#Shadow…. and now Dolphin…..

[soft-serve-soymilk]

must it be the fate of all my friends to cease using the tumblr…

[puppetmaster13u]

Mermay Special Prompt 4

Go on vacation, they said. We can watch Gotham, they said. Just go hang with and adjust to caring for kids, they said. Yeah, well no one said anything about getting cursed while at the vacation lake house, which okay, fine. But did it have to affect the kids too? 

Bruce pressed his head in his hands, groaning in dismay as the children practically zoomed around the surrounding water with enthusiastic trills and squeals he could somehow understand. And through the air, to their increasing delight. Okay. Okay this is fine. 

It wasn’t like he also somehow now had an extra child who looked like one at most that he had no clue as to where they came from. Said child wasn’t squirming in his arms, black scales and tiny fins akin to the setting of a sun twisting as they chirped. Definitely not. 

Okay. Alright. He could figure this out. Probably…. hopefully…

[motherforthefamicom]

lost like allllll my motivation for making art what the fuck =(

[bi-writes]

still wakes the deep au | soap x f!reader

Installment 2/?: Warning Signs

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. masterlist

Being alone feels different when there’s nowhere to run. Every wall looks the same, and the stench of must permeates in every room–the carpet must hold it in. Everything drips; the taste of salt won’t go away, and it makes your eyes dry out every time you close them and open them again. There are other people around you, men that are the cause of the knocks against the rig, but they are as alien as what lies beneath you. Every time you feel as if it’s too foreign, you remind yourself that there is nowhere to go.

The only way out of this place is by doing your job; but even that scares you all of the sudden.

Your bed is lumpy. The mattress feels dry, stiff, and it barely gives as you lay in it. You stare up at the bottom of the top bunk, trying not to think about the sound of sea water pelting your window like a threatening knock while you try to sleep.

Your mind barely gives. You keep the lamp that sits on your makeshift desk turned on. Without it, the black of nothingness from outside bleeds through the walls, and you swear you can see a thousand different shapes that claw their way out of the moonlight towards you. The rig doesn’t shake, but it breathes. It lives, somehow, deep legs connected to the seafloor to keep it from drifting off, from separating, from taking you with it, from suffocating you until your breaths are filled with water and your body is too cold to–

You jump when the lamp bursts. A jolt of electricity shatters the bulb, and you sit up in bed, clutching the sheets as you watch the lamp glow slightly before fizzling out. The room blankets into the dark, and you move shakily off your bed and pat around for your flashlight before clicking it on. The small circle of yellow light doesn’t do what you hoped; instead, it makes the shadows of every object longer and seem further away, and they start to move as your hand shakes, so much so that you cannot tell if something is coming towards you or if your mind is still convincing you of some sort of seasickness. One lodged into your brain, one that doesn’t make you nauseous but makes you paranoid that some hole in the ocean will open up and take you with it.

The thought of drowning is not as terrifying as finding out what lies beneath the surface of the water.

When you used to think of the ocean, it used to soothe you. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was crystal clear blue and tropical fish. You thought about running your fingers through warm water and kicking your feet as you watched dolphins fly beside you. When the sun penetrated the light, it shined until it showed the seafloor, where little creatures burrowed beneath bright sand, making it sparkle.

The ocean you know now is anything like it. You understand what they mean when they say “mother nature,” because only a woman scorned could eat the world the way she does. Waves touching taller than buildings. Animals so large, they would swallow you whole and let the acid of their insides quiet your screams for nutrition. An endless void, reaching miles towards the center of earth, a vast unknown that crushes heavy metals and defies physics the further and further you drop. She’s unforgiving. Mean. A terrifying, wonderful thing, and you are cheating death. You know it. She screams at you from just outside your thin walls, and you are pretending not to hear her. She’s telling you something, but you bury your nose in your books.

If it’s a warning she’s trying to give, you won’t know it until it’s too late.

The rig groans in the middle of the night. You can hear the pipes expanding, the water moving aggressively outside your window, the sounds of cranes and metal creaking that rattle off around you. Your hand shakes a little as you try and find your shoes, slipping them on as you open your door in search of a new source of light.

It’s the middle of the night, but there’s still a skeleton crew around, moving between their night shifts. You make your way down the hall, clicking off your flashlight, and you find yourself in the rec room in search of light bulbs in the utility closet there. You hear the doors swing open behind you, and you try to ignore the rowdy voices of men as you stand on your tiptoes and rummage the hundredth box for what you need. You try not to think about the whisps of something delicate you feel grazing your fingertips (because spiders wouldn’t be this far out from land, right?).

“Looks like ye need a little help, bonnie.”

You startle yourself nearly out of your skin. You trip off the ledge you’re standing on, trying to hold your hands out to brace yourself, but you never hit the ground. Strong hands grip you around the middle, breaking your fall and getting you back onto your feet, nice and steady. You spin around, clutching your flashlight to your chest, panting like an anxious puppy. You can make out his blue eyes even in the dark, bright and seemingly concerned as Soap tries to get a grip on you to keep you from swaying.

“‘S alright, lass, ‘s just me! Soap, it’s Soap.”

You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your breathing, You shake your head, closing your eyes as you try and repeat the mantra you’ve been telling yourself since you got on this stupid rig.

Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I…”

“What are ye doin’ up?” He asks, clicking his tongue. “‘S the middle of the night! Reckon ye need yer beauty sleep.”

You smile a bit, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You do it to placate him. Men don’t always respond well to sharp teeth, and you haven’t decided how you feel about this one yet. He’s too comfortable. His hands are still around your arms, thumbs smoothing too easily over the bone of your shoulders. He’s too close; he steps just nearer to you, tongue sliding over that top row of teeth, and you try not to think about the way his pupils dilate at the terrified look on your face, the one your smile cannot hide. When he tilts his head to the side, you think he means to look curious, but you think it closer to prey playing with its food. The curls of his growing mohawk fall over his forehead, drawing a dark shadow over his eyes, and you can no longer try to see what might give him away in his gaze.

“The light in my…room. I need a new one, I–” You shake your head. “It’s stupid, but I just…I can’t sleep.”

“We’ll get ye all right fer bed, love,” Soap chuckles. “What’s broken, ye ken what kind ye need?”

You blink, biting your lip, thinking. He’s still touching you; he still has his hands around your arms, but now they’ve settled around your elbow, calloused fingers curled over where they rest.

“I’m not sure. The lamp on my desk, it’s–”

“Ach, those are hidin’, I’m sure o’ it,” he lets you go, reaching up and hoisting down a few boxes before reaching for what lies behind them. He carries them on his shoulder before dropping them onto the floor, and you try not to think about watching him work. He’s a large man. Strong, that much is evident, but there’s something off. You think his physical appearance hides what lies inside. He’s pretty, in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. Straight teeth, a killer smile, arms that do not give once they’re taut with use. Even the uniform he wears does nothing to hide thicker thighs and a solid middle; but you try not to let it distract you from what really remains. If he wasn’t so gorgeous, you don’t think he’d get away with that tick that must exist in his brain. The one that allows him to crowd your space without much resistance. The one that lets him smile like that, like he’s won something, like he’s gotten what he wanted not because he fought for it, but because it is what he is owed. 

He bends over and picks up a bulb that looks good enough and hands it to you. When he straightens his back, you try to catch that look in his eyes again. Maybe he knows you’re looking for it, and now he’s hiding it. Maybe he’s cooing in his own head about what a clever girl you are and trying to decide how he’ll play his game differently.

“Can walk ye back, put it in fer ye.”

You take it from him, drawing a shaky breath. You want to say no. You want to tell him you can do it all on your own, that you’re fine, but then the closet door swings open, and a group of tired-looking crew stare at the two of you as they snicker and nudge each other.

“Wot ye doin’, Soap, seven minutes in heaven with the fuckin’ feds?”

“Och–shut the fuck up, the lot o’ ye,” Soap bites back. “Just doin’ her fuckin’ job, just like the rest o’ ye, so get the fuck out the way. Middle of the night, bunch of gobshites.”

Soap puts a hand around the small of your back, guiding you past the group and out into the hallway. He follows you wordlessly back to accommodations, stopping in front of your door. Your name isn’t on it, but you don’t comment about how he knew this was yours. He waits for you to open the door for him before following you inside.

“A right mess, luvvie.”

He doesn’t let you help. He kicks your bin under the desk, carefully discarding of the pieces of glass that are scattered across your desk. He grumbles under his breath about it being too sharp and how he will do it better and how he can take care of ye. 

When the lamp clicks back on, it paints the room in that comforting orange light, and you relax as you take a seat on your bed, clutching the sheets to dry your clammy palms. He still invades your space, but somehow, with the light, it dampens the sentiment. He scares you just a little less, but if you give him just that much, how much will he use it to his advantage?

“Ye need anythin’, I’m…just down there,” Soap says finally. He points behind him, down the north end of the hallway, and all you can do is nod. “Don’t listen to the lot, bonnie,” Soap adds. “Bunch o’ old, tired bastards. Mean no harm. But if they do, ye come ta me, ye hear?”

“Uhm…Soap?” You call out as he’s leaving. You don’t know why you stop him. You don’t know why you’re talking to him; you’re certain he’s not a stranger to telling a good lie. He turns to face you, leaning against the doorway, and you clear your throat. No one should look this good on just a few hours of sleep, but he’s still blinking awake, unsettlingly calm. “This place…it’s safe, right? I mean…safe as it ought to be?”

Soap smiles, but it’s not like his other smiles. It feels unnatural. His teeth are duller. Lips drier. Maybe he’s just tired.

“It’s safe, love. Swear it. Got me on those rivets.”

You don’t know why, but when he comes close to you, you let him. You let him touch your face, thick fingers smoothing down your jaw just a little too rough, big thumb along your bottom lip rubbing just a little too hard. You hear his door shut nearby once he goes.

The ocean screams. You can hear her again now that his voice is no longer around. You fall asleep knowing he’s close, and you pretend not to notice her. Just like always.

[lilacs-stars]

moon + tides

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) SUMMARY: you, ariel's daughter, find yourself in a strange relationship with the one and only infamous pirate captain, who's absolutely obsessed with you GENRE: yandere, a bit of angst, some comforting fluff here and there, especially at the end CW: a few mentions of violence, someone walking a plank, mentions of drowning, some suggestive material, nothing too graphic though WC: 4.2k

A/N: this req was really fun to write! I might have gotten a bit carried away, heh...this part includes the backstory of how you two got together and the first part of the req, and the second part will include the rest of it. hope you guys enjoy reading this cause I definitely put some hard work into it lol. also please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd really like to know your thoughts!

If you could go back, would you change what happened?

This is something that you often ask yourself. 

You think about that fateful day frequently. It was the summer before your first year at Merlin Academy. You had finally convinced your parents, the famed mermaid Ariel and her Prince Eric, to let you go for a swim unsupervised. Being half-mermaid, half-human allowed you to transform back and forth at will. And although life on land was pretty good, your heart always ached to go back to the sea, to feel the cold, salty water as it engulfs you. To race along the reefs, tail swishing back and forth, allowing you to reach speeds far past what your human form can do. To leisurely swim amongst the many species of fish and plants that created the world of the ocean. To go back home.

Your parents had already gone over the rules with you hundreds of time, to the point where you could recite each one of them word for word: “Don’t go past the boundaries,” “Don’t approach any animals you don’t know,” “Don’t go so deep where you can’t see any light,” “Come out at the first sign of bad weather,” and, most importantly, “Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any humans.”

Your mother may be renowned for rescuing a stranger from the unrelenting grasps of the sea—if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t even be here right now—but that was a very rare case. Far more often than not, mermaid interactions with humans out on the waters ended up in the mermaid being tortured, held hostage, or even killed.

You knew the rules by heart, and yet, maybe it was because of your young age, you still broke them. You weren’t really aware of your actions in the moment; one second, you were swimming alongside a pod of dolphins, racing against the currents. The next, you heard loud voices and realized that almost directly above you, yet still a good few dozen meters away, was some sort of ship.

You had ducked down next to a big sponge, peering up apprehensively. It was at that moment you realized that you were far outside of the boundaries set for you by your parents. You should have turned back, should have swam back home, but there was something about the ship, something that intrigued you so much it forced you to stay in place.

A few moments passed, and seeing as there was no commotion, you let your curiosity get the better of you. After all, that ship shouldn’t even have been out there. Slowly, you crept closer and closer to the surface, making sure to remain in the shadows. The noises were becoming clearer; you could make out people’s voices now. But they still weren’t sharp enough for you to understand what they were saying.

Finally, you took the risk and poked your head out of the water near the rear of the ship. The sight before you elicited a sharp gasp, and made you wish you had just gone back when you still had the chance. 

Extended from the side of the ship was a long, wooden plank. Standing on one side of it (the safe end), was a man, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. He looked to be no older than forty, with a scraggly beard and ripped clothes.

A pirate.

Another figure emerged, walking to the edge of the deck. Your reflexes caused you to duck down quickly, so only your eyes were barely above the water. This figure was much younger, with dark brown hair parted neatly and angular features twisted into a wicked smile. He donned a maroon blazer that covered a white shirt with an upturned collar. Something in his left hand shined brilliantly under the sun’s bright rays.

The younger figure laughed, but not in the way one would laugh at a funny joke. He unsheathed a cutlass from his side, using it to poke the back of the man on the plank. 

“You see, Mr. Jones? This is what happens when you cross the most feared pirate captain in all the lands!” the young figure roared as he yanked off the older man’s blindfold, revealing to him his fate. The fear and panic that spread across the man’s face has been forever etched into your mind, even to this day.

You heard the man beg and plea for mercy, watched as every move he made caused the plank to sway even more violently. The pirate captain simply laughed, his crew along with him. Finally, when you suppose he tired of hearing the man grovel, you watched in terror as the captain gave the man a good kick in the back, finally sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, it was like the world was spinning in slow motion. The man plummeting off the wooden platform, falling, falling, falling. His screams muffled by the cloth around his mouth. Then, all too soon, he made contact with the water with a loud splash. 

He sank quickly, devoured by the ocean’s waters within the blink of an eye. Your young, distraught face watched as a few bubbles rose to the surface. Then nothing. All that remained of the man’s existence, all there was to give proof that he had ever even been there, were a few ripples in the water.

That was it.

You were frozen in shock. How–what–why? Your brain could barely string together a comprehensive sentence. All you were sure of was the feeling inside you. You couldn’t quite put it into words, could barely even understand it. But it made your tail ache to move, made you feel as if you simply couldn’t stay in one place any longer.

You dove beneath the surface, frantically swimming towards the direction where you saw the man go under. You kept looking around, searching, but to no avail. You decided to dive deeper, swimming lower and lower until the water around you was near pitch-black. You were growing more and more panicked by the second, because every second you wasted was another second the man grew closer to death.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hope flaring, you darted towards it, the figure becoming clearer the closer you got.

It was him.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to prevent him from sinking farther. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing, but you could still hear a heartbeat. There was still time left.

Wrapping your arms around him, you started the difficult journey back to land. Thankfully, you knew of a small island not too far from here. Swimming with the added weight of a fully grown man was incredibly difficult, especially for a young mermaid, but you persisted. After all, this was his life on the line.

You swam as hard as fast as you could, and thankfully, by some blessing from the heavens, found a warm water current going the direction you were. You let it carry you, the rushing stream multiplying your efforts. Finally, after what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes, you reached the island.

Letting the wave wash you up on shore, you settled the man down on the soft sand the first chance you got. You rolled him to his front, which was quite the endeavor itself. His heartbeat had grown more shallow, but it was still there. There was still hope.

Using the skills your mother had taught you, you started to nurse the man back to health using your melodic voice. Ever since you were young, she had explained to you the gift bestowed upon mermaids, the power of healing through song. She taught you to sing before you could walk, and it was the one thing that you were sure you could do right.

As you sang your strange and melodious tune, it finally occurred to you that you were breaking the most sacred of rules. Not only were you interacting with a stranger, you were coaxing him back to life. Like mother, like daughter, you thought. I suppose healing strangers who were drowning at sea runs in my blood.

The only caveat to your healing powers is that it takes quite some time to have its full effects. You don’t know how long you sat on the beach, but it had been quite some time. You probably would have been there for much longer had it not been for the boom voice that sounded behind you, waking you from your trance of song.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t a mermaid.”

You practically jumped out of your fins as you turned around, startled beyond words. There, towering above you, was the evil pirate captain you saw earlier. He was even younger than you had previously thought. In fact, he couldn’t be much older than you. You wondered for a fleeting moment how a kid like that could command an entire ship full of grown—and scary-looking—men, but decided you have bigger matters at hand to worry about.

A few members of his crew lurked behind the captain, and you could see a small lifeboat docked to the ground near the coastline. Further beyond that, his ship swayed in the ocean waves, dark against the bright horizon.

You followed the pirate’s gaze down to your tail, which was still out. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting to transform back into your human form, being too distracted by saving the man to pay attention to your own safety.

You wanted to yell at the cruel pirate for trying to kill this man. No matter who he was, what he had done, he didn’t deserve to die. At least not like that. But the words got caught in your throat, so while a war raged inside your mind, you were completely quiet on the outside, simply staring up at the man with wide doe eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said, with a tone that you wouldn’t quite imagine a killer using. He must have overheard me sing earlier, you thought to yourself. “Tell me, little mermaid, who taught you to sing?”

“M-my mother,” you replied weakly, your voice far more meager and small than you wanted it to be. You were still staring up at him, afraid of what he’d do to you.

“Your mother? Well, that’s quite interesting.” The captain raised his left hand to scratch at his chin, which is when you realized that it wasn’t a hand at all. Instead of a hand was a curved metal hook, with a sharp point gleaming at the end. So that must be the shiny thing I saw earlier, you thought.

“Oh, where are my manners?” laughed the pirate abruptly. “My name is Captain James Hook, leader of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

You blinked, almost forgetting your own name. If it were a less tense moment than this, you would have laughed at the fact that his name is rather befitting for him. “Y/N,” you respond.

“Y/N…Now, where have I heard that name before?” He tapped his chin with his hook again.

“Sir, that’s the name of Princess Ariel’s daughter,” one of the big, meaty pirates behind him answered in a gruff voice.

“That’s right!” Hook exclaimed. “You’re the mermaid’s daughter. You know, rumor has it you’ll be joining me at Merlin’s Academy in the fall, is that right?”

For some reason, your voice seemed to not work anymore, so you settled for nodding. Join him? you pondered. You didn’t know that he was also a student at the school you were planning to attend.

Hook started pacing along the beach, arms crossed with his hooked hand extended, deep in thought. You watched him, fear growing by the second. A sly smirk spread across his face, which only served to fuel the flames of your worry. 

“You know, you directly defied my command by saving that man,” he started. Slowly. Deliberately. Choosing every word precisely and carefully, like a shark circling its prey. “Do you even know why I made him walk the plank?” You shook your head no, the panic in you reaching record heights.

“That man”—he vaguely gestures towards the unconscious body laying on the beach with his hook—“stole an entire week’s worth of rations from my ship. An entire week’s worth of food and rum for an entire crew. Had he gotten away with it, we likely would have starved to death out at sea. Does he seem so innocent now, little mermaid? So worth saving?”

Again, you shook your head no. Although you agreed he definitely wasn’t an innocent man, you still didn’t see making him walk the plank a justifiable punishment. Despite your thoughts, you kept your mouth shut. Angering the captain further was not going to do you any good.

“Now, if anyone else had done something like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut their head right off,” Hook said menacingly, and with a swish, unsheathed his sword once again. You flinched—hard—and scrambled to back away from him. 

Hook took note of this, and, sheathing his sword, crouched down to get on the same level as you. “But don’t worry, little mermaid. I won’t hurt you. You see, you’ve piqued my interest. Plus, it would do me no favors to have a little girl’s blood on my hands.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. So he’s not going to kill me, right?

“But, alas, you can’t leave unpunished, now, can you?” he added. Your eyes grew impossibly wider, your entire body shaking in fear. This was it. He was going to kill you, or do something equally worse.

“I demand”—you already felt a tear slip down your cheek—“that you write to me for the remainder of the summer.”

Wait, what?

“W-write?” you asked in disbelief. “As in…”

“Letters,” Hook finished for you. “Write me letters. I’ll give you the mailing address of the Jolly Roger. Write me everyday, and I’ll promise I’ll write you back whenever we dock. How does that sound?”

“O-okay,” you reply, still taken aback by the peculiar, and far more lenient than you’d expected, request. That was all you had to do? Write letters? As punishment for saving the life of someone he’d ordered to die? You must be dreaming.

“Oh, and,” Hook said, voice lowered as he leaned in close to you, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his alluring scent of salty winds and something richer, deeper, filling your lungs. “I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Don’t forget me, my little mermaid.”

With that, he stood up, smoothing out the lines on his pants. “You wouldn’t happen to need a ride back home, would you, love?”

You shook your head no, too terrified of him changing his mind to spend another moment in his presence. You glanced back at the man lying behind you, still unconscious. “W-what about him? What will you do with him?” you managed to choke out, somehow finding your voice again.

Hook pondered this for a long minute, before finally answering, “He can live.” You let out a shaky breath. “But only because of you, little mermaid. And only this time. You go against my wishes again, and trust me, your punishment will be far more severe.”

And with that, he went back to his ship and sailed away.

You still muse about that day, thinking how different things would have been if you had changed just one little thing.

You kept your promise of writing him letters, too afraid to know what would happen when you had to inevitably face him in the fall to break it. At first, they started out simple. Ordinary recounts of your day, your favorite things, what you liked to do. As the weeks passed, you started writing more personal letters. How you felt about certain things or certain people, including your parents. You never spoke a word of that fateful day to them, knowing that you’d be grounded for life and forbidden from swimming ever again if they caught even a whiff of the danger you had put yourself in. 

Hook kept his promise, too. He wrote you back, although it was far less frequent than your letters. Even though he kept his responses short and concise, you always ended up hearing his voice in your head as you read his notes. You soon found yourself checking your mailbox daily, even getting to know the mailman rather well. The rush of dopamine you got every time you opened it to find a letter awaiting you was unmatched; you would always run upstairs to your room, lock the door, and pour over the note. Reading every line, every word over and over again, committing them to memory. 

You don’t know why you enjoyed these little letters so much. Maybe it was the thrill of having a secret that no one else knew of, or the absence of your usual loneliness every time you were reminded that somewhere out there, across the seas, was someone awaiting your letters, reading them, and writing back to you. Whatever it was, your heart started to form an emotional attachment to him without you even realizing it. 

Unbeknownst to you, that had been his exact plan all along.

It’s safe to say that once you started school at Merlin Academy, Hook’s—or James’s, as he insisted on you calling him—grip on you only grew. Things started out pretty normal: light conversations in class and stolen looks exchanged across the hall, mostly initiated by him. After the first few weeks passed, things between you two only grew. Secret meetings during lunch hours, rendezvous after school, and small gifts exchanged between the two of you. From there, it became brushing your hands together whenever you passed by each other, soft pecks on the cheek or forehead where there were prying eyes, and more passionate kisses when the two of you finally found time to be alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really know what you two are now. Normally, you would consider two people that partake in such actions to be courting, and you kind of assume you are. But James has never said anything about a relationship to you, and in all honesty, you’re too afraid to ask him. You feel terribly confused at his intentions towards you; on the one hand, he approaches you every day without fail, even if you try to ignore him or when your schedules don’t match up. Somehow, he always finds a way. On the other hand, he never asked you to be his lover, never even vaguely mentioned anything of the sorts. So, you decided, with a heavy heart, to not be too confident and consider yourself his partner. And unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t yours, either.

Really, you never meant to grow so involved with the bastard pirate that threatened to kill you on the beach that day. But for some strange reason, instead of treating you coldly like he did everyone else, especially the other hero kids, he was softer with you. Considerate, even. You had half-expected him to want nothing to do with you after your first few interactions, but he kept seeking you out. You often opened your locker to a note inside, or entered your dorm to find a letter slipped beneath the door.

Today was one of those days. You had gotten a note telling you to wait for him in your usual place in the evening, after classes. So here you are, waiting, staring at the water fountain in the courtyard. You’ve always been transfixed by the way the water spurts out the center and splashes all around. It seems that whenever you’re alone with your thoughts, they always end up back to that fateful day you met James, and everything that’s happened since.

