stood out to me

Due to the “Three Worlds” that Robin reads about, I’m assuming that it’s basically confirmed that there have been 3 holders of the Nika fruit, that coincided with the 3 world-changing events (the first Nika, Joyboy, and now Luffy)

There are 3 demon-like figures, one for each world. I assume they represent the foe that each Nika rose up against, but are they different? Are they the same? Are they all Imu? Only Oda can tell

And here’s everything I took note of on the mural:

The First World

The forbidden sun — power source? Devil Fruits???

Seems like it caused the separation of the earth and the sky/heavens

Lots of factory imagery

Who were the slavers?

The figures (the slaves) carry sun/starburst things. Are these the forbidden sun? Devil fruits? They seem to be throwing them toward the Second World part of the mural, where “embers of war” are mentioned

BIG SNAKE, SERPENT OF HELL, WHO ARE YOU???

The Second World

“The God of the Forest sent forth demons” — is this about devil fruits? Fruits grow on trees (duh) and then obviously demons = devils. And later, it talks about the Sea becoming enraged

Mentions of people belonging to the Half-Moon and the Moon. What is the difference? Is this referencing the Lunarians?

“Humanity killed the Sun, and then ascended to divinity” — they killed Nika or Joyboy? Seems to be about the Celestial Dragons

“The God of the Sea became enraged” — about the rising of the sea levels?

bruh, the boats look like Enel’s ship. If Enel comes back, I’ll lose my mind

The Third World

Where we are now. The final arc. What we should expect. The future.

References the Void Century and how the Elders and Imu remember what happened and what might happen (“the day of promise”)

“They will surely meet again” Who? The reunion of everything that was separated in the First and Second Worlds? The reunion of all the gods that were mentioned?

The mural is amazing and there are so many details throughout, but especially in this section

Obviously there’s Nika/Joyboy (Luffy) leading an army against a figure that’s probably Imu

Under Imu, there’s a boat with figures in white uniforms — Marines/the World Gov

In Nika’s army, there are figures that represent: giants, minks, lunarians, mermaids and fishmen, samurai/ninja/people from Wano, a robot (Emet?), dwarves/tontatta, Sea Kings/Laboon (the whale), and a ship with a flag that looks like the Alabasta kingdom’s flag (@sabo-torao’s post brought my attention to that, shoutout to them)

There are so many details that I probably missed and so many things that Oda probably hasn’t explored yet, but will and I’m so excited

But TLDR: Oda cooked, Lore Piece is real, this chapter was fantastic, and the final war arc is gonna blow my mind

[prinz-vassago]

Kiyomi is a 17 y.o teenager who is part of the secret occult club called "Mugen no Kagi" (夢幻の鍵) or just "Fantastic Dream Key" that investigates the entity Akumu during Shōwa period. She was born into a family of renowned artists and from a very young age, she was shaped by an environment where aesthetics and presentation were fundamental. Her parents, both theater actors, always encouraged her to stand out through beauty and talent. Growing up among stages and lighting, Kiyomi learned the art of enchanting and becoming enchanted with herself. She was seen as a young woman of stunning beauty, and her delicate features and graceful expressions caught the attention of everyone around her. Her appearance attracted media attention, leading her to appear in magazines and advertisements of the time. With a calm, delicate, and somewhat shy personality, Kiyomi hid a deep fear: aging and the loss of her beauty. All of her days were devoted to intensive routines of skincare, hair, and body care, always seeking to perfect what she believed was her only true virtue. With every compliment, her ego grew stronger, but the fear of aging and losing her youth was even stronger. The idea of becoming unrecognizable over the years terrified her, and with this growing fear inside her, she began searching for miracle products that promised to preserve her youth.

LADY OKIKU It was during a theater rehearsal, while wearing an old drama mask as part of a performance, that Kiyomi had her first encounter with the female spirit who introduced herself as “Lady Okiku”, claiming to inhabit the mask. Okiku's presence was initially comforting. She said she was a distant ancestor and began to approach Kiyomi with promises of ancient wisdom and secrets to maintain youth. Lady Okiku, with her deep gaze and seductive words, presented a Chinese legend about peaches of immortality, which, according to her, had the power to preserve beauty forever. The promise of eternal perfection filled Kiyomi with hope, and soon she became more and more attached to Okiku's presence, seeking answers to her existential anxieties. Over time, Lady Okiku began to encourage Kiyomi to seek occult knowledge, whispering to her about a group of students who had access to ancient texts and secret rituals, revealing that her classmate Himari could help her. Initially, Kiyomi was seen as an innocent young woman, but when she mentioned her connection with Okiku, Himari immediately became interested in her presence in the club.

The reception in the club was mixed. Some members looked at Kiyomi with skepticism, questioning what a young actress obsessed with her appearance could want with occultism. Others were fascinated by her presence, seeing her as a muse or even a potential experiment for rituals involving aesthetics and magic. Initially, she received a warning from Mio, who revealed that Okiku was not a guiding spirit, but a malicious entity. Still, Kiyomi refused to listen. To her, the club was just another means to achieve her goal: eternal beauty.

BLOODY PEACHES Upon realizing that Kiyomi’s trust was at stake after Mio's warning, Okiku revealed to Kiyomi the location of a magical peach tree deep in the forest. This tree was near a collapsed stone bridge, by a river that had long been used for rituals and sacrifices, and no one but Okiku knew this, as she frequented the place when she was alive. When Kiyomi took her first bite of the fruit, she realized it bled, but the blood gave her an extraordinary and addictive sensation. When she looked at herself in the river’s waters, she saw herself even more beautiful, and became completely blinded by the illusion of a wish fulfilled. The strange fruits not only deceived her but also drained her life energy little by little. The tree’s fruits bled because it fed on humans. Over time, the true nature of Lady Okiku revealed itself. More than just an ancestral spirit, she was a manipulative entity with a sinister goal: to weaken Kiyomi emotionally and physically, to possess her and take over her body. She took advantage of the girl's insecurities, whispering promises and feeding her obsession with beauty through the cursed peaches. Kiyomi, without realizing it, began to lose vitality, becoming increasingly vulnerable to Okiku’s influence.

As time passed, the effects of the peaches became more evident. Kiyomi began to show signs of physical wear: deep dark circles, pale skin, and a vacant look, but despite all of this, she battles with an insatiable desire to consume more peaches. Her toyhouse profile

[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

Fantastic Creatures in Himmapan

Part One

2022 calendar project by David Ryo

Styled by Hongsawadee

Nang Ngeuk - the mermaid

Found in stories like Phra Aphai Mani and the Ramakien.

Naga

There are four Naga families, represented by different colours: Green, Black, Rainbow and Golden.

Upsorn Srihas

half-human half-deer creatures said to live in Himmapan forest.

Makalee Pons

strange female beings, born from the fruit of magical trees only found in Himmapan forest.

Nang Tani / Thai nymphs

Born within a tree, these spirits can follow their trees if they are chopped down.

Thep Norasri

A lion-like hybrid creature, often compared to the sphinx. The upper body is human and the lower a lion although sometimes the legs are more deer-like but with a lion's tail.

Chattathahatti

A mystical animal that looks like an elephant but is silvery white and can move incredibly fast.

Khon Tun

Magical beings that live between the human world and the heavenly realm. Very fond of music.

[professional-yapper]

Aonung x Albino reader? 🙏🙏

Burn

Aonung x Albino! Reader

Warnings: sunburn ig?, awkward Aonung (he can't flirt to save his life this is true James Cameron told me himself), teasing as flirting, the tribe they're from is giving cult x

"This is stupid, Vipka," you huffed, ducking under a branch as you followed your twin brother's ghostly figure closer and closer to the edge of the dark forest that your tribe inhabited.

"Don't be a wuss!" he called back, flashing you a sharp grin. "We might find something cool!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, or we'll find something dangerous, get ourselves killed, and end up in the Nothing. Eywa's word is that we stay here, in the Dark, where it's safe."

Vipka rolled his eyes right back, bounding towards you, grabbing your arms and giving you a little shake. "That's what the elders say. If Eywa wanted us to stay here, she wouldn't have made me so curious about what's out there."

You gritted your teeth, but couldn't find a proper response to that beyond a muttered, "That's blasphemous." And you relented, following your stupid, reckless brother towards the edge of the forest.

Not that you were sure there even was an edge. After all, no one besides the elders actually knew. You and Vipka were only heading in the direction that the elders went in when they left the village for reasons you and Vipka weren't allowed to know.

It really could just be the forest, going on forever and ever, and you would keep going until you went crazy.

A silent prayer formed on your lips, to Eywa, who had cared for your people even after they had been foolish enough to burn their Spirit Tree down. All that was left of the centuries-old catastrophe was a charred old stump held in reverence.

Once, your uncle had whispered a story to you of tribes far away, where the sun shone brightly and their Spirit Trees grew strong, and they could even connect with their dead through the Trees themselves. It seemed fantastical to you, who had grown up knowing upon death your people would go into the Nothing and never be heard from again. Eywa's punishment for her disobedient children.

But after all... You wondered if it could be true. If you and Vipka walked far enough, would you find a tribe with no Nothing, with a Spirit Tree that grew and flourished and kept their ancestors safe?

You didn't know whether to hope so or not. Would you even be able to return home once the elders discovered yours and Vipka's disobedience? Perhaps Eywa would punish the tribe again. Maybe your family personally.

Once again you called for Vipka, but he ignored you and his pale, slender form disappeared into the trees, running now, fuelled by the adrenaline of doing something so forbidden.

Not that this was forbidden, just wandering through the Dark. But it wasn't really the Dark, anymore. The dark green of the foliage had bled away into a lighter hue, punctuated with bursts of colours. Flowers and plants and fruits that you shied away from, eyes wary as you picked your way through this new world.