“Wait for me long, my little mermaid?” a deep voice whispers in your ear from behind. You jump only a little, far more used to James sneaking up on you now than you used to be. For some reason, it seems he loves to startle you by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close from behind, or speaking softly in your ear.

You twirl around, a delighted expression on your face, although you try to mask it with a feigned annoyance. “And if I say I did?”

“Well then, I’d have to find a way to make it up to you then, wouldn’t I, darling?” he purrs, using his hook to spin you around in his arms so you’re face-to-face. His lips make his way to yours, pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to yours, not able to get enough of his touch. 

The feeling of his skin against yours ignites something in you, and you find your mouth opening to give him more access as a soft whimper escapes your lips. One hand reaches into his hair, tugging at it gently from the base of his head, while the other one trails down the front of his shirt.

James leans into you even further, your bodies flush against each other now, as he deepens the kiss. You find yourself leaning against the edge of the water fountain, the cool sprinkles providing a welcomed contrast to your heating-up bodies.

Once you’ve completely lost your breath, you pull away just slightly, a love-drunk smile on your face. “You had a request for me?” you whisper, panting, eyes full of adoration for the man you were interlocked with. 

James breaks into a grin. A genuine one, not one of the smirks he flashes to uphold his patented suave demeanor. “Ah, yes, how could I forget, my love?”

He pulls further away to give you two enough room to breathe, yet keeping his good hand on the small of your back. “I was reminded today that it's been quite some time since I’ve heard your voice, my little mermaid.”

You give a little smile, deciding to mess with him a bit. “Whatever do you mean? You hear my voice every day. I mean, you’re even hearing it right now.”

James cocks his head to the side and raises a single eyebrow, clearly aware of your antics. “Your other voice, love.”

You giggle. “Fine, all right. Only for you,” you say, giving him a peck on the nose. 

You sit down on the ledge of the fountain, turning back to stare at the water again. Although it has been a long time since you stretched your tail and went for a swim, simply seeing the rushing water soothes you. It isn’t quite like being immersed in it, but it still gives you some semblance of comfort. 

You reach into the pool at the bottom, letting the cool water rush along your fingertips as you inhale a deep breath. Through your mermaid abilities, your voice twists into an otherworldly song, filling the space with a mellifluous sound. 

James takes a place on the ledge next to you, reaching into the water to hold your submerged hand. You don’t really feel it, too transfixed on the rushing waves. You don’t see the way James gazes at you, like you’re his entire world. The softness, the tenderness in his eyes, which he reserves for you only. He looks at you not as if you’re his sun, something too bright to ever stare directly at, something violent and explosive and harmful, but as if you’re his moon. 

As if you’re the figure he watches every night before he closes his eyes, and the one he wishes to see again when he wakes up. As if you’re the only thing he notices every time the darkness envelops him, your presence never falling off the pedestal he places it on in his mind. Never losing its worth. He looks at you, your soft glow and mesmerizing shimmer, as if you’re the only thing filling up the night sky. The stars and constellations pale in comparison to you, especially on your best nights, when you shine so magnificently. 

You are the moon, and he is the tide of the ocean, constantly being pulled in by you. Never being able to escape the grasp you have on him, the grasp you are so blissfully unaware of. He stares at you in awe and wonder, bathing in your gorgeous light, so close yet always so far away. Sitting all alone against the dark backdrop of the evening sky, waiting for him to come back to you. And without reason, you always disappear. Always leaving him wanting more, waiting till the moment he can bathe in your presence again. 

As you sing, the tide gets pulled in by the gravity of the moon. Your lyrical voice bounces off the stone walls, surrounding you both, just as the moonlight surrounds the waves on that mystical night. 

But the moonlight is only a reflection of the sun’s glow, is it not? When daylight comes, the moon will pull away from the waves, its absence in the sky all but forgotten in the sun’s presence. And as dawn breaks, so too will the pull between the moon and ocean. 

on to part 2! ->

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[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖳𝖱𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖥𝖨𝖳𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖴𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖱𝖤𝖫𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖯? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hey there! In this reading, we'll explore which romantic/writing trope might fit your relationship with your future spouse best. Some of these themes can get pretty deep, so if you're not in the right headspace for that, perhaps come back another time. <3

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : APRIL 15TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST | KO-FI

PILE ONE

ENEMIES TO LOVERS. | RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIME. | STAR-CROSSED.

Romance Trope? Knight of Wands [Reversed]. | Ten of Wands [Reversed]. | The Hanged Man [Reversed].

For some, a person from your past might resurface. Either way, there will be a separation. When you first encounter your future spouse, one or both of you may be going through a dark time. I should state that this connection will never become manipulative or deeply toxic, which nobody should accept or endorse.

Nonetheless, this connection won't be smooth sailing in the beginning. While serious hatred will not arise, there'll be a struggle to understand each other, which stems from inner wounds. Seeing reflections of yourself in them, and vice versa, leads to frustration because neither of you has fully healed yet. Stubbornness on both sides leads to drifting apart. Impulsive actions worsen the situation, causing you to dislike each other.

Initially, I wasn't quite sure how to define the relationship because y'all aren't really enemies, just two hurt people.

Expansion. Community. | Hostilities. | Anxiety.

Your future spouse might come into your life through a friend or an acquaintance, perhaps in a familiar setting you visit often. The connection between you both sparks a profound realization, which leads to heightened anxiety and tension. It might feel like you weren't supposed to meet this person, but in truth, you were destined to cross paths. Because when you reunite in the future, you'll love each other through the toughest times and cherish each other even more during the best moments. You're meant to teach each other lessons that no one else could, guiding you back to where you're meant to be in the end. I definitely see sleepless nights, though. — You might find each other again in the place you originally met.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody? Dolphin : Innately Intelligent, Healer, Light Blessings. Bear :  Waking From Spiritual Slumber. Beginning Anew.

When you reunite, both you and this person have undoubtedly grown. It's a chance to begin anew with them at the right moment. Your future spouse has a knack for making people question themselves, but with you, it's particularly intense. While it may have caused hurt in the past for both of you, now you can work through it together.

While pulling the cards, I heard a distinct and amusing cackle, almost like a 'dolphin laugh,' even their giggles could be a loud and funny.

Insight. Hermit — Light : Seeks solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society of others. Refusing to help those in need.  Father — Light : Talent for creating and supporting life. Positive guiding light within a tribal unit. Shadow : Dictatorial control. Abuse of authority.  Fool — Light : Fearlessly revealing emotion. Helping people laugh at absurdity and hypocrisy. Shadow : Using humor to wound rather than liberate. Denial of your emotional truth.

Your future spouse will always have an introverted nature, but before change occurs, they are extremely reserved, perhaps to an unhealthy extent. They could be overly engrossed in work, other projects, or family matters, possibly taking on a leadership role for their siblings, which can be stressful even if they don't live together. Beneath the surface, they have a playful side. In the past, both of you might have been a too naive, but you'll reconnect when they emanate this strong fatherly energy. I'm hearing, 'Young, Dumb, and Broke.'

Additional. Soulmates : Soul Connection, Partnership, Agreement, Soul Contract. Coffin : Endings Bring New Beginnings, Growth, Change, Liberation, Transition.  Separation : Sadness, Missing You, Thinking About You, Yearning, Unsure of Future. Clock : Need Time, Takes Time, In Time, Cycles, Time to Heal, Progress.

There might be a bit of a chase for a while, whether it's conscious or not. When you make efforts to understand them, they might pull away, and the same goes for you. As much as it feels strange to say it, the label of twin flames could suit this connection. However, you'll eventually overcome this phase. It's possible you were only meant to learn the lesson of self-betterment from each other in this life, but both of your paths took unexpected turns, leading you to find each other despite it all. You both will make up time from not only your younger years, but previous lifetimes.

When everything falls into place and you seek forgiveness from each other, this connection becomes truly extraordinary. It's profound and complex, holding such true beauty. Eventually, it settles into something steady, providing the stability and fulfillment you both crave. Life together feels as close to perfect as it can get.

Take A Walk : Passion Pit. | Salad Days : Mac Demarco. | The Blower's Daughter : Damien Rice.

PILE TWO

FORCED PROXIMITY. | WORKPLACE.

Romance Trope? The Emperor. | Justice. | Four of Pentacles.

You and your future spouse will be drawn to each other no matter what, as if fate itself is pulling you together. You'll find yourself in situations where you encounter your future spouse frequently. I suspect this could be through some form of work. It's possible they might hold a higher position than you, maybe even a boss, though it's not necessary. They could simply have a lot of influence and trust. In some manner, this person plays a role in ensuring your financial stability.

Expansion. Angel of Strength. | Cornucopia. | Man Holding A Coin.

Once more, this person holds a certain sway over you. For some, this influence might stem from them being your client. They control your actions because they requested them.

It all depends on your current profession or your future plans. If you're primarily self-employed, even if you have a 'boss', this person might approach you as a client or possibly someone seeking work. However, if you're in a more corporate environment, they could be your boss or a colleague.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody? Dragon : Seeing One’s Most True Self, Balancing The Ego.  Bat : Darkness, Letting Go, Death Leading To Rebirth. Lizard : Instinctual, Sensitive to The Subtle, Dreamer.

Your future spouse isn't really the bossy type. They can be assertive but are generally understanding and flexible. I don't see a power struggle whatsoever. They could be a natural leader, yet I believe their compassionate and accommodating nature prevents them from being cutthroat or overly blunt. Their work is very important to them, but they also recognize the humanity in their co-workers.

Insight. Healer — Light : Passion to serve others by repairing the body, mind, and spirit. Ability to help transform pain into healing. Shadow : Taking advantage of those who need help. Failing to care for oneself. Thief — Light : Sheds light on the potential wealth within you that can never be stolen. Shadow : Stealing money, creative ideas, affection or other powers you think you lack.  God — Light : Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others. Shadow : Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people.

As I mentioned before, this person will play a role in guiding your career somehow. They'll have things to teach you, just as you'll have things to teach them. You might notice an increase in financial opportunities or wealth around the time you meet this person, probably because of their doing, but maybe not!

Additional. Karmic Relationship : Fleeting, Turmoil, Resentment, Lessons, Letting go and Loving you.  Camera : Reminiscing, Keepsake, Perception, Learn From the Past, Make Memories.  Girl Talk : Time with Friends, Moving On, Happily Single, Living in the Moment, Having Fun. Palm Tree : Stability, Security, Permanence, Growth, Endurance, Flexibility. 

Before anyone gets worried, let me clarify that I didn't take the Karmic Relationship card too seriously. I interpreted the message as affirming that this relationship will involve significant learning and growth. Not everyone will end up parting ways with this person, but everyone involved will gain valuable insights from the other. This connection could help both of you avoid repeating past mistakes. — As an alternate message, I'd like to add that it's time to let go of past relationships. Your future partner wants you to embrace self-love and believes in your ability to find happiness within yourself. Mastering contentment while single will not only attract them sooner but also teach you a valuable lesson that's ready to be learned.

Your future spouse will stand by your side and do everything in their power to support you. They aren't just interested in your safety and stability; they'll actively work to make sure it happens. Their actions speak volumes in this regard.

Partition : Beyoncé. | I Will : Mitski.

PILE THREE

SECOND CHANCE. | FORBIDDEN LOVE. 

Romance Trope? Two of Bows/Wands [Reversed]. | Seven of Vessels/Cups. | Two of Vessels/Cups [Reversed]. | The Green Woman. | Ten of Bows/Wands.

For many of you, I don't believe this is just an ex. I sense a third-party element at play here. Pinpointing a main scenario is too tricky; it varies for everyone by a lot. Perhaps you meet this person through a friend with whom you'll later drift apart with. Maybe your future partner happens to be a sibling of a friend. The possibilities are numerous. Nonetheless, there's someone who acts as a bridge between you both, influencing the connection. You might even have someone in mind already as you read this.

Regardless of the circumstances, I don't think your future spouse is the cause of this temporary 'separation', which might end up being a lack of communication for a short period of time until the situation resolves itself. I can't see a time where your future spouse was previously unkind or unpleasant to you, but rather it's more likely that the mutual person between you two played that role. If there are any rumors circulating, your future spouse will likely discern who's at fault and support you.

Expansion. Angel of Love. | Fifth Chakra : Archangel Gabriel. | Magician and The Mirror.

At first, your future spouse might assume they're to blame for the fallout and feel guilty about it. This uncertainty might delay the reconnection, even though they're fully committed to being by your side. They'll struggle with how to initiate fixing things, but eventually, they'll gather the courage to try. This reconciliation could happen online, if that resonates.

The forbidden aspect of this connection might originate from parental expectations, like qualities they require in your partner. Remember, you always have a choice in this matter. If not, it's not necessarily wrong but might be viewed with disapproval, such as getting involved with a friend's ex-partner.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody? Tiger : Lunar Force, Ease in Darkness, Feminine Energy.  Raccoon : Talented, Shadowy, In Hiding. Hawk : Watchful, All-Seeing, Messenger of Divinity.

Your future spouse is incredibly passionate and generous in their relationships and friendships, and this will shine even more when you two reconnect. They'll be open and sincere about their love for you once they emerge from hiding.

Insight. Addict — Light : Helps you recognize and confront addictive behavior. Shadow : Compromises integrity and honesty. Allows an addictive pattern to have authority over your inner spirit.  Avenger — Light : Desire to balance the scales of justice. Righteousness on behalf of society or oneself. Shadow : Resorting to violence in the name of a cause. Seeker — Light : Thirst for wisdom and truth wherever they are. Shadow : Inability to commit to a path once found.

After reconnecting, your future spouse will become more righteous, not just in relationships, but in all aspects of life. They won't stand for their loved ones being mistreated and will seek truth in murky situations, sharing their insights to keep you informed. They'll be honest about areas needing improvement while maintaining their patient and kind nature. By this time, they will understand how to be straightforward yet gentle.

Additional. The Butterfly : Relationship Evolving to the Next Phase, Healing the Inner Child, Growth. Boat : Receiving What You Need, Progression, Arriving, Moving On, Closure Issues. Girl With a Snake : Empath and Narcissist Paradigm, Being Charmed or Used, Enable Boundaries.  Heartbroken : Deeply Hurt, Sad, Separation, Breakup, Feeling Lost, Grieving, Mourning.

Reconnecting with you will be a healing and transformative experience for them. It will bring closure to their past, and you might need to reassure them that your aren't going anywhere. It's a bit odd, but lately, I've been watching Supernatural, and this person reminds me of Sam Winchester. They have a strong desire to protect you, but sometimes they might overextend themselves trying to provide for you. Which isn't your fault at all, they just need a reminder to relax and slow down.

Killer : The Ready Set. | She Looks So Perfect : 5 Seconds of Summer. | Holding Hands : The Magic Lantern.

PILE FOUR

FRIENDS TO LOVERS. | SOULMATES.

Romance Trope? Six of Pentacles. | Seven of Cups [Reversed]. | Three of Wands [Reversed].

Although it's one of the sweetest piles, it's also a tad messy. Not everyone will relate to this aspect, but take what resonates.

This person could be from your childhood or teenage years, or maybe someone you've recently met, or have yet to meet. Anything really. However, I feel for the majority it's someone you know. You have to figure this part out for yourself. But regardless, they're incredibly generous toward you, whether it's with money, affection, or understanding. However, this connection isn't without its challenges. Despite being very supportive, you'll have to navigate obstacles together. There might be setbacks or delays, but ultimately, your bond will grow stronger and develop into a romantic relationship.

Expansion. Strategy. | Storm Warning. | Healer of the Ages.

This part might only apply to a few, but I don't necessarily see it as your next relationship. Why? Well, because there are cards here, and later in the reading, that hint at some kind of breakup, which your future spouse helps you navigate through.

What Energy Will Your Future Spouse Embody?  Elk : Stable, Resilient, Headstrong, The Father. Turtle : Ancient Soul, Grounded, Trusting, At Home in the Self. Crocodile : Resting, Submerging, Collecting Energy, Cooling Off. 

Your future spouse will always carry the aura of a caregiver, being nurturing and extending their kindness towards both loved ones and strangers alike. They have a natural inclination towards being giving but possess a discerning eye when it comes to where and who they invest their energy. Their actions are consistent, and they seem calm and collected.

Your future spouse really embodies the ideal father figure and likely connect effortlessly with children. Patience and wisdom are strong in their nature, further enhancing this energy. They're like a true teddy bear until provoked.

Insight. Student — Light : Humility and devotion to knowledge. Openness to lifelong learning. Shadow : Arrogance in the pursuit of destructive knowledge. Unwillingness to translate knowledge into action.  Prince — Light : Romantic charm and potential for power. Shadow : Using power for self-aggrandizement.  Companion — Light : Loyalty, tenacity, and unselfishness. Shadow : Betrayal by misusing confidences. Loss of personal identity.

Think of your ideal "prince charming" - that's precisely who your future spouse is, whether in appearance or mindset. Gender doesn't limit this; it's about their energy and attitude. They have boundless curiosity, always eager to explore life and learn. Their fascination with you extends to wanting to know every detail, so they can envision and arrange everything in their mind. Loyalty and romance are ingrained in them, qualities you'll surely cherish. They're very charming.

Even in friendship, your future spouse exhibits a strong protective instinct, perhaps even a hint of possessiveness. You might not even realize your love for them until something sudden strikes. It's really like something out of fan fiction, where a seemingly random spark is actually the culmination of a slow burn. This realization may dawn on you when your future spouse defends or stands up for you in some manner. Suddenly, all the signs they've been dropping will become clear, and even the glance from them afterward will convey everything you need to know.

Additional. The Phoenix : New Phase, Rekindle, Renew, Transformation, Growth, Changed Mind.  Stabbed in the Back : Heartbreak, Pain, Separation, Deception, Shocking Attack. Palm Tree : Stability, Security, Permanence, Growth, Endurance, Flexibility. Mask : Not Showing True Feelings, Hide, Personify, Pretend, Delude, Gaslighting.  Sunglasses : Watching, Looking, Stalking, Gaslighting, Perception, Focusing Out. Keys on a Ring : Many Options, Decision, Unconventional, String Along, One Night Stand.

For those it applies to, I'm revisiting my earlier point about being in a relationship and your future spouse's good sense of judgment regarding character. If this doesn't resonate, feel free to skip and check out the songs instead. Thank you!

Your future spouse had already secretly admired you for some time. Aware of your existing relationship, they struggled to suppress their feelings. Amidst the chaos in their mind, they couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with your partner. They wanted to reach out to warn you out of genuine concern, but you dismissed it as an overreaction. There's a chance your partner at the time suspected something between you two, leading to a sudden end to the relationship [Although, I don't think there was anything actually happening.] They might have harbored resentment for a while. But fear not, your future partner comes to the rescue. Whether they witness the breakup or support you afterward, you'll come to realize that your true feelings lay with them all along, but you were blinded by the allure of another. With too many choices before, you failed to think clearly and see what was right in front of you.

Like That : Jack and Jack. | Somewhere Only We Know : Keane. | Little Person : Matt Maltese. | Boyfriend : Dove Cameron. [Update: Forgot to add a song, sorry!]

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 1: Amethyst]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can't seem to get away from...

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don't like Titanic you won't like this fic!!! ����

Word count: 5.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @arcielee @nightvyre @camsdaae @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama

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A note goes sharp, and you swim up through colorless currents—indistinct conversation, an iron-grey draft each time the front door opens, cigar smoke like fog over the ocean—and turn to the viola player. His eyes have caught on the place where your left hand rests on the table by a glass of pear cider, still cold from the icebox, misty with condensation. Rain pours outside. Logs fracture and hiss in the fireplace. Your gown is thick velvet, indigo like the night sky, and the ruffles of your sleeve have slipped back to reveal the evidence roped around your wrist: shadows of trapped blood, rubies that sicken and turn to sapphires and amethysts.

You hurriedly adjust your sleeve. Now the viola player’s eyes are on yours, an overcast blue and improperly direct, and something flies between you: his shock, your shame. You look away and pretend to ignore him. His horsehair bow finds its rhythm again, a tempo like a racing pulse. The quartet is playing The Wild Rover.

Daemon hasn’t noticed. He has ensnared the reporter entirely, here in O’Connell’s Bar in the heart of Galway, just across the street from Eyre Square and only a few blocks west of the Docks and the North Atlantic Ocean. The young man writes for The Irish Times and has traveled from Dublin to interview your husband, once a celebrated newcomer but soon departing and taking you with him. Five years ago a storm blew him in; now the gleam of distant treasure catches his eye and beckons him like the moon calls the tides. He has been this way all his life. You were mad to believe he’d change.

“Lord Targaryen,” the reporter says with his felt-tip pen hovering over his notebook, gazing at Daemon worshipfully, firelight dancing on both of their faces. You glance at the viola player again. He’s still watching you, and this is bad. “You’ve been described as a cowboy by numerous publications and business associates. Do you consider that a compliment?”

Daemon chuckles, smirking and imperious. He puffs on his pipe, elbows propped on the table. His eyes are a deep-set reptilian green, emeralds glinting from the mouth of a mine. Strands of dark blonde hair fall roguishly down over his forehead. “Oh, it’s a massive compliment, isn’t it? A cowboy eschews the safe and the predictable. A cowboy makes his own way in the world. My father was a duke, and now my brother is a duke, and one day my nephew will be a duke, God help us all. And so I always knew that if I wanted anything for myself, I’d have to go out and find it.”

The reporter is smiling, enraptured. He asks, already knowing the answer: “And what was it you found?”

“In the Wah Wah Mountains of Utah, we discovered red beryl.” Daemon talks with his hands, magnetic fields, incantations, spells that once worked on you. “It’s exceptionally rare and a gorgeous stone, high color saturation, not as hard as a diamond but durable enough for jewelry, essentially a blood-colored emerald. I was twenty-five years old and had just put together my first small mining expedition, and here we were sitting on the only known supply of red beryl on the planet. And it was then that I realized that there are these sorts of…natural monopolies that exist scattered across the globe, gemstones that can be found in only one location, and thus if you are the man who owns the mine…every single stone must pass through your hands before it ends up in retail establishments in London or Paris or Milan or wherever.”

“And so you took the lesson you learned from red beryl and applied it to other minerals,” the reporter says as he scribbles in his notebook.

Daemon grins, puffing on his pipe, exhaling smoke like a dragon. And how remarkable he is to have agreed to meet here in this pub like a common man, so unpretentious, so unafraid of the world’s dirt, effortless and yet untouchable, and this is why his miners love Daemon, why they will break their spines and poison their lungs for him. “We kept the Utah mine, of course, and bought up rights to thousands of acres of land surrounding it. I hired more workers. And then I investigated reports of mysterious, unnamed, brand new stones that had been stumbled upon in far-flung places, untamed by civilized men, the earth just waiting to be slit open and butchered like a fat hog. In Madagascar, we found Grandidierite, a bewitching blue-green, the Indian Ocean in miniature, crystalized form. In Tanzania, we discovered Tanzanite, halfway between an amethyst and a sapphire.”

The reporter nods to you as he says: “I believe Lady Targaryen is wearing some this evening, is she not?”

“Indeed,” Daemon replies without much interest. You touch your fingertips to your teardrop-shaped earrings and give the reporter a polite smile. You steal a glimpse of the viola player; he isn’t staring at you anymore—a blessing, a relief—but he frowns distractedly as his bow glides over the strings. “In Australia there was black opal, and in the Dominican Republic we were the first mining operation to encounter Larimar, and then…well, then I heard of Connemara marble.”

“Native to Ireland,” the reporter says proudly. “The lone quarry that’s still producing is right here in Galway.”

“So of course that intrigued me.” Daemon taps on the tabletop with his right hand, and now he is watching you, curling lips, taunting eyes. “And when I crossed the Atlantic to acquaint myself with this quarry and inquire into purchasing it, I was intrigued by the quarry owner’s daughter as well.”

His pen scratching against parchment; black rivers of ink filling up the page. “How would you describe the courtship?”

“Brief,” Daemon says, then laughs. He points to you with his smoldering pipe. “How about you, dear? How would you describe it?”

“Flattering,” you answer honestly, and the reporter makes his notes. “Daemon already had a reputation by then. A captain of industry, a staggering success story, a man who refused to rest idly on his family’s titles, which he could have easily done.” And a man who also refused to marry, rejecting Rockefellers and Morgans and Astors, duchesses and countesses, but asked your father for your hand in marriage after only a few weeks of tours of the quarry and dinners set alight with charismatic retellings of his travels. You knew the Connemara marble was part of the allure, but you took this as a common interest rather than the only thing Daemon wanted from you. Well…one of two things.

“You’ve resided in Galway ever since,” the reporter is saying to Daemon. “Barring a few trips for business. But that is about to change.”

Daemon sucks on his pipe. “I’ve received a very generous offer from Tiffany & Co. in Manhattan. They’ve been around for almost a century, did you know they supplied the Union Army with swords and surgical tools during the Civil War? Real patriots. Not afraid to get bloody. They want to expand into the sale of colored gemstones, not just diamonds and pearls and gold, the same unimaginative pieces peddled by their competitors. And after some long and arduous negotiations, Tiffany has agreed to pay a fair price for the exclusive rights to specimens originating from my mines, and I have agreed relocate to New York City for the foreseeable future to consult with them as a gemstone expert.”

“It’s my understanding that you have family in New York too, Lord Targaryen. Perhaps a reunion is part of the appeal of a move across the pond.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t assume that,” Daemon says impishly. “I haven’t seen Alicent Hightower or her children in years and years. I wouldn’t even know them if I passed them on the street.”

“Is that right?” The reporter’s pen hovers uncertainly over his notebook; he doesn’t think this is the sort of familial disharmony that should be printed in a newspaper.

“But my wife and I will have some company for the voyage,” Daemon continues. “My niece Rhaenyra and her charming husband Laenor will be joining us on Titanic. They’ve been on holiday in the Mediterranean and have several social engagements on the East Coast before they return to summer in England with my brother.”

“Viserys Targaryen, the 9th Duke of Beaufort.”

Daemon grins, not kindly at all. “One man earns a title, eight others wear it.”

The reporter shifts awkwardly in his chair. It’s not the sort of joke he’s allowed to laugh at. Changing the topic, he looks to the string quartet, which is now playing Danny Boy. The viola player’s eyes flick to you; you drink you pear cider and pretend you are unaware. “You’ll be sorely missed in Galway. But what a proper Irish sendoff you’re receiving here at O’Connell’s tonight!”

“Yes,” Daemon muses, the bit of the pipe in his mouth. “A week from now, tugboats will be hauling us out of Cork Harbor and into the Atlantic Ocean, perhaps never to return.”

You shudder as a man enters the pub and a cold draft blows through you. You are terrified of ships, tiny metal buckets at the mercy of bottomless blue, unnatural incursions into inhuman spaces. You have sailed twice before with your parents—once to Le Havre to visit Paris and again on a cruise of the Aegean—and both times you were consumed by visions of water rising up over your feet, bodies thrashing in the waves, bones turning to silt. You don’t want to cross the Atlantic. You don’t want to leave home.

“You look a bit familiar, boy,” Daemon says, and you realize he’s talking to the viola player. You startle, then are relieved to see that your husband has only a dim curiosity in the musician. The reporter has bored him, and Daemon’s eyes are wandering. He is a man of short and restless attention. You have learned this the hard way. “Have we met before?”

The viola player—early twenties, around your age, sandy blond hair and a beard trimmed close to the skin—pauses his fiddling as his three companions carry on. His accent is English, not Irish. “Well I’ve played all over Ireland, sir. All over Europe, in fact.”

“Were you by chance at the McPherson wedding back in February?”

You don’t believe he was, you think you’d remember him; but the viola player nods eagerly. “Yes sir, that was me.”

“Ah! That was a fine night. Excellent duck. Wasn’t the duck good, dear?” But Daemon only half-listens for your response. He has turned back to the reporter and is recounting how he and his expedition hacked through the jungles of Tanzania to reach the location of suspected gemstone deposits, how they endured attacks from crocodiles and chimpanzees and burned up from fevers.

“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say as you rise from the table. The reporter scrambles to his feet to stand as decorum demands.

“Yes yes,” Daemon replies abruptly, not looking at you, then continues his stories.

You escape from the pub through the front door and stand beneath the awning just out of the rain, watching the reflections of streetlights glow in puddles like stars. Across the street in Eyre Square, a public park established in 1710, shadows of ash trees rock in the wind. With trembling fingers, you fumble a Kerry Blue and your cigarette holder out of your black handbag, then realize you don’t have a lighter. Someone else always does that part for you. You sigh and stare out into the rain, taking deep breaths of Irish night, early April, cold and wet and green, the only air you know how to take painlessly into your lungs, blood, bones, the dark damp earth that built you. You cannot imagine living amongst metal skyscrapers and rumbling automobiles instead of verdant rolling hills dotted with sheep.

You hear the pub door open, and you assume it is one of the waiters or perhaps Rush—Edward Rushton, Daemon’s valet and bodyguard, ever-watchful and unwaveringly stern—bringing you the black mink coat you left inside. But to your horror, it is the viola player, carrying his instrument by its neck. You gape at him as rain continues to fall.

“Hi,” he says.

You are clutching your handbag, a cigarette and holder still tucked between your fingers. “What are you doing?”

“I just…I was…uh…” He spots the cigarette. “Oh, do you need a lighter? I have one, hold on…” He begins rooting around in the pockets of his olive green tweed jacket.

“No, I don’t need a lighter,” you snap, glancing anxiously at the door. “I need you to go back inside.”

“Wait a minute, I wanted to—”

“Why are you speaking to me?” Your eyes are wide and petrified, your voice is a sharp whisper. No musician has ever addressed you beyond pleasantries: Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, thank you ma’am, my pleasure ma’am. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Look, I came out here because…I just wanted to ask…” He struggles to find the words. His eyes fall to your left wrist, now fully obscured by the ruffles of your sleeve, then return to your face. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Do you…you know…do you need some kind of help or something?”

It’s improper, it’s unthinkable, it’s dangerous. “You’re deranged,” you say as you breeze past him towards the door. “You’ve clearly escaped from an asylum somewhere. I wish you all the best in your recovery.”

He does not grab you—that would be absurd—but he does get between you and the front door of the pub. “Wait, please, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude or to overstep or anything, I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can do—”

“You will make it worse for me,” you hiss, and only then does the viola player go quiet and let you pass. You shove by him into O’Connell’s Bar.

Back at the table, Daemon and the reporter are engrossed in conversation. When you rejoin them, neither of the men take any notice of you beyond the reporter’s momentary rise to his feet. After a minute or two, the viola player returns to the quartet and slips seamlessly into the song they’re playing, Star of the County Down. You gaze into your pear cider, determined not to glance at him even once.

Daemon is saying as the reporter jots franticly: “I am reminded of something I read once in a French fashion critic’s guide from the 1870s. In the gloomy depths of the mineral world, stars are concealed that rival in their beauty those of the firmament. The fresh splendors of dawn, the sun’s incandescent rays, the magnificent sunsets, the brilliant colors of the rainbow, all are found enclosed in a morsel of pure carbon or in the center of a stone. Not everyone can see the potential, not everyone has the skill or the willpower to move the earth and free the treasures trapped beneath. But I found stars no one else knew existed. And my work isn’t finished yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~

At home in Lough Cutra Castle, your family’s estate since 1817, your parents are asleep and Fern is waiting up for you and Daemon, yawning into the back of her hand to try to hide it. She is your maid but she was hired by Daemon, and she scurries around the property like a mouse, eternally picking up toys and articles of clothing and papers that have slid off of tables, head bowed, footsteps so light you often don’t realize she’s walked into a room until she’s spoken.

“Care for some tea, my lady?” Fern asks as she takes your mink coat. Daemon goes directly to his study; you watch him leave with some feeling you couldn’t name, loss, relief, loneliness, resignation.

“No, thank you, Fern. I’m exhausted. Is Draco upstairs?”

“He is,” she says, but with hesitation, as if she is sending you into the lion’s den. You know what that means. You climb the staircase and find him in his bedroom sound asleep, four years old, surrounded by an army of teddy bears. Bears are his favorite animal; he likes the way they roar and brandish their teeth. He is named after the crest of Daemon’s family; Draco is the Latin word for dragon. His hair is white-blonde, a Targaryen trait. As they age it fades to an ordinary sand-like color, and by the time they are middle-aged—Daemon is forty, nearly two decades older than you are—their hair is a blonde so dark it’s almost brunette.

You stand in the doorway watching Draco for a long time. When you think of him, this is the image that comes to mind: your son across a room, or a lawn, or a garden, and you lurking on the periphery, longing to be a part of his existence, feeling so palpably unneeded. Already, he is becoming a stranger. He thinks it’s funny when Daemon insults people and breaks things. He stomps his little feet when he doesn’t get his way and rips flowers from the garden, tosses rocks through the windows of the greenhouse, hurls sticks at hissing geese.

“He’s asleep,” Dagmar says as if she’s scolding you. You whirl to see her behind you in the hall, glowering with those icy Nordic eyes, her hair grey and twisted into a tight bun, her face angular and cold-blooded. Legend has it that Saint Patrick expelled all the snakes from Ireland; you think he must have missed one.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“You’ll wake him.”

“I certainly won’t.”

“A boy that age needs his rest.” And this is how Dagmar has been since Draco was born: You can’t hold a baby like that, you can’t feed a baby like that, you can’t play with a baby like that, never showing you how to do things but only alienating you further and further until you looped around on some hopelessly remote orbit like Neptune circles the sun.

“Yes. Like I said, I won’t disturb him.”

But she does not leave; she only scowls at you with her bony arms crossed over her chest. She is ancient; she was Viserys and Daemon’s governess when they were boys, and your husband wrote to her immediately after Draco was born. She idolizes Daemon. The three of them are a family unto themselves, sardonic and spiteful and fiercely loyal, an oath you can’t figure out how to break. She wins this battle, as she’s won them all. It is not a war but an insurgency, a perpetual struggle for independence, sabotages and hunger strikes that amount to nothing. You retreat from Draco’s doorway and go to find Daemon in his study, bent low over his desk and sketching designs for jewelry men will buy for their wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, mistresses.

He glances over at you impatiently. “What is it?”

“You promised I’d never have to leave Ireland.”

Daemon shrugs, smiling wryly. “And yet…”

“Draco and I could stay here,” you say, as if this has not already occurred to him.

“And people would say my house is not in order. How am I to command the respect of American businessmen when my own wife does not obey me?”

You are desperate. “Half the year,” you plead. “I’ll spend winters in Manhattan and summers here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What if I won’t go?”

“I don’t see how you’d accomplish that,” Daemon says, as if he’s already bored of this conversation. “You could throw yourself over the ship’s railing and into the Atlantic Ocean, I suppose. But that’s the only way you’re not ending up in New York.”

“You don’t even really want me there,” you reply, your voice quivering. “You don’t care where I am or what I do. Lots of men live separately from their wives, you can as well.” And even now—horribly, humiliatingly—you want him to contradict you, to swear that he does care, that he wants you, that he loves you in the sick brutal way he knows how.

Daemon picks up the dagger he keeps on his desk and uses it as a letter opener to unseal a piece of correspondence from one of his many mines, left in the care of managers just as your father’s Connemara marble quarry soon will be. The hilt is made of gold and has seven small gemstones imbedded in it, one on top of the other: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire. “You know,” Daemon says offhandedly as he skims the letter. “Draco is getting old enough for boarding school.”

“What?” You are shellshocked; it takes a moment for you to sputter a reply. “He’s…he’s four, Daemon. He can’t read more than a handful of words. He just learned how to write his own name.”

“I was only five when my father sent me away.”

“And you turned out to be so normal.”

“No,” Daemon says, a blade-sharp warning, his eyes burning into yours, ruthless green fire. He aims the point of his dagger at you. “I turned out to be extraordinary.”

Draco. Draco sent away. If I lose him now, I’ll lose him forever. He’ll never know me. He’ll never love me. “Please let me have a few more years with him.”

“Sure. In New York.”

“I’ll go,” you surrender. “Fine, fine, I understand. I’ll go. No more complaints.”

“Good.” He sets down his dagger and the letter and resumes his sketching. You’ve been dismissed, but you can’t look away from him: cunning hands that won’t touch you, blood that runs hot enough to scald.

What is this feeling, this hunger, this hatred, all gnarled up together, dark earth glimmering with flecks of jewel-tone light, constellations of subterranean stars? He has hurt you, but he has given you pleasure too, this man who is so impossible to know, to predict, the only man who has ever been inside you. It’s not that you want him, not exactly; you want what he can give you, and the cold truth is that if it’s not him it’s not anyone, never again for as long as he lives. You’ve never craved another body, another soul. If you ever took a lover, you believe Daemon would kill you.

He grins, mocking and cruel. And you are transported back to your wedding night, still euphoric and flushed and panting on the bed as Daemon sighed and got up to go to the washroom, the satisfaction and the shame, the inescapable sense that you have disappointed him. “Did you only come here to be vexing and disobedient, or did you have something else in mind?”

“No,” you say softly, turning away, leaving him with his drawings of rocks stolen from distant corners of the world.

At breakfast the next morning—Fern cracking Draco’s soft-boiled egg and feeding him careful spoonfuls, Dagmar reading aloud to him from The Three Billy Goats Gruff, giving him smiles radiant with warmth you’ve never received from her—you sip tea and spread butter over your soda bread, gazing listlessly at the mist that hangs cool and heavy beyond the windows. Daemon is at the quarry already. You are suddenly acutely aware of the absence of music.

“Hey, lassie?” your father says as your mother tries to coax him into eating his full Irish breakfast: fried eggs, bacon, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, white pudding.

You look to him, clearing the fog from your skull. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I saw the luggage. Where are you going?”

You keep telling him, but he doesn’t remember; he was becoming forgetful five years ago but now he can’t work at all, can barely even carry conversations. You had a brother who died in infancy and a sister who was taken at eight years old by convulsions. You are the only child left, and there are no other evident heirs to the quarry. This must have been something that occurred to Daemon when he met you, seventeen and overwhelmed by the black magic of him. He had seemed like the right choice: dashing, capable, from an illustrious family, a man who could take charge of the quarry as your father’s health continued to fail.

“Daddy, I told you. We’re going to Manhattan.”

He is stunned, grief-stricken. “What? That far?”

“Yes, on Titanic. It’s the largest ship ever built.”

“Who the hell cares about the ship?” your father says. “When will you be back?”

Never. You and your mother exchange a heartsick glance. She tries to be strong for him; she tries not to show you that her world is ending as you and Draco are taken across the ocean like gemstones mined and smuggled away for cutting. “Soon, Daddy,” you lie. He won’t remember anyway. “We’ll be back really soon.”

And then again ten minutes later, and then again after a half hour, and then again at lunchtime:

Where are you going?

When will you be back?

~~~~~~~~~~

Titanic is not a ship but a wonder of the world, unbreakable like the pyramids, towering like the Colossus of Rhodes, beckoning seafaring travelers like the Lighthouse of Alexandria. It is too large to dock in Cork Harbor, and so two tenders—named, quite appropriately, Ireland and America—are used to shuttle the passengers to the anchored goliath waiting to carry you across the ocean. Aboard, a five-piece string ensemble greets the first-class passengers with The Sunny South, and beaming stewards distribute flutes of champagne, liquid gold freckled with bubbles of trapped air. The men are chucking and shaking Captain Smith’s hand and the women are sighing with soft, feminine awe at the soaring funnels and the sprawling Promenade Deck, steel overlaid with yellow pine and teak, and you stare vacuously back at the shadow of the shore, speaking to no one, noticed by no one, alone in a wonderstruck crowd on a cloud-covered, warm afternoon, April 11th, 1912.

Rush is giving bellboys instructions for the luggage to be taken to your rooms. Daemon disappears with Rhaenyra to inspect the accommodations, their steps swift and careless, laughing like children, Rhaenyra’s blonde hair—yellow jasper, yellow jade—streaming out behind her, her gown a shallow-water bluish-green like the Grandidierite Daemon found in Madagascar. Fern skitters after them to unpack the bags when they arrive in the staterooms and offer to make tea. Laenor, wearing a deep and dignified shade of blue, immediately makes the acquaintance of several Parisian passengers and sets about to stroll the deck with them, smoking their pipes and remarking on the ingenuity of the ship’s design, planning to enjoy the Turkish Baths together this evening. Draco is getting tired and ill-tempered; Dagmar merrily whisks him off to see the Grand Staircase and distract him until the rooms are ready.

Meandering, rudderless, you walk to the deck railing and look down into the water as the ship weighs anchor, unmooring itself from Ireland, stealing you away forever. Trying to distract yourself from weeping—tears burn in your eyes like a stoked furnace—you pretend to adjust your earrings. You wear amethysts to match your gown, dark mauve, a color not long ago only owned by royalty. One of the musicians has appeared to soothe your maladies, desperate terror and melancholy he perhaps mistakes for seasickness. But no, it’s not one of the men from the ensemble that welcomed you aboard; he is not wearing a pristine black suit but a pale green tweed waistcoat and unceremonious plaid trousers. He isn’t a crewmember of Titanic at all. He’s the viola player from Galway.

You jolt away from him, spinning around to ensure no one from Daemon’s party has reappeared to witness this. Then you whisper furiously: “What are you doing here?!”

The viola player stops fiddling and holds his instrument by its neck. His answer is amiable and innocent. “Playing viola.”

“No, why are you on this ship?!”

He shrugs, smiling, his hair blowing in the wind as the tugboats pull Titanic out to sea. “Heard it was the biggest one ever built, unsinkable, extravagant beyond compare. Seemed like something I’d like to experience given the opportunity.”

“You followed me,” you say flatly.

He winks, resting an elbow on the railing. His teeth are small and white; there are lines from the sun around his eyes.

“You overheard our arrangements at O’Connell’s Bar and bought a ticket for yourself? Crossed Ireland, travelled south to Cork, all to stalk me like some lunatic? A nautical Jack the Ripper?”

“Well…I wouldn’t say I bought a ticket.” He is playful, teasing you. “I found one.”

“How did you manage to by pure happenstance find a ticket for Titanic’s maiden voyage?”

“I ran into an aspiring passenger at a pub in Cork,” the viola player explains. “A very nice man, his name was Fergal. Unfortunately for poor Fergal, when the time came to board the tenders, he was…indisposed, and I found myself in possession of his third-class ticket. A strange coincidence!”

“Indisposed?” you say, squinting suspiciously.

“Perhaps he had a few too many pints in celebration and passed out somewhere. Perhaps he got lost on his way to the harbor. Or perhaps he was locked in the pub’s storage room and therefore unable to make it to the tenders in time to sail blissfully away on his trans-Atlantic journey. Who could say for sure?”

“So you stole a ticket.”

“I think that’s a cynical way to put it.”

You are incredulous. “How would you put it?”

“Fortune brought me a ticket. The stars aligned, the saints were looking out for me.”

“If you hold a third-class ticket, you are on the wrong deck of the ship.”

“Shh!” He holds a finger to his lips. “No one knows that, I just wander around playing songs for the rich people and they assume I’m supposed to be here.”

“You have to stay away from me,” you plead, staring out over the ocean. “Daemon can’t see us talking, he can’t know you followed me from Galway, he can’t find out that you saw…” The bruise, the evidence, the betrayal of you not keeping his secrets.

“Relax, I’m not here for you,” the viola player says, and of course he is lying. “I have family in New York City. I left home and haven’t been back in years, and I think now’s a good time for a visit.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

He grins, slow and mischievous, and you are alarmed to realize some part of you wants to smile too. “You know what?”

“What,” you offer resentfully.

“I think you want me to be here for you.”

You turn away from the railing to make your escape. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“I’ll think about it,” the viola player quips. And when you glance back at him from the end of the Promenade Deck, ocean wind tearing your hair out of its pins and salt stinging on your skin, he’s still watching you.

[lxvsiick]

GONNA BE A ROCK | PARK SUNGHO X READER

PAIRING: best friends! park sungho x best friends! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Y/n breaks up with Sungho because he keeps stealing her stickers and 10 years later, he's still bitter.

GENRE: best friends, 10 year old breakup, fluff

WORDCOUNT: 1k

A/N: i wrote this while listening to GONNA BE A ROCK by BOYNEXTDOOR -- i was going to make this longer and elaborate more on the sungho being bitter part throughout their friendship but i kinda got lazy ... anyways, enjoy!

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Like a seven-year-old kid who lost their toy

I cry even in front of my parents, I know it ain't right

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the playground as Y/n and Sungho sat on the swings, lazily kicking at the dirt beneath them. They had been best friends for what felt like forever, and recently, they had decided—after some playground chatter—that they were "dating." It mostly involved sharing snacks and stickers, except for one problem: Sungho kept stealing Y/n's favorite stickers.

Y/n glanced at him with a mock-serious expression, arms crossed over her chest. “We need to talk.”

Sungho looked over, confused but still smiling. “What’s up?”

She huffed, trying to sound more grown-up than she was. “You keep taking my stickers, and I’m not okay with that.”

He blinked, his feet dragging to a stop on the dirt. “I don’t take that many.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “You took my sparkly unicorn yesterday. And the shiny dolphin the day before that!”

He shifted awkwardly on his swing, kicking at a pebble. “I was just borrowing them...”

She sighed dramatically, standing up from the swing. “Well, I’ve made up my mind. I think we should break up.”

Sungho froze, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “Break up?!”

She nodded, hands on her hips like she was making a very important decision. “Yep. I can’t be with someone who steals my stickers.”

He stood up, his heart breaking in the only way a 10-year-old’s could. “But... but I’m your boyfriend! You can’t just break up with me over stickers!”

She shrugged casually. “I just did.”

Sungho felt a wave of childish devastation wash over him. “But I was gonna give you my glow-in-the-dark dinosaur sticker tomorrow!”

She paused for a moment, clearly tempted by the offer. But she shook her head. “Nope, sorry. It’s too late. We’re not dating anymore.”

He groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “This is the worst day ever! You’re breaking up with me over stickers!”

Y/n tried to keep a straight face but ended up giggling. “You’ll be fine. We’re still best friends, just... not boyfriend and girlfriend.”

He stared at her, hands on his hips now, as bitterness started to creep into his voice. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you want to trade stickers again. I’ll just say no!”

She stuck out her tongue playfully. “I don’t need your stickers anymore. I’ll just ask Seeun.”

His eyes widened. “Seeun?! She doesn’t even have cool stickers!”

Y/n shrugged, clearly having the upper hand. “We’ll see about that.”

He huffed, turning around dramatically and stomping off towards the monkey bars. “I don’t care! I don’t even want to date you anymore!”

She giggled again but called after him, “See you tomorrow?”

Sungho paused, then grumbled, “Yeah, whatever,” before running off to vent his frustration on the jungle gym. His heart might have been “broken,” but they both knew that nothing would really change—except, of course, the status of their “relationship.”

As he climbed the monkey bars, he muttered under his breath, “Stupid stickers…”

And so, they stayed best friends, but from that day on, Sungho remained just a little bit bitter about the whole breakup.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

If I could go back to the beginning, I would leave you

Even though it's impossible, I'd dump you first

The soft glow of the TV flickered in the background, but neither Y/n nor Sungho were paying attention. They were sprawled out on the couch, her legs draped over his lap as they scrolled through their phones. The familiar comfort of their shared apartment wrapped around them like a warm blanket, the quiet hum of city life outside barely noticeable.

After a long stretch of silence, Y/n let out a chuckle, her eyes lighting up as she glanced at him. “Remember when I broke up with you when we were 10?”

Sungho paused, his thumb hovering over his phone screen, and shot her a playful glare. “Oh, I remember. You dumped me over stickers.”

She grinned, shifting to sit up a little. “You kept stealing them!”

He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with mock bitterness. “If I could go back, I’d break up with you first. Save myself the heartbreak.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah right. You were obsessed with me even back then.”

He dramatically sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions, his hand resting on her leg. “Well, I did go home and cry to my parents about it. You tore my heart open, and I swore I’d never like anyone else.”

Y/n giggled, nudging him with her foot. “Oh, please! I didn’t ‘tear your heart open’—I just wanted my sparkly unicorn stickers back.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide in mock outrage. “You don’t understand! It was traumatic! I was ten, in love, and you crushed me with one sentence.”

She was laughing harder now, clutching her stomach. “I’m sorry, okay? But to be fair, you were a terrible boyfriend. You stole my favorite stickers.”

“I wasn’t a terrible boyfriend,” he said, crossing his arms and looking away dramatically. “I was a great boyfriend who just had a thing for shiny stickers.”

“Well,” she teased, reaching over to pinch his arm playfully, “you’ve improved a lot since then.”

He turned back to her, a soft smile replacing his exaggerated bitterness. “Thanks. But seriously, you wrecked me. I couldn’t look at a sticker again without thinking of my first heartbreak.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “And yet here we are.”

“Yeah,” he said, his playful tone giving way to something more genuine. “Here we are.”

For a moment, they sat quietly, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence. Sungho squeezed her leg lightly and gave her a teasing smirk. “But, just so you know, I’m still a little bitter about it.”

She laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You’ll get over it eventually.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning into the kiss, “but I’m not making any promises.”

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[torukmaktoskxawng]

‘anla

part two out now

Summary: Ao'nung is carefree and rude, to say the least. All he needs is the fear of Eywa in him, and a girl from the Omatikaya clan unexpectedly straightens him out.

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

Warnings: Mature language, violence, mentions of blood, harassment, death threats, teenagers acting their age, time skips, overprotective fathers, military dad, puppy love, canon compliant, slow burn, etc.

Word Count: 5k+

Tag: #'anla ao'nung fic

Na'vi Words: ‘anla - yearn for, ikran - banshee, pa'li - direhorse, skxawng - moron, tsaheylu - the bond, marui - pod homes, tsmuke - sister, tsmisnrr - nectar lantern, olo'eyktan - clan leader, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, akula - shark like, tulkun - whale like, maite- my daughter, sa'nok - mother, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, matxe'lan - my heart, ilu - dolphin/plesiosaurlike, txampaysye - gill mantle, Ayram Alusìng - Hallelujah Mountains, sa'sem - parents, tsakarem - tsahik in training, tsahik - spiritual leader

(I do not consent to my works being reposted or copied)

read it here on ao3

"It's called a punch, bitch! Don't ever touch my sister again."

"Get him, Ao'nung!"

"Show him!"

"Stop this! Stop it! So stupid!"

"Ow! My tail!"

"My ear! Let go! He's got my ear!"

Kiri had begun to laugh the nerves off, amused by the ridiculous display of testosterone in all her short teenage life. Hiding her giggles behind her hand, all she could do was watched as her brothers pathetically fought for her dignity against Ao'nung and some of the other reef boys. It had all been fun and games until she noticed a familiar figure in the sky and she craned her neck up to see it.

A shadow looms over the boys, darkening the world around them as it drew closer. Lo'ak and Neteyam both take a moment to recognize the shadow before dodging out of the way, hot blood cooling from the fight as they quickly moved out of the reef boys' reach. Ao'nung, laughing because he thought they were running scared of him, was the last to see the shadow, only pausing when he noticed his friends looking up and their eyes widen in horror. He isn't given a moment to turn around because something large lands in the shallow water behind him and the force of it drove him to stumble into the wet sand below him. The growling and snarls coming from behind the chief's son send chills down his frame, despite the warm day, as he finally turned his body around to stare up at the beast.

Blocking out the sun above him was a large ikran, light blue with gold lightning running up its figure, cawing loudly as if it had caught a meal. Its wings splash in the water, digging into the sand beneath and cooling off like a tired pa'li. Ao'nung began to crawl away from the ikran by the heel of his hands and feet, breath panting rapidly as the fear took over. The fear didn't lessen even as the ikran's rider dismounted, feet splashing into the beach water, drawing up to their ankles. Ao'nung tried to control his breathing as the rider stood over him, snarling down at the Metkayina boy like he was a bug that was stepped underfoot.

Y/n te Suli Neytiri'ite bore a look of disgust, her bright yellow eyes boring into Ao'nung's very soul. Without looking away from him, she addresses her ikran, her four-fingered hand petting down the side of the beast's neck, "Easy, girl. He's the wrong kind of fish. You can't eat him."

Looking around, the oldest daughter of Toruk Makto demanded answers with a stern tone, acting years older than fifteen, "What's the meaning of this?"

Lo'ak spat blood onto the sand, "They called us freaks."

Blink and you would miss it, but for Ao'nung, who refused to look away in fear of the ikran and her rider, he caught the small shift in Y/n's ears before they reverted back to normal. Her tail twitched, too, and from observation, he realized this was the Forest People's way of showing alertness or agitation.

Kiri had caught onto her sister's shift in behavior as well, her voice cautious, "Y/n..."

"Go home, Kiri. Now." Y/n's voice was flat, rid of emotion as she took charge of the situation, pointing to her twin brother, "'Teyam. Pick that skxawng up and go wash your face."

Neteyam nods dutifully, bending down and grabbing Lo'ak's elbow, the younger boy rolling his eyes at the name-calling. Y/n's eyes narrow at each of the reef boys before directing her gaze at Ao'nung, who stiffens under her close inspection, "As for you... You think it's hard to learn your ways. So why don't you try learning our ways and you can be the judge of that?"

The female Omatikaya gestures to the ikran behind her, one corner of her lips slowly turning up as a challenge, "Go ahead. Make the bond."

In response, Y/n's ikran hissed, fangs bared and jaw open wide. Ao'nung could feel the hot breath of the animal fanning his face and could see down its throat. Suddenly the courage and the teasing had left his body. Eyes still wide, unable to look away, Ao'nung can only swallow down his rapid breathing while Y/n just huffs, unimpressed, "As I suspected. You're not even brave enough to get back on your feet. You wouldn't last ten minutes in the forest, Fish Lips."

Y/n waited until all three of her siblings were walking away before she made the tsaheylu with her ikran and mounted the creature, eyebrows raised while peering down her nose at Ao'nung, "Who's the freak now?"

She had flown away, leaving Ao'nung in the sand, the ocean brushing his legs while his friends stood around, gawking. After returning her ikran to the jungle behind the village, Y/n bounded her way back to the Sullys' marui, internally preparing herself for what her siblings likely told her parents. She was not disappointed as she turned the corner, entering the tent to only find her father waiting for her, her siblings already gone from sight.

"What the hell were you doing back there?" Jake demanded under his breath the moment he saw his eldest daughter.

"What do you mean?"

"Do not try playing dumb with me right now. Your brothers already told me what happened."

"I was humbling Ao'nung." She scoffed, smiling to herself as she mocked the boy not currently present, "He couldn't bond with an ikran even if he tried. They would eat him."

Jake sighed, exhausted beyond his years at her antics as he placed one hand on his hip and the other on his pounding head, "You weren't trying to humble him, Y/n, you were humiliating him. And you knew what you were doing."

She shrugged, "Either way it's a win-win. A bruised ego is a lesson-learned ego. That is, if he's smart enough to actually learn his lesson--"

"That's enough, young lady," Jake spoke sternly, the marine in him making an appearance, "Ao'nung is the chief's son. You either need to get along with him or at the very least respect him."

"And I am Toruk Makto's daughter!" Y/n snapped back, "Maybe respect should go both ways."

"Enough."

The tone drove Y/n to straighten her posture, glaring into the space ahead of her, avoiding her father's gaze as he approached her, "Any more backlash comes out of that smart mouth of yours and you'll be grounded from flying."

Her bottom lip pokes out as she pouts. Jake's eyebrow raises at her reaction and the simple facial movement is all Y/n needs before she mumbles out, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get lost." Slouching, she turns to leave.

"Hey..." She turns back to find her father standing there instead of the marine, his features softening into curiosity, "How scared was Ao'nung?"

A grin slowly dawns on Y/n's face, stretching the stardust on her cheeks, "Terrified."

"Atta girl."