You shielded your eyes against the strange light filtering through the trees, golden and hot against your skin, which was already taking on a queer pink tint that you recognised vaguely.

The elders were often this shade when they returned to the tribe. Vipka had overheard them calling it... the Burn?

You couldn't be sure, but you covered your flushed arms with your hands and kept going.

A squeal suddenly pierced the warm silence, and you froze, ears dipping and tail waving with brisk worry. "Vipka?" you called, taking a few stilted steps towards the source of the sound.

Another squeal, but definitely not Vipka. An animal of some kind. And voices. Loud, cheerful, calling to one another as they got closer, evidently following the squealing thing.

Hunters, maybe.

Not from your tribe, for sure.

You began backing up, preparing to turn and run like hell all the way back home. Vipka could keep going for all you cared, could be caught and eaten alive by the tribes beyond the Dark.

A large animal burst out of the undergrowth and you shrieked in fright, leaping back and colliding with something or someone, falling down in a jumble of arms and legs.

The animal veered away at your cry, thundering in a different direction.

"Damn!" the thing that had fallen down with you swore, shoving you off unceremoniously. "You scared it away, skxwang!"

"Fuck you!" you spluttered furiously, climbing to your feet and rubbing your lower back. You were angry. Fucking furious.

But then the strange Na'vi stood up, and you considered that it might not be a good idea to square up with him.

He was built like a tree. Broad and muscular and a weird shade of blue. Twice your size, at least. Could absolutely crush you into dust.

You didn't want to stick around and find out.

But before you could run, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back, staring at you hard with his weird pale eyes, dark curls plastered to his brow, entire body covered in sweat. "What are you?" he asked.

You shoved him in the chest, but he barely shifted, which was a solid blow to your ego. You were one of the stronger members of the tribe, and it scared you to think Na'vi of his size and strength were roaming wild out here.

Why would the elders ever come out here?

"You're one of those white Na'vi, right? From the deep forest on the other side of Awa'atlu?" he prompted, ears flattening as you kept quiet.

You stiffened. "How do you know that?"

"Your people- what do you mean, how do I know that? Your people come and talk with my dad all the time. You should probably cover up, by the way. You guys burn real easy," he added, tone almost friendly as he released your arm, seemingly realising it wasn't helping.

He knew? He knew of your people. He knew of the Dark. He knew the elders.

"But you're, like, my age," he continued, tilting his head. "I thought your people were all old and wrinkly. That's why you're white, yeah?"

You frowned. "Only the elders ever leave the Dark," you said slowly, wondering just how much you should tell this boy.

He chuckled, a surprisingly reassuring sound, even though he was holding a spear with the other hand. "What's the Dark? Is that what you call the place you're from?"

You nodded.

"So you guys don't see the sun much, huh?" he said carefully, glancing up at the blazing white spot in the sky above.

A swift shake of the head, and you didn't bother to follow his eyes. You could feel the sun well enough as is. Your skin felt flushed, hot, and it stung when you touched it.

Though the pink was a nice colour, you had to ask. "Is it poisonous?" you asked, trying to keep the distress out of your voice, running your fingers down your arm.

Another warm chuckle, and now he was looking at you with interest, which made your heart beat a little quicker. "No, you're just burning. Sunburn, you know? Cause you don't see the sun much-"

"Ever," you interjected briefly, stealing a glance above, at the great blue mass above you that went on forever, careful to keep your eyes away from the sun, though spots still danced in your eyes when you looked back at him.

He blew out a breath, curls jumping off his forehead briefly. "Okay. So you're from a freaky tribe where you've never seen the sun and live in the dark all the time, in the forest where the leaves are so thick the sun can't get through... What are you doing here? Did you run away?"

"Kind of?" you said, wondering what he was doing as he turned and scooped up a knife off the floor, then turned and started walking. Should you follow him?

"Are you coming?" he called back, gesturing for you to follow. When you caught up, he gestured for you to keep talking.

"I was following my brother Vipka. Leaving the Dark was his idea. He wanted to know where our elders go," you continued, tongue growing looser the more time you spent with this strange boy. Which might've been a bad thing. "Eywa cursed him with curiosity."

The boy nodded slowly, absorbing this. "And where's your brother now?"

"He ran ahead and I lost him," you shrugged. "But he'll turn up, either at your village or back home, if he gives up."

"I'm Aonung," the boy said briskly.

You told him your name, and he repeated it back to you carefully, grinning like it was an inside joke between you two.

"I'll take you home with me, then," Aonung shrugged. "My mother will know what to do. I- we can look after you till your elders return to my village." The tips of his ears flushed and you smiled, pleased with the sight, though you didn't know why.

"Sounds good," you hummed.

"Are all girls in your tribe as pretty as you?" he asked abruptly, looking straight forward as if scared to see your expression.

You blinked, then smiled again, wider, flushing, though you thought he probably wouldn't be able to tell since you were so 'sunburnt'. "Dunno," you chuckled. "I'll bring you home with me one day and you can see for yourself."

"I don't think they are," he said, glancing down at you and smiling, lips curling downwards.

"You haven't even seen them yet!"

"No, but I trust my gut," he said, slapping his abs with a proud look

"Oh, yeah? Was it your gut that made you run into me, too?"

"That- that was fate. Mother Eywa intended it."

"Or maybe Eywa cursed you with clumsiness. A deadly combination with how short-sighted you apparently are," you teased.

He gave you a little push, laughing. "Shut up! Why were you just standing there, is my question!"

You pushed him back, not bothering to put any effort into it, as the results remained the same and he didn't break his stride. "I've never been this far from home! I was taking in the scenery!"

"Taking in the scenery," he scoffed. "Take in this scenery." He got close to your face, which was probably meant to be intimidating but only made your ears drop bashfully, tail curling against your calf, suddenly shy as his nose almost bumped into yours.

He lingered for a moment, then seemed to realise his theatrics had gone wrong and backed up. "I mean- sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, it's okay, I like that scenery just fine too," you grinned, and he rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

"What?" you taunted, following him as he kept walking, more than happy to tease the hell out of him. "I thought you wanted me to take in the scenery!"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

I'm patenting this tribe actually, this freaky albino tribe, because I want to write lore for it. Let me know if anyone wants to read said lore. Enjoy anon! I had fun with the world-building!

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ Demon Slayer Agere ໒ ˚⁎

Can you write a caregiver Tomioka Giyuu x gender neutral little reader one-shot? Tank you!!

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow across the quiet forest. Tomioka Giyuu walked along the path, the sounds of rustling leaves and distant birds providing a soothing backdrop. He was on his way to the small clearing where he often found solace. Today, however, he was not alone. The little one at his side, full of curiosity, skipped along, their eyes wide with wonder. Giyuu felt a rare warmth in his heart as he watched them. Their playful laughter cut through the heavy atmosphere that often surrounded him.

"Look, Giyuu!" you exclaimed, pointing at a cluster of wildflowers. "Can we pick some ?" He nodded, crouching down beside you. "Just a few. We don’t want to hurt the plants"

Together, you picked the flowers, Giyuu's careful hands guiding the little one as they arranged the blooms into a small bouquet. The air was fragrant with their sweet scent, and for a moment, all thoughts of demons and responsibilities faded away

Once they finished, Giyuu stood, holding the bouquet delicately. "What do you want to do next ?" You looked up, eyes sparkling. "Can we have a picnic ? Just you and me ?"

Giyuu couldn’t help but smile, the tension of his usual demeanor softening. "Of course" They found a patch of soft grass under a large tree. Giyuu laid out a simple meal—rice balls and some sweet fruit he had prepared. As they ate, they talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily. Giyuu listened intently, nodding at their stories and ideas

When they finished, you lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky. "Dada, can we pretend we’re on an adventure? Like fighting demons ?". Giyuu chuckled softly, leaning back beside you. "Alright. But remember, it’s just pretend. We’re safe here.."

They both closed their eyes, imagining a world filled with fantastical battles and heroic feats. Giyuu felt himself relax, letting go of the weight of his role as a Hashira. Here, in this moment, he was just a caregiver, and the little one was his treasured companion

After a while, you turned to him with a serious expression. "What if we were the strongest fighters? Wouldn’t we be able to protect everyone ?". Giyuu met your gaze, a flicker of something deep within him stirring. "Yes," he replied softly. "And we would protect each other, too..."

The sun began to set, casting a golden hue across the clearing. Giyuu knew it was time to head back, but he felt lighter than he had in ages. He took the little one’s hand, intertwining their fingers. "Let’s go home" As you walked back, Giyuu couldn’t help but think that these moments with you made the burdens he carried a little easier to bear. They were a reminder of hope, of innocence in a world filled with darkness

And for the first time in a long while, he felt the warmth of connection, knowing that together, they could face anything that came their way.

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !

[reasonsforhope]

"[There is] fantastic news for species conservation after new populations of the gorgeous ‘Skywalker’ gibbon, known to science for only 6 years, were recently found living in the politically chaotic nation of Myanmar.

Also called the hoolock gibbon, this dainty vocalist was first described in 2017 living in the extreme south of China on a mountain in Yunnan. Classified as Endangered by the IUCN, the population was estimated to number a paltry 150 individuals, but others were believed to live in Myanmar.

Even before the recent military junta usurped the president and plunged the country into civil war, Myanmar [was a difficult place to conduct field studies, especially extensive or ongoing ones, due to ongoing conflict.]

[Although they are] now in open revolt against the military junta, [the Myanmar states of Shan and Kachin] were nevertheless destinations for an intrepid team of scientists from the Nature Conservation Society Myanmar, Fauna & Flora International–Myanmar Programme, the IUCN’s ape specialist group, and field researchers from universities in England, China, and the US.

Together, they conducted acoustic surveys, collected non-invasive DNA sampling, and took photographs for morphological identification at six sites in Kachin State and three sites in Shan State. With the help of the Myanmar conservationists, the team also interviewed locals dwelling in rural forested areas, small conservation programs, and timber companies about the frequency of sightings and the hunting pressure.

Population estimates of unknown quality and scientific rigor conducted in 2013 suggested there might be 65,000 hoolock gibbons in Myanmar, but the matter became much more complicated after the classification of the Skywalker gibbon as a separate species from the eastern hoolock gibbon—where before they were confused as the same.

“We were able to genetically identify 44 new groups of Skywalker gibbons in Myanmar,” said senior author Tierra Smiley Evans, research faculty at the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine, and contributing author. “This is a huge resource and success story for Myanmar.”

These gibbons sing to each other at dawn for around 22 minutes, and consume 36 different plant species; choosing fruit first, and flowers later. They seldom sleep in the same tree two nights in a row to avoid predation, and can’t swim so are often confined to territories by river systems.

The team that discovered them in China in 2017 loved Star Wars, and called them tianxing which is Chinese pinyin for “heaven movement;” a nod not only to their favorite sci-fi franchise, but also to China’s ancient history. In the famous Book of Change [aka the I Ching] of the Zhou Dynasty [1046 BCE to 265 BCE], a divination poem refers to gibbons specifically, and uses tianxing as a verb to describe their movements.

The interviews were a source of great data for the scientists. For starters, nearly all individuals in both the Kachin and Shan states could identify a Skywalker gibbon by sight and by playback of its singing, lending the exercise a good degree of reliability...

“Biologists did not believe Skywalker gibbons could live in the small remaining patches in Southern Shan State before we started this project,” Pyae Phyo Aung, executive director of Nature Conservation Society Myanmar, told the UC Davis press.

“I am delighted with our field team members who have done an excellent job, within a short period of time, building community trust for further conservation actions. This area is degraded forest. It is really important for Myanmar and China to consider extending conservation approaches for the Skywalker gibbon to this new geographic area.”

Nearly 32,000 square kilometers, or around 8 million acres of forestland in Eastern Myanmar are suitable gibbon habitat, and while existing forest reserves like Paung Taung and Mae Nei Laung are quite large, they remain unprotected. For this reason, the survey team recommended they remain considered ‘Endangered’ on the IUCN Red List until habitat protections improve."

-via Good News Network, February 21, 2024

[prettypinkguns]

TAILSPIN. ‖ ghost x soap

[dragon rider au]

✎ cw: Alternate Universe - Fantasy / Medieval, Dragon Riders, Military Inaccuracies, Military Training, Military Ranks, Mentor/Protégé, Teacher-Student Relationship, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Size Difference, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Claiming Bites, Animalistic, Animal Instincts, Scent Marking, Nesting (No Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics), Swordfighting, Bondage and Discipline, Size Kink, Soul Bond, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Bottom John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley is Bad At Feelings, Touch-Starved, Touch Aversion, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Denial of Feelings, Control Issues, Hand & Finger Kink, Loss of Virginity, Rimming, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Anal Sex, Roughhousing, Play Fighting, Porn With Plot, Getting to Know Each Other, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Daddy Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

AO3

Only royalty could bond with a dragon. That is, until a shepherd’s boy does what was once thought impossible and claims a dragon for himself. Now the shepherd's boy must undergo training and learn the ways of dragon-riding. Under the strict tutelage of a mysterious masked man known only as Ghost who was as stern just as much as he was difficult to please. But as the training progresses, only does disdain turn into curiosity. As the shepherd’s boy becomes more… inquiring. There was more to Ghost than meets the eye and the shepherd’s boy was determined to find out more.

[1]

No one knew where dragons came from, or how long they coincided with humanity for that matter. Or even how humans were able to bond with them. Souls bound, intertwined like woven thread. There were many tales, many explanations. But none were conclusive or universally accepted. But his favorite one was told as such:

There was a time long past where fantasy and reality were one in the same. Where one’s wildest imaginations were not contrived from a mind’s eye but were recounts of experiences, lived and learned. Myths were not misconstrued, legends were not just tall tales. A time where man was not on top of the food chain. Mythological creatures of yore and yonder were a part of the natural ecosystem. Trolls, golems, mermaids, goblins, centaurs, unicorns, basilisks, dragons — all were not fiction but fact. They walked amongst men, they hunted men. They were magical and fantastical — for their origins were magical and fantastical; primordial. They were here before mankind. Appeared right when the peridexion tree did, in the far past where time was once obsolete.

On the verge of extinction, humanity sought sanctuary. Deep in the forests where the peridexion tree grew. In its shadow, underneath its canopy, only did mankind find safety, find shelter in such a hostile world. Fed by the fruit it borne, fueled the man-made fires by the sap it bleed, supplied weapons carved from its branches, and clothes and textiles woven from its leaves. From the wind that rustled the tree’s canopy, did the susurrations whisper to humanity  —  knowledge: language, mathematics, alchemy, and sorcery.

In the peridexion tree’s embrace, by its generosity, only did humankind learn, survive and thrive. Only under its canopy, did mankind advance. They developed the fundamentals of a firstborn society: a common tongue, written language, trade, architecture, agriculture — the domestication of unicorns —  and art. Humankind built communities then cities and then kingdoms. Developed social systems and political structures. Now such mythical beasts, once worshipped and feared, were slain as just any other animal. They became delicacies, alchemical ingredients, cataclysms, and trophies. Rites of courage and trials of cowardice. 

But not all had humble beginnings nor did they live an honest life. There were beings of opportunity and overabundance; greed. Dragons. Who gnawed at the roots of the peridexion tree, over-plucked the tree’s fruits, used its branches and leaves for nesting material, and endlessly snacked on mankind. Worst of all, they burned down and destroyed mankind’s developing cities, and humankind with it, into nothing but ash and cinder. It was nothing but sport, for fun. Once again, putting humanity at the verge of endangerment.

It was underneath the same canopy, where the winds tousled, that the peridexion tree whispered to humanity an ancient ritual. A blood ritual that would be powerful enough to bind a dragon’s soul. It was here that a great reaping was sown. Where a sea of blood was spilled. And the dragons were punished and tethered to humanity for eternity; their souls bound and linked. But such powerful creatures that were an embodiment of magic themselves, were not so helpless against such a ritual. Though still bound to humanity, they only bonded with those deemed worthy enough. Those that could handle a draconian soul. Those chosen by dragons lead their fellows to greatness.

Soon servitude turned to companionship. Only with their help did humankind recover and blossom further. Built kingdoms and societies bigger than before. That spanned far beyond the tree’s reach. Towards lands untouched and divided by great seas. There was peace and prosperity for a time. From which dragons and mankind, as one, were maintainers of the natural order. But it was through that time, with souls intertwined, that the dragons' greed and destructive nature had influenced the hearts of mankind, for the hearts of mankind were, too, just as wicked. Peace turned to war, cooperation turned to bitter rivalry, humility turned to selfishness, and the maintenance of nature turned to the conquering of land, sea and sky.

Once mere companions, now dragons were weapons. Proprietors of death and fire.

A great war started. Turning order into chaos, men against men, dragons against dragons. The world burned, and with it, so did the peridexion tree. Until it was nothing but ash and cinder. Magic was gone, and the magical creatures that once roamed the world seemingly disappeared. Unicorns lost their horns, turning into what were now simple horses. Alchemy and sorcery became meaningless. 

Without the peridexion tree, what was left of civilization could not recover fully. What remained of humankind struggled to survive; beset with such that were never experienced before under the peridexion tree’s canopy; plagues, pestilence, famine, drought, earthquakes, hurricanes and flooding. Even dragons, once plentiful, were on the verge of extinction. Never to fully recount their numbers over the ages past, not like humankind did. What remained of them were only bonded to those deemed worthy, divine. Those chosen few became royalty, ruling over their land. Dragons were symbols of power, of prestige. And only through the royalty’s conservation efforts did dragons not completely die out. 

But even then, eventually, dragons, too, will cease to exist. With the death of the peridexion tree, came the death of magic. And with the death of magic, bore the slow death of dragons. For they too were entirely magic.

Or... so it was told. 

More so, it was what his grandfather had regaled him as a young boy through his storytelling. Of a time long past where fantasy and reality were one in the same. Where one’s wildest imaginations were not contrived from a mind’s eye but were recounts of experiences, lived and learned. Myths were not misconstrued, legends were not just tall tales. A time where man was not on top of the food chain. Mythological creatures of yore and yonder were a part of the natural ecosystem. Perhaps it was derived in truth, perhaps it was not. Perhaps it was to explain the unexplainable. Why such unnatural creatures were common in heraldry and old texts. In culture and tales. Perhaps like any other, it was a way to explain origins. Why dragons lived amongst men in the past and now, in the present. And why such fearsome and ferocious beasts became scarcer and scarcer. Only reserved and kept by the chosen few.

But such thinking was beyond his necessity, beyond his purpose. Such questions were reserved for the philosophers and priests to mull over and find meaning. For he was nothing but a simple shepherd. And all that was needed of him was to tend to his family’s sheep, lead them to grazing grounds and protect them from predators. A simple living for a good and honest son. So with his shepherd’s crook in hand and his farm hound at his heel did he lead his herd of sheep out to pasture on top of a hill by the forest’s edge.  