~~~~~~~~~

It was close to eclipse and both Neteyam and Y/n were flying their ikran, bows in hand, and enjoying a few more laps around the island before they were forced to return to the village. Neteyam makes a hand gesture and instructs his ikran to dive, his twin closely following them on hers.

They land in the jungle, their ikran hooking their claws into the trunks and vines of the vast trees. Breaking the bond, Y/n jumped to one branch and then skillfully climbed down the trunk, Neteyam not far behind her. The twins land gracefully on the forest floor, their conversation cut off midsentence to the sound of a twig snapping. Both of them spin their heads in the same direction they heard the noise, their ears wildly twitching with every little sound they heard. Finally, with bated breath, the figure behind the noise emerged. It was Ao'nung, walking towards them from the direction of the village, a big bruise now sprouting over the right side of his face.

"Does this guy have a death wish or something?" Y/n muttered to her brother, all the while peeking up at her ikran nestled in the trees above her.

"Don't react until we know what he wants," Neteyam advises, leaning his weight onto his bow, acting casual.

A little smug to spite her brother, Y/n called out to Ao'nung as he approached them, "Little far from the reef, are we Fish Lips?"

He doesn't react to the insult other than a small sneer gracing said lips. When he stood still in front of the twins, they both noticed how he was struggling to look them in the eyes. His fingers twitched, trying to find something to do while he muttered, "I did something... some would think dumb."

"Some?"

"Tsmuke." Neteyam hissed at Y/n from under his breath.

Ao'nung continued, ears flattening to the point he looked ashamed of himself, "I brought your brother hunting outside the reef. And..."

"And?" Neteyam urged him to continue.

"And I left him there."

Y/n's head tilts at the same time her pupils shrink and her fangs make an appearance, "You did what?"

"I thought he'd find his way back to the village eventually, but he still hasn't returned. I just wanted to scare him!" Ao'nung defended himself, albeit a bit weakly, his eyes pleading when he finally looked up at stared directly at Y/n, "That's all!"

She huffs a laugh of disbelief through her nose and it sounded irritable. Y/n peered over at Neteyam with narrowed eyes, "I was right, brother. He does have a death wish."

"That's enough, Y/n!" Neteyam keeps a hand out in front of his sister to keep her at bay, then uses that hand to point accusingly at Ao'nung, "And you! We're going to see my father and you're gonna tell him what you told us. Let's go!"

Defeated and preparing for the inevitable, Ao'nung has the decency to at least lower his head in shame, half of his face still swollen from the fistfight so he winced in pain when he pouted. Neteyam moves to lead the three teens out of the jungle and Ao'nung moves to follow him. A hand shoves his arm, however, and the hiss Y/n breathes into his ear as she walked past him was the exact opposite of friendly.

"If my little brother is dead out there because of you, I promise not even Eywa will find whatever is left of you."

The twins had marched Ao'nung to their family's marui, demanding he explains to Jake what he did. After carefully listening, Toruk Makto didn't hesitate to seek out Tonowari and together they start a search party. It was already dark by the time the party set out, carrying tsmisnrr lanterns and other means of light around as they flew around on their tsurak. Neteyam and Y/n even took part in the search, flying their ikran back out after their parents made them promise to stay within sight of the village.

Soon enough, a Metkayina warrior hollers out a warning call, indicating he had found the missing boy. Lo'ak was safely brought back to the village and everyone had gathered around to check on his well-being. Neteyam and Y/n landed in the sand and rushed up to meet with their brother, watching him with their eyes as Jake and Neytiri inspect him for physical wounds. Overall, he appeared unharmed, all the while he glared up at Ao'nung, who had the decency to look ashamed. As the olo'eyktan insisted that his son was to blame for this incident, Lo'ak surprisingly came to Ao'nung's rescue, blaming himself and speaking for the other boy's innocence. Jake was not amused by Lo'ak's method of gaining friends and sent the boy home after berating him for shaming the family. Once alone, both Jake and Neytiri turn to Neteyam.

"Where were you?"

"Yeah, what happened to keeping an eye on your brother?"

"Sorry, sir."

Y/n, always her brother's shadow, stepped up from behind him, appearing in the soft glow of the village lanterns, "No, it was my fault. I asked 'Teyam to come flying with me and hunt." When both parents turned to one another, exchanging a voiceless conversation, Y/n's tail twitched, "You DID say we should always pair up if we ever go flying over open water."

Jake's posture deflated, eyes closed to refrain from getting another headache, "Sweetie--"

"He can't be in two places at once, Dad," the teen girl stated with drooping big eyes and lowered ears, "That's not fair. Instead of relying on your son to look after your kids, how about the parents do it for a change?"

The words stun both the parents and brother, all three staring at Y/n in shock as if she had just grown a second head. Neytiri's shock is the first to shrink in and turn to guilt, bottom lip puckered as she moved to reach out for her daughter. Jake didn't contract whatever sentiment his mate was feeling, however, as his posture stiffened back into a former olo'eyktan and war leader. He pointed an accusing finger at her.

"This attitude, Y/n, wherever it came from, stops now. This rebellious phase is over, young lady."

"Ma Jake." Neytiri's tone was gentle, with a small hint of a threat, as if daring Jake to interrupt her, "She is fifteen. Do you remember what you were like at that age? Although I doubt this personality is not a phase. I believe it is from watching you."

Jake looked back at his mate, scandalized while Neytiri just smiles and places her hand on Y/n's shoulder, "Look at her, Jake. Look at both of them."

He dutifully turned to inspect the twins, both of them staring up at him with identical, pouting eyes that nearly made him cave to anything they asked for when they were little. They kept their hair braided and near their shoulders, aligned with beads much like the hairstyle Neytiri wore when Jake first met her all those years ago. Their tanhì were not identical, Neteyam's forming rounded or lined patterns along his nose and under his eyes while Y/n's appear more scattered on her forehead and down her cheeks like constellations. Neteyam didn't have eyebrow hair, Y/n did. He didn't have an extra finger on each hand, but Y/n did. Both looked like Neytiri, which was easy to see, but Neteyam inherited more Na'vi features from their mother while Y/n definitely inherited the alien features from their father.

Neytiri admired her two oldest children with a fond smile as she reached out to grip her husband's arm, "They are the perfect balance of what we were like. They inherited the best parts of us."

A beat of silence is left between the four of them before Jake relents, unable to look his children in the eyes any longer and waving them away, defeated, "Go rest. Make sure your brother's alright."