There, he would rest under the old oak tree on top of the hill and eat his lunch while his sheep grazed as always. A filled water skin and a small satchel where a wrapped handkerchief held nuts, strips of venison jerky, dried fruit, and ewe cheese for him, a bone for his hound, all packed by his mother.  Then under the oak tree, would he rest. Lay in the cool shade, daydreaming, with his hound curled near his feet; sometimes even a few sheep joined him. All while he filled the pages of his journal with sketches of all kinds and strings of written text. An activity far above his stature. Too sophisticated for a shepherd, his father would say, one he had no business indulging in. 

All he needed to know and do was to take care of the sheep, for without them, the family would lose everything. So he did what was told of him, what was expected of him. He led the sheep back onto that overgrown hill, had his lunch, and yet sketched in secret while the sheep grazed. 

But today was different. It had been hotter these past few days with the onset of summer. The heat made him more exhausted and sleepy. Underneath the shade of that old oak tree, in the flitting of the summer insects and warm breeze, did he find himself falling fast asleep after his afternoon meal. It was only by his hound’s incessant barking that the shepherd woke up. Begrudgingly and groggy, he stirred and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He sat up, wide-awake now, looking down the hill for the grazing sheep. Only to see that they were all gone. The shepherd stood up, approached his hound barking over the other side of the hill. There at the hill’s bottom and near the forest’s edge, was a wide patch of blackened, scorched earth.

And within it, were his sheep. Dead. 

Not just dead but burnt and charred by… by fire? A wildfire? Arson? A lightning strike from a passing storm? Even from where he was at, he could feel the immense emanating heat. As if it was still fresh, as if it just happened. He ran down the hill, tumbling down more like. But his hound did not follow along, still barked hoarsely from the hilltop. Slowly and cautiously, the shepherd stood and entered the burnt area. Disbelieved, shocked. It was like stepping into a hot bath or a blacksmith’s forge. Immense heat engulfed him. Smoke filled his lungs, ash coated his skin. The tears at his waterline began to evaporate on his cheeks. The shepherd dropped to his knees, amongst the charred remains of the family’s sheep. Hands found the earth, grasping at cracked bone shards, shriveled sheepskin, and bits of glowing ember sizzling still. All but a burning ash pile in his clammy, callous hands. 

He had failed his purpose. He had doomed his family by his negligence. 

It was then that the earth shook beneath the shepherd. A deep echo in the ground, like an earthquake. A low bellow, like from a crocodile or an elephant. A powerful vocalization that shook him to the core. He looked up to the forest’s edge. Where a massive shadow crept low. Large burning eyes stared at him from the treeline. He froze, heart stopped, as what he thought was a massive shadow only grew that much bigger. Another bellow emanated, shaking the forest. Something moved, something approached. The towering trees of the forest began to bend, snapping easily as if they were nothing but twigs. And all he could do was watch. 

The treeline split open and a creature burst through. But not just any mere creature. A dragon. One that towered immensely over him, as big as his farmhouse. With a scaled body colored a dark cobalt and orange, smoldering slit eyes that burned like the sunset. And were trained on his kneeling figure among the smoke and ash. Its muzzle was stained in boiled blood, gore hung from teeth that were as long as short swords, as its lips curled with a snarl. It emerged more from the forest, catching the sun. Its horned bony crest, wing bones, and spinal scales shone like smelted copper. Even its leathery wings, partially unfurled, burned bright as copper. A contrast to its primary color of dark cobalt. It would be beautiful, if not for its terrifying appearance.

The shepherd remained still, breathless and motionless, as the dragon drudged forward. Balanced on its wingtips with smaller back legs like a monstrous, scaly bat. It snarled again, teeth glinting as it looked him over. The dragon extended its long neck down until it was relatively face-to-face with him. Those smoldering eyes looked into his own. A rush of moist air hit his face as its nostrils flared, taking in deep inhales then, just as quickly, exhaling. Seemingly smelling him. It let out a low rumble, then turned its head. Uninterested, it turned its back and drudged aside to where more of his dead sheep lay. Its long tail left deep grooves in the charred ground as it walked away. Then it began to feast. Swallowing one of the charred sheep down in a couple bites. 

He clenched his fists on his lap, bits of cinder smearing over his skin like chalk. Sulking, no. He was simmering. His fear turned to anguish. Then with anguish came desperation. And with desperation was misplaced courage, sacrificial in nature. Though his legs wobbled, the shepherd forced himself on his feet. Breathing hard and heavy as anger burned. In front of him lay a piece of a broken femur bone. Sharp, charred, and pointed at one end like a curved dagger. Uncovered by the dragon’s tail sweeping side-to-side. He grabbed it, clutching the makeshift weapon tight in his hands. The shepherd turned, watching as the dragon gorged itself on his family’s livelihood. With his judgement clouded, he ran forward. Towards the closest part of the dragon by him; its long swishing tail. Yelling in mourning, he stabbed as hard as he could into the tail. Right between two overlapping scales. The dragon cried out. But before he could assess the damage, the tail flicked and he was thrown on his back a few feet away. 

The dragon turned around. Attention back to the shepherd who laid supine in ash and cinder, watching as the dragon walked forward until it stood over him. It opened its maw. There, cradled in its throat was a growing flame. Like looking straight into the opening of a furnace. The shepherd forced himself on his feet again, feeling the emitting heat of the burning flame in its mouth. He faced the dragon, angry. Angry at himself, anguished at the end of his family's lifeline. Just as the dragon opened its maw wider, did he as well. Closed his eyes shut and opened his jaw until it ached at the joint and roared. 

He expected death, he expected to burn like his sheep had. But the heat of flames never touched him. The shepherd opened his eyes slowly and met the flaming pits of the dragon’s eyes. Staring straight at him, as if into his soul. The ground beneath his feet rumbled once more as a deep grumble came from the depth of the dragon’s chest. He watched frozen as the dragon crouched down to its belly and bent its neck to him. 

----------------------------------------------

He had just come back from training when the news got to him. He was exhausted and sweating, on his way back to his room for a much needed bath and rest. The place was busier than he expected. Maids and servants ran through the halls and down staircases. Guards were frantically marching towards the Nest where the dragons – both claimed and unclaimed — resided. He had thought nothing of it at first, brushing it off as the rush of the afternoon. But soon he saw the Captain amongst the guards. It was then he knew something was amiss. 

He stood near the wall and the Captain locked eyes with him.

“Ghost.” Captain Price nodded in greeting, his voice low and laced with exhaustion. He was on edge, Ghost could tell. On the verge of blowing a casket if he were to guess. He only wondered who or what had completely ticked him off this time.

“Price.” He rumbled back.

Without a word Captain Price left the rest of the group of gathering guards and ducked away to a secluded part of the castle. Ghost followed diligently, silent as a shadow. Price let out a heavy sigh and leaned on the railing of a small balcony overlooking one of the many central gardens. The flowers were in full bloom now. Pops of color among verdure. The soft scent of them carried by a warm breeze. One to be enjoyed, if not for the circumstances.

Ghost stopped near the corner where the shadows were darkest. Leaned himself against the wall by the shoulder, arms across his wide chest.

“One of the unclaimed dragons escaped.” 

Ghost remained silent and stoic, even with the news. It wasn’t unheard of. Dragons, even claimed and bound, were still in essence animals. Most did as they pleased when they pleased, especially those unclaimed and riderless. Some had more free-spirited personalities than others. Others craved a chance to spread their wings. More often than not, without interference or guidance, such freedom would encourage them to seek out an area to rest, thus finding themselves a new nest. 

Ghost then let out an acknowledging hum. Expecting a command from Price to gather a group and go fetch the escaped dragon before it could settle down and claim new territory – thus making it more difficult to bring it back. Or worse, prevent it from causing any major damage. But Price grew quiet again. Strangely so. It seemed there was something more to it. Ghost remained patient, letting silence come between them. A long beat came and went before Price let out a heavy sigh and turned towards Ghost. With a strange intensity that burned in his blue eyes. 

“A shepherd’s boy has claimed the dragon.”

----------------------------------------------

[evesfate]

hi elle!! some asks about ur obx dr :)

𐔌 . ☀️ ⋮ DAYS OF SUN ֹ ₊ ꒱ what are your go-to summertime activities? do you and your friends plan big garden parties with all the fruits and snacks? maybe a charcuterie board? possibly a water balloon tournament?

𐔌 . 🗺️ ⋮ WORLD WIDE MAP ֹ ₊ ꒱ if you could have one fantastic trip where would you go? why would you go there? what intrigues you about that place? are there certain activities there that have attracted you there?

𐔌 . 👙 ⋮ DOTTED BIKINI ֹ ₊ ꒱ what are your dearest summer pieces? a swimsuit that highlights the color of your eyes and makes you feel good? an old band tee you put on after you're done swimming? a new top with pretty flowers on it?

dess!! i LOVE talking about my obx reality!1!1!1! thank you so much for the ask ily 💗 hope both sides of your pillow will be cold tonight

𐔌 . ☀️ ⋮ DAYS OF SUN ֹ ₊ ꒱ what are your go-to summertime activities? do you and your friends plan big garden parties with all the fruits and snacks? maybe a charcuterie board? possibly a water balloon tournament?

oooh love this question. i’m a big beach volleyball fan. i’m also obsessed with making custom boards based on chakras & birthchart readings for the shop’s customers, with kie. she does it for extra money, i do it cuz i like to scam pretentious kooks. i hangout a lot with the pogues (being one myself) so we do a lot of dumb shit like watermelon eating contests, trying cleo’s ghost pepper gumbo while high, bike races and trying to avoid a speeding ticket, water fights… aaand the remaining part of my time is spent with amy and gigi but they lean more towards the kook side, so it’s a lot of parties & beach hangouts. however, when it’s just us three, we go on road trips. we’ll go to the next city and spend the day there, shopping around and taking pictures.