"Yes, sir." They both say simultaneously, trying not to appear rushed when they quickly made their exit, beads clinking together as their braids moved while they walked.

~~~~~~~~~

The next day, both Neteyam and Y/n were surprised to discover Ao'nung hanging out with Lo'ak willingly, and Lo'ak didn't appear bothered. In fact, the future olo'eyktan didn't seem interested in being anywhere unless with the Sully kids and his sister and Rotxo. He still appeared wary of them, but at least he wasn't insulting them under his breath anymore. At one point in the early afternoon, all the kids huddled around on the rocks by the beach after their chores were done and had asked Lo'ak what happened the night before. He explained how he was attacked by an akula but saved by a tulkun. The reef children doubted his story until Lo'ak gave a brief description of the creature. Tsireya, Ao'nung, and Rotxo were all shocked and explained the horror stories they knew of Payakan, unwilling to believe he could have been friendly to Lo'ak until the young Omatikaya stormed away.

Y/n had listened quietly and waited until she was back in the marui to voice her thoughts while she and her twin were weaving a fishing net together, "He's confusing."

"Who?" Neteyam looked up and caught the knowing look in her eye, "Ao'nung?"

"Yeah. He's acting... nice. He's actually sweet when he's not around the other reef boys."

"Yeah, he acts like he's related to Tsireya." Neteyam chuckled lightly through his nose.

"You think Lo'ak made up with him?"

"I think so. Or maybe some level of respect and understanding has been placed."

"Still. He was cruel." She snarled, willing herself to remember the reef boy up until the day they met him, "I don't understand how Lo'ak could forgive him. He nearly died because of Ao'nung. Kiri was harrassed by him and you guys fought."

Neytiri and Jake both enter the marui and weren't ashamed to admit they were eavesdropping when the Na'vi woman pitched in on the conversation, sitting down in front of her twins to help with the net, "He's likely just starting to warm up to you, maite."

Neteyam grins teasingly, eyebrow ridge raised in his sister's direction while speaking to his mother, "Yeah, her especially. You should see the way he stares at Y/n when she's not looking, sa'nok."

Y/n feels her neck crack when she spun her head to stare at her brother, appalled as he laughed. Obviously, he must be right about Ao'nung staring when she wasn't looking since this was all news to Y/n. Her shock turns into a scowl as she reaches over to push his shoulder, "That's ridiculous. I attacked him with an ikran, ridiculed him in front of his friends, and threatened to tear him to pieces if anything happened to Lo'ak. He's likely planning another way to humiliate me."

Jake was cleaning his gun while they talked but took a moment to side-eye his daughter when she mentioned threatening the life of the chief's son. Y/n only smiled back in response to her father's silent scrutiny, her tail waving behind her with feigned innocence. Jake returned to his weapon while shaking his head, though he didn't hide the small corner of his mouth turning up. Neytiri smiled while watching the interaction, though it didn't reach her eyes. A small wave of sadness embraced her, a harsh reminder that her babies were growing and she could not keep them forever. Soon they'll be old enough to be considered adults once they have fully completed the trials of their Iknimaya, and then they'll be free to choose their mates. The idea of her children teasing each other over innocent little crushes brings both fondness and sadness to Neytiri's mind. Where had the time gone?

She shuffled from her sitting position in order to reach her daughter, pulling a braid out of Y/n's face, "People are cruel when they're faced with something they don't understand, matxe'lan."

"Neytiri, don't you dare try to teach our daughter Ao'nung is mean to her because he likes her," Jake spoke up, finished cleaning his weapon and now looking down the sights of it with a certain reef boy at the forefront of his mind, "That way of thinking never worked on Earth and I'll be damned if I let my children believe that sort of behavior is normal."

"It is true." Neytiri's eyes began to glitter with mischief, "Although if you are anything like your father, you'll likely make a skxawng of yourself when trying to impress someone."

Jake nearly chokes while his twins burst out laughing.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was disappointed when she was the last of her family to finish chores late in the day, leaving her alone while they were all elsewhere. Tsireya and Rotxo have taken Neteyam, Kiri, and Tuk to the Cover of the Ancestors to show them where their Spirit Tree resided, and Lo'ak disappeared right before then, likely to go meet with his new 'friend'. As for her parents, Y/n was certain they were with Tonowari and Ronal for the day, helping them gather medicinal plants from the jungle. This left Y/n to her own devices, though she didn't have any idea what to do with this newfound freedom, so she started by just casually walking along the beach. She traveled quite a ways, the village now in the distance behind her. The beach was getting thinner to the point where she was surrounded. One side of her held the vast ocean, the other side a dense, deep green jungle. Y/n wondered how long it would take for her to completely walk around the whole island, betting on possibly two days if she did nothing but sleep and walk.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of something breaking through the gentle waves reaching up to the beach, and as her head spins around, her eyes immediately narrow on who was following.

It was Ao'nung, astride a hyper ilu as he himself appeared in a chipper mood, perking up and waving a fin-hand at her, "Hey! Forest Girl! Where are you going?"

"None of your business, Seaweed Brain." Was her immediate response, her internal defenses on high alert. She kept walking away but Ao'nung made sure to keep in stride with her, swimming just close enough to the shore where his ilu wouldn't get beached.

"Well, then let me come with you. Or if you are not actually going anywhere, I can show you a few good spots."

Her head turns back to him, openly skeptical as she pointedly stared at the distant village behind him, "What about your dick friends?"

He flashed her a confused grin, "My what?"

Right. 'Dick' is an alien word. Y/n huffs, rolling her eyes and facing ahead, still walking away, "You know, the pricks you were with while you were harassing my sister. Are they coming, too?"

"Oh. I dropped them."

It was said so casually, but it only confused her more, repeating the words on her own tongue, "You dropped them?"

"I don't like hanging out with them anymore," He shrugged, maneuvering his ilu to drift into deeper waters when it got too shallow, "They're no fun. All they wanna do is annoy everyone."

"And you don't?"

"Ha ha," he replied sarcastically with a deadpanned expression, "Come on, Forest Girl. Do I look like I'm in a position to trick you? I know your ikran is just one call away. I'm not that stupid."

"No?" She feigns surprise even as she slowly enters the water, the ocean greeting her up to her knees. She knew he had a good point and therefore, because of her boredom, decided to humor the reef boy and take up on his offer, "'Could've fooled me. Your stupid enough not to remember my real name."

Ao'nung rolls his eyes, "You don't exactly use my real name either."

One corner of the Omatikaya girl's lips stretches up and she shrugs with one shoulder in a touché motion. Using her tongue to make various clicks and calls, another ilu emerges from the ocean, and Y/n wads over to it, skillfully mounting it and making tsaheylu. Getting situated, she turns to Ao'nung impatiently, "Well? You mentioned a 'good spot'. Let's see it."

His grin wasn't the usual mischievous smile she had grown to correlate with him. It was more genuine and excited, his blue eyes twinkling like when the sun catches the striking blue sea. Y/n blinks in surprise at her own thoughts, quickly shoving them down as she tightens her jaw and her grip on the ilu, stubbornly staring ahead instead of at the boy.

Ao'nung drifted ahead of her, looking back over his shoulder, "Follow me! The best time to see it is at eclipse."

Both he and his ilu dive under the water and with only her thoughts, Y/n holds her breath and wills her ilu to do the same. The scenery vastly changes from land to ocean life, and the beauty below the water doesn't get ignored. Y/n was still fascinated by the ocean, always finding something new and exciting to explore. She dutifully follows Ao'nung and his ilu, smiling at the cute clicks and hums the swimming creatures make to each other. Swimming on an ilu isn't that different from flying on an ikran, only the ikran only have one rider their whole lives. The similarity between swimming in the water and flying in the air is that they both feel like freedom, riding faster than the two young Na'vi could on their own.

It wasn't a long swim, but they had completely lost the village behind them, still following the beach in the opposite direction as Y/n was doing earlier. Eventually, Ao'nung and his ilu rise to the surface, and Y/n follows, greedily gulping down air when she and her ilu breach. As she caught her breath, she looked around, trying to decipher where they were until she follows Ao'nung's gaze, her jaw slowly dropping in awe.

A large shadow had quickly grown over the teens in their approach. Looming above them was a high cliff, connected to the island and facing the open sea. This large rock face was greatly different from the ones Y/n remembered seeing as her family flew away from their home and flew across open seawater. Erosion had eaten its way through the center of the rock face, naturally cutting all the way through the cliff to form a large archway, hundreds of feet above Y/n's head. The only thing connecting the cliff to the rest of the island was the natural bridge made up of stone and plant life at the top of the arch.

"We call this place 'Sänrr Rong,'" Ao'nung explained while watching Y/n's amazed expression, craning her neck to look up at the tall archway, "'The Glow Tunnel.'"

Y/n lowered her head to face Ao'nung, the question on the tip of her tongue before he waves her off, "Wait a moment. You'll see."

And it was perfect timing. Eclipse came upon the pair and before her very eyes, Y/n witnessed a beautiful transformation. As the world darkened, bioluminescent algae began to glow and travel all the way up the inside walls of the rock archway, igniting the tunnel all the way through to the other side of the tunnel. It was so bright against the contrast of darkness that Y/n could look down and see all sorts of ocean life existing below her, an entire ecosystem that lived underneath this archway as she and Ao'nung slowly drifted through it. The water almost looked nonexistent because of how clear it was. The brightness of the arch led all the way down under the water and came back up the other side, surrounding them like a complete circle, giving off the illusion that Y/n and Ao'nung were floating on air, still straddling their peaceful ilu.

Ao'nung softly explains the beautiful sight, not wanting to ruin the illusion for the Na'vi girl, "The waves grow really high in this area, especially during storms. That's why the algae stretch all the way up to the ceiling of the tunnel. My people sing about this place, calling it the 'Doorway to Eywa' in many songs."

"Are we allowed to be here?" She asked, afraid this was a sacred place and as an outsider, she might be overstepping a boundary. This place was way too beautiful for her to be disrespecting it with her presence.

"We're still within the reef. Nothing big swims out here apart from txampaysye. We're safe. Some of the men take time away from the village and come here. Some of them cliff dive." Ao'nung catches a brief scrunch of her nose and eyebrows, an adorable expression if he wasn't trying to figure out her confusion, "You know-- cliff diving?"

Her expression falls into something more blank and impassive, unimpressed as she gestured to herself, "Do I look like I've lived around cliffs?"

He quips back in his own defense, "Do you not have an ikran rookery in the forest?"

"Well, yeah, but all the cliffs in Ayram Alusìng just lead to certain death. We don't have cliffs above water."

Ao'nung's jaw opened in disbelief, eyes bugging out of his skull as if she just told him the most unbelievable news of all time. The shock eventually wears off and is replaced by a shit-eating grin, the mischief she's grown accustomed to finally returning to his smile, "Come on. It'll be fun!"

He moves towards the cliffside and Y/n immediately reaches forward with a hand, words tumbling out, "Maybe some other time. We need to be home soon."

A mocking eyebrow ridge rises as he grins knowingly at her, "Are you sure you're not just scared?"

Her eyes narrow and her ears pin back, unwavering despite the nerves running about in her stomach, "I think you and I have been in enough trouble with our sa'sem as of late."

He relents then with a whiny groan, throwing his head up at the sky before coming back down to earth-- so to speak, "Fair enough."

The reef boy clicks his tongue, the ilu perking up attentively. Ao'nung moves to lead the way back home before he feels a hand briefly grip his arm, "Ao'nung."

He looks up, shocked as his eyes meet Y/n's, blue against yellow. Ao'nung's ilu makes a displeased noise, the creature doing a full-body shudder. Y/n didn't question it, but Ao'nung's gaze turned to the ilu, glaring down at it as if the animal betrayed him in some way shape or form. However, unbeknownst to Y/n, the ilu was only reacting to what it had felt through the bond after Ao'nung's name slipped past her lips. Ao'nung's glare relents after a moment, eyes glancing down at her small, alien hand touching his arm before he bravely glanced back up at her through his lashes.

She smiled, genuinely, like when she first saw the beauty of the archway. The attention sent a thrill up his spine, "Thank you for bringing me here."

His mouth felt dry, the tip of his ears burning but he was certain she couldn't tell in the dark. Perhaps the big ugly bruise her brother left on his face masked the embarrassment. He couldn't stare at her any longer and glanced back in the direction of the village, "You're welcome, Y/n."

Eclipse was over by the time they returned to the village. They had not returned as soon as they left, often finding themselves distracted during their swim home when either Ao'nung splashed her or Y/n chased him around on their ilu. Either way, their mounts weren't irritated, equally playful and mischievous as their riders. The young N'avi pair both felt estranged when they heard the other laugh, but it only egged them on to play around more, wanting to hear their laugh again. By the time they exhausted themselves from playing, they realized how much time had passed and finally returned to the village.

The only problem was that the village seemed tense upon their return. The joy quickly fled from Ao'nung and Y/n's faces, both scared and worried they were in trouble. However, the attention was not on the pair of teenagers, but on the gunship with war paint parked quietly on the bank closest to the Sullys' marui.

Ao'nung grabbed Y/n's shoulder instinctively and pulled her back to him, hissing at the sight of the gunship, "Sky People."

Y/n huffed and shoved his hand away, hope in her eyes with a small smile at the sight of the familiar war paint, "No, not these ones. These ones are loyal to the Na'vi and live among my clan."

Cautious and a little paranoid, Ao'nung only relented a little and eyed her down, "What are they doing here?"

That's where the hope died in her eyes, worry replacing it, "I don't know. I doubt nothing good."

The pair quickly rush to the Sullys' marui, finding a crowd of curious and equally paranoid Metkayina crowding up and down the walkways leading up to Y/n's home, worrying her further. Of course, it's always her family...

The first face she recognized was her twin, surrounded by Lo'ak and Rotxo. She rushed to her brothers with Ao'nung not far behind her, "'Teyam?" Neteyam spun around and his posture visibly relaxed, hand reaching out to gently grab the back of her neck as she looked around, "What's happening?"

"Kiri had a seizure underwater." He answered, eyes briefly glancing to Ao'nung standing behind his sister, taking note of it but not addressing it.

"What?" Y/n's eyes widen, her voice dropping to a whisper, shaking in fear.

"I don't know what happened." Rotxo explained, glancing between the teens who had just arrived, "I've never seen anything like it."

Ao'nung frowned, "Where are my mother and sister?"

"They're on their way. But there's Sky People in there, examining Kiri."

"I told you," Lo'ak addressed the concerned Rotxo, "Max and Norm are our friends. They want to help her."

Ao'nung turned to Y/n, "Aren't you the tsakarem of your clan? You could go to your sister."

Y/n shook her head, pulling Neteyam's hand off her head and squeezing it before letting go, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, "I chose not to be. Either Neteyam will find a mate who can be tsahik one day... or Kiri can do it. She's been more fascinated by it than I. And she had been teaching Tuk a thing or two..."

Y/n's eyes widen as a thought dawns on her, looking around before addressing her brothers, "Where's Tuk?"

"She's with Kiri."

"She shouldn't have to see something like that. She's too little."

Before Y/n could rush to the marui to fetch her baby sister, the tsahik arrived. Ronal glides through the crowds as they part for her, the destination the only thing on her mind. Tsireya walked close behind her with her mother's supplies gathered in her arms, handing them to her before Ronal stepped into the home. Tsireya remained outside, turning back to her group of friends, and managing to catch Y/n by the shoulders before she stepped into the marui.

"Let her work, Y/n. My mother needs the space and there are already plenty of people in there."

"But--"

"Your parents and Tuk are with Kiri," the reef girl spoke gently, smiling with understanding and kindness as she guides Y/n away, "She is not alone, I promise. She'll be alright."

The group of teens keep a reasonable distance away from the marui, sitting or standing around in each other's company as they waited. Tsireya kept Y/n close to her as if she was waiting for the Omatikaya girl to bolt. Meanwhile, Y/n took note that her father had brought Norm and Max out of the home, but her mother, sister, and Ronal were nowhere to be found, and that made her more anxious than before.

Rotxo tried breaking the silence, glancing up at his childhood friend, "So what have you been up to today, Ao'nung?"

Ao'nung, who had his arms crossed while crouched down, glanced up casually, "I went to the Arch today."

"Without me? Not cool, man."

The dig was playful as Ao'nung moved to shove him, "Well, you went to the Cove without me."

Tsireya giggled, "But you hate the Cove, Ao'nung."

Ao'nung's ears pin back and his gaze lowers to the weaving patterns of the walkway below his feet, embarrassed, "I do not."

"Do, too. You think it's boring."

"I wanna see the Cove," Lo'ak perked up, "And the Spirit Tree."

Tsireya practically beamed, ducking her head a little bashfully, "I'll take you next time."

"And me?" Y/n asked, smirking to herself when she watched her little brother's face fall at the idea of her tagging along.

Lo'ak tries brushing his disappointment away with a scoff, "Maybe Ao'nung can take you, sis."

"Or we could all go together," Tsireya offered.

Y/n could tell that Tsireya was just trying to be nice. Well, Tsireya is always nice, but sometimes she's a little too nice. She'll gladly let Y/n come along even if it meant not having as much time with Lo'ak. It was disgusting how obvious those two were. Y/n rolls her eyes jokingly and shakes her head, "Nah. Never liked being a third wheel. You kids have fun."

Lo'ak choked as he tried to form words of disagreement while the other kids laughed and Tsireya's cheeks darken a deeper shade of blue. Finally, Lo'ak managed to form words and they were clearly defensive, "You have never been a third wheel ever in our lives!"

Y/n quirks an eyebrow, "Bro, have you seen Kiri and Spider?"

"That's different! You know they don't like each other that way!"

"What way are you referring to?" Y/n grins wolfishly, tilting her head as Lo'ak realized she had caught him in a web, "And what makes you think I was implying you and Tsireya felt that way?"

As the younger Sully boy sputtered, Neteyam groans a little, nudging Y/n, "Alright, that's enough. Leave him alone or he's going to whine to me later."

"Yeah, Forest Girl," Y/n's eyes dart to the sound of his voice, catching the usual grin plastered on Ao'nung's face, "Let the little ones go. I'll take you to the Cove a different day."

Lo'ak bristled at the words, glaring at Ao'nung, "I take it back, Y/n. You can come with us."

Author's Note: Did I write this so I'd have a reason to call Ao'nung 'Seaweed Brain'? Yes, yes I did. For those who understood the reference I fucking love you.

Also, I don't personally ship Kiri and Spider, I just kind of used the pairing as a foothold for Y/n's brothers to tease her. I think they're cute, and I thought that's originally what James Cameron was going for, but the more I look into it the more I think they just love each other like siblings. In the graphic novel 'The High Ground', Kiri even states that she loves Spider like a brother and Spider doesn't question it. I think he loves her like an older sister because she protects him against other Na'vi (Neytiri) and she sticks up for him. She makes him feel like he belongs, hence why he chose her over Quaritch. Also, Kiri is played by Sigourney Weaver. I don't feel comfortable shipping two characters whose actors have zero chemistry and have a huge age gap. Clearly, I think their relationship will build up to something in the upcoming movies (Kiri uses her Eywa powers to grant Spider a kuru braid and he'll be able to breathe Pandoran air without a mask) but I don't think it'll have anything to do with romance.

That's my personal take on it. No hate to Spider/Kiri shippers. I know not everyone ships certain pairings and hates others because of their opinions and that's not what I was doing. I support Kiri/Spider shippers through and through. I also support Neteyam/Spider shippers (lowkey kinda cute) and Lo'ak/Spider shippers (also lowkey cute). Personally, I ship Ao'nung/Neteyam and I know people are going to hate me for that. But I don't hate people for shipping who they want.

Anyway, that's my PSA that ties to this Ao'nung x reader. Hope you enjoyed it!

The 'anla series masterlist here

[that-one-i-think]

Fun Garorth Headcanons for my fic cause he deserves some love

- Garroth grew a beard after coming back from the Irene Dimension. With Aphmau pregnant, the threat of shadow knights, and rebuilding the Phoenix Alliance, he had no time to properly shave

- The reason why Garroth still has the beard is due to the fact that the one time he shaved, Alina and Lilith couldn't tell who he was and panicked

- Radiates body heat like a fireplace

- In my fic he is bigger than Aaron. They are the same height but Garroth is built like a strong man while Aaron is built like every 8-pack fantasy man in unrealistic media. (Shad is taller though)

- The man is hairy. Chest, arms, legs, everywhere (but he takes care of himself)

- Despite having some stomach, running into him is like running into a brick wall.

- The only person who can beat him in arm wrestling is Katelyn. Nicole comes close and so does Aaron

- Given the fact that he almost constantly wears heavy metal armor, out of it he is the designated pack mule. Got strength and stamina for days

- The only person he has ever been able to consistently win against in a race is Zane.

- During guard training he had a few close "friends" but it never happened more than once because he would feel bad.

- Either the most awkward hugs or the warmest and most comforting bone crushing hugs. No imbetween.

- The reason why he stuck with Garroth was due to the fact that the 3 years after his birth it was one of the most popular names in O'khasis so he didn't feel like he needed to change it while on the run.

- Light sleeper while in bed alone, heavy sleeper when with another person. Mastered the art of dad naps whenever Lilith would cuddle with him as a toddler

- Has a really high alcohol tolerance and did pay for a new shield with bet money once.

- Great at carrying heavy things and mining, a horrible carpenter and builder.

- His mother taught him weaving and calligraphy, and it is why he is so dexterous.

- Can not fire a bow to save his life. A lot better at taking arrows then firing them

- He is more scared of dolphins than sharks

- As a child, Zane convinced Garroth that he was a vampire and Garroth believed it until he was 11. Even now, he has a hard time believing that Zane wasn't a vampire at times.

- He can read fast and enjoys reading out loud. He read to both Zane and Vylad as children.

- Has a sweet tooth but would kill a man for a soft pretzel.

[sunkissedchld]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔 + 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏

the piles go from top left to right. so, the coffee with heart shaped ice is pile i, the brown clouds are pile ii, and so on and so forth.

take the time to close your eyes, breathe, and meditate on the PAC prompt, then open your eyes and let your guides lead you to the pile for you. i hope you enjoy!

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

“Better In Color” by Lizzo

“Do It Like A Dude” by Jessie J

"Dolphin" by Oh My Girl

"Break Free" by Ariana Grande

Signs:

1:23, mixed race, water placement/dominance

Reading:

you may come from a more matriarchal family line, as it's mainly the women that speak clearly in this reading. the women in your family are typically powerful, well-spoken, straight-forward, fiery, and confident. the men may be the type to lay back and let the women lead because they know best if that makes sense.

the maternal line of your ancestors seem to be so proud of you. they think you're doing a good job of balancing everything you are dealing with. although you're doing well, they don't want you to slack off just because they let you know that you're doing well. if you keep working hard, your blessings will continue to reign in.

your paternal line seem to be somewhat like the traditonal father figure. they're more quiet and in the background. they may want to connect with you more, but you don't reach out or they don't know how to best approach you. they love how you seem to mimic the women in your family with your confidence and knowledge.

you might be coming out of a negative or stressful situation. maybe you were unorganized before or just recently went through a bad breakup. honestly, some things may still be hidden from you. do your shadow work, babe. that will also be helpful in your journey to getting what's for you.

you have a lot of good coming in soon! this could be partnerships and travel opportunities; you might even move to a different country. you may rekindle old flames soon. your commitment to doing well and succeeding will be a great assest as long as you keep it in check. don't become too greedy or prideful - this will bring about the opposite effects (more bad breakups, unwelcome change, etc).

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

“Left and Right” by Seventeen

“Rent” from Rent

"Better Off" by Ariana Grande

Signs:

rebellion, fire placements/dominance, ancestry.com, 23&me, teachers/teaching, civil rights, earth placements/dominance

Reading:

your ancestors are funny lmao. they also had a ton to say. you could connect with them easily because of their willingness to speak so freely. if you chose this pile, you might wanna do something like a family tree or figuring out your family line/ancestry. your ancestors might have been something like freedom fighters? they were the type to fight for justice and call out inequality when they saw it.

they're telling you to meditate and let go - which seems interesting because i initially felt them as very fiery people. it's like they're fiery but for specific reasons. they don't seem to be the revenge type in my opnion. you might feel as if you're in a stagnant point in your life. you might want more from what you're currently participating in. you want to go so fast and do so much, but your ancestors are telling you to be patient and wait. you're not ready - not yet.

this is gonna feel like a lecture, but you can't go out and do whatever it is you want to do simply because you feel like it. this is gonna sound weird, but you're not as important as you think you are. you need to learn how to serve others because right now, you're being very selfish. you're needed on this earth to help others; your goal in this life is to put others before yourself. you're not gonna receive anything until this selfish air of yours leaves.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

“Redbone” by Childish Gambino

“My Boo” by Usher and Alicia Keys

"Pick Up Your Feelings" by Jazmine Sullivan

"The Worst" by Jhene Aiko

"Focus" by H.E.R

"Do It" by Chloe x Halle

Signs:

latinx, taino, cuban, cuba, puerto rico, boricua, 3, 7, crown chakra, third eye

Reading:

the men in your family line might have been (and might still be) treated like children, or they or they usually die when they're still pretty young. both sides of your family are a force to reckon with. magic and spirituality may run deep. i think those that pick this pile may be latnix, so maybe practices like santería, voodoo, or hoodoo may already be prominent in your family.

you've been setting plans and intentions lately - expect to see a reward. interestingly, both the emperor and emperess came out during this reading! you are obviously on the right path in terms of bringing in a ton of abundance and also being stable for both yourself and your family (i have a feeling family is very important to people in this pile). although you feel like you're doing everything right you may actually feel as if this isn't what you're cut out for. you may be overwhelmed. i'm reminded of Luisa from Encanto. eventually these feelings will go away, but if you don't properly address them they will pop back up time and time again. your third eye and crown chakra may be blocked, and healing them may help you with what you're feeling right now.

this feeling of seemingly doing good but actually feeling as if everything is not right for you could also explain your love life instead of work/material/family life. maybe everything seems like it's going on the right path. you might've been together for a healthy amount of time, and the next step seems to be marriage or something more, but it's not really what you want, or a facade is being put on in order for the relationship to seem that way.

the best advice i can give for this pile is to follow your heart. take time for yourself in isolation and listen. listne to your heartbeat, your pulse, your thoughts, and/or nothing. just listen. then follow.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

“Song For You” by Avery Wilson

“Sorry, I Love You” by Stray Kids

"Dancing Like Butterfly Wings" by Ateez

"Lose Control" by Missy Elliott

"Celebrate" by Ateez

Signs:

youngest/only child, physical touch as a love language, newbie, noob, talkative, air/water placements or dominance

Reading:

your ancestors are cute. they seemed to be new to this whole magic/tarot thing. they had a lot they wanted say, but the cards seemed to stutter or come out all at once. they really wanted me to get to the point with this reading. they didn't even introduce themselves before saying new opportunities are coming in for you!

ace of sticks and death both came upright, and both of those cards indicate changes, transformations, and new opportunities coming in. i also think it's ironic that i'm writing about new things coming in a few hours before the new year. everything seems to be right in front of you. your spirit asteroid may be in a fire sign.. maybe leo? or maybe that's too bright. aquarius? libra? virgo? any of those imo.

interestingly, the hierophant came out twice from two different decks. your ancestors want you to lean on them. maybe the reason they seemed to be new to me is because they have a specific way of speaking through the cards that i'm not used to - it may be easier for you to understand them naturally (which makes sense because they're your ancestors - not mine lol). you may be the newbie in terms of magic/tarot and things of the like. i also sense that you could be the youngest person in your family or an only child. you could've been doted on a lot. as a result, you could be a little immature.

you might feel lonely or disconnected from family right now. your ancestors are wanting you to reach out to them personally because they can heal you from whatever is burdening you in relation to your family. the maternal side of your ancestors seem to want to comfort you specifically; your paternal side on the other hand wants to offer guidance. your anxiety will go away with their help, and material goodness will also usher in. go talk to them. also, if you felt drawn to pile ii, go read it. parts of it are for you.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Be Blessed" by Yolanda Adams

"Just Be A Man About It" by Toni Braxton

"All Me" by Kehlani and Keyshia Cole

"Let It Burn" by Jazmine Sullivan

Signs:

reversals, rx, dad/daddy, father, manipulation, liar, jealousy, miss robinson, The Devil, earth/water placements or dominance

Reading:

this pile was both interesting and confusing because sooo many reversals came out. i'm talking 5+ more reversals at a time. maybe you're currently going through a confusing time in general and that's how the cards decided to manifest to show that.

your ancestors want to warn you of negative energy surrounding you. someone is manupilating you or lying to you. something is hidden from you. this could also be why the cards are reversed so much. they're yelling. someone is pretending to care for you and be your friend, but they are very much so not. at all. be careful of your surroundings and the company you keep.

you may want to lean on your paternal line during this time. they may provide wisdom on leadership and discerning between people's true intentions towards you. "father knows best" comes to mind with this pile.

the person manipulating you is a pathologicl liar, a con artist, and a person who is jealous of you. they want to take everything from you and bring you down to their level. if you know who this is, get rid of them immediately. if not, please try to be discerning or go into hermit mode to try and protect yourself. honestly, they may be using things like magic or hexes because of how obssessed and jealous of you they are. with the eight of knives, you will eventually get out of this situation, but it's kind of like quicksand. it'll feel like you're constantly sinking in, but you have to keep fighting.

in this reading, the story of Miss Robinson comes up. Miss Robinson was a rootworker who found out that another woman was speaking bad on her and putting people against her. Miss Robinson confronted the woman and told her that if she knew what was best for her, the woman would stop trying to steal her joy and spread negativity on her. the woman continued to do so anyways. a little less than a month later, the woman's only son died. Miss Robinson sat fanning herself with the obiturary, and the next day, the woman left.

this story of Miss Robinson will play out if this person keeps messing with you. i get the feeling that your ancestors have protected you beyond anyone else's control. they're not going to let this person ruin your joy. you will come out on top in the end. your success is the revenge.

additionally, there will be a partnership coming in! your manifestations may come true soon (january/february). this person will be caring, generous, and youthful. they might be younger than you. for some people who choose this pile, this person will be harmless. for others, this could be manipulator talked about for the majority of this pile. again, please be discerning.

i'm sorry i said almost nothing about you ancestral line, but they felt it was more important that i give you this message. i share what the cards and spirit give me, ya know? also, as i tried to save this, it almost didn't save/almost got deleted.. someone does not want you knowing this information. as said before, your ancestors aren't fooling with that energy.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐕𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"stranger in my house" by tamia valmont;

"deja vu" by ateez

"side effects" by stray kids

"the tortise and the hare" by stray kids

"victory song" by stray kids

Signs:

indie arie, ocean, water/air placements or dominance, church, grandma's hands by bill withers

Reading:

you maternal ancestors might've been the church mothers. if you know what that is, this pile is for you lmao. they helped everyone and were always giving people a shoulder to cry on.

you might be feeling depressed right now. maybe you're frustrated or misunderstood. you may be thinking of all you've missed out on, or you've been working so much that you're missing out on all the fun life has to offer. you might feel so worried about the future and have no idea what you'll be doing. relax and go with the flow for now.

although you feel underappreciated now, you will move up in life because of your work. expect internships, a degree, or even an upgrade in position. you will find your way after this period of negative thinking. don't worry about poverty or anything like that. you hardwork will be rewarded. you will come into the spotlight because of your efforts.

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 7:Her Vulnerability

Summary: Wednesday blames you as the reason she let her guard down, for the vulnerability that came with you.

Warning: Light Angst. Wednesday is back. !Mentions of death of a parent! Slow Burn.

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone, frantically dialing your dad’s number. This wasn’t a “handle it yourself” kind of situation. You had nine high people on your hands, one of them being Wednesday Addams, and you knew things could go downhill fast.

"Dad.." you began, your voice shaky..

He definitely sensed the panic in your voice. “What happened? Everything alright?”

“Uh, not exactly,” you said, glancing nervously at the group. “So... Dad, do you remember how you always said if I ever needed you, no matter how stupid the reason, you’d come?”

Your dad paused, immediately suspicious. “Yeah? What did you do?”

“Okay, first of all, this is not my fault.” You shot a look toward Rick, who was now trying to chase his own shadow in circles, laughing like a maniac. “But... everyone here might be, uh, high. And Wednesday, well, she’s... Let’s just say I need help. Fast.”

Your dad’s voice came back with a groan. “Hey! You told me you guys were camping, what kind of camps do they even run?"

“We were camping, Dad! It’s an accident!” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Stop asking questions and just get here!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. What do I even bring to deal with this?” he asked,

You blinked, unsure how to answer. “Uh, a tranquilizer gun?”

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll figure it out. See you soon. Try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”

“Great,” you muttered. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be here... herding drunk cats.”

As you hung up, you sighed in relief but immediately felt the weight of the situation crash back in.

“Y/n,”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone. “What the—Wednesday! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You need to lift the magic.”

“Magic? What magic?” You frowned, thrown off by the comment.

“The one that keeps making me think about you all the time. Like right now. Like when I sleep.” She leaned closer, "It makes me feel... weird. Like... like I should stab you. But I can’t. I try, but it doesn’t feel right. Anyone else, I’d stab them. Like... like Brooke.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay, but let’s agree not to stab Brooke,” you said, gently taking her arm.

Just then you heard Alex shout from across the camp. “Oh, baby! You complete me!”

“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned, rushing over to see Alex, arms wrapped around a thick tree trunk, “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”

Alex, now fully invested in his "relationship" with the tree, was whispering sweet nothings into its bark. "You're so... strong. You never hurt me, even when I hit you. I think... I love you."

"Alex!" You groaned, "Stop groping the tree. It doesn’t love you back."

He glanced at you, wide-eyed and sincere. “She… she gets me. She understands me. I love her.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you should laugh or cry. “Alex, it’s a tree.”

“Don’t insult her!” he cried dramatically, clutching the bark tighter. “She’s... she’s the love of my life.”

“Rick! Don’t get in the water!” you shouted as you caught sight of him staggering toward the lake.

Rick paused, looked back, and said, “But the water… it calls to me!”

“No! You’ll drown!” You sprinted over, grabbing his arm and yanking him back just in time. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, looking at you as if you’d just ruined his dreams.

“Aw, come on! I just wanted to see the dolphin.”

“It's a lake Rick! There are no dolphins! Stay away from the water!”

You sighed, glancing around the camp to see what fresh disaster awaited you. And then, your heart stopped.

"Wednesday, don’t stab Brooke!" you shouted, seeing Wednesday approaching Brooke with a knife in hand.

“Why not?” Wednesday replied, her voice dangerously calm. “She looks stab-worthy.”

For a second, you thought you were in the clear—until Wednesday moved behind Brooke and, with one swift motion, sliced off her ponytail.

Brooke just kept laughing. “Hey! Free haircut!”

“Wednesday, what the hell!" you cried.

She turned to you with an unsettling smirk, eyes still glazed but sharp. Without warning, she threw the knife at you. You yelped, dodging just in time as the blade embedded itself in the tree behind you. “Seriously?!”

She grinned, grabbing another knife from god knows where. “It’s a game, Y/n. You dodge, I throw.” You ducked again as the second knife sailed past your head. “How many knives do you even have?!” “Enough,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Before you could react, she pulled out another knife from her coat. “Okay, stop!” You ducked as the third knife soared past. “Are you done?” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “No.” And out came knife number four. You barely dodged it as it flew past your head and stabbed Alex's newlywed wife... "My love! Noooo" Alex cried holding onto the tree.

“You’re really good at dodging,” Wednesday mumbled, her words slurring together. “I might like that about you.”

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

“Wednesday! Are you done?”

She frowned, swaying on her feet. “I’m out of knives."

"Thank god," you muttered but before you could catch your breath you saw Mike, who was trying to roast marshmallows... without the stick. He held the marshmallows directly over the fire with his bare hands, completely unaware of the flames licking at his skin.

“Mike!” you ran over and pulled him away. “Are you trying to set yourself on fire?!”

He blinked at you in confusion. “I was just... hungry.”

“Use a stick next time!” you cried, handing him one.

You sighed as you glanced at Wednesday, who had wandered off again, staring at the moon like it had personally offended her.

You jogged over to her, grabbing her by the arm before she could do anything else drastic. “Wednesday, stay with me, okay? Get a hold of yourself, stop acting weird.”

“I’m not weird,” she muttered, looking up at the sky with unfocused eyes. “The moon is weird. Look at it... all smug up there... thinking it’s so important. I could take it down if I wanted to.”

“Sure, Wednesday,” you said, humoring her. “But let’s not fight the moon right now, okay?”

She blinked, swaying slightly. “Why not? It deserves it. It’s always watching... judging... Like Weems, Can we kill Weems when we go back?”

Rick was running back toward the lake again, you rubbed your temples. “Wednesday, please just sit down, we can kill Weems later, okay?.” you said before going for Rick.

“Rick! No!” You sprinted after him, pulling him away just before he could dive in.

“Man, you’re no fun!” Rick slurred, pouting like a child.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to keep you all alive!”

Returning to Wednesday, you found her surprisingly obedient for once, sitting by the fire.

“You,” she muttered, pointing a finger at you again. “Why are you always fixing things? Its annoying.”

You sighed, catching your breath. “Trust me, I know.”

“But…” she paused, her brow furrowing in drunken confusion. “I also kind of like that you’re always… there.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, your heart doing a weird little flip despite the chaos. “Oh yeah? Well, I kind of like that you haven’t stabbed anyone yet.”

She smirked, getting up on her feet. “Give me some time.”

Just as you were about to respond, the distant ruffling from the woods.

Your dad had arrived, along with a few camp staff members who clearly had no idea what they were walking into.

“Okay,” your dad said, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell happened here?”

You crossed your arms, gesturing to the group. “This. This happened. Rick spiked the coffee. So… good luck. I’m getting Wednesday out of here. Give me your car keys.”

Your dad hesitated, his brows furrowing. "You don’t have a license yet, Y/n."

"I don’t care," you said firmly, glancing over at Wednesday, who was eyeing everyone with a dangerous gleam. "I need to get her out of here before she really does something."

He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, digging into his pocket and pulling out the car keys. "Here. And take this." He handed you a flashlight. "It’s dark out there."

"Thanks, Dad," you said, pocketing the keys and flashlight.

"Good luck," he called as you started to lead Wednesday away from the mess.

You led Wednesday through the dark jungle, her hand gripped tightly in yours, her steps unsteady but stubborn. Every twig that snapped had you jumping. “You’re scared,” Wednesday observed bluntly. You stiffened. “No, I’m not. I just don’t like… unexpected noises.” “You’re scared,” she repeated, her voice softer now, less mocking. “I can tell.” You sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. It’s dark and creepy" You walked in silence for a few moments, the jungle seeming to close in around you, the air thick and heavy, but what felt even more dense.. was Wednesday's proximity near you.

“I’m scared too.” her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

You blinked, “What? You? Scared? Of what?” you asked, half expecting her to say something completely ridiculous, like hugs.

“I’m scared… of getting close to you.” Her words came out slowly, as if she were forcing herself to admit it.

That made you stop in your tracks. You turned to look at her, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.

“I’m scared about that too,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the sounds of the jungle. “I’m scared for you. That you’ll get close to me, and it’ll be... selfish.”

“Selfish?” she echoed, her brow furrowing. “Why would it be selfish?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn't.. you didn't want to lose her... not yet.

Wednesday’s gaze bore into you, waiting for an answer, but you squeezed her hand lightly, leading her forward through the jungle.

"Let’s just get out of here," you murmured.

She didn’t press further, just followed your lead, her steps slow but steady, her grip firm in yours. After what felt like an eternity, you finally saw the road ahead, your dad’s car parked at the edge of the road. Relief washed over you as you reached it. You helped Wednesday into the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel.

There was no way you were driving two hours to Nevermore in this state. Your house was only half an hour away, and you were way too tired to push through for that long.

“I’m taking you to my place,” you said, glancing over at Wednesday. “It’s closer.” She blinked slowly, her head resting against the window. “I don’t care… as long as it’s quiet.” You started the car, pulling onto the road and heading toward home. The drive was mostly silent, save for the occasional comment from Wednesday. “You’re a terrible driver,” she mumbled at one point, her eyes half-closed. “Gee, thanks,” you muttered. “And why is your car so… bright?” “It’s a normal car, Wednesday.” “I prefer hearses.” You chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spread through your chest despite the exhaustion. Even drunk, even high, she was still Wednesday Addams.

After what felt like both an eternity and a blink, you finally pulled into your driveway. You hadn’t been gone long, just a week, but somehow it felt like you’d been away for months. You missed it. You helped Wednesday out of the car, guiding her toward the front door. She blinked at the house, her lips curling into a half-frown. “It’s… too clean.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Where are the cobwebs? The dust? It’s too… colorful. It offends me.” You laughed softly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe I can add some cobwebs for you later.” Wednesday grunted, following you in. “You should.” You led her upstairs to the bathroom, handing her a towel and some spare clothes—luckily, you had some black ones. No way were you risking putting her in anything with colours. That might be the last mistake you ever made. "Just… take a shower. I’ll be right outside if you need anything," you said, standing awkwardly by the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of water running. You heard her muttering something under her breath, but you didn’t ask what.

After a few minutes, she emerged, dressed in the black shirt and pants you’d given her. She still looked disheveled, her hair damp and wild.. and... human? "Better?" you asked. She nodded once, her eyes flicking over you. "Tolerable." "Great." You led her to your room, where you helped her onto your bed. "You can sleep here. I’ll take the chair." Wednesday stared at the bed with disdain. “It’s too colorful.” “Would you prefer I get you a coffin?” Her eyes lit up "You can?" “No, I’m fresh out of coffins, so you’re stuck with this.” You said, watching as she reluctantly climbed onto the bed. She lay back, eyeing the bright blankets suspiciously. "Sweet dreams Wends." "Bitter nightmares Y/n." You sat down in the chair, resting your head on the table, exhausted from the day. As your eyelids grew heavier, you couldn’t help but feel… content. Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the stress—it was nice. It was nice… with Wednesday.

Wednesday woke up with a pounding headache, one that reminded her of the few times she'd experienced her visions—but this one was worse. Her skull felt like it was splitting in two. She blinked slowly, squinting against the unfamiliar light filtering through the room. Her mind began to sort through fragments of memories. The camp… those insufferable therapy sessions… the lake… She sat up abruptly, clutching her head as the pain intensified.

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on your slumped figure, asleep at the desk. You were hunched over, your head resting on your arms, your breathing slow and steady. For some reason, her mind didn’t leap to the worst-case scenarios like it usually did. Normally, she would have assumed she’d been kidnapped or poisoned or worse, but this time, her immediate reaction was different. You were there. And for some strange, infuriating reason, that put her mind somewhat at ease. She quickly squashed that feeling, she needed answers.

“Y/N.” You jolted upright, startled and confused, your eyes wide as you tried to get your bearings. “Wednesday?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes, still half-asleep. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train?” You stood, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “You’re at my house,” you said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, sorry about that. After everything that happened last night, I figured it was easier to bring you here instead of taking you all the way back to Nevermore.” Wednesday’s gaze narrowed. “And what, exactly, happened last night?” You grimaced. “It was Rick. He spiked the coffee, and… well, everyone got pretty messed up. You were high.”

A flicker of memory hit her like a punch to the gut. The coffee. Rick. Her emotions spilling out. She had been...drunk. And not just any kind of drunk—emotionally vulnerable drunk. A wave of nausea hit her. "I was what?"

"Yeah, you were... not yourself. And I had to, you know, keep you from stabbing people or throwing knives. At me, mostly." You gave her a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "So I took you home before you killed anyone."

Wednesday’s face darkened, her expression unreadable. She could vaguely remember the feel of the knife in her hand, the sheer frustration bubbling inside her, and then...she let her guard down. She had felt things—for you. Her hands tightened into fists.

"This was your fault," she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You. You're the reason this happened.”

You blinked in surprise, then frowned. “What? How is this my fault?”

“You.” Her eyes burned with anger, her lips curling into a scowl. “Yesterday, I let you in. And look where that got me—drunk, vulnerable, and completely out of control.”

Her words stung. You had never seen her so agitated, so vulnerable, and yet so defensive at the same time. Your heart sank a little, but you stepped closer to her. “Wednesday, it’s okay. I was there, wasn’t I? I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“That's not the point!” Wednesday snapped. “The point is that I’m never like this. I never allow myself to be anything other than in control. But you... you make me lose that control. You distract me. You’re the reason I wasn’t on guard, the reason I didn’t see it coming.”

For a moment, you were speechless. It wasn’t often that you saw Wednesday like this—raw, emotional, admitting that she wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted to be. But instead of backing down, you felt your own frustration rising.

“So, what? You’re mad because I’m not a threat to you? Because I make you feel something?”

Her eyes flashed. “Yes!”

You stared at her, genuinely taken aback by her admission. “You’re blaming me for something you’re not used to dealing with that I had no control of.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You had control, you entered my life. I never asked you to get close to me," she hissed.

You stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. You shook your head slowly. “You know what? Fine. Be mad. Blame me for all of it. Blame me because you’re scared to admit that you actually care about someone. Go ahead.”

Wednesday’s eyes flashed a bit of emotions, but you didn’t stop.

“Because I can’t do this,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “I can't keep taking the fault just because you’re too stubborn to admit that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone all the time.”

“I am not alone,” Wednesday said coldly. “I choose this.”

You looked at her, and for a second, something shifted in your expression. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment. “Fine. Then go. Be strong and alone, just like you always do.”

The words stung more than she cared to admit. She felt her anger surge again, but this time, there was something else beneath it—an ache she couldn’t name. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her mind racing.

Back in your room, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. The frustration, the anger—it was all swirling inside you like a storm. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but damn it, Wednesday knew how to push every button.

Still, you couldn’t just leave things like this. Not after everything that had happened.

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, running a hand through your hair as you headed out to find her.

Wednesday stood outside, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as the morning air bit at her skin. She stood rigid, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. What part of Jericho is she even in?

She was stuck in this place—your place. A house that felt almost too normal for her liking, too...warm. It was unsettling. And yet, it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the setting that rattled her. It was you.

She wasn’t going back inside.

Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She could navigate the situation on her own—she didn’t need help. Wednesday Addams never needed help.

You were the one person she could blame for her current predicament. Yet, somehow, you were also the only person she found herself thinking about.

Her head was still pounding, the remnants of the drug-fueled haze clinging to her like a persistent shadow. It was disorienting and left her feeling unusually out of control.

And that—more than anything—infuriated her.

She wasn’t used to this. Losing control, feeling vulnerable, feeling anything.

It was your fault. You had wormed your way into her life, into her mind, and now, into her emotions. And for what? You were unpredictable, infuriatingly cheerful, and entirely too comfortable in her presence. No one had ever made her feel this conflicted before. And she hated it.

No, she hated you. Right?

What had she said last night? What had you seen? She remembered the rush of emotions flooding her mind, the dizzying sensation of being drunk—something she never allowed herself to be.

And somehow, you had been there, in the middle of it all. And you are still here now...

“Is it really that bad to let someone in, Wednesday?” She stiffened at the sound of your voice, not bothering to turn to face you.

“Yes,” she replied coldly, the answer immediate and sharp. “It would make me weak. Vulnerable.”

You sighed softly, taking a few slow steps toward her, careful not to intrude on her space but just close enough that she couldn’t ignore your presence.

“Vulnerability,” you mused, glancing down at your feet before looking back at her with a sad smile. “I wish I felt vulnerable sometimes. The vulnerability of a mother’s love."

Wednesday’s sharp gaze turned to you, a question forming in her eyes but remaining unspoken.

“My mother died giving birth to me,” you continued, "Talk about being born only to murder your mother,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with your usual warmth. It was tinged with something deeper—pain.

That hit harder than she anticipated. Wednesday wasn’t one for empathy, but something about the way you said it, the way you tried to laugh off the tragedy, made something in her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure why, but the pain in your voice resonated with her.

“I watched as the others played with their mothers,” you continued, your eyes distant now, as if you were seeing something far away. “Dad tried, he really did. But he had work. The cars in his garage weren’t going to fix themselves.”

Wednesday stayed silent, her eyes locked on your profile. She could see the sadness in your eyes now, the weight of it pressing down on you like a dark cloud. You were trying to make a joke of it, trying to downplay the loss, but she could tell how much it still hurt you.

“Why am I telling you all this?” you asked, your voice softer now, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. “Because, Wednesday... sometimes, the thing we think will make us weak or vulnerable... is actually the thing that’s missing. The thing that could make us whole.”

She remained silent, the words hanging in the air between you both. For the first time in a long time, Wednesday didn’t have a sharp retort, didn’t have some sarcastic comment to throw back at you. She just...stood there. Listening.

What the hell am I even doing?

Her mind raced, and she felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. You clearly had nothing to hide, no ulterior motives that she could detect. Maybe...maybe she could trust you. But trust was dangerous. She had built her life around never needing to trust anyone. Why should you be any different?

Still, something about your words lingered in her mind, gnawing at her resolve. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, you had said. It was the missing piece.

For a moment, she considered the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, letting you in didn’t mean losing control. Maybe it was something else entirely.

She clenched her jaw, finally turning to face you. “Where does this leave us?”

You met her gaze, your expression unreadable for a moment. Then, you gave a soft, almost tired smile.

“What even is this?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. It was a rare admission of uncertainty from her, and it made her feel exposed in a way she hated.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging slightly. “But does it really need to have a name? This...whatever this is...it can just be ‘this’ till we enjoy each other’s company.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I clearly enjoy yours. I don’t know about you.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice in the gesture. “You aren’t entirely intolerable,” she muttered under her breath, her voice softer than usual.

You laughed at that, a genuine laugh that seemed to lift some of the tension between you. “High praise coming from you,” you teased.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. The fact that she hadn’t immediately insulted you or walked away was enough of a response.

Then, after a moment, you stretched and yawned, clearly still recovering from the night’s chaos. “Anyway,” you said, “I clearly need coffee. Preferably not spiked" You took a few steps forward, then paused, looking back over your shoulder at her. “You coming?”

She sighed, her expression impassive as she finally moved to follow you.

Whatever this was, it went deeper than that. The things she did for you, the things you made her feel...they weren’t just born from friendship. But no, this wasn’t something romantic either, at least not yet. She wasn’t sure what it was.

And maybe, just for now, that was okay.

This didn’t need a name.

NEXT CHAPTER

[hitoshilover]

roommate

directory | masterlist

pairing: timeskip!tsutomu goshiki x fem!reader

summary: you were tired of your roommate leaving the house a mess, so you decided to confront him- though you were greeted with an unexpected sexual tension.

warnings: heavy switch themes, soft dom!goshiki, vibrator, oral (male receiving), fingering, “pretty,” orgasm denial, penetration, deepthroating, handjob, blowjob, nipple clasps, restraints (belt), nipple play, heavy making out, brat!goshiki, edging, arguing for like 5 seconds, hickeys

wc: 2.3K

a/n: once again, a gift for my friend @crayooongle !! the #1 tsutomu lover. and also another long one. it’s a bit all over the place and ambitious, so sorry for that. ntm, not proofred 😖 so proceed with caution LOL!!

it was friday, the 5th time this week your roommate came home late this week. 11 pm. he glanced around the dormroom, noticing the dishes he left in the sink this morning, the crumbs he left on the counter, and the pizza box from last night still on the couch. he was a bit surprised as you usually would clean up the room, but he was too tired to even react. he moved through the mess to find you laying on his bed. you wore a baggy grey graphic-tee with dolphin shorts hidden beneath. you laid in the middle of his bed, nonchalantly looking up at him from your phone.

“so when were you planning on fixing up the house, tsutomu?”

“man,” he wiped his forehead, bothered by your confrontational attitude.

he’d been so busy hanging out with friends or working that he always left his mess for you to live in. he never asked you to clean it, but no one likes to live in a dirty house, and you were fed up with his shit.

“well?”

“‘well’ what? i’m tired, get off my bed, please. im going to sleep.”

“no,” you responded, stubbornly. you crossed your arms, placing your phone atop your chest.

“alright then.”

the purple haired boy climbed into bed, filling the small space to the right of you.

“can i have some blanket,” he looked over, “you’re laying on top of it.”

you didn’t even make eye contact, “no.”

he tried to tug on the black quilt beneath you, but he couldn’t get enough blanket, “bro, can you fucking move?”

tsutomu never cursed at you, or had attitude. his sharp words sliced your heart with rage.

“can you fucking clean the dorm,” you turned over now, propping yourself a bit up on your right elbow to look at him.

“what is with your damn attitude?”

without even thinking, you climbed on top of him, “if you at least wiped down the counters, or thrown your trash out before you left in the morning, to do god knows what- or who, i wouldn’t have an attitude, tsutomu, think about that?”

you two locked eyes, both pissed at each other. an awkward, angry, silence filled the air. a tension grew between you two, and it wasn’t only rage- rather lust?

tsutomu unexpectedly grabbed your face, sloppily making out with you for a brief moment.

“shit,” he pulled away, shocked by his own actions, “s-“

you interrupted him and leaned back into the kiss, tsutomu let out sweet moans into your mouth.