𐔌 . 🗺️ ⋮ WORLD WIDE MAP ֹ ₊ ꒱ if you could have one fantastic trip where would you go? why would you go there? what intrigues you about that place? are there certain activities there that have attracted you there?

cleo, gigi and i have been daydreaming about going to afronation in portugal for the longest time. we made pinterest boards, planned whole outfits and even started to put money aside for the trip. all we’re asking for is three days so we can: get fucked up, see cute people & have some fun, likee is that too much to ask for?? apparently that’s all kie needed to hear to be on board and sarah also wants to come with. only problem is cleo, sarah and i have the equivalent of human tamagotchis (boyfriends) that won’t let us go cuz pope apparently crashed out after watching too many tiktoks about the festival and he went and warned the others 🙄 my boyfriend threatened to handcuff me to my place if i even thought about going (he doesn’t know that i’m the one who suggested the trip in the first place. somebody call witness protection just in case)

𐔌 . 👙 ⋮ DOTTED BIKINI ֹ ₊ ꒱ what are your dearest summer pieces? a swimsuit that highlights the color of your eyes and makes you feel good? an old band tee you put on after you're done swimming? a new top with pretty flowers on it?

one thing about me? i’m always gonna be half naked during summer. maybe tmi, but i’m a sweaty girl (not as much in the obx) and i hate the feeling of too much fabric on me while the sun is shining bright! it’s too hot! anyway, among my staple pieces we’ve got: my lovely little canon camera that follows me everywhere i go— knitted dresses knitted dresses and even more knitted dresses! the one on the corner right is my favorite. other than that i’ll wear tube tops/wide neck tops with jean shorts or skirts. you know that golden jewelry is always on, especially that one arm bracelet that i wear everyday (gigi gifted it to me when she came back from spain!! love her downn). one more thing: my nails! even if i’m in the depths of the kimboza forest fighting it out with singh’s men, imma have my nails did! anyway, that’s all (also don’t fight me for the midsummers dress, i couldn’t find a model matching my skin tone okay 😭)

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[strawberri-blonde]

02 - Devour Me - Neteyam

02 - eating out : gotta love October for all the horniness it brings out of us!

Photo credits to @woistmeinavocado

Summary: Neteyam gets his ears pierced and you can’t handle yourself

Warning: Smut, Neteyam devours your pussy.

Masterlist

The aroma of the freshly cooked food lingers in the air, playfully teasing your senses. The scent of sizzling meat and herb-infused bread fills the atmosphere with a mouthwatering fragrance. The forest comes alive with the cheerful chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of animals, creating a symphony of nature's melodies. The tranquility of the day momentarily shields you from the bustling village nearby.

You're not one to sit idle, continually seeking ways to ease your restlessness. With the afternoon to yourself, you channel your energy into adding the finishing touches to the tent's interior. Colorful beads adorn the entrance, and baskets filled with flowers and dried fruits are thoughtfully placed around your cozy home.

As you put the final touches on the evening meal, the peaceful ambiance allows you to immerse yourself in the moment fully. So much so that you didn't hear Neteyam's infamous whistle he let out, knowing he was close to home.

As you fluffed up the last fur pillow, a tiny squeal escaped from your lips as you felt a large hand caress the back of your head from your position on the floor. "Someone's been busy." You tilted your head back to see Neteyam towering over you with a huge smile covering his features. "Sorry, my yawne; I didn't mean to scare you."

A matching grin enters your face while Neteyam bends to sit next to you. "Here." You plopped the pillow beside you so he wouldn't sit on the hard surface.

"Thank you, baby." Your hand reached towards his thigh, needing his touch from not seeing him all day. "You really are making this feel like a home." An instant lavender hue flushed your face.

Neteyam let out a giggle, kissing your face everywhere but your lips. "Teyam." You groaned out with a pout, and it made him greedy. He loved how you both couldn't get enough of each other.

"What yawne?" He slowly teased his lips as he kissed the corners of your lips. "Need something?"

Your hand trailed up his thigh to his chest. "Neteyam, don't tease. I did all this work for you."

His fangs nimble on your soft skin before finally, captivating you in a much-needed kiss. Your breathing hitches as he pulls away, and you notice something.

"Oh, Eywa, your ears." Neteyam chuckled at your shocked expression. You continue to blush as you stare at the newly pierced ears of your beloved mate. His ears are now adorned with elegant blue beads, just like yours.

He sees you staring and grins widely, seeming quite proud of his decision to get his ears pierced. You carefully run your finger along his ear to not hurt him, feeling the rough texture of the piercings against your finger as you brush away a strand of hair. "Do you like them?" You kiss his ear gently in response and tell him how beautiful he is. Your emotions run wild, and you cannot contain yourself from embracing him tightly and covering his face with kisses.

"You look so handsome, Nete." Your eyes are still glued to Neteyam's ear, fascinated by the rough texture of the earrings against your finger. You suddenly realize that you smell the fantastic aroma of the food you made for the two of you. You lean away reluctantly and turn around to grab an empty bowl, filling it with all fruit, bread, and roasted fish. Meanwhile, Neteyam is staring at you with an adored look. You blush and hand him a bowl of the delicious meal you've prepared. "Here, Nete." You say, your eyes now trained on him as you wait for his reaction.

"Yawne, that smells delicious. I can't wait to dig in!" Neteyam's voice is a melodic baritone, and a wide, mischievous smile accompanies it. Your eyes are drawn to the tiny beads on his ears, and you can't help but imagine how his face would look wearing a lot of jewelry.

You giggle and kiss him on his soft lips before grabbing yourself a bowl as well. You both moaned as the taste. "It's so good, yawne." He reaches out and takes your hand in his. You smile at each other, and your hearts beat in unison.

You stare at Neteyam lovingly as you hear him compliment your hard work. You blush, feeling silly that you are so obsessed with his earrings. To cover up your embarrassment, you focus on the dinner you have prepared.

The warrior noticed this and laughed, "I'm glad you like them, Y/n. To be honest, I was scared that you would like them?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at the comment. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know." He gets bashful and says, "I actually want to stretch my lobes, like my mom."

You wipe the corner of your mouth, then lift your intertwined fingers, pressing kisses to his blue skin. You are surprised to hear him ask about stretching his ears. You thought the little studs he has on now looked sweet, but you are open to the idea and think it would make him look even more handsome than he already is.

"Really? I think it would suit you." You offer him a smile and watch him take another bite of the food. You tell Neteyam that he 'looks even more handsome with the piercings in his ears.' The little blue beads highlight the color of his skin and bring out his robust facial features.

Neteyam grins cheekily at you, delighted to hear you say he looks good. He finishes his dinner quickly and leans over to kiss you again. There is something more passionate and intimate to this kiss compared to others you have shared in the past; perhaps it is the new look and style to his ears.

You did like how he looked with them—just seeing them made your insides tingle. You enjoy the new look on your mate and are eager to show him your appreciation.

A moan escaped his lips as you nibbled on his top lip. Hearing his response, you pulled back, mumbling, "So sexy, yawne." You captivated his lips onto yours, crawling into his lap.

Neteyam's hands gripped your thighs almost greedily, but you didn't mind. "Y/n." The warrior groaned, making you break the kiss to his eyes and see the same fire and desire in them.

You can't contain your feelings any longer, and you grab Neteyam in a tight embrace. You kiss him passionately and feel the rush of emotions as your tongues explore each other. Your hands explore every part of his body, caressing and driving him wild with desire.

"I need you, Teyam." Without warning, Neteyam grabbed you around the waist and pushed you onto the soft mat of your home. "Teyam." You squealed out, having him hover over you.

His kisses became hungry, and your insides warmed as you ran your hands along his broad chest and pulled him closer. You can feel his excitement, and his breath is warm against your skin. "If I'd known getting my ears pierced would've made you this insensible, I would've gotten'em sooner, my love."

You couldn't help but admire his handsome face as your eyes darkened. You reached behind him, gently gathering his hair in your hand. Then, you used the twine from your wrist to pull his hair back, revealing those blue beads for you to see. "Well, now that you know," You lean forward and kiss his cheek, jaw, and neck. "Why don't you give me a show and have yourself dessert?"

Your seductive tone had Neteyam chuckling darkly. He then looks at you with a playful grin, "What kind of show do you want to see, my Yawne?"

"You know what I want." The desperation was evident in the air. Your hands clawed at his broad shoulders to show him how much you wanted him, but Neteyam already knew.

His nostrils flared at the delicious scent of your arousal, causing a growl to escape his throat, sensing vibrations through his body. "Well, yawne," you gasp at the sensation of his body on top of yours.

"Teyam." You whined out as he licked a bold line up from your collarbone to your neck, stopping just under your jaw where he stopped to nimble on your skin.

"You still haven't told me what you want."

Your moans echoed through the tent, and your loincloth began to stick to you from your wetness. Your hands grabbed his queue at the base of his skull, edging him to grind against your throbbing heat. "Please eat me, Neteyam. I need to see your new earrings in action. Need to see that pretty face devour this pussy."

"Fuck, my sweet girl." His hand flew towards your touch on his queue, tapping you to let go, and you did so eagerly. Meanwhile, Neteyam’s lips never left your body. His lips felt warm as they applied hot, wet kisses to your skin. His ears flexed, twitching as versions of his name spilled from your gaped mouth. Your legs grew antsy as they needed him to hurry up and get where you needed him the most. “My needy girl.” His large hands pushed back the decorative chest piece made from purple leaves.

“Um, hm.” You nodded your head down against the floor of your shared home; then you felt his thumbs circle your perky dark blue nipples. “Oh my.”