you and tsutomu never really discussed anything sexual, you’d only met since your college had co-ed dorms; you were forced into it, as dorming was required. sometimes you’d hear him bring over a girl, and touch yourself to his whiny moans- but the morning after you would both pretend it didn’t happen. though, you were curious as to what exactly made him so whiny, and how you could make him melt like that.

you pulled away, watching him try to catch his breath as you lowered yourself down to his crotch. you touched his clothed dick softly; he gasped at your contact.

“fuck,” he breathed out heavily.

you softly caressed his hard dick, eyeing him as his head fell back.

after a while of teasing him, you pulled down his black pants to reveal the shadow of his length through his grey boxers.

“so you like to be yelled at,” you looked up at him, laughing a little.

“oh shut up,” he rolled his eyes at you.

“i wont, but you will,” you glared at him, then at his dick.

now, pulling down his grey boxers. his dick popped out, twitching and already leaking pre. he was easy to please, you noted. his hands caressed your hair as you lowered your mouth to his cock, leaving soft kisses on his tip; you swirled your tongue on it and watched as he fell into absolute lust for you.

“aw,” you lifted your head, smiling, “are you done being a little brat now?”

“are you done talking back,” he questioned.

tsutomu tightened his grip on your head, pushing you down on his 7 inches. he didn’t move your head, just watched your face stay still, trying not to gag on him as he’d softly move his dick around in your mouth

after about a minute, he lifted your head up, “so you’re done,” tsutomu teased.

you didn’t appreciate his attitude, or the way he was able to take advantage of you like that; consequently, you lifted yourself up onto your knees. you pulled off your baggy shirt and tossed it to the side of the bed, revealing your pretty tits. tsutomu’s face immediately was red, he looked away a little flustered and embarrassed.

you reached down to grab his soft face, turning him towards you, “you can look at me, don’t you usually?”

tsutomu thought he was slick, that he was good at hiding his face when he watched you leave in skin tight clothing to go out. his favorite was this black minidress, you always wore dark red panties with it and couldn’t wear a bra since you didn’t have a strapless and it would show. your ass peeked out beneath it, and your nipples poked out through the halter top.

now, tsutomu was able to watch your tits without the restriction of your clothes.

he eyed your chest as you slid down your pants, remaining straddled on top of him. you moved your hands onto his dick, your pace immediately being quick.

“ffuck,” he watched your tits bounce as you touched him so lustfully, “don’t stop, please.”

and so, you stopped, staring at his dick twitch, leaking of pre.

“please,” he finally looked up at your face.

you shook your head, “if you really wanted it you’d beg for it, cmon.”

“i need you,” he grabbed your wrist to move your hands to his dick, “please, i need to finish. i need it.”

“fine, baby,” you responded.

“mm,” he whined, his face forming a desperate and needy expression as you stroked his cock with your nail.

“aren’t you cute like this,” you smiled, teasingly.

as his dick twitched in response, leaking even more pre; you grasped his dick like before, slowly sliding it up and down his sticky cock. you notice tsutomu getting closer, and so you bent down to kiss his tip, swirling your tongue around it a bit too before coming back up.

this was enough to send him over the edge, “fuck, i’m cumming,” he cried out.

cum squirted on your chest and stomach, he was a bit embarrassed by the mess he made by you- especially since he was being a brat earlier. he whined as he came, and his soft moans filled up the room.

“good job,” you watched his body squirm for more.

before he could recover from his orgasm, you moved back some and leaned down, allowing your whole throat to take in his dick- on your accord this time. tsutomu’s hips bucked up, his dick slamming to the back of your throat.

“shiit,” his eye’s widened, shocked by the sudden pleasure.

you bopped your head up and down, he squirmed around and so you gripped onto his body to hold him in place.

soon enough he was close again, “aah- im close, close, pretty.”

you lifted your head, shaking side to side, “don’t cum,” and immediately went back to his dick.

tsutomu really tried, he did, but there was something about the way you maintained eye contact and made fun of him that turned him on so much. it turned him on so much that he couldn’t hold back his orgasm, and so, without warning he came all inside your mouth.

you looked up, extremely pissed at him, “i asked you for one thing, tsutomu.”

“i know, i know,” he whined, still squirming.

“since we don’t know how to fucking listen,” you lifted yourself off the bed, “i’m done.”

tsutomu’s eyes widened, “no no, please, i’ll listen,” he got up, pulling off the rest off his boxers and pants, in an attempt to stop you from leaving.

you’d never had anyone so desperate for you before, though you’d never seen tsutomu in this way before- you began to think about it.

once again, your roommate grabbed your face, kissing you, “i’ll make you feel good, please,” he looked at you as he pulled away.

“fine then,” you dismissed him nonchalantly, although there was nothing nonchalant about how his desperate tone made your pussy ache.

tsutomu pulled you back into the kiss, this time turning you on the bed. you sat down at the edge, his back bent to make out with you. eventually he began to kiss the rest of your exposed body, he left hickeys all over and sucked on your tits for a little bit.

once he made way to your pussy, he spread your legs open, your embarrassingly wet hole twitching.

“how cute,” he looked up at you, teasing.

“shut up, tsutomu.”

“i wont,” he mocked, “but you will.”

and immediately tsutomu began to shove two fingers into you, causing you to jump a bit from pleasure. he moved at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“tsutomu,” you breathed out, so desperate for more- just like how you had him earlier.

“yes, pretty,” his soft eyes looked up at you.

“faster,” you replied, accompanied by a long whine.

“beg for it,” he smiled smugly, he loved that you were eating your words.

“fuck, tsomu,” you furrowed your brows in frustration.

his expression didn’t change, just waiting for you to beg as his pace remained constant.

you gave in, “tsomu, please. i need you, please, fast-“

he cut you off by dramatically increasing his pace, your back arched and you threw your head back rolling your eyes.

you grinded yourself on his hand, so needy for every single inch of his finger.

“tsomu, shit,” you grabbed his wrist, the pleasure of his slender fingers was becoming so much.

“i thought you wanted it faster,” he lifted his brow, “but i can go slower-?”

“no, no, no no,” you begged him not to, you need him, his quick pace.

he did maintain his pace, and made sure his fingers reached as deep into you as possible. but, when he noticed you began to become quieter, your moans becoming more drawn out and your head remaining thrown back, he pulled away.

“tsomuuu,” you frowned.

“if i couldn’t earlier, you can’t.”

his tone was stern, maintaining eye contact as he stood up. he lifted his shirt and went on to give attention to your lips. your hands lifted to his face, all needy for him, desperate for his cock to be inside you.

“i need it,” your right hand moved to his cock.

“not yet pretty,” he kissed your forehead, turning to open the drawer in his nightstand.

as you waited for him, your left hand reached to softly graze your nipple, yearning for some sort of pleasure.

tutsomu placed a black box atop his nightstand full of toys; you noticed as you peeked up. he took out a belt, vibrator, and since he noticed you touching your tits, he grabbed some nipple clasps. he placed everything to the side, and your face was a bit shocked, so to distract you he made out with you slowly moving your entire body down onto the bed and lowering you down.

“it’s okay,” he assured you as lifted himself up to grab the belt.

tsomu pulled your wrists together, down to your stomach, tying the belt.

you’ve dommed before, and other kinky stuff, but typically your vanilla. from the other room you would hear sounds of vibrators and chains, his experience made you feel safe, and turned you on so much.

he placed the nipple clasps onto you as you laid down, they had heart charms dangling from them and were crystal. you winced from the pain.

“it’s okay, pretty. you’re okay,” he softly comforted.

tsutomu positioned his cock in front of your aching pussy, just rubbing it on you. he loved the way you squirmed and whined for him, just as he was earlier for you.

“want it, pretty,” he asked.

“please.”

he slammed himself into you, grabbing onto your waist. your back arched upward as your fingers clenched into fists. tsutomu let his dick twitch inside you for a few moments, he groaned as your pussy clamped down on him.

he began to move in and out of you, heavy breaths taking up the space around you both. as tsutomu noticed you getting close, he picked up the vibrator and pulled out of you. he inserted it inside of you and put it on the lowest setting.

“again,” your were so frustrated, you needed to cum. you hated when he went slow.

“yes, again.”

tsutomu grabbed your face, kissing you; his dick rubbing on your stomach, providing him some pleasure. you tried to reach your hands to your pussy, and he noticed. in response, he pushed your hands away, still kissing you, and rubbed circles on your clit.

“mmph,” is all you could let out in response.

“you wanna cum, pretty?”

“mm, mhm,” you nodded through the kiss.

he pulled away, removing the vibrator from inside you and placing it on your clit as he entered you once more.

tsutomus pace began to pick up, and you desperately grinded on his dick. this time, he let you cum. you cried out his name and threw your head back.

he repeatedly thrusted in you as you came and even after, you squirmed from the overstimulation. it only took a few more thrusts until he pulled out and came all over your stomach.

“tsutomuu,” you whined, looking up at him.

he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “you okay?”

you nodded, still attempting to catch your breath. he wiped you down with a towel from behind his door, and slid your clothes back on you. he dressed himself after, and rested next to you, covering you both with blanket.

you looked over, “you still need to clean the dorm.”

he laughed, “i know, i am sorry.”

“i accept your apology, tsomu.”

he watched as your eyes began to flutter shut, he twirled your hair.

“goodnight pretty.”

“goodnight, tsomu.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Big Brown Eyes - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 5

Summary: After your miscommunication with Eddie at the graduation party, Dustin gets to the bottom of where the issue began.

Note: She’s finally here! Thank you everybody who’s asked about this series, it means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy 💙

Warnings: reader has anxiety, mom!reader, ex Steve x reader

Words: 7.9k

[Big Brown Eyes masterlist]

Everett runs over to the tank where the sea turtles are floating around, gliding through the water, and looking as if they have no problems in the world. The little boy’s eyes can’t focus on anything in particular as he tries to take in everything in the large tank. A turtle with a spotted shell swims right in front of Everett’s face and the three-year-old looks like he may pass out in excitement.

“Mommy! Did you see?!”

“I did,” you say, stepping up next to him. You card your fingers through his brown curls as Nancy comes up on your other side, pushing Everett’s stroller which is currently holding his new stuffed otter doll. “The turtles are cool, aren’t they?”

“Yeah!” Everett grins and walks down the length of the glass, following his new turtle friend as it swims along. 

Though your eyes follow your son as he walks away from you, you can feel Nancy’s gaze on you. She’s basically been chomping at the bit to talk to you about what happened with Eddie since she’d gotten into your car so the two of you could take Everett to the aquarium. Now that the toddler’s out of earshot, she takes her chance.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” you say quietly, keeping your eyes on Everett. “I don’t want to talk about it, though.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy asks. 

“Yes.”

Everett runs back over to you then, giggling about how cool the turtles are. He lifts his arms up to you and you sweep him up so he can get a better look at the reptiles floating towards the top of the tank.

“What do you think, Everett?” Nancy asks. “Are the turtles your favorite so far?”

His little face scrunches up in concentration as he thinks it over. The little furrow between his brows makes him look uncannily like his father. 

“Dolphins,” Everett decides. “But I like the tootles and ottahs, too.”

“Wanna go see what’s next?” you ask. Everett nods his head and scoots down from your arms. His little hand slips into yours as you make your way into the next room. Jellyfish were the next creatures awaiting you. They don’t interest the boy as much and it isn’t long before he’s curled up in his stroller, snoozing gently with his new stuffed otter in his arms as you and Nancy leisurely walk through the rest of the aquarium. Nancy respected you saying you didn’t want to talk about what happened between you and Eddie, but you know she’s still silently itching to know. So, you decide to let it out. 

“Okay,” you say with a sigh. There’s a bench at the other end of the room and you nod in that direction. Nancy follows behind you as you push Everett in the stroller. Between the seat and the wall, there’s a big enough gap for you to park the sleeping little boy and sit down next to him. 

“What’s up?” Nancy asks as she takes her spot next to you. Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you watch the bright and colorful fish swimming before you in their tank. The light filtering through the blue water reflects and casts shadows against your face. 

“Eddie… He, well, he uh… When I went to ask him if he wanted to go out again, he said yes but he wouldn’t even look at me. Obviously, something was up. I asked him and he starts saying how he’s never dated a mom before and how it’s a lot.” Pressure begins building behind your eyes and you need a moment to take a deep breath before continuing. “He dumped me. Makes sense, though. It was the first time he really saw me be a mom, you know?”

“That’s,” Nancy starts before trailing off with a sigh. “That’s really shitty. I’m sorry that happened.”

Not trusting your voice, you shrug your shoulders and nod your head. Hopefully, Nancy reads that as you accepting her sympathy. 

“Yeah,” you manage to get out in a hoarse whisper.

Nancy’s brow wrinkles in confusion as she thinks over your words, though. “But, why would he say yes to a second date at all if he wanted to stop seeing you?”

“I don’t know.” Quickly, you wipe your nose on the back of your hand, trying to dispel the impending tears. “Maybe he wanted to ease me into it. Didn’t want to come out with a flat-out no. Especially with everyone else there at the party.”

“It’s his loss,” your best friend tells you. She rests her hand on your shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. “He’s an idiot and doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

The best you can do is offer her half a smile. It would be pointless to voice your self-deprecating thoughts that state the opposite because, the amazing friend that she is, Nancy would have a rebuttal for all of them. Later, a pep talk would be something that will help you. Right now, it would just go in one ear and out the other. 

“Ready to get going? Hopefully, this sleepy head won’t wake up in the middle of his naptime and be a little menace,” you say.

“A menace? Everett? Never.” Nancy’s smirk makes you chuckle as you stand up from the bench. 

“He’s Steve’s kid, of course he’s a menace sometimes,” you reply.

“You got me there,” Nancy admits, standing up beside you and walking with you toward the exit. 

“What’s going on?”

Dustin doesn’t want to shush his date, but his mind is entirely focused on something other than her. He takes a few steps out of the shadow he and Geri had been standing in when he first noticed you and Nancy walk past him and over to the bench to sit. A smile had lit up his face when his eyes landed on the pair of you, but as soon as he saw the downtrodden expression on your face, he bit his tongue. Dustin hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but how could he not when you were only a few feet away? 

She thinks she was dumped, Dustin thinks. Why does she think Eddie was dumping her?

“Dustin?” Geri asks. 

“Yeah?” he responds, trying to settle himself back in the present moment. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he tells her with a smile. “You wanted to go see the penguins, right?”

“Yes!” Geri takes Dustin’s hand and gives it a squeeze as they head in the right direction for the exhibit.

Maybe Steve will know what’s going on. I’ll have to track him down after this date.

The sun is setting as Dustin drives down the lonely road after dropping Geri off at her place. He’d had a nice time with the girl he met at work, but it was obvious to both of them that his mind was somewhere else the last half of the date. Now, he’s heading towards the station to see if Steve’s on call tonight or not. 

His car is parked outside in the small parking lot, but Dustin knows there’s a chance his friend could be out on the ambulance for a call. Taking his chance, Dustin gets out of the car and pockets his keys as he walks into the open bay that houses the ambulances. 

“Hey, Thompson,” Dustin greets one of Steve’s fellow paramedics. 

“Henderson, how ya doing? Looking for Harrington?”

“Yep.”

“He’s inside,” the paramedic says, nodding his head towards the open door that leads to the interior of the station. 

Dustin gives him a salute in thanks before walking inside and looking around the small area. He finds Steve in the kitchen, feet kicked up on one chair while he lounges in another, bowl of cereal in his hands.

“Dufstin?” Steve asks, mouth full of Captain Crunch and milk. “Wha’re you doin here?”

“Wanted to talk to you.” Dustin grabs another chair and turns it around before sitting on it backwards and resting his arms on the back. 

“Bout?” Steve asks before swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“I had my date today, you know,” Dustin starts.

“Oh yeah. How was it?”

Releasing a sigh, Dustin tilts his head up and stares at the ceiling for a moment before looking back down to Steve who’s shoving another full spoonful of cereal in his mouth. 

“Was good. Until I overheard a conversation between your ladies.” Dustin had started referring to you and Nancy as “Steve’s ladies” a couple of years back, and at first, you and Nancy rolled your eyes at the term. But when Dustin offered to change it to “Steve’s girlfriend and baby mama,” you two thought being called ladies wasn’t so bad. 

“Oh, they took Ev to the aquarium? That’s funny. Wait–why was your date good up ‘til then?”

“Because I overheard them talking about Eddie.” The look Dustin gives Steve has the older man frowning and straightening his posture in his seat.

“Why’re you staring at me like that?”

“Eddie told me a different story at the party than what I heard today,” Dustin says, ignoring Steve’s question. Steve’s stomach sinks with guilt. Shit, Steve thinks. Eddie told Dustin what happened and now he knows this is all my fault. But Dustin’s next words surprise him.

“What do you know about what happened?”

“Why do you think I’d know anything?” It sounds more defensive than Steve intended, but he knew he’d end up caving and spilling his guts to his best friend anyway. 

“You drove her home last night,” Dustin says, raising his eyebrows. “What did she say?”

“She said she’d been dumped.” Suddenly, Steve finds the contents of his bowl interesting and keeps his gaze on the last few pieces of golden cereal floating around. 

“Eddie said he just wanted to take things slow because of Everett.” Dustin bites at his bottom lip for a moment, eyes staring at the floor next to him, mind somewhere far away. “Why did she think he was breaking up with her?”

At first, Steve thinks it’s a rhetorical question—and maybe it is. But the way Dustin stays silent, as if waiting for Steve to say something, weighs on him and he feels the need to break the silence. 

“I-I don’t know, maybe she…”

“Steve.” The harsh tone of Dustin’s voice has Steve looking up from his bowl, his brown eyes swimming with guilt. “What the hell did you do?”

Conscience finally becoming too heavy to bear, Steve thunks his bowl down on the table and runs his hands over his face. He’s never wished for that alarm to go off for an emergency call more than he does right now. 

“Shit,” he hisses. The weight of Dustin’s glare makes Steve’s skin crawl as he sits up properly in his chair and kicks away the second chair he’d had his feet on. “Look, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. All I said to Eddie was that I didn’t want Everett to become attached to him if he wasn’t going to stick around. Is that so wrong of me?”

“Jesus Steve, they’ve been on one date! They’ve known each other a few weeks!”

“I know. I’m an asshole,” Steve responds, not quite yelling but certainly louder than he was talking before. “I just felt really fucking weird about everything, okay?”

Dustin shakes his head in disbelief before leveling his gaze on Steve again.

“What, did you think she’d be a single mom forever, never fall in love, while you have Nancy?” The question isn’t meant to be mean, but it stings Steve nonetheless. He never wanted anything less than the best for you.

“No! Of course not. She deserves to be happy. It’s less about her–”

“About Everett, yeah,” Dustin interrupts. “Dude, Eddie isn’t trying to be his dad.”

“I know, I know!” Steve pushes himself out of the chair and begins to pace back and forth. Dustin’s eyes track him all the while, as if he’s watching a tennis match. “I just don’t want my son getting hurt.”

“Well, no shit,” Dustin scoffs. “But it looks like things were going fine until you opened your big mouth.”

Steve sighs and ceases his pacing. He purses his lips and stares in the direction of the wildlife calendar on the otherwise blank wall in front of him, lost in thought. Hadn’t he known what he was doing was wrong all along? If it wasn’t wrong, he wouldn’t have tried keeping the conversation secret from those around him. 

“What do I do?” he finally asks.

Dustin’s eyes bulge, thinking the answer was the plainest thing in the world. “Fix it!”

“How?” Steve runs his hands through his hair, a sure sign of his agitation. He’d definitely be looking in a mirror as soon as possible to straighten it out. Dustin cocks his head at his friend and shrugs one shoulder. 

“Your big mouth got you into this. Try using it to get out of it.”

As if concentrating wasn’t hard enough for you at work on Monday morning, Mrs. Montgomery says that you need to reshelve books in the romance section. Every time you pick up a book there’s either a couple embracing or a title about love or some affection-laced mushiness. It’s nauseating and you don’t even realize you’re slamming the books around until you whack one on the cart too hard and it goes flying halfway down the aisle. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you trudge over to pick it up. A face pops around the corner and you’re startled to see Nancy standing there. 

“I was going to surprise you for lunch,” she says as she comes to stand fully between the bookshelves, “but uh…are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say as you notice the lunchbox Nancy is holding. You take in the flowy floral summer dress she’s wearing and become self-consciously aware that you’re in an old pair of jeans and a black polo shirt. 

“Lunch?” Nancy asks, holding the lunchbox up in front of her face.

The two of you go into the back room and she unpacks the sandwiches she made and two cans of coke. She waits until you’re both a few bites into your food before she speaks.

“So, Steve called from the station last night. Said Dustin paid him a visit there yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh?” You pop open your soda and take a fizzy sip.

“Mhmm,” she hums as she finishes the bite she just took. “Apparently, Steve was a bonehead and said something to Eddie at the party.” At the mention of his name, you feel anxious, and it must appear on your face because Nancy rushes to get the next sentence out. “He said he didn’t remember exactly what he said but it was something about not wanting Everett to get hurt. Don’t worry, Steve said as soon as you both get off work this evening, he’ll be over and groveling at your feet. Well, he said he’d apologize but I’m going to make sure he grovels.”

Anxiety turning to anger, you wipe your hands off on a napkin and nod your head. “Nancy, if I murder Steve and the judge is a woman, do you think I’d be able to get away with it?”

Your best friend considers this, tilting her head from side to side as she thinks.

“You’re less likely to get caught if I help you hide the body.”

On Tuesday afternoon, Dustin drives towards Benny’s Burgers with Eddie in his passenger’s seat. Yesterday, Steve had begged Dustin to get Eddie to come to the diner on his lunch break so he could talk to him. 

“I’m not leaving you alone with him this time. You need supervision,” he’d told Steve. So, Dustin had called up Eddie and asked if he wanted to grab lunch together the next day. Whether or not he mentioned that Steve would be there, well he figured a lie by omission wasn’t really a lie. 

Steve’s standing outside the diner when Dustin pulls into a parking space. Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion and he looks over to see Dustin avoiding his eye. 

“Why’s Steve here?”

“He, uh, wants to talk to you,” Dustin says, glancing in his direction. 

Eddie sighs and drops his head back against the headrest. He’s not entirely sure how he feels. He isn’t exactly mad at Steve, but he doesn’t have the warmest feelings towards the man. 

“You can definitely tell him just to fuck off,” Dustin offers as he unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“Nah,” Eddie says with another sigh. “Might as well hear what he has to say.”

Dustin already knows what Steve has to say because they’d practiced it over the phone last night and then again this morning. He didn’t hide the fact from Steve that he was afraid he was going to fuck this up even worse. 

Steve awkwardly greets both men as they get out of the car. There’s a tense silence between the three of them as they head inside and sit down at a table. Dustin almost picked a booth but didn’t want to be shoved into a seat with either of them in case things got ugly. The waitress who comes to take their orders has to sense the uneasiness that was settled over the table. Steve waits a few moments after she walks away before clearing his throat and starting his prepared speech.

“Look, Eddie, I shouldn’t have said anything to you the other day. It wasn’t my place.”

“But you’re right,” Eddie says with a shrug. He lifts his eyes from the table to look at Steve where he’s seated across from him. “He’s your son and you want to make sure he’s not gonna get hurt. I don’t want to hurt anyone, that’s why I wanted to talk to her about slowing things down. For Everett.”

“Is that what you said to her?” Steve asks. 

Eddie sighs and brings a hand up to rub along his eyebrows. “I tried.” He throws his hand out to the side before nervously rubbing it along his stubble. “But she started to get upset and I got confused.”

“She, uh,” Dustin starts, letting out a small cough, “thought you were breaking up with her.”

“What?” Eddie turns his attention to the younger man, completely flabbergasted by his words. “Why? Why would she think that?”

“Her anxiety,” Steve says, lightly rapping his knuckles against the tabletop. “It makes her brain tell her all kinds of shit that isn’t true.”

“Her insecurities get the better of her,” Dustin adds. “Makes her jump to the worst-case scenario.”

Eddie takes their words in, nodding absentmindedly as he tries to wrap his head around this.

“What? Does she think I don’t find her attractive? Because she’s fucking gorgeous,” he says. 

“No, it’s not that,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Well���it may have crossed her mind, but that’s not what this was about. It’s about her being a mom.”

This only adds to Eddie’s confusion and his face wrinkles up as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Why would that bother me?”

“Unfortunately, it would bother a lot of guys,” Dustin says. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief as if this personally offends him. 

“Look,” Steve says, leaning his elbows on the table. “I just wanted to apologize and sit down to talk with you. You seem like a good guy, Eddie. She needs a good guy.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump as he slides down in his seat. The array of emotions he’s felt over the last twenty minutes is enough to give him whiplash. They buzz around his thoughts like bees, but he tries to shake them off and just focus on one thing: you. How he feels about you. How you’re out there thinking that he didn’t want to be with you all because you have the sweetest kid he’s ever met. Bitterness burns his stomach, and he knows he has to talk to you as soon as he can. But would you even hear him out?

“If she thinks I broke up with her, will she even want to see me?”

Dustin nods his head. “Nancy went to see her and told her that this one over here opened his yap when he shouldn’t have.”

It’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s fishing out his wallet and tossing a twenty on the table. It’s more than enough to cover what he and the other two ordered. Hungry stomach be damned, you’re more important. He’s confident either Steve or Dustin will eat the lunch he ordered, and he gives them a half-assed wave as he jumps out of his seat and heads for the door. Dustin jogs out after him and slaps a hand down on his shoulder.

“I drove you here, Romeo.”

“Oh, right. Could you take me back to the garage so I can get my van?”

“No problem.”

As soon as Eddie gets into his van, he pulls out onto the street and races towards the library. His eyes dart to the clock on his dash and he prays you haven’t had your lunch break yet. Even if you did, it was unlikely the library would have so many people in it that you wouldn’t have a minute to talk. He makes a quick attempt to make himself look as presentable as possible in his rearview mirror before hopping out of the van and taking large strides up to the library door. Brown eyes scan around the room, looking for any sign of you as he makes his way to the front desk. That’s where he’s seen you the most but lets out a little huff when he sees you’re not the employee who is behind the desk today. The brunette on duty tells Eddie that you had been at work that day, but your son was sick, so you went to pick him up and take him home. 

The adrenaline that was coursing through Eddie’s veins at the thought of seeing you and maybe sorting this whole mess out starts to dissipate, and it makes his limbs feel heavy and his body sluggish as he makes his way back to the van. Boosting himself inside, Eddie slams the driver’s door and lets his head fall back against the headrest. If Everett is sick, Eddie figures that you probably won’t be up to talking. Maybe he’ll call you after Everett goes to bed and pray that you hear him out. Smacking a hand against the steering wheel out of frustration, Eddie takes a few moments to collect himself before starting the van and heading back to work.

Eddie paces back and forth in front of the phone hanging on the wall of his trailer. The edge of his thumb is being gnawed on by his teeth as the nerves start getting to him. He wasn’t even this scared to call you the very first time. But what if even after he explained the miscommunication you still didn’t want to see him? What if you don’t even want to hear him out at all? What if, what if, what if. 

“Just do it,” Eddie grumbles to himself before snatching up the phone. He dials your number and holds the phone against his ear, starting to pace again, but only as far as the cord would let him this time. The phone barely rings once before he hears your sweet voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Eddie says as he brings up his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I-Is this a good time?”

“Oh.” Eddie hears the surprise in your voice when you realize it’s him on the line. You didn’t expect him to call? That seems like confirmation that you really did think he was breaking up with you. The thought makes the crack in his heart even deeper. 