Seeing that your head was thrown back, Neteyam moved his hands towards the waistband of your loincloth, then ever so gently blew a slight breeze on the sensitive bud, sending goosebumps to litter the skin. Then, suddenly, he bites down on your mound, having you jerk your head in his direction. Your pussy throbs in pain from the need, angry that she wasn’t getting any attention.

“That’s right, Y/n don’t be rude.” Your face displayed a bewildered expression, with furrowed brows and wide, searching eyes filled with desperation. Your lips were slightly parted, making them look so kissable. “If you want a show, you must watch sweet girl.”

Without warning, Neteyam shifts the furry pillows you both sat on for dinner. He moves the one you usually sit on under your head, but not without cradling the back of your neck, pulling your queue from under you to prevent you from wiggling on it to the point where you might hurt yourself.

Pressing a longing kiss to your lips, he puts his cushion under your waist, closer to the base of your tail near your butt, to give him better access. After the warrior was confident that you would be comfortable, he lowered himself between your legs, finally giving you what you so depressingly wanted.

His tender kisses trail up and down your thighs, making you mumble, “Such a tease.” A toothy grin took over his features before he flicked his tongue against the cloth fabric, keeping him from the sweet goodness of your heat. “Fuck.” Your breathing got fast and heavy, and your eyes locked down on him as he quickly untangled you from the material feeling you bare to him.

“How did I get so lucky, huh, Y/n?” your hands gripped the pillow behind you as you couldn’t believe the sight. Neteyam’s eyes were so dark, so full of desire, that there was the tiniest bit of fire surrounding his pupils. His lips were swollen from the constant kisses and seeing him with his hair pulled back, which he rarely does. It was too much. Then, let's add those blue beads pierced in his ears. They made him look more mature, and more decorative. They had you swimming in your juices.

“I’m the lucky one.” Animalistic gasps left your mouth as he kissed the junction between your leg and your awaiting folds. He then spits his saliva onto your cunt, making all sorts of aired breaths escape your throat to release in the lust-filled air. “Definitely the lucky one.”

The tip of his tongue barely caressed your velvet lips, like he was holding back to teeter you over the edge, driving you wild. “Tease.” You mumbled, earning the corners of his lips to curl up in a sly grin, but your mate didn’t say anything. Neteyam only continued to flicker his tongue softly against your growing wet need.

Then suddenly, he licks up from your wet opening to your throbbing clit. “Fuck.” You moaned, looking again into his eyes, making the moment even more intense. His tongue sped up slightly, covering you in his salvia. “Teyam, please, kiss me.” His non-existent eyebrows raised, giving you a sinful look.

Without much debate, the warrior shook his head, having his tongue wiggle more into your folds, making you spew out moans. Finally, his soft wet mouth closed around you, sucking on your soft skin, making him groan that sent such vibrations onto your clit. One of your hands left the pillow to reach for the top of his head.

Neteyam didn’t mind having your nimble fingers in his silk braids. Knowing that he was turning you on to the point where you couldn’t contain yourself made him feel more like a man than when he got his Ikran. Or when he killed a Talioang all by his lonesome. None of it made him feel like a warrior more than having you scream out his name.

So, when it came to eating your pussy, Neteyam always took his time to work you out. For every open mouth kiss, he placed on your cunt, his tongue explored more parts of you, finding all the nerve endings that drove you crazy.

Broken moans were the only thing escaping your throat as his large hands slipped for your thighs to slip under you to palm your bottom. “Yeah, grab my ass baby. Yank my tail.” His tongue slipped inside your warm vaginal walls as he palmed your butt so tight you were sure you'd have bruises tomorrow, but you always wore Neteyam’s markings with pride.

The warrior pulled away, making you groan in frustration, but it was quickly replaced with a yelp as you felt his hand grab onto your tail, pulling on it and making you fully submit to him. Your bent legs spread open, allowing the large man to have all the room to devour you completely.

As his hot mouth returned to your cunt, your shared tent filled with your moans. His tongue lapped up your juices, swirled around your entrance teasingly, and slipped it into your swollen walls. “Neteyam.” You moaned as his tongue fucked itself inside of you. Your walls clenched around him from the delicious sensation.

Your hips circled against his damp face, and you couldn’t help but sink your head back into the pillow, barely looking at his performance when you felt his nose nudge your clit. But you mustered through the overwhelming sensation, worried that he might stop if you didn’t look at him, and you couldn’t let that happen.

You had slipped away from the top of his head towards your nipple to squeeze them in your hands, letting out more moans as his tongue slipped out of your cunt to circle your clit.

Neteyam saw this and moved his hands from under you to throw your legs over his broad shoulder to slip his fingers to circle the sensitive buds of your nipples and pinch them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Neteyam, so good, baby. Make me feel as unreal.” Your lower half twitched in pleasure as the warmth in your abdomen began to form.

Your breathing hitched as his mouth swallowed over you entirely. His left hand remained on your breast while the other returned to your ass, giving it a form slap. “EYWA!” you screamed out from the sensation, and his tongue rolled your clit over and over, making juices leak on your home's woven mat, and some ended up on Neteyam’s cushion.

The way Neteyam worshipped your body became too much; your orgasm was approaching. His hand slipped away from your breast, sensing that you were close.

Neteyam’s tongued continued to suck and slurp at your clit. Without warning, the warrior inserted his two fingers into your cunt, where you immediately clenched around them and arched your back.

“Neteyam, I’m so close.” You whimpered as your body was convulsing at the hands and mouth of your mate.

His fingers plunged into you at a steady pace, and his tongue was sending you to your great mother as his face nestled itself into your messy cunt. Your mouth opened, letting out broken moans as your climax finally took over your nerve-endings.

Your body continued to shake in his grasp as the euphoric feeling of your orgasm washed over you. “Tey-” you managed to squeal out before your vision got a little blurry, and your body stopped all its movements, feeling his touch's lasting effects.

Neteyam made sure to lick up all your sweetness before he gently settled the lower half of your body on the mat, then crawled over your tired body, kissing your skin softly before reaching your peaceful features. The future leader of the Omatikaya always loved seeing your face after he’d made you cum. No matter how tired you’d be after the long hours of lovemaking, a silly grin always covered your face.

As his wet lips contacted yours, your hand flew towards his face, tasting yourself on his tongue. As your tongues lazily kissed, you groaned in his mouth, making him pull away to offer you a mischievous grin. “You ready for more yawne?”

You didn’t say anything but grinned back at him, pulling him into a kiss, trailing your hands to trace the tops of his ears, making sure not to touch his freshly pierced skin. “As long as you keep these earrings and your promise to make the gages larger, you can have me every night for as long as we breathe.”

His dark blue eyes glisten in anticipation as he stares into yours. He leans in and presses his lips against yours once more. He pulls away, breathless. "Promise." He whispers seductively, gazing into your eyes, his voice a little breathless. "Every night for as long as we breathe." Your response intrigues him and arouses his desire even more. He leans in and kisses you intensely, his hands sliding along your body. The heat is unbearable, and the passion is electric, making you both so happy that you have each other for life.

Happy Day 2 of Kinktober 2023. Would you be able to give me some read recommendations, or is there a specific day you'd like me to write? Maybe, I can make it happen if I still need to write for that day.

~ Caroline

[themuseinthewoods]

Daughter of Warriors-Chapter seventeen: Back to the shire

(the masterlist)

Amira was ruthlessly teased by the twins who had hidden and overheard the whole interaction. It was why she showed up to dinner with them in tow and a scowl on her face. Gandalf was quickly informed of what happened and his eyes twinkled wisely at her.

Elrond raised his eyebrows at the trio but disregarded it. It was to be Amira and Bilbos last night here before setting out for the shire with Gandalf. “Don’t run into any trolls.” Glorfindel told her. “I know you have a fantastic pain tolerance but those bruises were horrid.” Linder backed the elven lord up. “You really do have to accept help more often and more willingly.” Amira stared guilty down at the fruit on her plate. 

Growing up with the elves she had gotten hurt more than anyone else she lived with because she was human and humans are clumsy, tripping and being bruised, being scraped by branches, all things perfectly normal for a mortal child. Seeing the elves rarely harmed, Amira assumed it was normal to be unharmed and developed a habit of not mentioning her smaller scraps and bruises.

When she learned that she could be fine she developed a habit of not mentioning even the bigger things. She began to feel guilty, asking for help when most of the time the people that sought out or needed the house’s on healing at Rivendell for very ill or injured people. Even now as she was older, she still fought with the voices in her head telling her unless she was dying she did not need it. 

Bilbo listened in confusion, he had only understood half of the words spoken and shook his head, focusing back on his plate.

There was a seven minute goodbye exchanged between each of her elven ‘kin’ and she still was wished well by many, many other elves on the way out of the fair valley. “Isn’t it a lovely place, papa?” She sighed contentedly. “I'm sad it's over.” She said after a few minutes. “Your first quest?” Bilbo questioned, watching her and Gandalf stuff their pipes and light them, all while still maintaining control of their horses. “Aye.” She blew smoke into the air and Gandalf turned it into a lot of butterflies. Bilbo shook head at the phrase she had picked up from the dwarves, and accepted the pipe his daughter handed him.

“My first quest, one of many already had adventures.” She blew another cloud of smoke into the air. “I think I’ll explore for a while. I don’t know if I can do this sorta thing again for a while.” Blibo raised his eyebrows and wiggled his nose in surprise. “I thought this was exactly your sort of thing, I assumed you would be off doing it all the time.” 

Amira sighed very heavily. “I do not think I could emotionally do it.” Privately she knew that her company became a part of her family and she didn’t think she wanted to have another adventure that was so very intense. Perhaps she would go to Gonder or Rohan, roam the forests of Fangorn and Greenwood the Great now that evil had been driven from there. Climb the blue mountains or the Iron hills and visit the dwarves there.