“I-I went by your work at lunchtime, but they said you had to go get Everett because he was sick. Is he feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. “I gave him something for his fever and he just fell asleep. It’s why I picked up the phone so quickly–I didn’t want it to wake him.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, heaving a sigh. “I didn’t mean to bother you o-or take your time away from Everett. I guess I just wanted to see if you would be okay to talk for a few minutes after his bedtime because I just couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to tell you at lunch but you weren’t there, and I can’t go another day with you thinking I was trying to break up with you.”

There’s a beat of silence as your brain registers what he just said. To Eddie, it feels like an eternity before you speak.

“Wait. W-What?”

“Sweetheart, I am head over heels, over the moon for you. I was only going to say we should take things slow because of Everett.” Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever poured his heart out for anyone like this, let alone someone he’s only known for a few weeks. But there’s something about you that makes Eddie feel like he could tell you anything and everything–and he practically has over the nights you two have spent on the phone together.

“But you said…” You trail off as the sound of whining comes from Everett’s bedroom.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, tone softer and lighter now. “We can talk later. Take care of your boy.”

There’s rustling on the other end of the phone before you reply. “Um, I’m staying home with him tomorrow. Y-You can call or come by after work if you want.”

“How about I call on my lunch break and see how the little dude is feeling? I don’t want to intrude if the poor kid is feeling lousy,” Eddie offers.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Have a good night, sweetheart.”

Everett is still sick when he wakes up the next morning. He spends most of his time curled up on the couch with his head in your lap. The gentle stroke of your fingers through his soft brown locks seems to soothe him as he rewatches the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle VHS that you’ve rewound so many times you’ve lost count. You can tell your son is feeling better as the morning goes on by the way he squirms around and talks more excitedly about what’s happening on the television. 

When the telephone rings, Everett’s head pops up and he stares at the phone on the wall. Luckily, he’s shuffled off of you enough that you don’t feel bad for getting up to answer it. Still, you keep your eyes on the little one as you pick up the phone and lean against the wall–mom anxiety is always on duty. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice only slightly more confident than it was yesterday. 

“Hi, Eddie.”

Everett sits up straight, eyes widening when he hears the name. Despite the mixed feelings that have been churning through your system for the past few days, a small smile graces your lips at Everett’s obvious excitement. Small chubby hands reach up and make a grabbing motion.

“Eddie! Wanna talk!”

“How’s Everett?” Eddie asks before you have a chance to say anything to your son. By the lack of clanging and scraping in the background, you can tell Eddie is on his lunch break though, so probably doesn’t have time to chat with both you and Ev. 

“He’s better,” you tell Eddie. “Jealous that I’m the one talking to you right now, actually.” 

This makes Eddie chuckle, and the sound sends butterflies flying throughout your whole body. 

“He up for a visitor later then?” he asks.

“Honestly, I think he’d love that.” So would you, even though your heart–or is it your anxiety? — is hesitant to admit it. 

“What about you?”

The question softens you a little. It reminds you of Eddie’s kind and thoughtful nature and how considerate he’s always been of how you feel. God damn it, Steve, you think. Why’d you have to interfere and mess me up more than I already was?

“Yeah,” you say, nodding your head. “I wouldn’t mind seeing your handsome face either.”

Eddie lets out an exhale and you can practically feel the apprehension releasing from his body, only to be replaced by relief. 

“Great,” Eddie says, his voice more chipper than it’s been in days. “I’ll just get cleaned up once I’m off of work and I’ll be there.”

When you hang up the phone, warmth surges through your body. Eddie didn’t want to break up; he only wanted to protect your sweet son from potential disappointment. Leave it to Ev to burrow his way into your boyfriend’s heart within a matter of weeks.

Little did you know, Eddie would say the same about you. 

Of course, the first time Eddie experiences traffic in Hawkins is when he’s trying to get home to get ready to see you. He pulls up to a red light and lets out an irritated sigh. His head lolls to the side as he impatiently waits for the signal to go. A store on his right catches his eye and Eddie’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he ponders the idea rolling around his brain. Deciding to head in, he flicks his blinker on and turns into the shop’s parking lot.

Eddie finds what he’s looking for almost instantly and drives back to his trailer so he can wash up and make himself look presentable for you. He toys with the thought of adding a dab of cologne, but he knows he already smells like oil and gasoline and he’s not sure the cedar scent would mix well with those. 

After what seems like a lifetime, Eddie finally arrives at your place and jogs up the steps to your apartment door. A sudden feeling of apprehension bubbles up in his chest. This is the first time he’s going to see you since the misunderstanding where you hastily left with your sleeping son in your arms. Eddie hopes this time his words will come out more concise and he can convey what he really feels, not just enough vague statements that leave blanks large enough for your anxiety to fill in the rest. A giddy, infectious child’s laugh floats through the wood of the door and it brings a smile to Eddie’s face. The sound calms his nerves and gives him the push to raise his fist and knock. 

Every beat of his heart from the time he knocks and the time you answer the door makes him feel like his blood is pumping too fast. But your smile when your eyes land on him has him practically melting at your feet, so maybe the rapid rush of blood is all that’s keeping him upright. 

“Hi,” you say, biting your lip with a shy smile. It makes Eddie want to combust. 

“Hi,” Eddie responds.

“Eddie!” Everett runs over and wraps his arms around the man’s legs. Eddie chuckles and smooths a hand over the boy’s chocolate waves of hair. 

“Hey, little dude. You feeling better?”

Everett looks up and nods his head. “Yep!” Your son notices the plastic bag Eddie is holding and tries to peer inside. “Whassat?”

“Honey, let Eddie inside before you try and mug him,” you say, ushering Everett back into the apartment. Eddie chuckles as he steps inside and crouches down in front of Everett. You watch the pair of them as you close the door and there’s a fullness in your heart you’ve never felt before. 

“Well,” Eddie says, setting the bag down on the floor next to him. “I heard you weren’t feeling so great, so I thought I’d bring you a little something.” He pauses and lets out a sigh. “But it seems you’re feeling better now, so I guess you won’t want it.”

“No, no, no!” Everett protests, bouncing up and down on the spot. “I do, I do want it!”

“You sure?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows at the boy. 

“Yes!” Everett promises.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

Your son is practically vibrating out of his skin as Eddie reaches into the bag and pulls out a Spider-Man action figure. Everett’s eyes widen and his hands come up, but don’t reach for the toy. He seems too transfixed to consciously move his arms to take it. Eddie chuckles and glances over at you. 

“You like Spider-Man, right?” he asks.

Everett nods and finally reaches his little arms forward to take the doll from Eddie’s grasp.

“He’s da bess,” Everett replies, his voice revealing that his sinuses are starting to get worse again now that evening is approaching. 

“What do you say?” you prompt.

“Thank yew! So’s much!” Everett flings himself forward and wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck. It’s such a strong squeeze for a little boy and it takes Eddie by surprise. He doesn’t hesitate to hug your son back, though. A large ringed hand rubs up and down his small back.

“You’re very welcome.”

Everett pulls back and stares at the toy. A grin lights up his face, dimples on full display, and runs back over to the couch. He hops up and kicks his tiny legs over the edge as he moves Spider-Man’s arms and legs into different positions.

“You didn’t have to—,” you start, but Eddie cuts you off.

“I brought something for you, too.” He pushes himself up to his feet and picks the bag back up. You’re shaking your head, but Eddie just smiles as he pulls out a Tupperware container. “Made some more of those cherry cobbler bars for you last night.”

You accept the baked goods from him and shake your head again. Eddie would’ve thought you were rejecting it if it weren’t for the soft smile on your lips.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you again. Where's the catch with you?” you ask. 

“Hmm,” Eddie muses as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Pretty sure we’ve discovered that it’s me not being able to articulate the things I’m thinking.” 

“I guess that mixed with my anxiety-riddled brain is the perfect recipe for some miscommunication, huh?”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, but Everett lets out a sneeze loud enough to wake everyone on your floor. He looks at the boy as you check your watch and let out a sigh. 

“Time for more medicine, Mister,” you announce. Everett pouts and flops back on the couch. The medicine makes him drowsy, so you know that once he takes it, he won’t be grumpy for long. “Come on, you know it makes you feel better.”

“Blech,” Everett groans as he keeps his eyes on the superhero doll in his hands.

Eddie heads towards the couch while you set the Tupperware down in the kitchen and pick up the bottle of Everett’s grape-flavored medication. The little cup it gets poured into has some medicine from this morning now sticky on the bottom of it, so you wash it out as Eddie takes a seat.

“When I was little,” Eddie tells Everett, “my uncle would give me medicine and it tasted so bad.”

“Mine too!” Everett says, pushing himself up to a seated position.

“He taught me a trick though,” Eddie says. “If I pinched my nose closed, I couldn’t taste it!” 

“Like if ya swimmin’?” Everett asks.

“Exactly like that!” Eddie takes his thumb and forefinger and plugs his nostrils shut to demonstrate. Everett giggles and copies the action.

“Okay, let’s test it out then,” you say as you bring over the dosage for him. He still looks a little hesitant, but Eddie shoots him a wink and the boy nods his head and holds his hand out for the medicine. The new action figure gets put down on the cushion next to him so he can use the other hand to pinch his nose closed. 

An amused look is shared between you and Eddie as Everett takes a deep breath to steady himself before he downs the grape syrup like you would a shot of vodka. Once he’s swallowed, Everett holds his nose for a moment longer before letting go. He pauses, determining if Eddie’s tactic worked or not. A small gasp escapes his lips as he turns to Eddie with wide eyes.

“It wasn’t icky!” he exclaims. 

“Alright!” Eddie holds his hand up for a high five, which Everett returns enthusiastically. You toss the empty cup into the sink before plopping down on the other side of Everett from Eddie. 

It doesn’t take long for the medicine to kick in and Everett’s eyes begin to droop. His head rests against your arm and you gently coax him into your lap so it will be easier to take him to bed without too much jostling. His clogged nose means when Everett finally does fall into a deep sleep, he’s snoring like a bear cub in hibernation. Slowly, you tighten your grip on him and rise to your feet.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to Eddie, who nods in return. Everett stays in his medication-induced slumber as you lay him down in his bed and tuck his powder blue blanket around him. You place his new Spider-Man action figure on top of his nightstand and gently lay his otter stuffie by his side. Some hair has flopped down into his eyes, so you brush it back and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, baby.”

When you walk back out into the living room, Eddie is leaning back on the couch, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. 

You plop down in your previous spot, unsure of what to say now that Everett is no longer there as a buffer. What you really want to do is lean over and press your lips against his. You’re aware that’s not the best idea though, so you bite at your lower lip instead. 

“I missed you,” Eddie finally says. 

“I missed you, too.” Your voice is quiet, but you’re glad the ice has been broken. 

Eddie turns towards you and leans in. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t clear about what I was trying to say at the party.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you offer him an apologetic smile. “I didn’t really let you finish.”

He scoots in a little closer to you and looks at you with those doe eyes that make your heart feel like it’s bouncing on a trampoline. When his tongue comes out to lick over his lips, all you can remember is the way it felt up against yours in the back of his van at Lover’s Lake. Was that really only a week and a half ago? It simultaneously feels like it was ages away and just happened yesterday. 

“Steve put all this in your head, didn’t he?” you ask.

“Well…yeah,” Eddie admits, looking sheepish. You admire the fact that he doesn’t want to come out and throw the father of your child under the bus, even if that's where the blame belongs. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’d hate myself forever if I ever disappointed that little dude.”

The thoughtfulness Eddie continues to show towards your son only has you falling farther down the rabbit hole for him. It eases a worry you didn’t even know you had. Steve’s words to him may have some validity, but it was not his place to say any of these things to Eddie. Steve was definitely taking Everett to his next dentist appointment after pulling this. 

“Steve has never been one for keeping quiet,” you tell Eddie. “And I get that he’s concerned about his son, but Everett is my son, too. I always intended to move slowly because of him.”

Eddie considers this, but you can see in his tense posture that he’s not completely mollified. 

“You didn’t know I was going to be at the graduation though,” Eddie says, his shoulders slumping with a sigh. “I should’ve told you.”

“No, it was a nice surprise,” you assure him. He still doesn’t look convinced, so you reach out and take one of his hands in your own. The warmth envelops your cold fingers, and the rough calluses feel steadying and calming against your softer skin. “Everett remembering you and warming up to you instantly was nice, too. You and I just hadn’t discussed how we were going to be in front of him yet. I think that talk would’ve saved us all this confusion.”

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to end anything. I just—if Everett got attached and then for some reason this didn’t work out, I’d hate to hurt him. And I never want to cross a line. If I ever do, please call me out on it. With you or Everett.”

Your top teeth begin to worry at your bottom lip as you nod your head. An odd sensation fills your body; like you’re lightheaded and weighed down all at the same time. It isn’t because of Eddie’s words—or is it? The confirmation that he wasn’t breaking up with you—the live, in person, seeing-the-words-coming-directly-from-his-mouth confirmation, you realize, has relieved you. Relief. Relief that the pain you thought you were being forced to endure was unsubstantiated. Relief that Eddie seeing you be a mom didn’t drive him away—though that is something you still want to talk to him about. Relief and pure joy at the fact that Eddie wants to be with you. It’s dizzying, honestly. But there’s still the matter that all of this confusion was put upon you both in the first place. 

“That’s why we have this talk,” you assure him, voice strong yet hushed. “Be boring adults and figure out the boundaries so we can go back to making out like teenagers.”

Eddie chuckles. “I like the sound of that.”

Taking a deep breath, you give his hand a squeeze. “I know Everett doesn’t know what dating is. His whole life he’s known there’s Daddy and Nancy, and there’s Mommy. Because he’s so young, I don’t think he’ll have a problem seeing you gradually become a part of his life. But I do think it should be gradual.”

“That’s smart,” Eddie says with a nod of his head. “None of us should be moving too fast.”

“He clearly likes you,” you say, giving a small chuckle. “I think for now though, maybe it’s better if he sees you in group settings. Like, when he sees his aunts and uncles. Every time the kids get together, they ask if Everett can make an appearance. He can get to know you as one of the gang.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Eddie says. “I want you to always tell me what you’re comfortable with. You’re his mom first.”

“I’m your girl too though, right?” The way you jut out your bottom lip and give him an over-the-top pout has Eddie laughing and leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Baby, nothing would make me happier than that.”

“Just…one thing.” The way your body tenses and you look away from him makes Eddie nervous. There’s this niggling thing in the back of your mind and you know your brain will never let you rest until you talk about it. “Tell me honestly. Me being a mom doesn’t bother you? At all?”

“Sweetheart, no.” A frown settles onto Eddie’s face and his eyes are filled with steel sincerity. “I adore you. Every part I’ve seen of you so far, it’s only made me crazier for you. Including the mom side. I see how strong and resilient you are all while being the most compassionate and attentive mother to that wonderful little boy. You’re a damn superhero in my opinion.”

This gets a smile out of you, and that’s all it takes to wipe Eddie’s downtrodden expression away. He leans in and presses his lips against your forehead. 

“Like Spider-Man?” you ask. It makes Eddie chuckle against your skin.

“Even better than Spider-Man, baby.”

“Don’t say that to Everett.”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure he knows his mom is way better.” 

“Ah, see that’s a boundary,” you say, poking your finger into his chest. “You can’t lie to me.”

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes before leaning in and nuzzling his nose into the ticklish spot he’s discovered is on the side of your neck. It causes you to break out in giggles and throw your hand over your mouth so they don’t wake your sleeping son. 

“Not a lie,” Eddie mumbles. 

“Fine, fine,” you say. 

He pulls away from your neck and Eddie sits back up straight, looking at you, his eyes shining with admiration and fondness. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to how he looks at you. You hope you never do.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” you ask.

“Do I get to hold you?”

“Of course.” A smile comes to your lips, and you give a gentle tug on Eddie’s hand. “But get comfortable first. You’ve got to be warm in your leather jacket and boots.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums as he pushes himself off of the couch with a cheeky smile. “Coulda just said you wanted me to undress.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” you admit with a soft giggle. Warmth comes to your cheeks just at his suggestive joke; what would happen when you two finally do start going further?

Eddie takes his boots off and rests them next to your shoes by the front door and hangs his jacket on a peg attached to your hall closet. When he comes back over to the couch, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead before plopping down next to you–closer than before. Not close enough for your liking, though. You scoot closer to him, and he takes the hint to wrap his arm around your shoulders as you snuggle up to his side. 

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Hi,” Eddie answers. His eyes scan your face. You can tell he’s admiring you and it brings a mixture of flattery and self-consciousness at the same time. When his eyes find your lips, they stay there the longest before he finally looks back up into your eyes. “Been wanting to kiss you since I last did it,” he murmurs in a soft voice.

“So do it.”

The words barely leave your mouth before his lips attach to yours. Eddie’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. The kiss is full of longing and reassurance, both of you wanting the other so badly and just as fiercely wanting to show each other that you’re not going anywhere. When you part, Eddie nuzzles his nose against yours.

“So, uh, movie?” he asks. 

“Right.” You stand up and pick Ghostbusters out of your stack near the television and eject the tape you’ve been watching with Everett all day to pop this one in. Eddie’s arms are back around you the moment you sit down. As much as you love this movie, there’s something you’d rather be doing. 

“One last boundary?”

“Mm?”

“You gotta kiss me whenever Ev isn’t around. Gotta make up for all the times we can’t, ya know?”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 3 EPISODE 09 || THE DOLDRUMS ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

The moon rose huge and fast and golden, a great glowing disc that slid upward, out of the water and into the sky like a phoenix rising. The water was dark now, and the dolphins invisible, but I thought somehow that they were still there, keeping pace with the ship on her flight through the dark. It was a scene breathtaking enough even for the sailors, who had seen it a thousand times, to stop and sigh with pleasure at the sight, as the huge orb rose to hang just over the edge of the world, seeming almost near enough to touch. Jamie and I stood close together by the rail, admiring it. It seemed so close that we could make out with ease the dark spots and shadows on its surface.

It seems so close ye could speak to the Man in the Moon,” he said, smiling, and waved a hand in greeting to the dreaming golden face above.

“‘The weeping Pleiads wester / and the moon is under seas,’” I quoted.

“And look, it is, down there, too.” I pointed over the rail, to where the trail of moonlight deepened, glowing in the water as though a twin of the moon itself were sunken there. “When I left,” I said, “men were getting ready to fly to the moon. I wonder whether they’ll make it.” “Do the flying machines go so high, then?” Jamie asked. He squinted at the moon. “I should say it’s a great way, for all it looks so close just now. I read a book by an astronomer—he said it was perhaps three hundred leagues from the earth to the moon. Is he wrong, then, or is it only that the—airplanes, was it?—will fly so far?” “It takes a special kind, called a rocket,” I said. “Actually, it’s a lot farther than that to the moon, and once you get far away from the earth, there’s no air to breathe in space. They’ll have to carry air with them on the voyage, like food and water. They put it in sort of canisters.” “Really?” He gazed up, face full of light and wonder. “What will it look like there, I wonder?” “I know that,” I said. “I’ve seen pictures. It’s rocky, and barren, with no life at all—but very beautiful, with cliffs and mountains and craters—you can see the craters from here; the dark spots.” I nodded toward the smiling moon, then smiled at Jamie myself. “It’s not unlike Scotland—except that it isn’t green.” He laughed, then evidently reminded by the word “pictures,” reached into his coat and drew out the little packet of photographs. He was cautious about them, never taking them out where they might be seen by anyone, even Fergus, but we were alone back here, with little chance of interruption. The moon was bright enough to see Brianna’s face, glowing and mutable, as he thumbed slowly through the pictures. The edges were becoming frayed, I saw.

“Will she walk about on the moon, d’ye think?” he asked softly, pausing at a shot of Bree looking out a window, secretly dreaming, unaware of being photographed. He glanced up again at the orb above us, and I realized that for him, a voyage to the moon seemed very little more difficult or farfetched than the one in which we were engaged. The moon, after all, was only another distant, unknown place. “I don’t know,” I said, smiling a bit. He thumbed through the pictures slowly, absorbed as he always was by the sight of his daughter’s face, so like his own. I watched him quietly, sharing his silent joy at this promise of our immortality.

I thought briefly of that stone in Scotland, engraved with his name, and took comfort from its distance. Whenever our parting might come, chances were it would not be soon. And even when and where it did—Brianna would still be left of us. More of Housman’s lines drifted through my head—Halt by the headstone naming / The heart no longer stirred, / And say the lad that loved you / Was one that kept his word. I drew close to him, feeling the heat of his body through coat and shirt, and rested my head against his arm as he turned slowly through the small stack of photographs.

“She is beautiful,” he murmured, as he did every time he saw the pictures. “And clever, too, did ye not say?”

“Just like her father,” I told him, and felt him chuckle softly.

Cap 43~ VOYAGER

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Marauder.

There are so many rules in this world. So many shackles to keep him down.

Let nothing obstruct his errant path.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A fish is bound to the water his entire life.

It’s not a life for him.

Floyd is on his back, set adrift in the face of the Coral Sea. His hands cradle the back of his head, and he finds himself staring up. A flock of birds form an arrow, slicing through the sky. He wonders where they're going, what they'll do there.

Some merpeople dreamed of trading scales for skin, but Floyd thinks about giving up his fins for feathers. A pair of wings with which to witness all manner of strange things…

He chuckles soft.

Wouldn't that be so freeing?

“Eheheh. I wanna try it, too! Wait up for me, birds. Here I come…!”

Floyd rights himself and dives unto the frigid waters. His powerful tail undulates like a teal ribbon, propelling him after and faster. He steadily gains, chasing the shadows of the birds that skim the surface of his home turf.

Floyd approaches, lifting himself toward the shimmering boundary between sea and sky. A second later, he breaks through with a mighty splash.

His body elegantly arcs in the leap. He’s a skipping dolphin, a flying fish.

Free.

Floyd launches higher and higher, zipping past the flock. He collides with some birds, screeching with laughter as they spin like cars out of control.

Here come the clouds now—he easily bursts through them. They’re made of cool and fine-grained beads of water, refreshing him as he flies.

And higher still he goes, the sky dimming, a gradient of light to dark.

Floyd is among the stars, each twinkling like diamonds in greeting. The planets, like massive globes of sugar orbiting him.

The eel is weightless, effortlessly floating through space. With his arms, he paddles--and though there should be no gravity, the space warps and gives like water, letting him sail as smoothly as a ship after a storm.

He reaches out and plucks a star out of the cosmos, giving it a curious lick. The taste is like sweetened milk, and so he pops the entire thing into his mouth.

Then begins his descent.

At the peak of his jump, surrounded by the stars, he bends downward and plunges.

But there are no longer any waters waiting for him.

He crashes through a canopy of leaves. They scatter like papers, raining down verdant, brown, scarlet, tangerine, and gold. Sunlight pierces them, giving each a magical glow.

Roots come, skittering by him like a snake might slink. Thin tendrils extend from them, brushing his face.

Maybe there is some other name for them? Hyph-something, myce-whatever. Floyd does not care to remember his twin's excitable rambling.

Alarmingly, he spies an ugly bulbous cap poking out from a root. His nose crinkles with disgust.

Shiitake mushroom.

Floyd paddles through the fungi and plants, the scent of dirt and chlorophyll filling his nostrils. It's fresh and green mixed with damp and earthy, nothing like the salty smell of the sea.

Jade would like this, he thinks.

Daisies push through, their petals tickling his skin. He takes a shaky breath, holds, shakes again, and...

Sneezes!!

A great gale is unleashed, clearing his surroundings in an instant. Floyd is sent flying up, up, and away--

He shoots out of the dunes. Sand scatters from the force he emerges with, throwing particle clouds up into the air. Floyd flails, trying to balance his body. No use--he flops uselessly under the pull of gravity.

A scream rips from his throat. Not of terror, but of joy.

The landscape unfolds into a sandy expanse. In the distance, he sees an oasis guarded by palm trees. And below, a great city crowning the desert.

There are bright tents and stalls pitched, merchants hawking their wares. Vases and lamps with unique patterns, ripe fruits, adornments in a variety of designs.

Families and friends mill about in the packed marketplace, satisfied with their mundane lives, the schedules they keep. So content, so peaceful.

Floyd grins.

And he lets himself plummet straight into a stall.

The weight of him collapses it with a loud THUD. The merchant looks on, horrified, and his circle of customers gasp, putting distance between themselves and Floyd. Sticky with fruit juices, he removes the strand of black hair that clings to his cheek.

"Eh, guess it could be worse," Floyd shrugs, tossing off a chunk of watermelon sitting like a hat on his head. A line of juice dribbles down his forehead.

He notices the crowd staring and wiggles his tail in a casual pseudo-wave. One person immediately faints--but luckily, they're caught by a concerned onlooker.

"Riffraff!" the merchant shouts, waving a fist. "Scoundrel!! I demand compensation for what you've wrecked!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. He sounds like Azul.

The eel hauls himself off the pile of fruit--and peels right past the feet of the customers. The merchant's face heats.

"Guards! GUARDS!! Come quickly, HELP!! There's a sea monster on the loose!!"

Floyd rapidly drags himself across the market, digging his talons into the ground, his tail pushing him forward. He gleefully writhes as people scream and flee, clearing a path for him. His laugh, cackling.

He's at the waterways that thread the city when heavy footsteps spill into the street.

"He went that way!!"

Floyd doesn't look back before he dives back into his natural element.

The water welcomes him, its streams washing off the sand that paints his skin, loosening the hair that clumped from fruit juices. A tender kiss, a kind hand.

He has returned to the sea.

The channel goes deeper than Floyd thinks. It widens, becoming an entire ocean bathed in sunlight. A coral reef teeming with life stretched out below him, and when he runs his hand along it, tiny seahorses escape and trail bubbles.

He turns his head this way--a school of rainbow tropical fish race by. The other way, a band is in full swing. A carp on the harp, the plaice on the bass, bass on brass.

Floyd twirls as he passes, happily humming along to the tune. The music wraps around him, giving a warm embrace. He almost misses his name being called, almost forgets himself.

"... od....... loyd... Floyd! There you are."

A face that matches his appears beside him. He is followed by a boy with lilac skin, a series of squirming tentacles at his beck and call.

“Where did you vanish off to?” Jade asks. “Azul and I were starting to get worried about your whereabouts. Weren’t we, Azul?”

“I’m more concerned for the places he visits rather than Floyd himself. Who knows how much collateral damage he could cause unsupervised,” the octopus merman grumbles.

“Oya, Azul… Could it be that you lack faith in Floyd? Even though he has unquestionably served you since middle school?"

"You're saying strange things again. I recall him losing interest and changing his mind last minute more often than 'unquestionably serving'." Azul raises a brow. "So? Where were you all this time?"

Floyd flings himself at the duo, slinging his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close.

"F-Floyd?! What is the meaning of this?" Azul sputters, struggling against his binds.

"I was everything and everywhere all at once," he responds with a laugh. "I was as free as a bird! I'll tell you guys about it~"

"Fufu, it sounds as though you've been away on quite an adventure. We would, of course, be more than happy to hear of your escapades."