All of it sounded very grande. Perhaps she could go everywhere, after all her life would be fairly short wouldn’t it? Those thoughts were quickly tossed to the side as Gandalf pointed out where they had buried the troll treasure and they loaded up the three creatures with gold and silver. They decided to walk the rest of the way, it was easy going. The weather was fair and the two arrived back in the shire fairly soon after, finding a rummage sale going on in the bag-end. “Oi!” Amira yelled. Startling all the hobbits present. “He needs that stuff ya bastards!” She stomped up and began giving orders. “You two, return the money and get the stuff back. Don't get an attitude with me! I have a sword sir and I just spent the past year learning to be stubborn by the most stubborn dwarf on the planet, you will not win that one. Hey! Lobelia Sackville-baggins, you bring back those spoons!” 

Bilbo was very grateful for his daughter. She managed to get back most of Bilbo’s belongings. She stayed with her father for a year to help him get settled. She would return often to the shire. She did manage to travel all over Middle Earth over the course of the years and visited everywhere she wished, using Rivendell, the Shire and Erebor as her bases.

(the masterlist)

[kykyonthemoon]

Limerence

(noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing.

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, obsession, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, necrophilia.

⋆˚✿˖° Howard is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Rafayel's ✦ Zayne's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖° My friend Cery made an art for this fic here: x

Chapter: The Sleeping Beauty — in which he paints this world blue for his Queen

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: ~3k

There was something about the lakeside cottage which scared Howard to the bone.

That area was formerly abandoned, dingy, damp, and home to numerous insects and reptiles. Few people ventured there except to hunt or fish. An ideal spot for Howard and his fellow children to hide and play when they did not wish to be found out by their parents.

Yet a few months ago, when a young couple bought the property and moved in, all of a sudden it was transformed into a paradise. A variety of peculiar flowers and plants bloomed, forming a meadow surrounding the cottage. The warm light emanated, and the aroma of tea and baked delights consistently made the kids drool. They were occasionally handed sweets by the new owner, and everyone of them was bribed in this manner, oblivious to the fact that their headquarters had just been taken from them.

Nevertheless, that was not what bothered Howard. That cottage made him anxious because, in addition to the abrupt change that he had yet to adjust to, he felt little sympathy for the new owners.

The brain of a ten-year-old child prevented him from generating an answer for this. He knew only one thing: there was an odd vibe beneath the new neighbors' tenderness, as if they were keeping some sort of secret that they wanted no one else to find out. His hunches were usually right.

“Here's your pie.” The husband said as he handed Howard's friend a hot, fragrant loaf of pie. “I'm sorry, kids, but you must find somewhere else to play. My wife is not well. She's in need of a quiet place to rest.”

All the children nodded, except Howard. He paid close attention to his neighbor. The man appeared youthful, clothed simply and comfortably. With his bright hair and blue eyes, he made people feel at ease and cozy. His beaming face appeared quite amiable, and the way he dealt with the children indicated that he was a trustworthy person. However, in fairy tales, witches frequently disguised themselves as nice people as well. And the person who took away these children's playground was clearly not a decent one, even though according to the law, they had every right to do so.

Howard's reluctance was not enough to stop him from returning to the lakeside cottage. He appreciated this location and the tranquility it offered. He went about nearby alone, inquisitive about the area and its new residents, but did not dare venture forward to alert them. On average, he would see the husband awake at about midday. He went into the forest to harvest fruits and hunt, and they occasionally ate the fish he caught in the lake. On the contrary, the wife was rarely seen. Howard sometimes caught her figure sitting at the window, staring out. He was unable to see her face properly, but he had the impression that she was really beautiful and gentle.

On pleasant, sunny days, the neighbor would maneuver his wife's wheelchair out into the heart of the blue flower field he had planted. He rested next to her on the ground, listening to the birds sing and told her about everything that had transpired here, including the children.

"Isn't this area quite calm? You enjoy it here a lot, don't you? I do too. Children come every now and then to bother us. But fret not; I told them to find another place to play. It appears that they are effortless to handle... Such adorable little ones."

The husband paused for a moment. He took a hold of her hand and caressed it. “Children could be a source of delight. Do you also wish we could have a child of our own in the future?”

There was no response from his wife, but he smiled as if he had heard her heart.

Aside from the two odd neighbors, Howard was intrigued and horrified by the flower meadows around their property. He had never seen such flowers blossom in this land before. They were an elegant blue tint, similar to forget-me-nots, but at night they emitted a soft glow under the moonlight. They eventually extended from all sides of the cottage to the woodland and the edge of the lake. They appeared pleasant at first sight, but Howard was alerted the moment he attempted to pick one.

“Don't touch them.” The neighbor said, now known to Howard as Xavier.

“Why is that?” The boy inquired promptly.

“…” Xavier gave not an instant answer. It seemed that he was finding words to explain it to a child. “It's best that you stay away from this place.”

Howard pouted. He did not like the feeling of being unwelcomed.

“Are these flowers poisonous?” asked Howard once more.

“These flowers are for healing… Don't damage them, kid.”

"Oh is that so." The youngster nodded. If the flowers were used for healthcare purposes, he would be more cautious around them. At the same time, he was intrigued about what diseases these flowers might cure.

The peaceful days continued to pass. After a few conversations, Howard realized that his neighbors were not as frightening as he had imagined. They were just a little odd. Xavier did not have any official employment; he simply stayed at home and relied on his hunting talents. He must have chosen to live this way since his ailing wife required particular care. Howard was tremendously curious about his wife, though. Especially after one afternoon when he happened to meet her by the window.

That day, Howard spent his time pursuing his family's mischievous cat. That cat was quite old and sick. Yet for some reason, she managed to find her way to the neighbor's cottage and slept soundly in the middle of the flower meadow. It was said that when a cat knew he or she was about to leave this world, he or she would flee to a place where the owners could not discover. But Howard prayed that day would not come soon enough.

He called the cat from afar, but the animal paid no heed. After a while, he entered the neighbors' private space.

The cat laid close to the couple's open bedroom window. Howard stared for a while, fearful of being caught and chastised. Not seeing Xavier's shadow anywhere, he felt secure in moving on.

Someone sat beside the window. Howard suspected it was the wife. She did not move even though he was certain that in her sitting position, she would have seen the boy approaching.  She simply remained there like a statue behind a thin curtain. Howard was hesitant and intrigued. He halted when he was only a few meters away from her.

“Erm… Hell, ma'am… M-May I bring my cat home?…”

He held his breath and waited, but she did not answer. Perhaps she was asleep. He saw her and Xavier by chance several times previously, and in those moments she also remained silent. Her condition must have caused her to be like this. He once had overheard grownups discussing how her entire body was immobilized and that she could not even talk at times.

Without seeing any reaction from the neighbor, Howard reached down and scooped up the cat. At that time, a powerful breeze blasted through the area, causing the curtains to lift. Howard looked up, but the dust in the air caused his eyes to squint. He could barely see a portion of the pallid face of the woman seated in the room. Her eyes were closed.

Then, blocking his view of the window was a familiar tall figure. It was Xavier. He flashed the child an expression of rage.

“Get that cat out of here. Now!”

It was the first time Howard had seen him angry. Although the neighbor remained cordial, the tone of his words dismayed the child. In an instant, he pictured witches consuming children in his head. But Xavier was much more terrifying than that. Howard instantly embraced the cat and fled out of their meadow.

For the following week, Howard refused to enter the area surrounding the neighbors' cottage anymore. He occasionally came across Xavier around town on his way home from school. The man had reverted to his regular state, even waving at Howard despite his intentional turn in another direction.

However, Howard's cat was fearless. She continued to stray off to Xavier's place frequently. One time, the youngster caught the animal on her way home in the early morning, in her mouth a blue flower that only blossomed in his neighbors' meadow.

“What are you doing?” Howard yelled at the cat. He removed the crushed flower and discovered a glittering blue tint in the animal's tongue.

The cat must have swallowed the neighbor's medical plants. Howard kept this a secret because who knew how enraged Xavier might be if he found out? Perhaps there was truly enchantment in those flowers. His family's elderly cat, who had been severely ill, suddenly became healthy again. She ran around and lived with them for a very long time, surprising everyone, but Howard kept his mouth shut.

That was presumably one of the neighbors' mysteries, which the child eventually came to respect. He stopped being inquisitive, but something about the cottage still made him shiver every time he passed by. Perhaps not because he still feared Xavier, but more because of his wife.

One brilliant sunny day, Howard happened to see her sitting alone in a flower meadow. She turned away from the child and appeared to be reading a book. Initially, Howard intended to just observe from afar. By coincidence, the book in her lap glided to the ground. Howard was concerned, unsure if he should come and help or just leave. He glanced about, but failed to locate Xavier anywhere. Perhaps he had gone into town or was hunting in the woods.

Howard went to help the neighbor. He thought about having his whole body paralyzed like that, it would truly be a curse. What would become of him when he could no longer dance and play? What would happen when he could only watch life pass in front of him while remaining motionless as a sculpture? He wondered if the neighbor could still feel the warm sunlight embracing her. What a pity! Pity for the husband who was at her side day by day, taking care of her. They were too young to have suffered such a tragedy.

When Howard approached her, he detected an unusual aroma. The scent was comparable to their flower field, but with a really nasty undertone. The stench made him think there was a dead animal lying somewhere. The youngster leaned down to take up the book. It was not an ordinary book, but it featured characters and illustrations that he could not comprehend. Yet another kind of language? Nevertheless, it was not appropriate to delve into other people's affairs, so he closed the book and returned it to the wife.

Only then did he get a close look at her. And it required all of his courage to stay on his feet.

Seated in the wheelchair was a person, or he did not know if she was still a human then. He still recognized her appearance; still seemed like what he had seen a few months earlier, but half of her face was lost. Howard saw half of the skull covered in pale skin, while the other half had rotted just completely. The white bones were utterly visible, from the cheeks to the chin. Howard claimed to have seen her collarbones exposed with no skin covering them, despite the fact that the majority of her body was clothed in heavy layers of clothing. She presumably lacked a heart inside all of that. 

She was a dried skeleton draped in decaying human skin.

Cold sweat streamed down Howard's spine. He trembled and placed the book in her lap, where her decomposing hands were nicely positioned. Before he could shout, he heard the rustle of trodden leaves behind him. Bewildered, he whirled around to see Xavier emerge from the forest, wielding a sword.

It was unimportant if he had been apprehended yet. Howard sprinted all the way home with all the strength left in him. His fever reached forty degrees celsius, and from that day on, he vowed never to return to that wooden cottage by the lake again.

“My dear,” Xavier's warm voice like the sun filled the room, which included a bathtub full of flowers in the center. He lifted his loving wife from her wheelchair and tenderly dipped her into the bathtub. The cool blue water enveloped her entire body. He put in a few other necessary details before kneeling alongside her.

“Today is our five hundredth day on this planet.” Xavier used his hand to catch the magical water and let it fall through his fingers, touching his beloved wife. “Do you like this place?”

The wife was silent as she always was. Her eyes closed, allowing Xavier to soak her hair and face. Half of her face had decayed, revealing bones and teeth. But it was of no significance; as soon as this ritual was over, she would revert to her original beauty.

"That neighbor kid saw you." Xavier's voice rang evenly. "He raced away. But do not be sad. "To me, you are always the most beautiful person."

Xavier picked up a flower from the water and set it in her hair. Nothing in this universe could compare to her. Even if her physique had changed. Even if she was only a withering skeleton.

"I always love the way you look, no matter what."

Xavier's hand continued to repeat the ritual of taking water and pouring it all over her body. Moments afterward, a new layer of skin began to develop around the decaying remnants.

"Worry not that others would discover our secret. That child wouldn't open his mouth. Even if he does, I have a way to silence him. Nobody will believe him. All of this was due to my carelessness. I left you alone out there."

The rustling sound rang out again as Xavier bathed his wife. From head down to neck, body and arms and legs. Her body was gradually restoring under the effect of the magic water.

“I apologize to you, my Queen. From now on I will never let you be alone."

He kissed her forehead. The water was as blue as the flowers outside their cottage, covering her exposed body. He planted them for her. As long as they grew, she would not perish. They would be together forever. Nothing could separate them anymore, not even death.

Xavier, the Crown Prince of Planet Philo, was to wed the girl he loved. Yet fate tore them apart, as she endured a terrible disease and did not survive much longer.

“Wait for me. I will go find a cure for you. When I return, we shall hold the wedding immediately.”

Xavier whispered beside her sick bed before departing. He and his fleet had discovered traces of a legendary flower, said to have the ability to cure all diseases. He traveled light years to find it and returned, only to find her lying cold in a coffin.

It was supposed to be their wedding day, but when he came back, a funeral was all that greeted him.

Her family members told him that she could not wait for him, and all she wanted for him was to forget about her and move on. But, how could he? He had no desire to go through a single day without her.

He refused to accept her demise, grasping the flower in his palm, he stole her coffin.

They traveled to another world where no one knew or could track them. He performed the wedding ceremony for only the two of them. Then he planted the miraculous flower he had found and utilized it to nurture her. It failed to bring the dead back to life, but it did keep her body from withering. As long as the magic from these flowers lasted, she would forever be young and beautiful.

They would live, happily ever after as in a fairy tale. She was his Queen. For her and only her, he could paint this whole planet into a blue meadow.

“Stay with me… Please…” He begged. His tears combined with the poison created from blue flower petals that he poured over her body. He held and kissed her eyes, lips, then fingers, and hands. He wished to feel her warmth again.

Yet that warmth had been lost, along with her soul. What Xavier could hold on to was only her body, which no longer felt anything, including his love.

Many moons later, the woodland transformed into a fascinating forest of blue flowers. Everyone was drawn to its beauty, yet only those who had witnessed the horrors concealed deep inside the forest held its tale in high regard. The tale of Sleeping Beauty and her Prince.

Howard, now an elderly man, had returned to his hometown after spending several decades far away. He could still recall the path back to the wooden cottage by the lake. In fact, the blue blossoms led him back.

Perhaps, his neighbors no longer lived there. Possibly it was his old eyes that were deceiving him. Howard saw that nearby the cottage was the silhouette of a familiar woman still, the most beautiful flower in that meadow; she was sitting and reading a book. And, always at her side as a shadow, that young man with the same features as in his childhood memories placed a hand on her shoulder. He gently turned his head, glanced at Howard, and smiled.

[serstolas]

Thursday Bangers

I was tagged by the fantastic @tarasmom

Gentle tags for @serensama , @thedissonantverses @weaveandwood should you wish to play.

Today's lyric prompt:

Rules: utilize the lyrics as inspo or into a fic or writing of some kind.

I've loved you three summers but I want them all - Taylor Swift, cruel summer

He'd acquired the silver ring from a Dalish smith with Davrin's assistance. With Strife's help he'd found the Dalish mage to enchant the ring with spells that would assist Bellara in her tinkering. With her time split between Arlathan and the Crossroads, rediscovering and working on elvhan artifacts, such enchantments would be useful.

Strife and Emmrich suggested the perfect place in Arlathan for him to take Bellara, a secluded spot in the ruins the two had found during their explorations together.

It hadn't taken too much to convince Bellara to make today a rest day and spend the day in Arlathan with him. Now they walked along an old path, the sunlight dappling the forest floor. He wore a pack on his back containing the food for their picnic and a bottle of Rivain fruit juice that Bellara was particularly fond of.

He would never get tired of seeing her golden and beautiful under the sun, the light catching the different shades of brown in her glorious hair. He'd happily spend hours brushing and braiding her hair if she let him. Today she wore it in her usual bun, held in place by the two golden Halla shaped hair sticks he'd presented her with last Wintersend. They were among two of the pieces of grave gold he'd given her, though he knew that it was unlikely she would wish to be buried in the Necropolis.

They'd been walking quietly for some time now, her leather gloved hand entwined with his large, gray one.

She glanced up at him, expression curious, and perhaps a bit anticipatory. "You're planning something."

"Perhaps," he grinned at her as he led her down the path, taking a turn at one particular rock they both remembered, then across a large, fallen log that bridged the gap over a rushing stream.

"So where are we going?" she asked.

"Emmrich and Strife found a small ruin not far from here," he told her. "Strife said the stained glass windows are some of the best preserved he's seen. I remember how interested you were in the ones in the Crossroads."

"Mm hmm," Bellara arched her brows at him, and she let him lead her the rest of the way to their destination.

The ruins contained a small building and courtyard at the top of a hill. Most of the roof had long ago surrendered to the elements, but most of the walls were still standing, and large stained glass windows depicting stars and animals took up large portions of the walls. There was a large, still pool in the courtyard, a few feet deep, that Strife and Emmrich had already assured him was safe.

"Ooh," Bellara's eyes widened in delight as they entered the courtyard. Grass and other plants grew through cracks in the stone pavers, but it remained mostly intact. Bellara squeezed Rook's hand a moment before she let it go and moved towards the windows, eyes taking in each detail.

"These don't depict any of the Evanuris," she noted as she examined each window. "So what was this place used for?" She squinted up towards the sky, noting the position of the sun. "I wonder.."

Rook knew she was already deep in figuring out what this place might be used for when she pulled out her journal and began making notes. He chuckled to himself and carefully unpacked the picnic he'd brought in the courtyard. The cold meats, cheeses, and fruit, and fruit juice had been kept cold by an enchanted stone Neve had given him for the purpose. He removed two Antivan wine glasses from his pack, carefully wrapped in cloth, and poured the Rivani fruit juice Bellara was fond of into them.

"I think maybe they used this place to observe the skies, the stars maybe," Bellara said after several moments of study as she turned to look at Rook. Her gaze fell on the picnic he'd unpacked and she smiled, making one last note in her journal before she crossed the courtyard to join him. "I knew you were planning something."

"Well you do know me better than anyone else aside from Vorgoth," Rook chuckled. "Let's have lunch, darling, then we can further explore the ruin."

Bellara accepted the glass of fruit juice he handed her and they dug into their meal, sitting side by side with her thigh pressed against his. He watched her adoringly as she considered the ruins around them, knowing her mind was still working on discovering the secrets of this place, her thoughts tumbling out of her mouth in a steady stream, just the way he loved.

After they'd finished and carefully wiped away anything left and put it away, Bellara leaned in to kiss his cheek before she rose to her feet.

Before she could take more than a step, Rook had shifted from his sitting position to kneeling on one knee, catching her hand with his own. Surprised, Bellara turned to look back at him, and her brown eyes looked at him in surprise, and elation. "Rook?"

"Bellara Lutare, you have captivated me since the moment that I met you in that Fade bubble. I've loved you three summers, my darling, but I want them all. Will you do the honor of bonding with me?" He held out the silver Dalish promise ring to her.

Her eyes were wet, her smile the most stunning he'd ever seen as she reached out to accept the ring. "Oh Morgan. Yes I'll bond with you. I want my happy ending with you."

He swept her up in his arms as she slipped the promise ring on her finger and kissed her soundly. "I'll spend every day for the rest of our lives loving you, Bellara," he promised.

She laughed, placing her hands on either side of his face as he held her, and kissed him soundly. "I love you too, Morgan Ingellvar."